Family Hall
Lodewijk had put his baby to sleep in the nursery, a room they had hastily reconditioned after years of disuse. The walls still bore the faded remnants of past generations, but soon, he would renovate it completely for his children—once they had overcome the ordeal with Eileen. For now, his house-elf, Saffie, stood watch over his son with strict orders to call him the moment something seemed even the slightest bit wrong.
He strode toward the family hall, his steps echoing against the stone floor. This room had witnessed only a handful of their most consequential moments. The first was when they discussed their arranged marriage. The second, their return from the honeymoon. The third, the moment he learned of Eileen's betrayal. And now, merely months later, they found themselves here once more, gathered for yet another disgrace.
Seated in the place of honor was Augustus Prince, his father-in-law. Deep furrows lined his forehead as he massaged his temples in slow, deliberate circles. To his right, his wife stifled quiet hiccups, her face blotchy with restrained tears. She had long since exhausted her voice pleading with Eileen, watching her daughter stumble from one ruinous decision to another.
At the center of the room, kneeling directly on the cold floor, was Eileen. Her hands clutched tightly at the fabric of her dress, her knuckles white with tension. Her gaze remained fixed downward, refusing to meet the eyes of the family she had dishonored.
Lodewijk inhaled deeply before crossing the hall with long, purposeful strides to take his seat at Augustus’s left. There was no chair for Eileen.
“I thank Merlin that Severus is Lodewijk’s child,” Augustus finally said, his voice heavy with restrained fury. “But such a thing should never have been in question. As a wife, bonded by magic, there should have been no doubt as to the parentage of your child. You have trampled upon every virtue a woman of high standing is meant to uphold. You have shamed me as your father, you have shamed your mother, and you have unabashedly shamed your husband—the man who is bound to you for life. And for what? A Muggle who did not have a penny to his name?”
Eileen flinched but did not speak. Her lips parted slightly, perhaps to argue, but no words came. The reluctance in her expression, the mere suggestion that she had not wholly submitted to guilt, sent a wave of revulsion through Lodewijk. How could she not be begging for forgiveness? How could she sit there, stiff and silent, as if this were some petty dispute?
“I will not condone this behavior,” Augustus continued, his tone as sharp as a blade. “As Head of the Prince Family, I see no choice but to remind you of your place. From this moment forward, you are confined to Prince Manor. You will not leave until I am satisfied with your conduct.”
A shudder ran through Eileen’s body. Her fists clenched even tighter, her breathing growing shallow.
“You have disgraced our name, but fortunately, no one beyond these walls is aware of your shame. Lodewijk has ensured that the outside world believes you have been adapting to your new life. We will spin this as a delicate pregnancy—high-risk, taxing. A condition so precarious that we dared not announce it lest it end in tragedy.” He paused, letting his words settle before delivering the final decree. “But even now, after your labor, you are unfit to receive visitors or tend to your child. You will not breastfeed Severus. He will be formula-fed. Later, you will contribute milk with a pump—nothing more. Do you understand?”
“Father, I know I was wrong,” Eileen murmured, her voice so faint it was almost swallowed by the vastness of the room. “But… isn’t this too much?”
Lodewijk let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Too much?” His voice was smooth, but the rage beneath it was tangible. “And what did you expect? That you would return to open arms? That we would pat you on the back and say, ‘Welcome home, Eileen, let us forget your little indiscretion’?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “For Merlin’s sake, look at yourself.” His voice dropped to a sneer as he swept his gaze over her. “Your clothes are in tatters. Your skin is sickly and yellowed. Your hair, greasy. The shadows under your eyes so dark they make you look like a ghoul from Knockturn Alley. You look like a starving beggar, and yet you stand here complaining?”
Eileen bowed her head further, her shoulders trembling. But whether it was from shame or barely concealed defiance, Lodewijk could not tell—and that infuriated him even more.
“Severus needs me,” she whispered. “He is only days old. He needs his mother’s milk. It is best for him. You shouldn’t punish him.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Eileen,” her mother interrupted, her voice steadier now, colder. “Severus will have the best of everything. He is a Prince, after all. But you? You are not fit to care for him.” She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp as a dagger. “What good could come from your milk when you look like a dying cat?”
Eileen recoiled, but her mother pressed on. “Besides,” she continued, her lips curling in something almost like amusement, “you were so eager to risk carrying a child when you weren’t even sure if it was a filthy Muggle’s bastard or your own husband’s. Surely, you wouldn’t be opposed to preparing yourself properly before your next.”
The words struck like a slap across the face. Eileen’s breath hitched, her entire body going rigid. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the flickering of the torches along the walls. Then, slowly, her fingers unclenched from the fabric of her dress, her hands falling limply to her sides.
Lodewijk leaned back in his chair, watching her, waiting for her to break.
She would break.
And she did.
“Do you only see me as a breeding machine for the House of Prince?” she said, her voice ragged, her eyes filled with tears. But her face showed only disgust and reluctance.
“Why, Eileen? What else are you to the House of Prince?” her father countered, his voice thunderous. “Perhaps a loving and respectful daughter? Or would you say a virtuous and demure wife?” His tone dripped with sarcasm.
“No, but I…” She tried to interrupt, to fight for a sliver of freedom or standing in the house.
“No, you are not, Eileen. We are taking you back under our conditions, not yours,” Celeste answered without hesitation. “You brought this upon yourself. Imagine how beautiful everything would have been had you not debased yourself by becoming a Muggle’s bedwarmer. A beautiful house, a healthy body, a happy marriage. What more could you want? But you were never satisfied. It was never enough for you. If you resented this family so much, perhaps it is time for us to give you proper reasons to do so.”
"Cheer up, dear," Lodewijk said slowly, his voice carrying a sharp edge of mockery. "We will respect your wishes and keep Severus' name, but I have decided on his second name—it will be Lucien." A faint smile ghosted his lips as he considered it. "Severus Lucien Prince. A fitting name for my beautiful firstborn. You didn’t even know he was a male bearer. A name too strong would not suit him. He needs something to temper his nature, to soften his personality—so that he does not grow up to be as headstrong as you."
Disgust crept back into his voice, and as his thoughts drifted to his son, he no longer deigned to look at her.
"We do not need you here anymore Eileen, go back to your chambers" Her father dismissed her and they retired to a more comfortable space.
Lodewijk took a seat in one of the armchairs in the lounge, crossing his legs with his usual elegance. Celeste sat beside Augustus, her expression barely concealing her exhaustion. This was not the first time they had gathered to mend one of Eileen's mistakes, but this time, it was something far more delicate: the presentation of their grandson to the magical society.
"Time is pressing," Augustus said, his tone grave. "Severus is a few days old, but if we don't act quickly, rumors will start. We cannot allow people to question why Eileen was never seen pregnant in public."
Celeste sighed. "Fortunately, we haven't received visitors in months. We've controlled the flow of information with extreme care. But now we must reintroduce ourselves with a solid narrative."
Lodewijk tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair, thoughtful. "Narcissa Black's birthday will be celebrated in two weeks. The Malfoys will be there, as well as the Rosiers and the Lestranges. It's the perfect opportunity. They cannot refuse an invitation to a celebration at Malfoy Manor."
Augustus nodded. "Yes. If we attend together and present Severus as if everything had unfolded normally, the magical society will have no reason to doubt."
Celeste leaned forward slightly. "We'll say that Eileen's pregnancy was high-risk. That the mediwizards advised complete bed rest, away from stress and social gatherings. That even after childbirth, her recovery was difficult. People will love the idea of a mother who nearly died to bring her firstborn into the world."
Lodewijk let out a dry laugh. "Drama keeps the societies going, indeed."