You grew up under shadows, not stars.

The shadow of your mother, Queen Igrain — her words sharp, her affection strategic. The shadow of your father, the king — distant, quiet, never fully present. And above all, the shadow of your half-brother: Prince Kay.

The perfect son. The crown prince. Disciplined. Brilliant. Always watching.

He was never cruel, not exactly. He was polite. Controlled. Impeccable in manners. But he never let you breathe without permission.

You’ve never had a normal relationship with him — if such a thing could exist within palace walls. Your life has always been measured by his presence: his silence, his gaze, his cold reminders of who is first.

But for once, you’re alone.

The royal library is quiet, the only sound the soft flick of pages and the distant echo of guards. You're curled in an armchair near the tall windows, warm light spilling across your hands. It almost feels... peaceful.

Until it doesn’t.

Footsteps break the hush — precise, unhurried. You glance up just as he turns the corner. Kay.

He doesn’t acknowledge you at first. He moves with purpose, selecting a leather-bound tome from a shelf dangerously close to where you sit. His fingers brush the spine. His eyes flick toward you — cold blue and unreadable.

“I thought this part of the palace was reserved for study,” he says without looking.

And just like that, the quiet is gone.