Chapter Text
King Lewis Hamilton stood beside the bed, unable to tear his eyes away from the tiny bundle cradled in Nico’s arms.
Their son.
Their little boy.
For a moment, Lewis could hardly believe he was real.
He had spent years standing in grand halls and glittering ballrooms, offering congratulations to kings and queens as their heirs were born. He had attended christenings, naming ceremonies, and celebrations across the realm, smiling warmly as another royal family welcomed a new generation.
He had always been happy for them.
But beneath every smile, every blessing, and every carefully spoken word, there had been a quiet ache.
A question he had never dared to voice aloud.
Would he ever have a child of his own?
There had been a time when Lewis had nearly given up hope.
And then there had been George.
Nico looked exhausted. His golden hair was tousled against the pillows, and there were shadows beneath his eyes from the long hours of labor. Yet there was a softness in his expression that Lewis had never seen before.
A happiness so complete it seemed to illuminate the entire room.
For months, Nico had carried their child beneath his heart. He had endured every ache and sleepless night, every moment of uncertainty and every fear that came with waiting for a child who had seemed, at times, almost too precious to be real.
And now, finally, their baby was here.
Nico lowered his gaze to the sleeping infant.
“George,” he whispered.
Lewis smiled.
“George.”
They had chosen the name long before their son had ever drawn his first breath.
Simple.
Strong.
A name worthy of the heir to Mercedes.
But to them, it meant something far greater than a royal title or a future crown.
It was the name of their son.
Their miracle.
Their greatest treasure.
Lewis leaned over the bed, hesitating for only a moment before reaching out. One finger gently brushed the baby’s impossibly soft cheek.
George stirred.
His tiny face scrunched up in protest, his lips forming the faintest pout, before he settled once more into peaceful sleep.
Completely unaware that an entire kingdom was waiting beyond the palace walls for the announcement of his birth.
Lewis let out a quiet laugh.
“He has your nose.”
Nico gave him a tired, incredulous look.
“He has been alive for approximately five minutes.”
“And already he has your nose.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Lewis grinned.
“I’ve waited a very long time to be ridiculous about my son.”
That earned him a small smile.
For years, the King and Queen of Mercedes had ruled their kingdom with wisdom and compassion.
Under their reign, Mercedes had flourished. Its people were fiercely loyal to their royal family, its cities prosperous and magnificent. The capital rose in silver towers and gleaming spires, while beyond its walls stretched fertile fields, bustling villages, and roads protected by some of the finest knights and guards in the realm.
Lewis had everything a king could ask for.
A kingdom that loved him.
A queen whom he adored.
Peace along his borders.
Prosperity throughout his lands.
And yet, for all his blessings, there had always been one empty place in his heart.
Until now.
Nico looked down at the sleeping infant, wonder filling his tired features.
“Our little prince.”
Lewis’s smile softened.
“Our heir.”
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
There was nothing left to say.
The silence between them was not empty. It was full of everything they had waited for, everything they had feared they might never have, and everything that now lay ahead.
Then Nico’s eyes drifted toward the tall balcony doors.
“They’re waiting.”
Lewis followed his gaze.
Beyond the doors, the kingdom held its breath.
Thousands had gathered in the palace courtyard. Word of the prince’s birth had already spread throughout the capital, and more people crowded the streets with every passing minute. The great bells of Mercedes waited silently in their towers, ready to ring out across the kingdom.
Flags bearing the three-pointed star of Mercedes fluttered from balconies and rooftops, silver and black banners rippling beneath the afternoon sky.
Everyone wanted to see him.
The child who would one day inherit the throne.
Their future king.
Their little prince.
Lewis carefully reached down and lifted George from Nico’s arms.
Nico watched him with immediate concern.
“Be careful.”
“I’ve got him.”
“You’ve never held a newborn before.”
Lewis looked offended.
“I have absolutely held newborns.”
“Not your own.”
Lewis’s answer died on his lips.
He looked down.
George was impossibly small against his arms, wrapped securely in a soft white blanket embroidered with the crest of Mercedes. One tiny hand had escaped from the folds, his fingers curling instinctively against his father’s royal coat.
Something in Lewis’s chest tightened.
He swallowed.
“No,” he whispered.
“Not my own.”
