"Show him in," My father said.
I leaned slightly to the side so I could glance down the hall toward the doors.
Prince Hans. I'd heard the name, of course — one of many royal siblings from the Southern Isles. Thirteenth-born, if I remembered right. That was a lot of older brothers to live under. Rumors about him were... mixed. Some said he was ambitious. Others called him charming.
Beside me, Benedict leaned in and muttered, "What do you suppose he wants?"
"Passage, probably," I replied. "Or something more slippery."
Hans entered like he owned the place.
Not in an arrogant way — not exactly — but with the kind of confidence you only get from practicing in a hundred mirrors. His coat was sharp, deep blue with golden braid, and his boots gleamed under the light.
He bowed with practiced elegance, his hair neatly swept and face clean-shaven.
"Your Majesty," he said smoothly, "thank you for receiving me. I apologize for arriving late during your meal."
Father studied him quietly. "You are expected. Come. Sit."
Hans offered a charming half-smile, then turned to the rest of the room with just enough of a bow to acknowledge us — a prince who knew how to be seen.
I met his gaze briefly when he looked down the table. His eyes lingered a fraction too long on Benedict and me, trying to figure out which was which. I gave him a short nod, nothing more.
Hans took the empty seat near Father, three places down from my mother.
"I bring greetings from my family in the Southern Isles," Hans began, as a servant poured him a goblet of wine. "My journey north passes through your great kingdom, and I was honored by the invitation to dine with your court."
"It was no invitation, merely an order," Father said, not unkindly, but direct.
Hans didn't flinch. "Then I'm doubly honored to be welcomed regardless. I hope to repay the hospitality in kind."
I could already feel it — the back-and-forth, the subtle testing. Father never gave anyone anything for free. Hans would need to dance carefully, and so far, he was doing just that. Every word was lined with layers.
Down the table, Benedict quietly whispered, "Do you think he rehearses that smile in the mirror?"
"Definitely," I said.
"Bet it takes him twenty minutes just to get that hair right."
"Thirty," I muttered, smirking.
I could hear Hans now talking about his route — how he'd hoped to travel the Glassbridge route but rerouted due to coastal storms(a lie). How impressed he was with the harbor's construction. How Eldorai's(the capital) skyline looked like something from a dream.
Father listened, but said little. That was always the test.
I turned back to my soup and spooned the last of it quietly, while half-listening to Hans charm half the table.
[After diner]
The stars had just begun to scatter across the night sky, glinting like diamonds spilled across black silk. The evening air was cool, a soft breeze gliding through the courtyards and fluttering the banners on the high stone walls.
The garden behind the royal wing was mostly empty at this hour — only a few guards pacing the distant paths, their armor whispering as they moved.
I slipped away from the hall before dessert, not bothering to excuse myself. I needed the quiet.
The garden had always been a place of refuge for me — a haven of mossy statues, climbing roses, and whispering leaves. Tonight, it was dimly lit by hanging lanterns, each flame dancing behind thick glass. I walked beneath the old moonstone arch and out onto the open green, and then—
"I thought I might find you here," came a soft voice behind me.
I didn't turn immediately. I knew her voice anywhere. "You always do, mama."
Evelyne stepped up beside me, her gown trailing faintly over the trimmed grass. She wore a shawl of midnight blue, embroidered with silver trees that shimmered faintly in the lanternlight.
Her face, serene as always, watched me quietly, eyes gentle beneath the high cheekbones we shared.
I held out a hand and summoned a crackle of lightning between my fingers — just a small thread at first. It danced and twisted, forming into an elegant spiral that arced between my knuckles. I shaped it without thought, splitting it into tendrils that branched into fiery veins of light.
With my other hand, I conjured a flickering flame, cupping it like a delicate bird. The two elements spun together, fire and lightning weaving in a slow orbit around each other — a game I'd long mastered.
"You know," I said absently, "sometimes I wish I could just walk out that gate. Disappear into the woods. Just… go. Without guards, without duties. Just see what's out there."
"You've always said that," Evelyne murmured. "Even when you were small. You used to ask me if the clouds over the sea ever led to different skies."
"They probably do," I said, now shaping the flame into a winged horse that burst into sparks and vanished. "This place is suffocating sometimes, mama. The titles, the eyes. Even the food tastes heavy. It's all protocol and pressure. I'm the crown prince now — but I don't feel like it. I feel like a bird in a cage made of gold and iron."
Evelyne turned slightly, watching the arcs of light leap from my palm to the air, trailing like streaks of falling stars. "And yet, you're more free than you've ever been."
"I don't want to be this kind of free," I said quietly. "I don't want a throne I can't even breathe on. I want mountains. I want cities built on clouds. I want to speak to people who don't know my name. I want to ride dragons and learn the songs of desert tribes(Arabian Nighttt~). I want to make my own name, not just inherit one."
I stopped. The magic fizzled out between my fingers.
"I want you to come with me."
She didn't answer at once. The silence between us was soft — not cold, but thoughtful.
Finally, she reached out and took my hand.
