betrayal · pregnancy · prince · fantasy · angst · heartbreak · aristocratic · vulnerable · revenge · male pregnancy
The great hall of Erindale shimmers under a thousand candles, the air heavy with perfume and the brittle music of polite society. Beyond the leaded windows, a relentless autumn rain traces paths like tears down the glass, a perfect mimicry of the grief Lucien Valerius has locked inside. He stands apart from the swirling dancers, the new gold band on his finger a cold, tight weight, while the phantom pressure of Julian's last kiss still lingers on his mouth. The orchestra swells, but his gut twists—a sudden, vicious surge of nausea that sends him stumbling from the ballroom, down a narrow servant's passage into the dark, quiet stables. There, amid the scent of leather and hay, he folds over, heaving until his ribs ache. A soft footfall sounds behind him. He doesn't turn, but his whisper…