He adjusted George carefully against his chest, supporting the baby’s head exactly as he had been taught.
For all the crowns Lewis had worn and all the responsibilities he had carried, he had never felt quite so humbled as he did in that moment.
Nico watched him from the bed.
His smile said everything.
Lewis looked back at him.
“Ready?”
Nico nodded.
Together, they walked toward the balcony.
The palace doors opened.
Two servants stepped aside, their faces bright with barely contained excitement as the King and Queen emerged into the sunlight.
The reaction from below was immediate.
A deafening roar rose from the courtyard.
Thousands of voices became one.
Lewis stopped for a moment.
He looked out over his kingdom.
For perhaps the first time since he had taken the throne, the king had no speech prepared.
He had addressed armies before battle.
He had welcomed foreign monarchs into his palace.
He had spoken before entire nations and stood before crowds so vast that their cheers seemed to shake the earth beneath his feet.
Yet none of those moments had prepared him for this.
His son was in his arms.
His husband stood beside him.
And an entire kingdom was waiting to meet the child who had changed everything.
Every carefully prepared word vanished from his mind.
Lewis felt his eyes burn.
Beside him, Nico reached out and rested a hand gently against his arm.
The king glanced down at the tiny omega sleeping peacefully against his chest.
Then, with a smile trembling through his tears, Lewis lifted his son just enough for the kingdom to see him.
His voice carried across the courtyard.
“Long live Prince George!”
For one heartbeat, the world seemed to fall silent.
Then Mercedes erupted.
“LONG LIVE PRINCE GEORGE!”
The cry swept through the capital like a wave.
It rolled through the palace courtyard, spilled into the streets, and echoed beyond the city walls into the countryside.
The bells of Mercedes began to ring.
One tower answered another until the entire capital seemed to sing.
People waved flags from windows and balconies. Children shouted the new prince’s name. Guards raised their swords toward the sky, while musicians struck up a triumphant melody that filled the air.
The kingdom celebrated.
Its long-awaited prince had arrived.
And George slept through every moment of it.
Lewis laughed softly through his tears.
Nico leaned against his side, smiling as he watched their son sleep.
For the first time, the future of Mercedes had a face.
Their son.
Their little prince.
Their heir.
Their future.
And the celebration was so great that its sound carried far beyond the borders of Mercedes.
Across forests and mountains.
Across rivers and valleys.
All the way into the neighboring Kingdom of Red Bull.
Where, within the walls of another magnificent palace, a young prince was about to hear the name of the child who would one day change his life forever.
For the first year of Prince George’s life, the palace of Mercedes was rarely quiet.
There was always someone arriving.
Kings and queens came from neighboring kingdoms. Noble families traveled from distant lands. Courtiers and diplomats crossed the palace gates bearing elaborate gifts, all eager for the same thing: a glimpse of the young heir.
Everyone wanted to see the little prince.
And everyone seemed to have something to say about him.
“He’s beautiful.”
“Such a lovely little omega.”
“Look at those eyes.”
“What a blessing for Mercedes.”
By the time George was a year old, the palace nursery had accumulated enough gifts to fill several rooms.
George himself had grown rather accustomed to being the center of attention.
He had learned to walk.
He had learned to laugh.
He had also learned that if he smiled sweetly enough at the palace staff, there was a very good chance someone would give him something he wasn’t supposed to have.
Most of all, however, George had developed a particular fascination with anything shiny.
Which was precisely why, on the afternoon the royal family of Red Bull arrived at the palace, the one-year-old prince was sitting happily on the nursery floor, playing with a silver ornament that most certainly did not belong to him.
The announcement echoed through the palace halls.
“Their Majesties, King Mark Webber and King Sebastian Vettel of the Kingdom of Red Bull!”
Lewis looked up immediately.
Beside him, Nico—who was sitting comfortably on the floor with George—smiled.
“They’re here.”
Lewis rose to his feet.
“We should go greet them.”
George looked up at the sound of his father’s voice.
“Papa!”
Lewis’s expression softened instantly.
“Yes, little one?”
George held up the silver ornament triumphantly.
“Shiny!”
Lewis looked at the ornament.
Then at George.
Then slowly at Nico.
Nico pressed his lips together, unsuccessfully trying to hide his amusement.
“He found that on the table.”
“I see.”
