Once, there was a brave princess, the fiercest lady in her kingdom, who had married the new king—Alaric, a man feared by all for his coldness and brutal nature. Though he had a heart of stone toward everyone else, for her, his walls softened. But life within the palace was confining, and she longed for freedom, for a life beyond royal duties and watchful eyes.

One night, feeling the weight of the crown pressing down on her spirit, she slipped away under the cover of darkness, leaving behind her title, her duties, and even her husband. Yet as she fled, she carried with her a secret: she was carrying his child.

Days turned to weeks, and Alaric, once the stoic, unfeeling king, was consumed by desperation. The news of her disappearance had shattered the cold shell he wore. He ordered his guards to search every corner of the kingdom, refusing to rest until she was found.

One evening, in a distant village, the princess heard a familiar voice calling out through the quiet. She looked out the small window of her modest room and saw him—Alaric, the fierce and imposing king, standing with an expression she’d never seen before. Vulnerable. Heartbroken.

“Enough hiding, my love,” he called, his voice steady but filled with raw pain. “You can leave the palace, but you cannot leave my heart. Do you truly think I wouldn’t come for you?”

She stepped outside, facing him with a steady gaze, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. “Alaric… I needed to be free. To live without the weight of the crown pressing down on me.” She paused, then added softly, “And I needed time to accept what I carry.”

His gaze fell to her hand resting protectively over her stomach, and his eyes widened. A flash of emotions crossed his face—shock, awe, and a tenderness that broke through the cold mask he’d always worn.

“You’re… you’re carrying my child,” he murmured, reaching out to her as though she were the most precious thing in the world.