A storm raged over Far Far Away. The rain was heavy, the thunder deafening. Sitting on the living room couch, King Harold stared into the intimidating work space that used to belong to his father. It was a simple space; just a desk with drawers full of papers, a couple of unlit candles that had begun to melt, and a feathered quill pen placed inside an inkpot given to him by his grandfather.

It was his now; and it was his job to go through his father's things and make sure he kept upcoming appointments. Filling his father's shoes had given him not just a kingdom, but also a lot of responsibility.

He would not tarnish his post within the first week.

Summoning all his courage, he stood and crossed the room. Lighting the candles, he sat in the chair, pulled the top drawer open and began putting the papers on the surface of the desk.

Outside, thunder roared and lightning flashed, illuminating the raindrops on the window. Thankful to be warm and sitting near a source of light, he took the quill from the inkpot and got to work, underlining the soonest appointments that were not crossed off.

Hear petition of son's potential brides, March 13, courtyard. No thank you, he had his bride. Plan Bridgette's birthday party, April 1st. King Harold bit his lip, trying not to give in to his sadness and weep. Now his mother would spend her birthday a widow...

He leaned closer, squinting at the pages, stepping on his sadness. His mother was right; he had to act like a king.

Visit Mr. Wells in hospital. Instead of underlining it, he gave it a big circle - Mr. Wells had been such a good friend of his father's. Oversee creation of daughter-in-law's coronation crown - March 21st, Jeweller Jean's.

Well, that could be fun. He turned the page and found himself looking at the end cover.

He had come so close to finishing his last book. Feeling a heavy depression setting in, King Harold gave the circled dates one last glance before shutting the book. Then he just sat there, silhouetted by the candlelight as he stared out the window, watching the lightning and the rain.

A knock at the door made him jump. "Yes," he called, "You may enter."

The door opened right away. "Sire, you have a guest."

"Send him away."

"It's...Princess Lillian, sire; are you sure?"

He felt his depression lift at the concept of seeing his love. "No, have her come in. For tea," he added, walking toward the door. The servant led him down the hall and into the living room. Princess Lillian stood there, toweling herself off and squeezing the rain from her hair. "Good grief, where's your coat? Where's your umbrella?" King Harold cried out, hurrying toward her.

"I gave them to a little girl who had nothing. Harold..." Her face was lit up by the radiant smile that dimpled her cheeks. "I know what we're having."

"You do?" he asked. "Tell me."

"A son, Harold. You're getting your boy." She reverently touched his cheek, "This month."

He outstretched his arms for a hug, and bumped awkwardly against her belly. Laughing softly, she came to stand beside him, and looped her arms around his shoulders, burying her head into his neck. "I love you."

Instead of feeling joy at her words, he only felt regret for the reason she could say them. "I love you too," he muttered.

"Your tea, your Highnesses," the voice shattered their romantic interlude. They broke quickly apart and selected their cups, then sat on the couch. Princess Lillian folded her fingers over his hand and smiled across the room. "I want you to name him."

When he was silent she looked over at him. "Thinking of names already?" she laughed, and sipped her tea.

Thinking of telling you the truth, he thought, but looking at her belly he was too afraid. If he backed out now, would she still have the baby? Or would taking away her love take away the result of the lovemaking? That seemed most likely.

"Lillian," he said, leaning forward and putting his cup on the coffee table. "I need you to listen to me. What I'm about to say will be difficult, because I've loved you for a long time, and I don't want you to leave me because of this...this...mistake."

"Mistake?" Her brilliant blue eyes searched him, one hand slowly moving to her belly.

He quickly caught on. "No, no, not that! It's not that," he assured her, and she relaxed. "I...I struck a deal with a...a woman named...Olivia," he said, and right away Princess Lillian's whole body went stiff. Her eyebrows went low and she studied him.

"For what?" she asked, knowing exactly which Olivia he meant.

"For...you," he confessed. "So you would love me. I-I'm sorry! I tried taking the drink back, but you..."

"You poisoned me?" Princess Lillian went pale. "You toyed with my emotions - y-y-you stole my choice?"

He bowed his head. "Yes."

"I don't believe this! I thought you cared about me." Without another word, Princess Lillian poured her tea on his head, and left the kingdom.