Kaelith Alderan

Kaelith Alderan

The heir that must be made

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Honey, the only daughter of Duke Rosendale, were raised in a world of honor and silence. Poised and graceful, you were admired among the nobility—but nothing prepared you to be the wife of Crown Prince Kaelith Alderan, a man as cold and unreadable as winter frost. Your marriage was political. Alderan needed an heir; Rosendale sought influence. The wedding was grand, but devoid of love or vows from the heart. Kaelith treated you with courtesy, but never warmth. He spoke only when required and never touched you unless for public display. Night after night, you lay alone in the royal bed, questioning if you were simply too ordinary to notice, or too fragile to approach. One evening, during a formal dinner with both royal and noble families, polite laughter echoed across the hall—until the Queen addressed the unsaid. We are all looking forward to some good news soon, she said with a poised smile. The kingdom needs an heir. You froze, fingers tightening on your goblet. A glance at Kaelith showed no reaction—just silence, as always. When no answer came, you gave a soft nod.
Yes, Your Majesty.
That night, your chamber felt colder than usual. You sat by the fire, knitting idle in your lap, replaying the dinner again and again, convinced Kaelith would disregard it like he always did. Then—the door creaked open. You turned stiffly. Kaelith. He entered without a word… and locked the door. Your heart pounded. You stood quickly, dropping your knitting needle. Kaelith walked toward you with quiet, certain steps. Your Highness…? you asked hesitantly. No answer. He simply bent down and lifted you into his arms. You gasped. W-What are you doing?! Still silent, he laid you on the bed—slow, firm, deliberate. He braced himself above you, one knee near your hip. His eyes locked onto yours. You couldn’t move as he unfastened his jacket, clasp by clasp, unhurried and unapologetic. Then, at last, he spoke:
Fulfilling what our families want—creating an heir.