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TRISTAN

“Is her hat secure?” I ask for the third time as the car approaches the new Royal Haldonian Childcare Center. Through the tinted windows, I can already see the crowds gathered behind the barricades, eagerly awaiting their first glimpse of Princess Eleanor.

Amelia adjusts the tiny white bonnet on our daughter’s head with practiced ease. “It’s perfect, Tristan. Stop fussing.”

“I’m not fussing,” I protest, though we both know that’s exactly what I’m doing. “I just want everything to be perfect for her first official appearance.”

“She’s one month old,” Amelia reminds me with a smile. “She’ll be perfectly happy as long as she’s fed, changed, and in our arms. The rest of this”—she gestures toward the crowd outside—“is for them, not for her.”

I know she’s right, but I can’t help the protective surge that rises in my chest at the thought of presenting our daughter to the world.

For the past month, we’ve kept Eleanor mostly within the palace walls, sharing only a few carefully selected photographs with the public.

Today marks her first real introduction to the kingdom she will someday help lead.

“You’re right,” I concede, reaching over to take Ellie—as we’ve taken to calling her—from Amelia’s arms so she can gather her notes for her speech. Our daughter blinks up at me with her dark blue eyes, so trusting and content in my embrace. “You ready to meet your people, Princess?”

Ellie responds with a tiny yawn that melts my heart completely.

Parker opens my door first, scanning the area before giving me a nod.

I step out, careful to keep Ellie shielded against my chest as the cheers from the crowd intensify.

I turn back to offer Amelia my hand, and the sight of her emerging from the car sends another wave of applause through the gathered citizens.

In the month since giving birth, Amelia has found a new confidence that takes my breath away.

She stands tall beside me in a simple blue dress that matches Ellie’s outfit, her hair swept back in an elegant knot.

The exhaustion of new parenthood is visible in the slight shadows beneath her eyes, but it does nothing to diminish her radiance.

“They love you,” I murmur as we begin walking toward the red ribbon stretched across the entrance of the new daycare center.

“They love their princess,” she corrects, smiling and waving to the crowd.

“They love their queen,” I insist, knowing it’s true. Amelia has captured the hearts of our people in a way my family never managed before.

The director of the center greets us at the entrance, curtseying deeply before leading us inside.

The facility is state-of-the-art, designed to provide affordable childcare for working parents throughout the capital city.

It’s a project Amelia championed during her pregnancy, and seeing it come to fruition fills me with pride.

“Your Majesties, we’re so honored by your presence today,” the director says, guiding us through the brightly colored rooms filled with tiny tables, reading nooks, and play areas.

“This center will serve over two hundred children, with priority given to single parents and families below the median income.”

“It’s exactly what we envisioned,” Amelia says, her face lighting up as she takes in the details. “A place where children can thrive while their parents work without worry.”

As we complete the tour, we’re led to a small stage set up in the center’s courtyard where the public ceremony will take place. Amelia steps up to the microphone first, while I stand slightly behind her, still cradling Ellie protectively against my chest.

“People of Haldonia,” Amelia begins, her voice clear and strong. “Today we celebrate more than just the opening of a building. We celebrate a commitment to our children and to the parents who work tirelessly to provide for them.”

The crowd falls silent, captivated by her words. I watch her with undisguised admiration as she continues.

“As a new mother myself, I have come to understand more deeply than ever before the challenges parents face. The sleepless nights, the constant worry, the impossible balance between work and family.” She pauses, looking back at me and Ellie with a soft smile.

“And I have been fortunate enough to have support at every turn. But not all parents are so lucky.”

She turns back to the audience, her expression growing more passionate.

“Every parent deserves to know their child is safe and nurtured while they work. Every child deserves the opportunity to learn and grow in a supportive environment. And every family deserves the dignity of being able to provide without sacrificing their children’s wellbeing. ”

The applause that follows is thunderous. When it dies down, I step forward to join her at the microphone, carefully adjusting Ellie so that she’s visible to the crowd while still secure in my arms.

“My wife, your queen, speaks with the wisdom that has always been her hallmark,” I say, unable to keep the pride from my voice. “And as king, I am fully committed to supporting this initiative and expanding it throughout Haldonia.”

I look down at my daughter, then back at the faces turned toward us—hopeful, expectant, trusting. “The future of our nation rests in how we care for our children—all of our children. Not just those born to privilege, like my daughter, but every child born within our borders.”

After our speeches, we cut the ribbon together, Amelia guiding Ellie’s tiny hand over ours as we do. The moment is captured by dozens of cameras, and I know it will be on the front page of every newspaper tomorrow.

As planned, we allow the public to approach in an orderly fashion, giving them a closer look at Princess Eleanor, who remains remarkably calm despite the attention.

Many bring small gifts—handmade blankets, tiny stuffed animals, children’s books—which Shannon collects to be sanitized and reviewed before they reach Ellie.

“She has your eyes,” one elderly woman says to Amelia, who smiles graciously.

“And His Majesty’s stubborn chin,” adds another, drawing laughter from those nearby.

I pretend to look offended, which only increases the amusement. These moments of connection with our people are precious, reminding me why the sacrifices of royal life are worthwhile.

As the event winds down and we prepare to leave, I notice Amelia stifling a yawn behind her hand. Ellie is starting to fuss slightly, likely ready for her next feeding.

“Time to get our princess home,” I murmur to Amelia, placing my hand at the small of her back.

She nods gratefully, giving the crowd one final wave as Parker escorts us back to the car. Once inside, Amelia immediately takes Ellie from me, checking her diaper before settling her into her car seat.

“You were brilliant today,” I tell her as the car pulls away. “Both of you.”

“She was perfect,” Amelia agrees, pressing a kiss to Ellie’s head. “Not a single meltdown.”

“I meant what I said up there,” I say, watching my wife and daughter with a fullness in my heart I never thought possible. “About expanding the program.”

Amelia’s eyes meet mine, hopeful but cautious. “The budget committee?—”

“Will approve it,” I finish firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her smile is worth every political battle I’ll have to fight. “Thank you, Tristan.”

“No,” I say, leaning over to press my forehead against hers, creating a small circle with our daughter between us. “Thank you for showing me what truly matters in this kingdom.”

As we drive back to the palace, I watch the city pass by outside the window, seeing it now through the eyes of a father, not just a king. The responsibility feels heavier than ever, but so does the purpose, the clarity of what I’m fighting for.

For Ellie. For Amelia. For all the families who depend on us to lead with compassion and vision.

For the future we’re building together, one day at a time.