From circus acrobat to orphan to carefree prince to rebel leader. How his life had changed.

Since his adoption, he'd been educated to be the next king, and as such, had always assumed his path in life had been carved out for him. He would succeed his father, possibly marry a noblewoman and sire heirs, or follow in his father's footsteps and adopt a gaggle of misfits. One way or the other, his fate had seemed certain, his role in the kingdom well-defined.

Then the empire suddenly attacked the capital and the country plunged into bloody war. He found himself a prince without a kingdom, barely managing to make it out of the burning palace. He'd wanted to stay, to help, but his father had commanded him and his siblings to leave, regroup, and to take back what was theirs. He'd been separated from them in the smoke and chaos, and only made it out thanks to the sacrifice of his knight, who'd stayed behind to create a distraction.

It was only his father's command to take back what was theirs that kept him going; he couldn't stop and think about everything he'd lost or he'd break. His days of annoying his knight by running along the rooftops seemed so far away now. It was almost surreal to think he'd once cared about the tabloids' retelling of his escapades.

"We march on the fort tomorrow," he said, his expression grim. How long had it been since he last smiled? "Tell the troops to eat well tonight and rest. We need everyone at their best."

The rebel soldier nodded, and walked out of the tent. With a sigh, the former prince looked down at his sword, and his reflection in the polished metal. He was unrecognizable.

"Gods above, I miss them all," he murmured, closing his eyes. This entire time he'd had scouts out, trying to find any of the people he knew, to no avail. He forced himself to believe the best, even as he feared the worst. "Please be alive. Please. If you're all gone, then what...what is left for me?"

There was a sound, and he jerked his head up, his eyes narrowing. Someone was outside. "Who goes there?"