"Oh Cam," she said with a smile that almost trembled. "My sweet boy. You don't know how much I want to."
"Then why not?" I asked. "We could leave tonight. The stables are full. We could take a sky cart, or the eastern river road—"
"I would follow you to the ends of the world if I could," Evelyne whispered, brushing my hair from my forehead like she used to when I was young. "But you're not just anyone. You're the heir now. Crown prince of Eldoria. Your path is no longer your own alone."
"But what if I don't want it?" I said. "What if I want to give it all up?"
"And then what?" she asked gently. "Abdicate? Run? Throw your father's council into panic? Leave Benedict alone to take the throne?"
I bit my lip.
She squeezed my hand. "It's not easy, Cam. But you're not trapped. There's more than one way to explore the world. You could travel as a prince. As a diplomat. You could see those cities and dragons — just not in secret."
"I wouldn't be me," I muttered. "I'd be watched, weighed and Followed."
"That's the price of the crown," she said softly. "But it doesn't mean you have to become something you're not. It means learning how to make the cage yours."
I was quiet for a long while. The wind rustled through the garden trees, brushing petals into the grass.
Evelyne turned to me with a knowing look. "I know your heart, Camden. And one day soon, when the time is right, I'll help you find a way. Until then... dream. And train. And be the boy I raised — clever, brave, a little too wild."
I smiled, just a little. "You really think I'm clever?"
She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes."
I laughed, and for a while we just stood there in the garden. Me and her. Lightning flickering in my fingers like music, her arm looped through mine like old times.
[3rd POV]
Elsewhere, behind tall wooden doors and the quiet click of locks, my father sat alone in his study with Prince Hans.
The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting long shadows over the shelves of books and old war relics. Maps were rolled across the far wall, scrolls stacked beside an open window. Alistair Eldenhart, king of Eldoria, poured two glasses of deep red wine and offered one across the desk.
Hans took it smoothly, the picture of ease. "You have a beautiful castle, Your Majesty. And a fascinating pair of heirs."
Alistair didn't smile. He sipped his wine, eyes never leaving the prince. "You didn't come here just to admire the walls."
"No," Hans agreed easily. "Though they are impressive. I've always admired Eldoria's architecture. Strong bones. Honest stone."
"Get to the point."
Hans chuckled. "Very well. I believe in being clear. I'm traveling north — to Arendelle. I intend to court one of the princesses. Either Elsa, or Anna."
Alistair said nothing. He merely raised a brow.
Hans went on. "Arendelle is a kingdom of power and magic. Its influence over the northern seas is unmatched. Marrying into that bloodline would not only stabilize my own claim in the Isles, but also unite two of the great coastal powers."
"You want my blessing?" Alistair asked, voice flat.
"I want your support," Hans corrected, ever the charmer. "You're a king of repute. Eldoria is known for its alliances. A word from you to the Arendellian court would strengthen my position."
Alistair stared at him for a long, heavy moment.
"I've heard the stories," he said finally. "About what happened last time you courted a foreign princess."
Hans did not flinch. "I was young and I made mistakes. But people change. I've learned from them."
Alistair leaned back in his chair, gaze sharp. "People rarely change. They just get better at pretending."
Hans only smiled. "Your son has great potential, Your Majesty. But he's young, passionate, a little reckless. Reminds me of myself."
That was a mistake. Alistair's eyes glowed with cold light. His fingers curled slightly on the armrest.
"My son is nothing like you."
Hans tilted his head, reading the room.
"No offense intended," he said smoothly. "Only admiration."
"Save it," Alistair said. "You're not here for my son. You're here because you want to reclaim something. But you don't get into Arendelle through flattery. You need loyalty. History. Trust. Three things I don't see in you."
Hans's smile wavered, just a flicker.
"Then tell me, Your Majesty, what would it take to earn that trust?"
"Time," he said. "Patience. And a willingness to bleed for someone other than yourself."
Hans nodded slowly, standing to match.
"Then let me begin earning it."
The two men stared at each other across the old wooden desk, the firelight flickering between them like a sword's edge. No love. No warmth. Just two royals with plans — one old and guarded, the other young and hungry.
=
=
[A little later]
The door to the king's office loomed tall and heavy before me, carved with the royal crest — the lion and flame — both of which I had always found ironic. Lions roam free. Flames are wild. I was born into both and yet lived behind stone and steel.
Two guards stepped aside as I approached, and with a nod, I pushed the door open without announcing myself. Alistair was seated at his massive oak desk, a decanter of wine near his elbow and a single lamp flickering overhead.
The shadows made his features sharper — more king than father. He didn't look up at first.
"You left dinner early," he said, voice low.
"So did you," I replied.
He gestured vaguely. "I had more important things to discuss."
"With Hans?"
That earned a glance. He studied me a moment, his eyes unreadable. "Yes. Sit."
I didn't. I walked further into the room, slow and deliberate, then leaned against the corner of the desk.
"What did he say?"
"He wants to marry into Arendelle," Alistair replied simply. "Thinks he can charm his way into Elsa's heart. Or Anna's, if not."
