The sun had already begun to lower, spilling its golden light across the palace gardens. Adrian sat alone beneath a tree, a heavy leather-bound book resting unopened in his lap. The palace around him shimmered with silence, the kind that felt suffocating rather than peaceful. It was the silence of walls too tall and corridors too polished, of guards who bowed too deeply and servants who spoke too carefully.
For most people, this place was paradise. For Adrian, it was a cage.
He lifted his hand, running his fingers across the rough cover of the book without opening it. It wasn't knowledge he was looking for. It wasn't even comfort. His mind was too busy—too loud—for words on paper to quiet it.
"Who will I become?" he murmured under his breath, voice almost lost in the breeze.
The question had no answer, at least not yet. He was a prince, yes. Born into power, wrapped in luxury, groomed for greatness. Yet all of it felt… shallow. None of it was his own. The respect people gave him was respect for his crown, not for him. The bowing, the greetings, the careful politeness—it wasn't directed at Adrian, but at "His Highness."
And deep down, that truth gnawed at him.
He leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. In the market earlier, when he had walked among people as Aiden, no one bowed. No one treated him as fragile or untouchable. They teased him, they challenged him, they smiled without force. For the first time, he had felt… human. Alive.
Those three street children—Lio, Mira, and Tomas—they hadn't known his name or his title. And yet, somehow, they had looked at him more genuinely than half the nobles in this palace ever did.
He could still hear their voices.
"You're too stiff."
"You think too much before speaking."
"You're not bad though."
Adrian covered his face with one hand, feeling the heat of a blush rising just from remembering. Compliments always caught him off guard, made his heart flutter in a way he didn't know how to deal with. He could fight, he could study, he could argue—but when someone praised him, he was defenseless.
"Ugh… ridiculous," he whispered, laughing weakly to himself.
But maybe that was why it mattered. Maybe that was why it lingered.
Opening his eyes again, he tilted his head up toward the painted sky. The sun had dipped lower now, coloring the palace walls in shades of amber and rose. The sight was beautiful—too beautiful for someone who felt so restless inside.
"I don't want to be remembered as just a prince," he said softly. "Not as someone who only relied on status or the strength of his lineage. I want them to know me. To see me."
The words came out quietly, but they struck his own heart with a strange finality. He wanted to be acknowledged. Not for the crown. Not for power. But for Adrian. For the boy who still made clumsy mistakes, who still flushed at praise, who wanted to prove—truly prove—that he could stand on his own.
It was frightening, that dream. Frightening because he knew how impossible it sounded. Every step outside the palace reminded him of how deeply the world was ruled by names and influence. No matter where he went, his title followed. And yet, he had seen a glimpse—just a glimpse—of freedom.
He remembered Mira's kind smile, Tomas's fiery energy, Lio's sly stubbornness. They had looked at him and seen nothing but another boy. Not royalty. Not a crown. Just… Aiden.
For a long time, Adrian stayed there beneath the tree, caught between two worlds. One demanded perfection, authority, and the weight of bloodline. The other whispered of freedom, of friendships born without status, of struggles that were real and raw.
And he knew, deep inside, he couldn't ignore either.
The sound of footsteps broke his thoughts. A servant approached, bowing with practiced grace.
"Your Highness, dinner will be served shortly."
Adrian gave a slow nod, slipping the unopened book onto the grass beside him. "I'll be there soon."
The servant hesitated as if wanting to say more, but then thought better of it and left. The silence returned.
Adrian exhaled, rubbing his temples. Even here, he couldn't escape it—the endless deference, the careful respect that built invisible walls around him. He felt like an actor forced to play a role.
But he didn't want to play anymore.
He wanted to write his own role.
Pushing himself to his feet, Adrian picked up the book. He looked at the palace, towering and gleaming in the fading light. For the first time, instead of feeling small beneath its grandeur, he felt something else stirring in his chest. A quiet fire.
"I'll make my own path," he whispered. His voice was firmer now, carrying weight. "And one day… they'll know me. Not as the prince. Not as someone who hides behind power. But as Adrian."
The name lingered in the air, almost defiant.
And with that thought, he walked back toward the palace, steps steady.
//////////////////////////////////////
The study was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace. The flames painted the shelves of old tomes in gold and amber, dancing shadows across the walls. Adrian sat on the plush chair, small legs dangling, fists curled tightly on his lap. His heart pounded.
Leon looked up from a parchment, sensing the hesitation in his son. "Adrian," his deep voice carried warmth, "you've been staring at me for a while. What is it you wish to say?"
Celestia, seated nearby with embroidery in her lap, glanced at her son. "You're frowning," she said softly. "That usually means you're thinking very hard."
Adrian swallowed, his cheeks warm. "I… I don't want to just be the Crown Prince."
Leon raised a brow. "Oh? And what do you mean by that?"
The boy tightened his fists. "I don't want people to respect me only because I'm your son… or because of my title. I want them to see me." His voice trembled, but his gaze was firm. "I want to achieve things with my own hands. I want to stand before them and be acknowledged… not as the prince who has everything handed to him, but as Adrian."
For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Celestia set aside her embroidery, her lips curving into a gentle smile. "My sweet child… those are heavy words for someone so young. But they are noble ones."
Leon leaned back, studying his son with the sharp gaze of a king. "And how would you do this, Adrian?"
The boy hesitated, then pressed forward. "I don't know yet… but I'll try. I'll learn. I'll train. I'll find my way to prove myself." He paused, cheeks flushed. "I don't want people to whisper that I survived only because of my father's power or my mother's magic."
Celestia's heart softened. She rose, crossing the room to kneel in front of him, her hands cupping his small face. "Adrian… you've already made us proud. But if this is truly your desire, then we will support you."
Adrian blinked, wide-eyed. "R-really?"
She kissed his forehead, laughter in her eyes. "Of course. Your dreams are your own, not just ours."
Leon finally spoke, his tone steady and resolute. "Then so be it. If you wish to earn acknowledgment through your own strength, we shall not chain you with our shadows. You will walk your own path." He stood and placed a large hand gently atop his son's head. "But remember, Adrian… you are not alone. Even if you fight for your own name, you still have us behind you. A king may stand tall, but even kings need a foundation."
Adrian's lips curved into a shy smile, his chest fluttering with relief and warmth. "Thank you… Father. Thank you, Mother."
Celestia chuckled softly. "You really are too adorable when you're flustered."
"M-Mother!" Adrian whined, face red, and buried his nose in his sleeve. Both parents laughed warmly, and in that moment, the fire's glow seemed brighter, the study warmer.
6 Years Timeskip
Three years passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. Adrian, now six, sat beneath the garden's great oak tree, reading a small book far too complex for his age. Celestia watched from the veranda, while Leon sipped tea beside her.
"Look at him," Celestia whispered. "He grows more determined each day."
Leon smirked. "Our son will shake the kingdom one day. Not as Crown Prince alone… but as himself."
Adrian, overhearing faintly, turned pink and shouted, "D-don't say things like that so loudly!"
The couple laughed, their hearts swelling with pride.