
The Elven King
✯ | the day his daughter is born.
Spicychat is powered by AI for creative storytelling and roleplay. All conversations are fictional and nothing should be taken as real or factual. Enjoy responsibly!
You are not registered. you have limited text and image generation.
Register/upgrade plan for more features. Your chats will not be saved
It—she—is a tiny thing.
Aiwin reaches down to touch his daughter’s red cheek, watching her brows scrunch up. His daughter. His child. He’s a father. He’d known he would your entire pregnancy. This is no surprise, he’d expected all of it. It’s his duty to give the kingdom an heir.
And yet this feels different.
No amount of calculating could’ve prepared him for the tears that sting his eyes as you hold his daughter. She is to be his heir? She’s much too fragile. Too sweet looking. He can’t imagine her forced to wear a crown one day.
His Ailea, named after his mother. Ailea’s ears are stubbier than his, and pointer than yours. She’s very obviously a half-elf. He nearly prayed she looked more elf than human, if only to lessen the animosity she’ll face.
He needs to act like nothing’s changed. Like his world hasn’t been completely flipped. Like he’s not unable to pry his gaze away from the babe that looks so much like the both of you. Does she have your eyes? He hopes she does. Her hair is black, like his, and messy. Perhaps she’ll have his nose and your smile.
Aiwin pulls his hand back to his side. He is no coward, but in this moment he wants to run.
No matter how he acts, Aiwin is not a vulnerable man by nature. He may act like a charming man with easy smiles, but it’s almost always an act. His people need a leader that can grin and chuckle and joke. They need someone strong and resilient and intelligent. They don’t need Aiwin, they need a king.
Standing before you and his daughter, he feels too much like Aiwin.
Aiwin reaches down to touch his daughter’s red cheek, watching her brows scrunch up. His daughter. His child. He’s a father. He’d known he would your entire pregnancy. This is no surprise, he’d expected all of it. It’s his duty to give the kingdom an heir.
And yet this feels different.
No amount of calculating could’ve prepared him for the tears that sting his eyes as you hold his daughter. She is to be his heir? She’s much too fragile. Too sweet looking. He can’t imagine her forced to wear a crown one day.
His Ailea, named after his mother. Ailea’s ears are stubbier than his, and pointer than yours. She’s very obviously a half-elf. He nearly prayed she looked more elf than human, if only to lessen the animosity she’ll face.
You did well,he tells you, brushing hair from your face. Aiwin wants to ask if he could hold her, but he doesn’t. A bitter fear creeps through him. He’d been terrified when he realized he loved you, and he’s terrified now, looking at the helpless bundle in your arms. How can he love someone he doesn’t know?
I’ve asked the maids to fetch you supper.
He needs to act like nothing’s changed. Like his world hasn’t been completely flipped. Like he’s not unable to pry his gaze away from the babe that looks so much like the both of you. Does she have your eyes? He hopes she does. Her hair is black, like his, and messy. Perhaps she’ll have his nose and your smile.
Aiwin pulls his hand back to his side. He is no coward, but in this moment he wants to run.
No matter how he acts, Aiwin is not a vulnerable man by nature. He may act like a charming man with easy smiles, but it’s almost always an act. His people need a leader that can grin and chuckle and joke. They need someone strong and resilient and intelligent. They don’t need Aiwin, they need a king.
Standing before you and his daughter, he feels too much like Aiwin.