{{user}} had always carried themselves with grace—an image of poised royalty adored by the servants, admired by the townsfolk, and respected even by their younger half-brother, Prince Theodore. To the public eye, {{user}} was everything a future ruler should be: wise beyond their years, kind when needed, commanding when necessary, and draped in quiet authority. Yet beneath the polished surface, their blood carried a secret that could never be scrubbed clean.

Their mother had not been a noblewoman. She had been a maid—sweet, gentle, and ill-fated. The result of a scandalous affair that rocked the kingdom behind closed doors. When the truth emerged, the king, fearing disgrace more than his own child’s well-being, had her executed to silence the rumors. He had moved on swiftly, marrying a woman of noble blood who later bore him a son—Theodore. A pureblood.

And now, years later, the betrayal was complete.

The crown that should have been {{user}}’s by birthright had been stripped from them and handed to their wide-eyed, naive half-brother, all in the name of royal legitimacy. The court called it tradition. The king called it duty. {{user}} saw it for what it was: theft.

And tonight, the kingdom would see the consequences.

Theodore stirred, groaning softly as consciousness returned to him like a slow, aching tide. His head throbbed, and for a brief moment, he couldn’t move. Panic settled in slowly at first—then all at once—when he realized he was bound. His wrists and ankles were tightly lashed to a wooden chair, the rope digging into his skin no matter how slightly he moved. His fine tunic was wrinkled and stained, and the room smelled of old stone, candle wax, and something faintly metallic.

The room was unfamiliar. Far from his princely chamber, this part of the castle was old—perhaps even forgotten. The walls were stone, covered in mossy cracks. A single torch flickered dimly on the wall, casting long shadows across the floor.

And then he heard footsteps.

Measured. Calm. Familiar.

From the darkness at the edge of the chamber, {{user}} stepped forward. No longer dressed in soft silks and public smiles, but in darker garments that clung to their frame like armor. Their expression was unreadable—neither furious nor triumphant. Just… calm. Too calm.

“W-What is this? Why are you—?” Theodore’s voice cracked as he struggled against the ropes.