“You’re not going to ask which table?”
Lewis sighed.
“I’ve decided not to.”
Nico laughed.
Before he could say anything else, the nursery doors opened.
Mark entered first, followed by Sebastian.
And between them walked their three-year-old son, Prince Max Verstappen.
The little prince held tightly to Sebastian’s hand as he entered the unfamiliar nursery. His gaze moved slowly across the room, taking in the strange surroundings with the solemn expression of a child who had been reminded several times that he was expected to behave himself.
He had been promised there would be a baby.
That, apparently, was the most interesting thing about the entire visit.
Sebastian leaned down toward him.
“Remember what we talked about?”
Max nodded.
“Baby.”
“That’s right.”
“And present.”
Sebastian smiled.
“Very good.”
Mark reached into his coat and produced a small golden locket.
Max’s eyes immediately fixed upon it.
“For baby?”
“For Prince George.”
Max released Sebastian’s hand and held out both of his own.
Sebastian carefully placed the locket into them.
Max stared at it.
It was small and golden, suspended from a delicate chain, with an intricate design etched across its front. He turned it over in his hands, examining it from every angle.
Then he looked up.
“Mine?”
Sebastian chuckled.
“No.”
Max frowned.
“Baby’s.”
“Yes.”
Max looked down at the locket again.
He seemed distinctly reluctant to part with it.
But after a moment, with the solemn resignation of a three-year-old performing a very important royal duty, he nodded.
“Okay.”
Mark smiled.
“Go on, son.”
Max turned.
Across the nursery, George was watching him.
The one-year-old had completely abandoned his silver ornament. His bright eyes were fixed upon the unfamiliar little boy standing between the two kings.
Max stared back.
For several seconds, neither child moved.
Lewis glanced between them before smiling.
“George, come say hello.”
George immediately turned and crawled toward Nico.
“No.”
Nico laughed.
“George.”
The little boy buried his face against Nico’s leg.
Max pointed at him.
“He’s shy.”
“He’s not usually shy,” Lewis said.
George peeked cautiously around Nico’s leg.
Max was still watching him.
George stared back.
Then his eyes fell upon the golden locket in Max’s hands.
His entire expression changed.
“Shiny.”
Max looked down at the locket.
Then back at George.
“Baby wants it?”
George nodded enthusiastically.
“Shiny!”
Max walked toward him.
He stopped directly in front of George and held out the locket.
George reached for it immediately.
But just before his little fingers could close around it, Max pulled it back.
George frowned.
Max giggled.
Nico raised an eyebrow.
“Max.”
The three-year-old looked up at him with an expression of perfect innocence.
Sebastian gave his son a gentle but unmistakably firm look.
“Give it to him.”
Max sighed.
Apparently, there was no escaping his royal duties.
He held the locket out again.
This time, George grabbed it with both hands.
His little face lit up.
“Shiny!”
Laughter filled the nursery.
Max watched him for a moment.
Apparently satisfied that his duty had been fulfilled, he turned around and walked straight back to Sebastian.
Sebastian smiled down at him.
“Well done.”
Max nodded proudly.
“Done.”
Mark laughed.
“Yes. Done.”
The adults exchanged amused glances.
Lewis looked toward the two children.
George was sitting on the floor, utterly fascinated by the golden locket.
Max stood beside Sebastian, already looking around the nursery for something else to occupy his attention.
They could hardly have been more different.
And yet there was something strangely fitting about seeing them together.
Two princes.
Two neighboring kingdoms.
Two families whose histories had been intertwined for generations.
Nico watched as George turned the locket over and over in his tiny hands.
“They’ll grow up together.”
Sebastian glanced toward Max.
“I hope so.”
Mark nodded.
“It would be good for both kingdoms.”
Lewis smiled.
“Perhaps they’ll even become close.”
Before anyone could say more, Max suddenly tugged on Sebastian’s sleeve.
“Papa.”
Sebastian looked down.
“Yes?”
“Can we go?”
Sebastian blinked.
“Already?”
Max nodded solemnly.
“I’m hungry.”
Mark burst out laughing.
Lewis shook his head.
Nico covered his smile with one hand.
Max, meanwhile, remained completely serious.
The adults exchanged another glance.
Perhaps they were imagining the future.
