Chapter Text
Eddie Diaz sat stiffly in the high-backed chair, the velvet cushion beneath him doing little to ease the discomfort of hours spent pretending to care. Gold embroidery caught the late afternoon light as it streaked through the stained-glass windows of the palace’s eastern hall. Musicians played something soft and regal in the corner, their strings plucked with mechanical precision, and another line of eligible women waited to curtsy and giggle in his direction.
His jaw tightened. He’d rather be anywhere else. Literally anywhere. A battlefield. A crumbling tower. Cleaning stables with a toothbrush.
But this? This courtship parade his parents had arranged, masked as a charity banquet? It made his skin itch.
“Prince Edmundo,” one girl cooed, stepping closer, her voice syrupy with practiced sweetness. “I’ve heard so much about your bravery in the Southern Highlands. Is it true you carried a wounded soldier five miles back to the garrison on foot?”
He didn’t remember her name. He never did. They blurred together—titles and gowns and jewels that outshone their sincerity.
He gave a tight smile. “I was doing my duty.”
“Oh, but it’s so noble,” she gushed. “And your son—what a darling thing. I think it’s admirable that you’ve taken such responsibility after… well. Everything.”
There it was.
The “after everything.”
After the scandal. After the whispers. After the royal family tried to scrub his son’s existence from the official press release.
He nodded curtly and stepped away before she could touch his arm.
Eddie moved toward the balcony, barely resisting the urge to rip off the damn sash across his chest. He leaned on the stone railing, breathing in the cooler evening air and trying to shake the weight pressing against his lungs.
He didn’t hate everything about being royalty. He loved his people. Loved serving in the Royal Guard. Loved the land, the kingdom, the mountains he grew up climbing. But the rest of it? The pomp. The expectations. The masks.
He despised it.
And he especially hated how his parents—King Ramon and Queen Helena—looked at him now. Like he’d dirtied their perfect lineage by falling in love with a commoner. Like he’d ruined the line of succession by having a child outside of marriage.
Like Christopher was a mistake.
They never said it outright. No, they smiled tightly and spoke through clenched teeth, like everything would be fine if only Eddie would marry the right girl and stop insisting on raising his son like he wasn’t a royal embarrassment.
He heard footsteps approaching. Judging by the sharp, authoritative rhythm, it wasn’t another simpering guest.
“You disappeared again,” his mother said coolly. “It’s disrespectful to your guests.”
He didn’t turn. “They’re not my guests.”
Her heels clicked closer. “We are trying to protect your future, Edmundo.”
“That’s funny,” he muttered. “Because it feels more like you’re trying to erase my past.”
There was a pause, just long enough for the tension to spike.
“You made your choices,” Helena said tightly. “Now it’s time to make the ones that matter. For the kingdom. For the throne.”
Eddie turned to face her, the anger simmering under his skin barely leashed. “You mean marry someone with a last name that looks good on paper? Let them raise my son like he’s a political accessory?”
Her expression didn’t change. “You cannot have both the crown and the luxury of rebellion.”
“I’m not rebelling,” he snapped. “I’m being a father.”
She gave him a look—a familiar one. Pity mixed with disappointment, as though he’d once again failed to meet their royal mold.
He walked away before she could say anything else.
Past the glittering hall, past the laughing courtiers and marble statues, Eddie found himself in the west wing. The quieter one. The one reserved for foreign emissaries and, more importantly, privacy.
He needed space. Air. A moment to remember why he still tried.
When he reached the nursery, he slipped inside without knocking. The guards posted outside knew better than to stop him.
And there—sprawled across a plush rug with a wooden sword in hand—was Christopher.
“Papa!” the little boy beamed.
Eddie’s chest eased, just a little. He crouched beside him, tugging him into a hug, breathing in the scent of chalk and apples and freedom.
Christopher giggled. “Did you fight any bad guys at the party?”
Eddie smirked. “Only ones with tiaras.”
Christopher laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and for the first time all night, Eddie felt alive.
If only the rest of the world could see what really mattered.
And maybe, just maybe, one day someone would see him—not the title. Not the throne. Not the scandal.
Just Eddie.
And maybe that person wouldn’t care about the crown at all.
Eddie had enough.
The velvet curtains. The forced smiles. The same recycled speeches about duty and legacy and the greater good. It was all just noise now—droning, suffocating noise that didn’t leave room for who he really was. And tonight, it finally broke something in him.
He paced the length of his chambers like a caged animal, fingers twitching at his sides. The fire crackled quietly behind him, casting long shadows over the polished floors and gold-gilded walls. His crown—polished and gleaming—sat untouched on the table.
He hadn’t worn it in days.
Christopher was asleep on the bed, his small body curled around the stuffed dragon Chimney had given him two winters ago. Eddie watched the slow, even rise of his son’s chest and made a decision.
They couldn’t stay here.
Not when the palace was planning to send Christopher away to a “nobler” school next season. Not when they kept parading women in front of him like livestock. Not when his parents acted like being a father made him weak.
