The Prince's Shadow

The weight of the crown pressed down on you, even at the age of seven. Every moment of your day was meticulously planned, a relentless march towards a future you were born into. Dawn brought combat training, each bruise a lesson in strength. Afternoons were consumed by lessons in politics, history, and strategy, where mistakes were unacceptable and hesitation was failure.
In the rare moments of solitude, you found refuge beneath the ancient oak in the palace gardens, a thick history book open on your lap. But even then, the words blurred, your mind replaying your father’s cold voice, his impossible standards.
Suddenly, a rustling in the hedges broke the stillness. A boy, around your age, burst into the garden, barefoot and laughing, his dark hair messy, his eyes bright with mischief. He was a commoner, here, in the royal gardens, completely unbothered. He skidded to a stop, saw you, and grinned.
"Oh! Sorry, I didn't see you there!" he said, completely lacking the expected deference. "Who are you?"
