Chapter 105 Her Realization

Chapter 105 Her Realization
\- Princess Helena’s POV -
“Mommy, d-do I really not have a f-father?” Frost asked, stuttering in his baby voice while I put shampoo on his head.
We were in the bathtub, and he was playing with his yellow rubber duck while the bubbles floated around him.
The bathroom was warm and filled with steam, the mirror fogged until it looked like a blank canvas. The scent of soap and baby shampoo filled the air, soft and clean, so different from the metallic smell of blood and iron that once surrounded my life.
Frost giggled as he squeezed the rubber duck, making it squeak. The sound was small, harmless, and pure. For a moment, I let myself pretend that we were just like any other mother and child in this human world. No secrets. No past. No danger.
“Don’t listen to them, baby. Okay?” I said softly.
I poured water over his head using a small plastic cup, careful not to let the soap get into his eyes. He squeezed them shut anyway, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of the tub.
I knew he wondered about his father, but I always told him only one thing about him.
“Is father s-still on conquest?” he asked again, stuttering harder as he tried to speak like an adult.
His words were careful, deliberate, as if he wanted to sound strong. Mature. Like a man.
My chest tightened.
He was too young to carry questions like that. Too young to feel the absence of someone he had never met. But children are not blind. They see. They hear. They feel the gaps adults try to hide.
He was so curious, and I had no choice but to answer him. I couldn’t lie to my son, but I also couldn’t tell him everything, not the truth, not yet. Someday he would know what happened between me and his father. But right now, he was too young, and I was too guilty to face it.
Damn.
Every time I think of Froylan, the pain in my chest grows so heavy that I can barely breathe. It spreads slowly, like cold water filling my lungs. Regret. Longing. Fear.
But I forced a smile for my son.
“Yes. He’s still on conquest. Someday, Frost… we’ll see your father.”
The words tasted like hope and sorrow mixed together.
I just don’t know when that day will come.
But I know one thing for certain: Froylan is my mate, and I am bound to him. The Moon Goddess will find a way to bring us together again. She must. Bonds like ours are not meant to be broken.
And though I long for him with all my heart, I am also terrified of facing him.
I miss my mate so much… yet my guilt is like chains keeping me away.
Frost tilted his head. “Is he f-fighting bad p-people?”
I blinked, then nodded slowly. “Yes, baby. Your father is very brave. He protects many people.”
That, at least, was not a lie.
He smiled proudly. “I will be b-brave too.”
“You already are,” I whispered.
I rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair. The water ran down his small shoulders, tracing the soft curve of his back. He shivered slightly, then laughed again when I wrapped him in a fluffy towel and lifted him out of the tub.
He smelled like soap and warmth and home.
I sighed. I wonder how he is doing right now. But even here, in the human world, I can still feel him. He is alive. He is strong. And I dream of him almost every night, as if my soul refuses to let him go.
Even though I am fully human now, I still feel deep inside that I belong to the Werewolf Kingdom—and to him.
Looking at Frost, as I wiped his small body dry with a towel, I smiled. His little hands reached into the air, chasing bubbles that danced in circles, popping one by one. He laughed each time, as if it were a great victory.
At that moment, I knew, my son belonged to the Supernatural World. Not here.
The thought came with both pride and fear.
He inherited my Royal Power, the ability to control water, and that alone made him different from all the children here. He was aware of his gift, but I told him to keep it secret. He only used it when we were alone in the house.
Still, it wasn’t just that.
Frost wasn’t only a Royal Prince of water… he had strength far beyond his age.
He was only two years old when he lifted a ten-kilo sack of rice.
I still remember that day clearly.
I had just returned from the market, my arms aching from carrying groceries. I set the sack down near the kitchen door and turned to close the gate. When I looked back, Frost was gripping the edge of the sack, his tiny face scrunched with effort.
Before I could stop him, he lifted it.
Not dragged.
Lifted.
The sack rose a few inches off the ground, wobbling in his small hands.
I thought I was hallucinating.
But I wasn’t.
As Frost grew, I kept noticing... he was not just special. He was extraordinary. Stronger than even I expected of a Royal.
He could push furniture twice his size. He never got sick. He healed quickly from small cuts and bruises. And when he got angry… the air around him felt heavier, like a storm about to break.
But then I think of Froylan. My mate. He was just a normal Alpha of the Rigorous Mountain Pack.
Strong, yes.
But not like this.
So where did Frost’s unusual strength come from?
Every time I looked at my son, I felt a strange reminder of another pack.
The Legendary Clan.
Not Royals, but different… their gift was not supernatural powers, but supernatural strength. Warriors whose bodies were weapons. The clan where Neong belonged.
Neong.
The name slipped into my mind like an unwelcome shadow.
I shook my head quickly.
No.
That would be impossible.