Snow And Crowns

"He has grown," the Duke observed dryly, his voice cold and completely devoid of emotion. "Though his origin remains... mathematically questionable."

"He is my flesh and blood!" I blurted out, my maternal instincts briefly overriding my terror as I pressed Sanri further behind my back. "He is my son!"

"If you say so," the Duke replied smoothly, his tone laced with a faint, mocking edge that made my knuckles turn white against the snow.

Suddenly, before I could beg for permission to leave, a small hand pulled away from my skirt.

Sanri stepped right out into the open, taking two brave, tiny steps towards the duke. He stared straight up at the Duke's dark hair-hair that fell in sharp, jet-black strands around the edges of his silver wolf visor.

Sanri tilted his head, his four-year-old brain clearly processing something.

"Hey, mister knight your grace," Sanri asked loudly copying what I've address the man, his voice echoing clearly through the quiet garden. "Are you my dad? Can you take your mask off so I can see your face?"

My soul physically left my body. My blood ran completely cold. I felt my entire world tilt on its axis.

The Duke froze. Utterly speechless, staring down at the tiny four-year-old boy who had just asked him the most absurd, treasonous question imaginable.

Before the Duke could draw his sword or order my execution, I lunged forward like a rabid dog, grabbing Sanri by his arm and yanking him aggressively back into my chest, covering his mouth with my hand.

"Don't ask any man with the same black hair as yours if he's your father!" I shrieked in a horrified, panicked whisper, my face burning with a mixture of absolute terror and supreme humiliation as I backed away from the Duke at top speed. "Forgive us, Your Grace! He's stupid! He's four! He doesn't know anything!"

×××

Majorly inspired by George R. R. Martin's stories.

I'm so in love with the fantasy genre that I ended up creating one of my own-for the sake of my own sanity. Haha.