Lodewijk's
She didn’t have enough magic to apparate herself and Severus all the way to the Manor. So, in shame, she took the only thing she had brought with her from Prince Manor: a portkey. Just an inconspicuous, thin silver bracelet.
She held Severus tightly, took a deep breath, and murmured, without much strength in her voice, the password: “Little Princess.” Then, she was gone.
She appeared in the middle of the family lounge. It was a cold January afternoon, and her father was sipping tea in his preferred seat by the chimney. Her mother was preparing a cup of tea in the corner of the room, and her husband was reading a book in a loveseat.
The pop of her apparition attracted the attention of everyone in the room, and the first person to react was, surprisingly, her stern father.
“Damn it, Eileen!” he roared, throwing the teacup right to her feet.
It was obvious that not only was he shouting because of her untimely appearance, but also at the presence of the tightly wrapped bundle in her arms.
Celeste started to move closer to Augustus, trying to place a pacifying hand on his shoulder. She had a worried frown, and the corners of her mouth were downturned, betraying her displeasure.
Lodewijk gave a long sigh before standing in front of her, his back facing her. He seemed tired, as though carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders.
“No matter the circumstances, the child is not at fault,” his deep, resounding voice came like ripples in a tranquil lake—soft but unstoppable.
“How can you bear to say that?” Augustus was dumbfounded and couldn’t contain the disgust on his face. “Are you going to defend the outcome of your wife’s indiscretion?”
Without paying attention to his father-in-law’s taunt, Lodewijk repeated his heartfelt thoughts.
“It’s not the child’s fault whatsoever. Eileen is a grown woman, and she will have to face the consequences of her actions. But the child is innocent. It wasn’t their choice to have this woman—whose beauty sparkles only with shame and whose actions show a masterpiece of misplaced priorities—as their mother.” His last statement silenced the room.
It stung Eileen’s heart deeply. She had never heard her husband speak to her like that. He was completely entitled to do so, though. She knew she was shameful. She knew he could feel whenever she was betraying him, and, in kind, he repaid her by protecting her and their child despite her actions.
“He is not the fruit of my indiscretions, Father,” she gathered the courage to say, the words that had been stuck in her throat since the beginning. “He is Lodewijk’s.”
The first to react to her statement was none other than her husband. He quickly turned to face her, disbelief written all over his face. He approached her and, looking her in the eye with a distrustful gaze, demanded to hold the child.
She quickly acquiesced. She slowly passed Severus into his arms. He was only ten days old, and his eyes had remained an extremely light color between pink and soft lavender. They were bound to darken into beautiful, striking lavender-rosy eyes, maybe even periwinkle-rosy.
When Lodewijk held the child, his magic sang and flowed through his body like a tidal wave—a sensation he had never felt before. His soul softened at the beautiful face of his child. The baby felt the change and curiously opened his eyes to see the new person holding him. He seemed to be content with what he saw and didn’t cry; instead, he nestled closer into his father’s arms and tried to sleep again.
Augustus and Celeste couldn’t help themselves and approached the pair. They saw the light-colored eyes—purplish, pinkish, and large, curious eyes.
“Call Healer Ashworth. I will not believe the unilateral claims of this shameful daughter of mine,” Augustus said reluctantly.
“Yes, call him,” Lodewijk agreed. “We need to check that my son is healthy. Who knows what he has suffered under the care of his stellar mother?” he said, holding the baby closer to him with a hint of urgency.
Augustus was surprised to see his son-in-law’s insistence but chose not to comment on it. He gestured for Celeste to go get the healer. There were so many mixed emotions in the air that it felt stifling.
Augustus was disappointed in his daughter. He was so disappointed—he had spent so many years raising her like a pearl in his palm, only for him to witness how much damage she could cause to others without any remorse. He had seen his son-in-law. The man was calm, never rushing and always thinking twice before acting. When Eileen ran away from home, Lodewijk had personally gone to find them to make sure that it wasn’t made public.
