2. Caelum
There are days I wake up and forget who I am.
Not in the literal sense, I always know my name, my title, the weight stitched into every breath I take.
But there are moments, brief and fragile, where I open my eyes and for a heartbeat I'm just... someone else.
Someone without expectations.
Someone who can want things without consequence.
Those moments never last.
They're always followed by the same realization, settling heavy in my chest like it always does.
I am Prince Caelum.
And nothing about my life belongs to me.
The mornings are the worst.
They begin before the sun rises, when the palace is still quiet enough to pretend it isn't suffocating. Servants move like ghosts through the halls, preparing everything before I even step out of bed.As if I'm incapable of existing without their silent efficiency.
Sometimes I wonder if I am.
"Your Highness."
The knock comes exactly on time.
It always does.
"Enter."
The doors open, and with them, the illusion of solitude disappears. My attendants file in, already carrying fabrics, schedules, expectations. They don't look at me, not really. They look through me, at the role I'm meant to play.
"Your father requests your presence in the east hall after breakfast."
Of course he does.
"He also reminds you of tonight's ball."
There it is.
I say nothing, letting them dress me in layers of silk and authority I never asked for. Every piece is precise,
deliberate,
suffocating.
By the time they're done, I barely recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror.
Cold.
Composed.
Empty.
Perfect.
My father doesn't waste time.
He never does.
"You will attend tonight," he says, not even bothering to look up from the documents spread across his desk.
It's not a request.
"I'm aware."
"Good."
Silence stretches between us, sharp and uncomfortable. I study him. really study him, the way I've learned to do over the years.
Every movement is controlled.
Every expression calculated.
Nothing about him is accidental.
"Princess Aethylla will be there," he continues. "You will make an effort."
I feel something twist in my chest.
"Aethylla is intended for-"
"For you," he interrupts smoothly.
My jaw tightens.
"My brother..."
"Is not the future king."
The words land exactly how he intends them to.
Heavy.
Final.
I hold his gaze, even though every instinct tells me to look away.
"He loves her," I say quietly.
My father finally looks up.
There's something in his eyes I've never been able to name.
"Love," he repeats, as if testing the word. "Is irrelevant."
I almost laugh.
Almost.
"Is that what you told my mother?"
The room goes still.
For a moment, I think I've said too much.
Then...
"My decisions are not up for discussion," he says, voice colder now. "You will attend the ball. You will court Princess Aethylla. And you will not embarrass this family."
There it is.
Not your family.
This family.
Like I'm just another part of it.
Another piece to be moved.
I incline my head slightly. "Of course."
Because that's what I've been trained to do.
Obey.
I don't remember the exact moment everything changed.
Not really.
But I remember her.
I always remember her.
My mother had a way of making the palace feel... lighter. Like the walls weren't closing in, like the air wasn't so heavy. She laughed easily, spoke freely, loved without hesitation.
Everything I'm not allowed to be.
"Aurelius," she used to say, brushing my hair back from my face, "you must never let them turn you into something you're not."
I didn't understand what she meant back then.
I do now.
The memory shifts,
uninvited,
unwanted.
Blood.
There was so much blood.
It stains everything, even now, even years later. I can still see it-bright against the marble floor, soaking into her dress, into my hands as I tried to
-
No.
I shut the memory down before it can take hold completely.
But it lingers.
It always does.
She wasn't supposed to die like that.
Not suddenly.
Not violently.
Not like that.
And the worst part?
No one ever gave me answers.
It was handled quickly. Quietly. Like it was something to be erased rather than mourned.
An "unfortunate incident."
That's what they called it.
I call it something else.
Murder.
And I've spent years wondering...
Who.
Why.
How.
Sometimes, in the darkest parts of my mind, another question forms.
One I don't want to ask.
But can't ignore.
What if it wasn't an accident at all?
What if it was planned?
And worse.
What if I already know the answer?
"Caelum."
My brother's voice pulls me back.
I turn to find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, expression tight.
"You're really going through with it?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"That's easy for you to say."
His jaw clenches. "Is it?"