Perhaps they were thinking of alliances and treaties, of friendship between kingdoms, and of what their children’s relationship might one day mean for Mercedes and Red Bull.
But Max was three years old.
George was one.
Neither boy had the slightest idea what their parents were quietly imagining.
As far as Max was concerned, he had come to see a baby, given him a shiny thing, and was now hungry.
That was the extent of his royal responsibilities for the day.
Sebastian took his son’s hand.
“Come on, then.”
Max followed him toward the door.
But just before he left, he stopped.
He glanced back.
George was still sitting on the nursery floor, clutching the golden locket in both hands.
Their eyes met.
George smiled.
Max stared at him for a moment.
Then, with the solemnity of someone making a very important farewell, he lifted his hand.
“Bye, baby.”
George waved back.
“Bye.”
The Red Bull royal family disappeared through the nursery doors.
Nico watched them go before looking down at his son.
George immediately held up the locket for him to see.
“Shiny.”
Nico smiled.
“Yes, darling.”
Across the room, Lewis was still looking at the closed doors.
“Two years apart.”
Nico glanced at him.
“You’re thinking it too.”
Lewis smiled.
“I’m thinking they might grow up to be very good friends.”
Nico’s smile became knowing.
“Of course.”
Neither said anything more.
There was no need.
For now, it was only a golden locket given by one little prince to another.
A small gift.
An innocent gesture.
Neither boy could have known what it would someday mean.
Neither could have known that this brief meeting would be remembered long after the nursery had been emptied of toys and the golden locket had become something far more precious than a simple trinket.
For this was where it began.
Not with a treaty.
Not with an alliance.
Not with a royal decree.
But with a three-year-old boy offering something shiny to a curious baby.
The first thread in a bond that would one day tie two kingdoms—
and two hearts—together.
The celebrations in Mercedes continued for days.
Music filled the palace halls from morning until night. Bells rang from the towers, their joyful peals carrying across the capital. Nobles came and went in a constant stream, while foreign visitors brought gifts for the newborn prince and offered their congratulations to King Lewis and Queen Nico.
The kingdom rejoiced.
But among the hundreds of faces that crowded the palace that week was one man who had not come to celebrate.
He stood at the edge of the nursery, half-hidden beneath a dark traveling cloak.
Fernando Alonso watched.
He watched the servants moving quietly through the palace.
He watched the guards stationed outside the royal chambers.
He watched nobles laughing over wine as they toasted the birth of Mercedes’ new heir.
And eventually, his gaze settled upon the tiny prince sleeping peacefully in Nico’s arms.
George.
Fernando did not smile.
He did not offer congratulations.
He did not even pretend to admire the child.
Instead, his eyes slowly traveled across the nursery.
The Mercedes crest carved into the stone walls.
The silver-and-black banners hanging from the ceiling.
The priceless paintings.
The enormous chandeliers.
The guards standing watch.
The servants waiting upon the royal family.
The palace itself.
Everything Lewis Hamilton had built.
Everything Lewis Hamilton possessed.
Fernando’s fingers tightened around the wooden staff hidden beneath his cloak.
His eyes narrowed.
All of it.
One day, it would belong to him.
The kingdom.
The palace.
The throne.
And now…
The heir.
Fernando turned away before anyone could notice the expression on his face.
To the court, he was merely another eccentric traveler among hundreds of visitors.
But Fernando Alonso was no ordinary man.
He was an enchanter.
A sorcerer.
And, in his own mind, the rightful future ruler of Mercedes.
For years, Fernando had studied the Forbidden Arts.
Ancient magic.
Powerful magic.
Magic that had been outlawed by every kingdom for generations.
The spells had been deemed too dangerous for anyone to practice.
Fernando disagreed.
Magic itself was not dangerous, he believed.
Only those too weak to control it were.
So he had disappeared from court.
Deep within the forests beyond the borders of Mercedes, far from the eyes of kings, soldiers, and wandering travelers, Fernando had built himself a hidden lair.
There, surrounded by ancient books, strange artifacts, and countless bottles of mysterious potions, he spent his nights studying spells that no respectable sorcerer would dare touch.
And he was not entirely alone.
An omega named Lance had been taken into Fernando’s service years earlier.
Lance had learned quickly that his master’s moods were unpredictable and his temper dangerous.
So he kept quiet.