"He does have a rat's confidence huh" Alistair didn't react, though I thought I saw a ghost of agreement in his eyes. "He's clever," the king said. "But not careful. That's a dangerous combination."
I nodded, then exhaled slowly. "And what did you say?"
"I told him he's going to have to earn any support from this kingdom." Alistair sipped from his glass. "And that I don't trust him."
"Do you think he'll get what he wants?"
"If Arendelle is willing to welcome outsiders, maybe. But I doubt it." I was quiet for a moment, then turned my head toward him, meeting his gaze directly.
"I want to talk to you about something." Alistair said nothing. That was his way — letting silence speak louder. "I want to leave the kingdom," I said. "I want to go beyond the borders. To travel and see the outside world. Maybe go back to my village. Not as a prince, not in some paraded envoy either. Just as me."
The silence thickened. Alistair's eyes didn't blink. "Absolutely not." I expected it. Still, the weight of it hit me like a slap.
"Father—"
"No," he cut in, standing. "You are the crown prince. You don't have the luxury of wandering off into whatever fool's errand your heart dreams up. Your place is here."
"Why?" I challenged. "Because I was born with a title I never chose?"
"Because this realm needs a ruler," he growled. "One who understands duty. Who doesn't run at the first sign of boredom."
"I'm not bored," I snapped. "I'm suffocating. I'm living a life that doesn't feel like mine, and every day I stay here, I lose more of who I actually am. If I don't go now, I'll end up like—"
"Like who?" he demanded.
I stared him dead in the eye.
"Say it," he said.
"Like you!" I shouted. "Tied to this place, trapped in stone and crown and endless damn politics. Don't you ever wonder what your life could've been if you'd chosen differently?"
Alistair's face didn't move. But I saw a flicker behind the eyes, a crack in the iron.
"I'm not you," I said. "And you know Benedict could take my place. He's more suited for it. He thrives here, let him rule. Let me live."
"You're asking me to abandon a thousand years of lineage," he said. "To disrupt a kingdom for your freedom?"
"I'd rather ask than run." He flinched at that. Just barely. Then I stepped away from the desk, pacing once before turning back.
"But if you won't let me leave willingly… then let's make it look like I have no choice."
Alistair frowned. "What do you mean?"
I took a breath. "Hans is here. He's a snake, yes, but he's also useful. Dangerous, but disposable. We could create a scandal soomething public, Aadisgrace. Enough to justify exile. Enough to save face."
Alistair stared at me, brows drawing together. "Camden…"
"Hear me out," I said. "If I disappear quietly, questions will arise. But if I become a problem, then you'll have to banish me."
"And what kind of problem do you suggest?"
I looked him in the eyes, steady and calm. "I kill Hans."
The room fell completely still.
I went on. "We frame it as an act of rage, a public altercation gone too far. You say you can't risk war with the Southern Isles, so you exile me to avoid conflict. You paint it as justice. The people accept it. Hans is gone — and the Isles are rid of their treacherous prince."
"You're talking about murder. You, someone who has never seen the blood of another."
"No," I said. "I'm talking about a necessary fiction. Do you really think Hans is a friend to us? He's poison in velvet gloves. Killing him might prevent worse to come."
"And if the Isles retaliate?"
"They won't," I said. "They barely tolerate him. His death might be seen as a relief. And even if they did care, your exile of me would be enough to appease them. You lose a son from court, but you keep peace — and I get what I want. I disappear."
Alistair turned from me, pacing toward the window. He stood there in silence, one hand on the sill, the other still gripping his glass.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet — pained. "You don't understand what you're asking."
"I do," I said. "And I'm not asking for your blessing. I'm asking for your help. So I don't have to lie. So I don't have to sneak away like a coward."
His back remained to me. Then, after a long pause — "You've thought this through."
"I've been thinking about it for years. Hans coming here was the nail in the coffin"
Another silence. Alistair turned slightly, just enough to meet my gaze over his shoulder. "You'd throw away your title for this?"
"I never asked for the title."
He sighed. Long and heavy. And for the first time, he looked old.
"You'd kill for your freedom?"
"I'd do whatever it takes to be me, not just your heir."
He walked back to the desk and sat down slowly. His eyes scanned mine, searching for weakness, for doubt. He found none. At last, he leaned back in his chair, his voice low.
"Then we do it clean. No mistakes. No blood in the streets. No witnesses. If this is the path you want, you'll walk it fully. Alone."
I nodded. "I was always alone."
He looked down into his glass, swirling the last of the wine. "I'll speak to the royal spymaster. You'll have your freedom."
"Thank you, Father."
His hand lifted, "Don't thank me. You haven't done it yet."
As I left the room, the door shut behind me with a sound that echoed through my bones — it was the beginning after the end.
A crown still sat on my head, but the path before me was changing. Finally.
And all I had to do… was kill a prince.
========================================================
A/N: What do you think? Am I a genius or not heh. Had to change quite a lot of stuff coz of a request one particular reader made [doom 6561].
The next chap is going to get juicy, May post tmrw or the day after.