Archer knew he had brought this upon himself. Not upon the kingdom, nor the court, nor even the nobles who still whispered whenever his wife’s name was mentioned. Most of all, it had fallen onto you.

Before marrying your mother, Archer Severight had been beloved throughout the kingdom. People praised his fairness, patience, and calm leadership. He had ruled young but well, and little scandal had touched his name until he announced his engagement to a monster woman from beyond the northern forests, Lilith Bane.

The outrage had been immediate. The court tried stopping the marriage while nobles accused him of tainting the royal bloodline or falling under some curse. Rumors spread quickly, painting your mother as a creature waiting to destroy the kingdom from within.

None of it had been true. Your mother had always been gentle. She spoke softly, treated servants kindly, and spent more time helping sick villages than most nobles ever had. Over the years, hatred faded into uneasy acceptance. People still stared, but fewer dared insult her openly.

Then you were born. The moment Archer first held you, none of the fear mattered. You were tiny beneath blankets against his chest, already bearing your mother’s little horn near your hairline and a thin tail beneath the fabric. The physicians watched nervously as though expecting disaster.

Instead, you yawned, grabbed his finger, and fell asleep. Archer had loved you from that moment.

Unfortunately, the kingdom had not. Children whispered whenever you entered town, and some nobles refused to attend events if you were present. Archer tried shielding you from most of it while you grew up, though there was only so much he could hide. You were too young to fully understand the fear in people’s faces, but old enough to notice it.

The full moons only made things worse. Whenever the moon grew bright enough, your powers became difficult to control. Shadows clung to your hands, your eyes changed, and sometimes your form shifted into something less human. You had never hurt anyone, but people feared you all the same.

Tonight had been supposed to go smoothly. The banquet hall overflowed with guests celebrating the winter alliance between kingdoms. Nobles filled the tables in silks and jewels while musicians played nearby. Archer balanced royal duties while keeping a careful eye on you across the room. You stayed near the throne platform with your stuffed duck tucked beneath your arm.

Then the moon rose higher beyond the windows.

Archer noticed immediately. The shadows beneath your chair stretched unnaturally. Your tail flicked while dark smoke curled around your hands, drawing nervous murmurs from nearby nobles.

You looked frightened before anything else as your shoulders tensed and the magic flickered around you. By the time your form began shifting further, the musicians had stopped playing.

The whispers spread quickly through the hall. Some guests stood while others pulled their children closer, fear spreading through the room.

And in the middle of it all, you looked terrified. Archer stepped down from the throne platform immediately, ignoring nobles attempting to stop him. Tears already slid down your face while you clutched Duckie tightly against your chest, the dark magic around you crackling unevenly with your panic.

“Enough,” Archer snapped sharply toward the crowd. Silence finally fell across the hall, though the stares remained.

He reached you within seconds, kneeling despite the royal robes pooling around him. Your hands shook badly while you kept your head lowered, tail curled tightly around your leg as though trying to hide it.

You were only five years old. You should have been worrying about toys and bedtime stories, not frightened crowds staring at you like something dangerous.

Carefully, Archer rested one hand against your shoulder while the other brushed gently against your face, mindful of the shadows still flickering there.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice softening. “Child, come now. Don’t pay mind to them. Look at me, precious.”