He crossed the room to his travel trunk. He didn’t need much—some clothes, the worn book Chris loved, his blade. He moved quietly, his body trained from years in combat. Silent. Efficient.
He’d get them out by dawn.
Or so he thought.
“I swear to the gods, if you’re planning on leaving without saying anything, I’m going to throw you into the moat myself.”
Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning toward the voice.
Chimney stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and that infuriating know-it-all look on his face.
“How the hell did you get in here?” Eddie whispered, stepping between Chimney and Christopher’s bed.
Chim just raised an eyebrow. “I’m your personal guard, Eddie. I live in the walls of this palace. You think I didn’t notice you pacing like a storm cloud all evening?”
Eddie’s jaw clenched. “Don’t try to stop me.”
“I’m not here to stop you,” Chimney said, stepping further inside and shutting the door quietly behind him. “I’m here to stop you from being stupid about it.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means,” Chim said, striding over to the trunk and flipping it shut with one loud snap, “if you’re going to run away, you don’t do it like some lovesick teenager jumping out the window. You make a plan. You survive. You don’t just disappear into the woods with a child and expect everything to work out because you’ve got a sword and good intentions.”
Eddie opened his mouth to argue—and then shut it.
Because he knew Chim was right.
“I can’t stay here, Chim,” he said instead, quieter this time. “They want to take him from me. They want to erase her. And me. And Chris. I can’t breathe here anymore.”
Chim’s expression softened. “I know.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Where would you even go?” Chim asked.
Eddie hesitated.
“Somewhere far,” he muttered. “Somewhere they won’t follow. Somewhere I can be a father first.”
Chim rubbed his face. “Then we need somewhere big. Loud. A place where a prince could blend in. Somewhere no one gives a damn about bloodlines.”
He looked up at Eddie and smirked.
“We’re going to L.A.”
Eddie blinked. “Los Angeles?”
Chim nodded. “Big city. Messy. Full of people chasing dreams and reinventing themselves. No one bats an eye at a single dad trying to figure things out. We’ll disappear.”
Eddie frowned. “We?”
Chim shrugged. “What, you thought I was letting you do this alone? Please. You’d be dead by day three. You forget, my job is to protect you. Wherever that takes me.”
Emotion rose in Eddie’s throat, thick and unexpected. He looked over at Christopher, still asleep. Still safe. Still everything.
“You really think we can do this?”
Chim grinned. “I think we’re already doing it.”
Eddie nodded slowly.
They’d leave before the sun rose. He and Chris and Chimney. No more guards. No more forced banquets. No more chains made of gold.
Just a boy, his father, and the best damn guard in the kingdom—heading for a city that didn’t know them, didn’t care about titles.
A city where maybe, just maybe, they could finally live.
The palace was quieter than usual. Midnight cloaked the marble halls in a hush, moonlight streaking through arched windows and casting silver shadows across the floor. Every footstep could echo, so Eddie took care to make none. Chimney, dressed in simple traveler’s clothes and carrying a satchel of forged papers, moved like a shadow behind him.
Christopher stirred against Eddie’s shoulder but didn’t wake. He’d carried him from the nursery bundled in his favorite blanket, dragon plush tucked securely under his arm. The boy’s head nestled into Eddie’s neck, and every soft breath felt like a quiet promise.
They reached the stables without issue—Chim had already bribed the night guard to take an “early nap”—and two horses stood ready, their saddlebags packed and tied down. No gold. No royal seal. Just what they could carry and sell along the way.
“You sure about this?” Chimney asked, adjusting the strap across his chest. “Because once we cross that border, there’s no coming back. Not without them dragging you in chains.”
Eddie looked up at the towering palace behind them. Cold stone, gleaming spires. A place that had raised him, trained him, broken him.
“I was never free in there,” he said, his voice low. “And Chris won’t grow up in a place where he’s made to feel like a mistake.”
Chim nodded once. “Then let’s get moving before your mother wakes up and demands a head count.”
Eddie swung up onto his horse with practiced ease, careful to keep Christopher secure in his arms. The boy mumbled something incoherent and snuggled deeper into him. Eddie’s chest ached at how small he still was. How young. How undeserving of all the pressure his lineage had already tried to place on him.
They rode out through the servant’s gate, through the orchard path no one patrolled anymore. The scent of citrus hung in the air as they passed the outer wall, then the road dipped into the woods, where the torchlights of the castle could no longer reach them.
Only when the last sliver of the palace disappeared behind a bend did Eddie finally speak again.
“You really think I’ll be able to hide who I am?”
Chim chuckled beside him. “You mean besides the tragic handsomeness, brooding eyes, and constant knight-in-shining-armor attitude? Totally. You’ll blend right in.”
Eddie gave him a sidelong look. “I hate you.”
Chim grinned. “You love me.”
“I’m reconsidering.”
But the teasing helped. It reminded Eddie who he was beneath the polished speeches and royal etiquette. It reminded him of the boy who used to sneak out with Chim to race horses through the fields. Who used to dream of serving in the guard like a soldier—not sitting on a throne like a symbol.
