Aeron stood up with difficulty, feeling every extra gram of weight his young body had accumulated over years of excess and neglect. He looked at himself in the mirror hanging on the nearby wall, and what he saw provoked a mixture of disbelief and disgust in him.
His face was the same one he remembered from his youth: soft features, pale skin without the scars that battles would later leave him, blue eyes that didn't yet know the weight of true tragedy. But his body... his body was that of someone who had lived comfortably, who had preferred banquets to training, who had found excuses to avoid the battlefield when other young men his age already wielded swords.
He wasn't fat, not exactly. He was more... soft. Smooth. His arms lacked the muscle definition he remembered developing during the war, his abdomen was a reminder of years of indulgence, and his legs seemed weak, incapable of supporting him in a prolonged battle.
He felt heavy. Weak. And above all, he felt a deep disgust towards the person he had been.
"Damn it," he muttered to himself, clenching his fist and watching how the skin wrinkled around his knuckles. "This is going to hurt."
But the pain didn't matter. Pain was temporary. Regret, guilt—those were things that could last a lifetime if one didn't do something to remedy them. And he had thirty years of accumulated regret burning inside him.
He would start by changing his physique. He needed to regain the body he'd had in his final years, that body forged in endless battles, accustomed to the weight of armor and sword, resistant to fatigue and pain. It wouldn't be easy, especially considering he was now fifteen and his body was still developing, but he would achieve it. He had to achieve it.
Next, he would improve his relationship with Marie. The only maid who hadn't abandoned him in his previous life, the only one who had stayed by his side despite his mistreatment, his temper outbursts, his complete indifference towards those who served him. He remembered with shame how he had treated her in the past, how he had taken her loyalty for granted without offering anything in return. He wouldn't make that mistake again.
After that, he would begin gathering allies slowly. He couldn't rush; a sudden change in his behavior would raise suspicions. He would have to be strategic, calculate every move, every word. Little by little, he would change his reputation from "useless prince" to something more... promising. Someone the nobles could trust, someone the soldiers would want to follow.
But above all, above everything, he needed his companion back.
He needed Vareth.
The mere thought of his name made a knot form in Aeron's throat. Vareth, his dragon companion. The only being who had remained by his side until the end, who had fought at his side during the war, who had given his life so he could reach the heart of the enemy army in that final battle.
He remembered the moment with painful clarity. Vareth, his majestic scarlet form covered in wounds, his golden eyes full of determination even in the moment of death. He had flown directly towards the enemy lines to open a path, knowing perfectly well he wouldn't survive. He had done it for him. For Aeron.
"I'll find you again," Aeron whispered, clenching his fist so hard his nails dug into his palm. "And this time I won't fail you."
But first, he needed to know exactly what moment in time he was in.
What day was it? What month? What year? In his previous life, he had met Vareth at sixteen, during the dragon quest. A year before the war. If he had returned at fifteen, he still had about a year before that crucial moment.
Two years to prepare. Two years to become someone worthy of being a dragon's companion.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Prince Aeron?" Marie's voice came filtered through the wood, timid but worried. "Are you feeling better? I've brought your breakfast."
Aeron looked towards the door and for a moment felt the impulse to respond with his usual brusqueness, to order her to leave the tray and go. But he stopped. He took a deep breath. He remembered.
He remembered how Marie had stayed by his side when all the other servants fled. He remembered how she had brought him food in secret during the siege, risking her life to ensure he had strength to keep fighting. He remembered how she had died, pierced by an arrow while protecting him from an attack from behind.
"Come in," he said, and his voice sounded softer than he expected.
The door opened slowly and Marie entered with a steaming tray in her hands. On it, a plate with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, freshly baked bread, and a jug of hot milk. The aroma filled the room and, to his surprise, Aeron felt his stomach growl.
"Thank you, Marie," he said as she placed the tray on the small table by the window.
The maid froze for an instant, her green eyes widening with surprise. It was the first time, probably in years, that the prince had thanked her for anything.
"Y-You're welcome, Your Highness," she stammered, not knowing quite how to react.
Aeron approached the table and sat down, observing the food with a mixture of appetite and apprehension. This was another of the changes he needed to make. His diet. In the past, he had eaten uncontrollably, enjoying the richest delicacies without considering the consequences.
He looked at the bacon, the eggs, the white bread. Too much fat, too many carbohydrates. He would need something lighter, more nutritious. Lean meat, vegetables, fruits. But he couldn't change everything at once without raising suspicion.
"Marie," he said while taking a sip of milk, "I also need you to get me parchment and ink. Several parchments, actually. And books. Books on the history of the kingdoms, on geography, on politics. Everything you can find in the castle library."
Marie blinked several times, clearly overwhelmed by the request.
"You're going to... study, Your Highness?"
Aeron smiled, a small, bitter smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Something like that. I have a lot to learn."
What he didn't say was that he didn't need to learn, but to remember. Remember every detail, every name, every date. The books would help refresh his memory, to confirm that his memories of the future matched written history.
