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The Heir In Disguise

The Heir In Disguise

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5 Chapters
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In a kingdom torn by betrayal, Queen Margret hides a dangerous secret: her daughter Danielle has been raised as "Daniel," the male heir, after the tragic death of her son. For 20 years, Danielle has lived as the crown prince, concealing her true identity to protect her family and kingdom from her treacherous uncle, Kaelen. When war threatens, Danielle is sent as a spy to the rival Kingdom of Aldred, where she befriends Prince Adrian, who believes she is a man. Their bond deepens, and when Adrian discovers her secret, love sparks between them, despite their kingdoms being enemies. As Kaelen's schemes unfold and the truth risks exposure, Danielle must decide if she will embrace her destiny and fight for her kingdom-or lose everything to protect the man she loves.

Chapter 1 A Son

The royal chambers were thick with tension as the queen writhed on the birthing bed, sweat beading on her brow. Around her, a dozen maids and midwives hustled in a flurry of frantic whispers, hands shaking as they tried to ease her through the agonizing labor. The room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting shadows across the rich tapestries that adorned the walls. The heavy scent of incense lingered in the air, meant to calm, but it only seemed to heighten the sense of urgency.

"Your Majesty," one of the midwives murmured, her voice trembling. "Push, just a little more, Your Majesty. The baby is coming."

The queen, her face pale and contorted in pain, gripped the sides of the bed. Her breath came in sharp gasps, and her eyes squeezed shut as another wave of agony coursed through her. She was exhausted, but there was no turning back now.

"I... I can't...!" she cried, her voice breaking.

"You can, Your Majesty," another midwife urged, kneeling at the foot of the bed, wiping the queen's sweat-soaked brow. "The prince will be born soon. You must push."

With a guttural cry, the queen heaved her body forward, summoning every ounce of strength. There was a sharp, almost sickening sound, and then the silence that followed was pregnant with anticipation.

The baby emerged.

The room fell into a stunned quiet as the child was swiftly placed into the waiting hands of the midwife. The queen's heart raced, hope glimmering through the haze of pain, but that hope shattered in an instant.

The child... a boy, yes, but his skin was oddly pale, almost translucent, and there was something wrong with his tiny limbs, twisted in a way that made the queen's breath catch in her throat. A sharp cry echoed through the room, but it was not the sound of a healthy infant.

"Your Majesty, the child is... different," one of the midwives whispered, her voice tinged with dread.

The queen's face drained of color as she looked upon her son, his eyes shut tight, his frail form trembling.

"No!" she cried out, her voice raw, her heart sinking. "No! Not this...!"

And then, as if fate had decided to test her resolve further, another wave of pain surged through her. She gasped, her body trembling violently.

"Another?" a maid gasped, her eyes wide in disbelief.

The queen's face contorted once more, and through gritted teeth, she gave a sharp command, her voice filled with a deep, raw desperation.

"Leave... everyone leave," she ordered, her voice thick with emotion. "Except my daughter... and Lady Evelyn. The rest of you-OUT!"

The midwives hesitated, fear and confusion flickering across their faces, but the queen's gaze was fierce. Slowly, they began to file out of the room, leaving only her daughter, a girl of nine, and Lady Evelyn, the maid she trusted most.

The queen clutched the bedposts, her knuckles white, her eyes wide with both pain and fear. She could feel the second child moving, struggling to make its way into the world.

With a final scream, the second child was born.

It was a girl.

The queen's eyes flickered over her newborn daughter-her fragile, delicate form-and her heart fell. The room, now eerily silent save for the newborn's quiet cries, felt as though the very air had thickened.

Her disappointment was so sharp, it was almost physical. She knew the consequences of this moment. A girl. Not a boy. Not the heir the kingdom needed.

She turned her tear-filled gaze to her daughter, who stood quietly by her side, eyes wide with understanding and sadness. "You must carry the burden now," the queen murmured hoarsely, her voice barely a whisper.

The girl, standing at the edge of womanhood, nodded quietly, knowing that the queen's fate had now been sealed.

*********

Two weeks earlier

*********

Two Months Earlier

The grand hall of the royal council buzzed with tension as two kings, chiefs, and nobles from various regions convened to discuss the kingdom's looming crisis. The flickering light of the torches cast long shadows across the stone walls, amplifying the unease in the room. Men clad in fine silks and armor sat around the oval table, their faces grim with the weight of the topic at hand-war.

King Aldred, a stoic man with a hardened face, stood at the head of the table, his voice firm as he addressed the room. "The enemy marches on our borders. They seek to divide us, to take what is ours. If we do not unite now, there will be nothing left of our kingdom to fight for!"

A chief from the western regions slammed his fist on the table, his dark eyes blazing. "Unite? You speak of unity, yet our lands have bled for years under your rule! Why should we sacrifice our warriors for a king who only calls upon us when his own borders are threatened?"

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.

King Aldred's jaw tightened. He glanced across the table at King Gareth, his ally and counterpart, hoping for support. Gareth, younger and less experienced, rose to his feet.

"Enough," Gareth said, his voice calm but commanding. "This is not the time for petty grievances. The threat we face is not just Aldred's-it is ours. If their armies breach our borders, they will not stop until every village, every kingdom falls. We fight together, or we perish together."

The room fell into uneasy silence, the weight of Gareth's words settling over them.

An older noble cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "The decision has already been made. We prepare for war. Let us hope we are not too late."

Reluctantly, the men began to rise, gathering their cloaks and murmuring amongst themselves. The meeting had not ended in harmony, but at least it had ended with a plan.

As the men prepared to leave, King Aldred, still seated at the head of the table, leaned back in his chair with a calculating look in his eye. He cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the murmurs.

"King Gareth," he began, his tone deceptively casual. "Before you go, may I inquire about your wife?"

Gareth stiffened, his hand pausing on the back of his chair. "What about her?" he replied curtly, his gaze hardening.

Aldred's lips curled into a thin smile, the kind that rarely bore good intentions. "I hear she is with child. A joyous occasion, no doubt."

Gareth inclined his head slightly, choosing his words carefully. "Yes. My queen is expecting."

Aldred let out a low hum, his eyes narrowing as though inspecting Gareth for a reaction. "Well, let us hope it is good news this time," he said, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Rather than the last four... disappointments she has given you."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. The chiefs and nobles who had been filing out paused mid-step, their eyes darting nervously between the two kings. Aldred's words hung heavy in the air, their insult clear.

Gareth's jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened on the chair. Slowly, he turned to face Aldred fully, his expression a mask of controlled fury.

"My daughters are not disappointments," he said, his voice low and steady, though there was an unmistakable edge of danger to it. "They are the pride of my household, and they carry the blood of kings just as surely as any son would."

Aldred raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Of course, of course," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But surely even you can understand the importance of an heir. A son. One to secure your legacy and the stability of your realm. Without one... well..." He let the words trail off, his smirk deepening.

Gareth took a deliberate step closer, his towering presence casting a long shadow over the seated king. "Mind your tongue, Aldred," he warned, his voice a quiet growl. "My wife and children are not fodder for your petty jabs."

For a moment, Aldred's smirk faltered, his eyes meeting Gareth's cold, unyielding stare. But before the tension could escalate further, an older noble intervened, stepping forward with a nervous cough.

"Gentlemen," the noble said, his tone placating. "We have far more pressing matters to focus on than domestic affairs. The enemy is at our doorstep, and our strength lies in unity."

Gareth straightened, exhaling slowly as he forced himself to step back. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the hall, the heavy doors slamming shut behind him.

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