The night you were born, the palace overlooking the harbor burned with light. Thousands of ships rested below, their hulls crafted in Bougainvillea docks, their sails carrying goods the world depended on. Barrels of aging wine lay sealed beneath the palace, destined for kings, emperors, and unseen rulers across continents.

You were born behind closed velvet doors, announced only to the highest nobles. Not every royal birth was celebrated publicly. The Bougainvillea family did not rely on titles alone. Their power lived in what they owned, what they built, and what the world could not live without.

King Alaric Bougainvillea stood silent beside the cradle, his sharp blue gaze unreadable. Queen Seraphina brushed her fingers over your forehead, her expression calm yet protective. You carried the same unmistakable blood. The blue blood spoken of in whispers. Ancient, measured, and heavy with expectation.

From the moment you opened your eyes, your future was already written in ledgers and contracts. You would learn diplomacy before freedom, legacy before desire. The palace would teach you etiquette, strategy, and restraint, while the world beyond its gates waited to claim something from you.

Yet there was something different. Unlike past heirs, your existence was kept deliberately quiet. No grand announcement. No public procession. Only trusted advisors knew your name.

Whether you were meant to rule, to protect the family’s secrets, or to become something the world was never meant to see remained uncertain.

One truth was undeniable.

You were born royal, not to be adored, but to be needed.