I meet his gaze, something sharp rising in my chest. "You're not the one being ordered to marry someone you didn't choose."
"I did choose her."
There it is.
The truth neither of us can avoid.
"Aethylla," he says, softer now. "She's not just some political arrangement to me."
"I know."
"Then how can you stand there and just, what? Accept this?"
"Because I don't get to want things," I snap.
Silence falls between us.
Heavy.
"You think I don't understand that?" he says finally.
"You think I don't know what it's like to have everything decided for you?"
"Not like this," I say quietly.
He laughs bitterly. "No. You're right. Not like this. Because apparently, everything I care about can just be handed to you instead."
"That's not what I want."
"It doesn't matter what you want!"
His voice echoes off the walls, louder than it should be.
We both freeze.
"You don't even care about her," he continues, lower now but no less intense. "You'll marry her because he told you to, and that's it."
I look away.
Because he's not wrong.
But that doesn't make it easier.
"I'm trying to protect you," he adds.
I frown.
"From what?"
He hesitates.
Just for a second.
Then... "From becoming him."
Something cold settles in my chest.
"I'm already his son."
"That doesn't mean you have to become his reflection."
I don't respond.
Because I don't know if it's already too late.
That night, I stand in front of the mirror again.
Different clothes.
Same person.
The weight of the crown sits invisible but undeniable, pressing down on me with every breath.
Tonight, I'll smile.
I'll speak when spoken to.
I'll pretend I'm not slowly unraveling under the pressure of expectations I never agreed to.
And somewhere in that crowd...
Will be the girl my brother loves.
The girl I'm expected to marry.
The girl who will become another piece in a life that doesn't feel like mine.
I close my eyes briefly.
And for a moment...
I think of something else.
Not her.
Not the crown.
Something... undefined.
A feeling I can't name.
A restlessness that doesn't make sense.
Something missing.
I don't understand it.
Not yet.
But it lingers.
Just beneath the surface.
Waiting.
By the time I step into the ballroom, the performance has already begun.
Music fills the air, light and elegant, masking the tension beneath it. Nobles gather in clusters, their smiles sharp, their eyes sharper. Every glance is calculated. Every movement deliberate.
This is what I was born into.
A world where nothing is ever real.
"Prince Caelum."
I turn, already knowing what comes next.
The introductions.
The expectations.
The beginning of something I don't want.
And as I step forward, playing my part like I always do...
I can't shake the feeling that somewhere, somehow...
Everything is about to change.
A noble steps forward, smiling too widely, already preparing to say something rehearsed and meaningless. I nod where I'm expected to, speak when required, move through the motions like I've done a thousand times before.
It's effortless.
That's the problem.
I've become so good at pretending that sometimes I wonder if there's anything real left underneath it.
The music swells, laughter rising around me as the ballroom fills further. Gold chandeliers cast everything in a warm glow, disguising the sharpness beneath it all.
Somewhere across the room, I catch a glimpse of my brother.
And beside him.
Her.
Princess Aethylla.
She's exactly what they want her to be. Graceful. Elegant. Untouchable. She smiles at something my brother says, and for a moment, it's not forced.
It's real.
Something twists in my chest.
Because that smile isn't meant for me.
And yet, by the end of the night...
It's expected to be.
I look away.
I can't afford to think about that.
"Your Highness, may I-"
I turn again, already slipping back into the role, already preparing to respond...
And that's when it happens.
A sharp impact against my side.
A startled breath, mine or someone else's, I'm not sure, and then...
Red.
Dark, spreading red across the front of my shirt.The room seems to pause for half a second, the moment stretching thin as the realization settles in. The noble in front of me stops mid-sentence, eyes widening slightly.
"My, my apologies, Your Highness, "
The voice is unfamiliar. Low.
Controlled, but edged with something that doesn't quite sound like fear.
I look down first.
The stain is impossible to ignore, seeping into silk that probably costs more than most people earn in months.
Then I look up.
The waiter stands close, too close, considering who I am. Dark hair, sharp features, eyes that meet mine for just a second longer than they should.