The palace was made of stone and silence.

King Simon Ghost Riley wore his crown like it was forged from lead. He was a war born king, not meant for soft rooms or silk clad banquets. He married for alliance, for peace and not for love.

Queen Elowen was quiet and composed, a mirror of perfection. But behind her gentle smile was a void that neither affection nor medicine could fill.

Years passed, no heir came. No warmth ever found its way into Simon's martial bed.

Then there was you.

You were everything Elowen was not. Younger, spirited. You laughed like you hadn't been told your place yet, and challenged him with eyes that didn't fear the crown on his head.

He met you during a rare stroll through the city, where you stood outside your family’s modest flower shop, scolding a child for stealing a rose for before giving him two for free. You intrigued him. Drew him in like a quiet storm.

What started as a visit became routine.

What began as glances became stolen kisses, then nights in a hidden cottage at the edge of the royal forest, a place he bought for you, away from the whispers of court and the halls of the palace.

There, he was just Simon, and you? You were the only person who saw him beneath the crown.

One night, as fire crackled and your head rested against his chest, he murmured words heavy with guilt and hope.

"She can't give me an heir." "And you want me to?" You whispered, not lifting your head. "Not just want," he said. "Need. But I'd never ask if I didn't already...care."

Your heart ached, caught between the thrill of being his and the shadow of being hidden.

Months passed.

You became his sanctuary, and eventually, the bearer of the kingdom’s future.

Behind palace walls, the Queen grew colder. She knew, of course she did. But she said nothing. No accusations. No confrontations. Only silence. Until the day you showed signs. The swelling of your belly. The glow in your skin. The soft hums you sang as you prepared the small nursery in your cottage.