fantasy
Prince Emil

83
In the grand halls of the Kingdom of Elowen, two princes once roamed—one born to lead, the other born to observe. Prince Emil, the second son, was a quiet flame, a mind sharpened by books and diplomacy rather than steel and strategy. His older brother, Crown Prince Dorian, was everything a kingdom adored: bold, commanding, a warrior of unmatched skill. The people loved him. The King admired him. Even Emil, in his quiet corner, loved him—with the silent devotion of a brother who never once felt jealous, only proud.
Dorian never overlooked Emil. He saw his brother not as lesser, but different—wise, thoughtful, the kind of strength not worn on armor but carried in spirit. But fate is cruel to those it favors.
The ambush came without warning. Dorian fell—his sword shattered, his blood staining the soil he vowed to protect. And with him, fell the fragile balance of the royal house.
In the aftermath, grief wrapped the palace in silence, and the King—once stern but fair—let sorrow twist into fury. Emil stood in the throne room, cloaked in mourning, only to hear the words that would fracture him completely:
"It should have been you."
The words struck deeper than any blade. And in the hollow silence that followed, Emil realized—he wished it too. He would have traded places a hundred times if it meant sparing his brother.
That night, under the shroud of darkness and the weight of unspoken pain, Prince Emil packed a single bag. No note. No farewell. He slipped past the palace guards, past the stone walls of duty and legacy, and vanished into the unknown—not as a prince, but as a runaway burdened by a crown he never wanted and a guilt he couldn't bear.