Augustus understood. What man would want society to know that his wife had run off to live with another? He had decided to let people believe that Eileen was at home, adjusting to her new life as a married woman and tending to her husband. They even withdrew from social gatherings to avoid being questioned about her, and she was gone for almost ten months. They couldn’t even attend Christmas celebrations that year. People had started to murmur, sending letters asking when they would make an appearance again. He almost couldn’t hold it together after so many months of self-imposed isolation at Prince Manor.
He couldn’t even begin to understand how Lodewijk could have withstood all that time knowing his wife was out there with another man. But he was convinced there was no need to worry, that Eileen would come back for one reason or another. He strongly believed her nature wouldn’t allow her to lead that life forever. She had always been a princess; how could she bear watching herself go from riches to rags?
But it wasn’t easy for him to wait and bear it. He felt his heart and blood boil every time Eileen was touched by that man. A man who was poor, ugly, and bad-tempered. He couldn’t hold a candle to him, yet Eileen had preferred him.
It was a blow to his ego and his pride as a man. He knew that Eileen would return, not just because she was spoiled, but because he knew she was losing her magic day by day. That was the assurance in magical vows—they would make her pay. He didn’t need to lift a finger to put her through the worst torture for a magical being.
What he didn’t expect was for her to return with a child. He had to take a deep breath before defending the child, who he thought was his wife’s lover’s baby. His blood boiled, his ego and pride crumbled, but his morals forced him to stand up and protect both mother and child. For better or worse, Eileen was his wife, and this time, there was no way in hell he was going to let her go back to that man. If he needed to lock her up and chain her to keep her in the manor, then so be it.
But when she said the baby was his, his heart couldn’t stop pounding in his chest. He felt cold all over. A baby. His baby. If it was real, everything would change. For him, for Eileen, for the Prince family. A new generation. His blood was running through the body of that little person.
When he touched the baby, he knew instantly that there was no way that beautiful child could have a father who wasn’t him. He was his. His son. His firstborn.
When the baby opened his eyes and looked at him, he knew right then and there. He was in love with his baby. He was besotted with him. He didn’t care about Eileen and her indiscretions. She was meaningless standing beside his son. But he would respect her for the nine months she had spent nurturing their baby and the effort she had put into giving birth to him.
He couldn’t stop looking at the baby in awe. He only stopped when he noticed that Celeste had arrived with the healer in tow.
The healer carefully took the baby from his arms but with great expertise. He swiftly pricked the baby’s finger, and the baby began to cry terribly.
Lodewijk felt a pang of pain in his heart hearing his baby’s wails. But the healer quickly passed the ancestry test to his father-in-law, who sighed in relief before passing him the paper. Written clearly in a common, readable hand: He was the father. He already knew that.
He urged the healer to check his son thoroughly and see if anything was amiss. It was an anxious scene. Augustus, Celeste, and Lodewijk hovered around the baby, while Eileen was forgotten in a corner of the room. She wanted to make herself smaller and inconspicuous so they wouldn’t berate her.
The baby was overall healthy, though slightly malnourished. He needed more vitamins and supplements than what he had gotten in that hovel in Spinner’s End. When the healer told them the baby was a male bearer, Lodewijk felt even more deeply for him.
He felt so guilty. His son was frail and delicate, needing protection and care. And he, his father, had neglected his existence and let him suffer. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of Eileen being pregnant. Normally, it took more time for babies to come into their pureblood family—it hadn’t even been a fleeting thought. If he had suspected even the slightest, that his wife was pregnant with his firstborn, he would have dragged her back home the very first day.
But there were no "ifs" in this world; he could only repay his little son slowly. He would raise him like the pearl in his hand. And he would rein in his wife as needed—no more foolishness from her. He would remind her who Lodewijk Prince was.
Her man. Her husband. The father of her child. And make no mistake, he would be the only father of her children.
He quickly went to make arrangements for his baby’s nursery and left the room in charge of his parents-in-law.
He didn’t even acknowledge when the couple resolutely told the Healer that their daughter wouldn’t be breastfeeding the child. Formula and potions would suffice.