He cleaned.
He prepared whatever Fernando demanded.
And whenever Fernando practiced his magic, Lance stayed as far away from the spells as possible.
He had learned that silence was safer.
But even without understanding every ancient spell Fernando studied, Lance understood what his master wanted.
Power.
Not wealth.
Not fame.
Power.
Absolute power.
Fernando believed Mercedes should have belonged to him long ago.
For years, he had watched Lewis rule from the throne.
He had watched the people cheer for him.
He had watched other kingdoms bow their heads in respect.
And with every passing year, Fernando had become more convinced that Lewis Hamilton had never deserved any of it.
The throne should have been his.
The kingdom should have been his.
And now Lewis had an heir.
A little omega prince who would one day inherit everything.
Fernando could not allow that.
He had been close.
Very close.
His preparations were almost complete.
Then someone betrayed him.
Word of Fernando’s activities eventually reached the royal court.
When Lewis learned that an enchanter was practicing the Forbidden Arts within his kingdom, he did not hesitate.
He ordered his soldiers to find the hidden lair.
Before dawn, they did.
The attack came swiftly.
Fernando’s spells were broken.
His books were seized.
His artifacts were destroyed.
The carefully constructed walls of his hidden lair were torn apart.
And by sunrise, Fernando and Lance were being marched back toward the palace in chains.
The great hall was packed.
Nobles stood shoulder to shoulder.
Soldiers lined the walls.
Whispers swept through the crowd as Fernando was forced to his knees before the throne.
“Death to the Enchanter!”
“Death to Rothbart!”
“Execute him!”
Lance stood several paces behind Fernando, his wrists bound.
He kept his eyes lowered.
Fernando, however, looked up.
Straight at Lewis.
There was no fear in his expression.
Only contempt.
Lewis rose slowly from his throne.
“You have violated the laws of Mercedes,” he said.
His voice carried through the great hall.
“You practiced forbidden magic within my borders and plotted against my kingdom.”
Fernando’s mouth curled into the faintest smile.
“And yet,” he said calmly, “you are going to let me live.”
Lewis’s expression hardened.
“I will not take a life.”
The crowd erupted.
“Your Majesty!”
“He deserves death!”
“Execute him!”
Lewis raised one hand.
Silence fell.
He looked down at the man kneeling before him.
“I will not become the kind of ruler who answers evil with cruelty.”
Fernando’s smile disappeared.
“But mercy,” Lewis continued, his voice colder now, “does not mean forgiveness.”
The king straightened.
“You are hereby banished from the Kingdom of Mercedes.”
Fernando stared at him.
“For how long?”
Lewis did not hesitate.
“Forever.”
Something dangerous flickered behind Fernando’s eyes.
The guards seized his arms and pulled him to his feet.
Lance was taken with him.
As Fernando was dragged toward the great doors, he suddenly stopped.
The guards pulled harder.
Fernando turned his head.
“I’m not finished with you yet, Lewis.”
Lewis said nothing.
Fernando’s gaze moved slowly across the great hall.
Then toward the corridor beyond it.
Toward the royal chambers.
Toward the nursery.
Toward the child who had only just been born.
His expression changed.
A slow, almost amused smile returned to his face.
“Someday,” Fernando said quietly, “I’ll get my power back.”
Lance went pale.
Fernando continued.
“And when I do…”
His eyes returned to Lewis.
“Everything you own…”
He paused.
“Everything you love…”
His smile widened.
“…will be mine.”
The great doors slammed shut behind him.
For several moments, Lewis remained standing in silence.
The echoes of the doors closing seemed to linger throughout the hall.
Slowly, the nobles began to disperse.
The soldiers followed.
The whispers faded.
But Lewis’s eyes remained fixed upon the great doors.
Then, almost instinctively, his gaze shifted toward the corridor leading to the nursery.
Toward Nico.
Toward George.
His son.
His little miracle.
Lewis had no way of knowing that Fernando Alonso would keep his promise.
He had no way of knowing that the Enchanter would spend years waiting for the right moment to return.
He had no way of knowing that the passage of time would not diminish Fernando’s hatred.
It would only sharpen it.
And when he finally returned…
He would not come for the throne alone.
He would come for the one thing Lewis Hamilton loved more than the entire kingdom of Mercedes.
His son.