“Okay, so here’s the plan,” Chim said, turning more serious as they neared the trade road. “We ride east to the port. I’ve got a friend—used to be a smuggler, now he mostly moves ‘unofficial’ passengers. He can get us on a freighter to the west coast, no questions asked.”
“And once we get to L.A.?” Eddie asked.
Chim grinned again. “We start over. New names. New lives. I’ve already got a place picked out. Tiny apartment, but it’s near a firehouse.”
Eddie raised a brow. “Why a firehouse?”
Chim gave him a sly look. “Because, my prince, you need a job. And you like saving people. Might as well get paid for it.”
Eddie looked down at his son.
Christopher had no idea what was happening. No idea that the life he’d been born into was unraveling behind them like a silk ribbon. But he’d smile when he woke up, like he always did. He’d ask if there were pancakes. He’d ask if they could go to the park. And Eddie would say yes. Every time. Because that was the life they were building now.
No crown. No title.
Just love. And maybe, if they were lucky, a new kind of future.
“L.A.,” Eddie repeated, the name foreign but hopeful on his tongue.
Chim gave a single nod. “Land of sunshine, traffic, and second chances.”
Eddie took a deep breath. “Then let’s go find ours.”
Los Angeles smelled like car exhaust, ocean air, and something frying on every corner. It was loud—constant honking, chatter, music from storefronts—and it moved. Fast. Faster than Eddie was ready for. But it was also alive. Nobody stared at him. Nobody bowed. Nobody even looked up.
And for the first time in his life, Eddie Diaz was no one.
He held tightly to Christopher’s hand as they crossed the street, the boy’s eyes wide as they passed food trucks, towering buildings, and a busker playing violin with neon strings. Chris didn’t ask where they were—he asked what everything was. The colors, the sounds, the people. It was new, overwhelming, and exhilarating.
Chimney walked just ahead, reading from a crumpled piece of paper.
“Our guy left the keys in the mailbox,” he said, motioning toward a squat brick building with peeling paint and a rusted security gate. “Third floor, walk-up, no elevator. Welcome to L.A. luxury.”
Eddie looked up at the apartment. It was far from a castle. But it had a roof. And walls. And no thrones.
“Perfect,” he muttered.
They climbed the stairs with luggage dragging behind them, Eddie carrying Chris when he started to lag. The hallway smelled like old wood and someone’s leftover curry, but when they stepped into apartment 3B, Eddie felt… peace.
It was small. One bedroom, one bathroom, an outdated kitchen, and a couch that had definitely seen better days. But the light from the window spilled onto the hardwood floor, and Chris immediately ran over to press his face against the glass.
“I can see a taco truck!” he announced. “And a dog in a sweater!”
Chim tossed the keys on the counter and exhaled. “We made it.”
Eddie dropped the duffel bag on the floor and looked around. “We really did.”
They unpacked slowly, sorting through what little they’d brought: clothes, basic toiletries, a few books for Chris, and the one framed photo of Eddie, Shannon, and baby Christopher that hadn’t gotten lost in the escape. He placed it on the windowsill.
It wasn’t long before Chris fell asleep on the couch, curled up under Chim’s jacket like it was a royal blanket. Chimney ordered takeout—something greasy and delicious—and they ate in silence for a while, both too tired to make conversation.
It wasn’t until after they’d finished eating and the sky had gone dark outside that Chim finally spoke.
“So,” he said, cracking open a soda. “Next step: jobs.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You’re really serious about the firehouse?”
“Dead serious,” Chim said. “You’ve got the training, the instincts. It’s not so different from the Guard, just with less swords and more ladders.”
Eddie leaned back against the wall. “And what about you?”
“I’ll figure something out,” Chim said with a shrug. “Security, maybe. Or—hell—I hear there’s a karaoke bar down the street. Maybe I’ll be a lounge singer.”
Eddie gave him a flat look.
“I’m multifaceted,” Chim said, unbothered.
They both laughed—really laughed—for the first time in what felt like weeks. The tension broke like a dam, and Eddie felt it for real: the first breath of freedom. No guards. No cold looks from his mother. No pressure to marry someone who wouldn’t love his son.
Just possibility.
“I’m going to have to learn how to be… normal,” Eddie said after a moment. “No titles. No servants. Just… me.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Chim said confidently. “And hey—look around. In this city? No one cares who you were. Only who you are now.”
Eddie looked down the hall where Chris was sleeping. Then he looked out the window at the city skyline beyond, twinkling and buzzing with life.
Maybe Chim was right.
Here, he was just Eddie Diaz. A single dad with a past he was trying to leave behind and a son who deserved the world.
Tomorrow, he’d start fresh. He’d find work. He’d find stability.
And maybe—someday—he’d even find someone who saw him for who he was beneath the armor.
But tonight?
Tonight, Eddie Diaz slept soundly, not as a prince, not as a disappointment—but as a father who finally chose freedom.
And that was more than any crown had ever given him.