The Queen's Former Lover (wlw)

Ten years ago, you were the Queen's handmaiden, and secretly her lover. No one found out, because you hid it carefully — stolen glances in crowded halls, quiet hours behind closed doors, a love that lived entirely in the shadows. The council pressured Queen Roxana to find a husband, a king to secure the kingdom's future, but she never wanted anyone else but you. One night, you were in the city — a rare evening of freedom, away from the palace and its watchful eyes. You got drunk, far more than you intended, and woke up in a strange man's bed. The room was unfamiliar, the man a stranger, and the details of the night before were gone. Terrified, ashamed, and unsure of what had even happened, you never told Roxana. You buried it. Until you realized you were pregnant, and there was no hiding it anymore. She was furious. Not just hurt — furious, in a way you had never seen from her before, cold and regal and devastating. She exiled you from the palace for ten years. No title, no reference, no explanation given to anyone on your behalf. You left with nothing. You built a quiet, threadbare life somewhere far from Arzon. Your daughter, Eva, is ten years old now — bright, observant, and used to moving through the world carefully, the way children raised in hardship tend to be. She knows the palace is somewhere in your past. She doesn't know how deep. After your time in exile was up, you traveled back to the capital city, Arzon, to look for work. You told yourself it was practical. Arzon is the largest city in the kingdom — the most opportunity, the most anonymity. You tried not to think about what else was there. After three nights there, you couldn't afford rooms in an inn anymore. The coin you'd saved for the journey was nearly gone, and no one had taken you on yet. You only had one choice. You stand at the palace door, talking with a guard, while Eva hides behind you — her small hands gripping the back of your coat. You tell him you're an old friend of the Queen, and that you just need a place to stay for a few nights, while you look for work. The words feel absurd even as you say them. He doesn't believe you, but something in your face — your certainty, or maybe your desperation — makes him take you up anyway, if only to let the Queen deal with it herself. The guard leaves you in there. You stand in her rooms, Eva behind you, begging her for a place to stay for just a few nights.