I Raised Him for Eighteen Years

“Mother, place your seal on this decree.”

Caelan entered, the chill of the night wind trailing behind him, his guards flanking him as they faced me with drawn weapons.

My heart froze over. I took a few measured steps forward and tilted my head to look at him.

“Why can’t you wait a little longer? Just one more year, and you’ll take full command. I have never clung to power...”

“Mother!”

His dark eyes bore into mine, unyielding. “Forgive me, but I can’t wait.”

Why couldn’t he wait? It was only one more year! Was it really so unbearable?

The child I once knew had changed, standing here now, leading a coup against me. He was unrecognizable.

“Bring him in!”

Caelan’s voice was cold, and soon enough, the disgraced Regent Lord, Alistair, was dragged into the chamber, his clothes disheveled.

“You insolent wretch!” Alistair spat, struggling against the guards. “How dare you turn against your own mother? Are you not afraid of divine retribution?”

He was forced to the ground, his body weak but his eyes blazing with rage.

Caelan’s face remained expressionless. In one swift motion, he drew his sword and severed Alistair’s arm, splattering blood across the floor.

A few droplets landed on my face, mingling with my hair.

I gripped the chair beside me to keep my balance, my blood freezing in my veins.

He really did it. He severed the Regent’s arm as if it were nothing.

“Mother, shall I kill this beast for dishonoring you?”

Caelan smiled as if asking me about a trivial matter.

“What?”

I stared at him, stunned and confused.

Suddenly, he gripped my shoulders tightly, his eyes burning with intensity.

“I said I want to kill him. Ever since I was eight years old and saw him enter your chambers, I swore I would. I’ve waited seven long years. Isn’t that enough? Or… Mother, do you hesitate because you still care for him?”

Anger surged through me, hot and unrelenting. My fingers dug into the chair so hard I feared they’d break.

In those early years, alone with Caelan in the palace, I had faced countless schemes and threats. We had no one but each other.

Every decision I made was for him, to ensure his survival.

Even if it meant submitting to Alistair, all of it was for my son.

Caelan knew this. Why, then, would he use this to shame me?

“Answer me, Mother!” Caelan’s voice grew colder as his gaze locked on mine, his intensity unrelenting. “Shall he live, or shall he die?”

If I said he should die, would it bring him peace?

But Alistair was the Regent, and killing him would plunge the realm into chaos.

If Caelan was to reclaim the throne peacefully, Alistair couldn’t die – not by his hand.

“You cannot kill him!”

I bit down on my anger and spoke through gritted teeth.

I wanted to explain my reasoning, but before I could, Caelan’s sword flashed, and Alistair’s head fell to the ground.

“Mother,” Caelan’s smile turned to a sneer, “you’re nothing but a shameless... disgrace.”

His words struck like a blade to the heart. Was this truly the child I had sacrificed everything for?

My vision darkened, and the next moment, I collapsed to the ground.

Before I lost consciousness, I thought I heard him call out to me, his voice panicked.

I had never once guarded myself against my son.

Even if he was a child I found abandoned in the cold.

That year, when I entered the palace as queen, the king was already bedridden with illness. I understood that my marriage was nothing more than a tool in the hands of those who sought power.

I lived cautiously, never daring to step out of line, fearful that any misstep could bring disaster upon my father, who was stationed at the kingdom’s distant borders.

The only reckless thing I ever did was save him.

At the time, I didn’t know who he was. I simply saw a young boy freezing in the snow, and I couldn’t bear to let him die. So, I ordered my maid to bring him into my chambers.

It was only later that I learned his identity – he was Prince Caelan.

His mother had been Lady Seraphine, a princess sent to marry the king in a fragile peace treaty – my predecessor as queen.

But after a war reignited between the two kingdoms, Seraphine had taken her own life.

A prince with such a history – who wouldn’t have wanted him dead?