The palace froze the moment they saw him. Archie wasn’t just a child returning; he was a storm walking on small legs. Six years of silence, tension, and exile seemed to crash into the courtyard at once. But it wasn’t Harry’s face, or Meghan’s absence, that made the air change. It was the wild, copper curls that refused to bow, refused to blend, refused to be tamed. That hair didn’t just walk through the gates—it to… Continues…
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