"I'll see to it right away, Your Highness," said Marie, curtsying before heading to the door.
"Marie," he called just as she was about to leave.
She turned, expectant.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
Aeron hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. Finally, he said:
"The breakfast is delicious. And... I'm sorry for shouting at you earlier. It wasn't right of me."
Silence stretched for a few seconds. Marie looked at him as if he'd grown a second head, as if the sun had decided to rise in the west. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could articulate a word.
"D-Don't worry, Your Highness. It's my duty to serve you."
"No, it isn't. It's your job, but it's not your duty to endure my bad manners. So I'm sorry. And thank you. For everything."
Marie didn't know what to respond. She simply curtsied again, deeper than before, and left the room with an expression of absolute confusion on her face.
Aeron was alone again, looking at the closed door. It was a small step, insignificant compared to everything he needed to do, but it was a beginning.
He finished breakfast more calmly than he used to, savoring each bite even though the food wasn't ideal. Then he stood up and walked to the window, opening it wide so fresh air could enter the room.
Castle Drakenvyr spread before his eyes, majestic and imposing. Grey stone towers rose towards the sky, their banners with the three-headed dragon waving in the wind. Beyond, the mountains where the dragons slept. Closer, the city that swirled around the walls like a child seeking its mother's protection.
Everything was the same. Everything was as he remembered it. And yet, everything was different because he was different.
A knock at the door startled him.
"Who is it?" he asked, frowning.
"It's me, little brother," the voice that responded was familiar, but not entirely welcome. "Kaelen. Can I come in?"
Aeron felt his jaw tighten. Kaelen the Fierce. His older brother. The first to die in the struggle for the throne. The one who had started the chain of betrayals that would eventually destroy Drakenvyr.
But also, at this moment, just an older brother worried about his younger sibling after their father's death. Aeron remembered that Kaelen, among all his brothers, was one who had actually cared for him since they shared the same mother.
"Come in," he said, controlling his tone.
The door opened and Kaelen entered. He was an imposing man, even at twenty-five. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a square jaw and grey eyes that seemed to constantly evaluate everything they looked at. He wore the Royal Guard uniform, although Aeron knew he rarely fulfilled his duties.
"Marie told me you had woken up," Kaelen commented, scanning the room with his gaze. "You look better than yesterday. The steward was worried."
"I was just tired," Aeron lied. "The funeral was... exhausting."
Kaelen nodded, though his eyes continued scrutinizing.
"I understand. Father was... well, he was our father."
There was an awkward silence. In the past, Aeron would have taken the opportunity to withdraw, to excuse himself and escape his brother's overwhelming presence. But not now. Now he needed to observe, he needed to learn.
"How are the succession preparations going?" he asked, with a casual tone that didn't reflect the tension he felt.
Kaelen looked at him with surprise.
"Since when are you interested in politics, Aeron?"
"Since our father died and our kingdom was put at stake," he responded, holding his gaze.
For a moment, Kaelen seemed to see something different in his younger brother. Something he couldn't identify. Then he shrugged.
"The nobles are divided. Some support Aerion, others me. A few mention our cousin from Vyndelar. But no one mentions you, little brother. I'm sorry."
"I didn't expect them to," said Aeron calmly. "I'm the fourth son of a fourth son. I have no power or influence."
"Exactly. So don't worry about all this. Focus on your studies, your hobbies. Let the adults handle the kingdom."
Aeron nodded, but inside he smiled. Kaelen had just confirmed what he already knew: at this moment, he was invisible. And that invisibility was his most powerful weapon.
"Can I ask you something, brother?" said Aeron, adopting a tone of youthful innocence.
"Sure."
"Do you really think there's danger of war? I've heard rumors about the other kingdoms..."
Kaelen let out a laugh.
"War? No, little brother. The other kingdoms are too cowardly to attack us while we have dragons. Don't worry about that."
Aeron kept his expression neutral, but inside he felt a mixture of frustration and sadness. Kaelen, like so many others, blindly trusted the power of dragons. He didn't understand that dragons didn't win wars; men won them. And men were corruptible.
"You're right," he lied. "I'm sure everything will be fine."
Kaelen patted him on the shoulder, harder than necessary, and said goodbye. When the door closed behind him, Aeron exhaled slowly.
Kaelen the Fierce. So strong, so confident, and so blind. He will die poisoned by his own wife within three years. And I can't tell him.
He approached the window again, looking towards the horizon.
But I can prevent it. I can save everyone if I play my cards right. Kaelen, Aerion, Drakenvyr. Everyone.
Marie returned an hour later with several parchments, good quality ink, and a pile of books so high she could barely see over them.
"I brought everything you asked for, Your Highness," she said, leaving the load on the table. "The librarian said if you need more, you can visit the library in person."
"Thank you, Marie. You're incredible."
The maid smiled, still bewildered by the change in the prince, but clearly pleased.
"Do you need anything else, Your Highness?"
Aeron thought for a moment.
"No, for now I'll call you if I need something."
Marie nodded, withdrawing from the room, still confused about Aeron's sudden change.