Extra Chapter 23 – The First Celebration of the Prince/Princess (POV Luna)
The grand hall of the palace had been transformed into something out of a dream. The chandeliers, which usually burned with the warm glow of candlelight, now shone with silver luminescence, casting a soft, ethereal glow across the towering marble pillars and intricate tapestries that adorned the walls.
Music floated through the air, gentle and refined, a melody that had once played during my own coronation. But tonight was not about me.
Tonight, the kingdom welcomed our child.
I stood at the top of the grand staircase, cradling my daughter in my arms. She was dressed in the finest silk, a shade of white so pale it shimmered under the moonlight. A small circlet of silver leaves rested atop her soft curls—a symbol of the royal bloodline she had been born into.
Beside me, Rhydian stood tall, his presence commanding as always, though there was a protective edge to the way he held himself tonight. His eyes, sharp as a wolf's, never strayed far from me or our child.
"Are you ready?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I swallowed, my heart beating too fast. "I don't know if I'll ever be ready."
His gaze softened. "We don't have to do this."
But we did. We both knew that. This was tradition—our child's first formal introduction to the noble houses, a declaration that the next ruler of our kingdom had been born. It was a show of strength as much as it was a celebration.
Still, my arms tightened instinctively around my daughter.
I had faced war, betrayal, and the burden of the crown, yet nothing had ever made me feel as vulnerable as I did now—standing before a room full of powerful people, each of them with their own expectations, their own plans.
For her.
Rhydian must have sensed my hesitation, because he reached for my free hand and squeezed it gently. "She's ours," he reminded me, his voice a quiet vow. "No one else's."
I exhaled slowly, centering myself. He was right. No matter how many eyes were watching us, this was our family.
The steward stepped forward, clearing his throat before announcing, "Their Majesties, King Rhydian and Queen Luna, present to the court their heir—the future of the Moonlit Kingdom."
The moment we stepped forward, a ripple of murmurs spread through the gathered nobility. Their expressions varied—some were in awe, some calculating. Others looked at my daughter with the same reverence they once reserved for the gods.
I hated it.
She was a baby. My baby. Not a symbol. Not a piece on a political chessboard.
A noblewoman stepped forward first, her gown a shimmering blue that matched the jewels on her throat. "What a beautiful child," she said, her voice smooth, practiced. "She will grow into a fine young woman."
I forced a smile. "Thank you."
Another lord chuckled, swirling his goblet of wine. "Let's hope she has her mother's patience rather than her father's temper."
Rhydian shot him a look so sharp the man paled. "She will have whatever she chooses to have."
I could feel the tension building around us. I had expected admiration, maybe even envy. But what I had not expected was the sheer hunger in some of their gazes—like wolves circling prey.
I shifted my hold on my daughter, resisting the urge to pull her closer.
Then, it happened.
A nobleman, one of the older lords with silver threading his dark hair, stepped forward with an indulgent smile. "Your Majesties, may I be so bold?"
I inclined my head warily. "You may speak freely, Lord Darion."
His smile widened. "It is customary, in such times, to consider potential alliances for the future." He gestured toward a boy standing behind him, no more than seven years old, dressed in pristine formal wear. "My grandson, Orion, comes from a long line of noble blood—loyal to the crown for generations. Perhaps, in time, an arrangement might be made?"
I stiffened.
The gall of it. To look at my child—who could barely hold her own head up yet—and already speak of marriage.
Beside me, Rhydian went still.
Dangerously still.
"I see," I said carefully. "And tell me, Lord Darion, did you make such arrangements when your own children were still in the cradle?"
The man chuckled. "Ah, but times have changed, Your Majesty. A strong alliance—"
"She is not a bargaining chip."
Rhydian's voice cut through the air like a blade, his expression dark with barely restrained fury. Every conversation in the hall came to a halt.
The lord had the good sense to step back, his smile faltering. "Of course, I meant no offense—"
"You meant to claim my daughter's future before she's had the chance to live it," Rhydian said coldly. "And I will not allow that."
I glanced at the other nobles, many of whom were now whispering among themselves. How many of them had entertained the same thought?
Slowly, I turned back to Lord Darion. "My husband is right. Our daughter will decide her own path, just as I chose mine." I met his gaze evenly. "This discussion is over."
He bowed stiffly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
One by one, the other nobles followed suit, murmuring their praises before retreating to safer conversations.
I let out a slow breath.
Rhydian turned to me, his jaw still tight. "I want to leave."
I almost agreed. Almost.
But then I looked down at our daughter, peacefully asleep in my arms, unaware of the world that already tried to shape her into something she wasn't.
No.
We wouldn't hide from them. We wouldn't let them think we were afraid.
I reached for Rhydian's hand. "We stay," I murmured. "Not for them. For her."
His grip tightened around mine.
And so we remained.
We smiled. We danced. We allowed them to believe they had a say in our daughter's future.
But when the last guest had left, and the grand hall was empty once more, Rhydian and I stood together in the moonlit silence, our daughter nestled safely between us.
"She will never be anyone's pawn," I whispered.
Rhydian kissed my forehead. "She is ours. And we will protect her. Always."
And in that moment, I knew—no matter what came next, we would fight for her.
For her choices.
For her freedom.
For the future she deserved.