My sister, the new princess of our kingdom, was named Elise.

She was a beautiful baby, with the same golden hair as my mother. But I was ordered to stay away from her room for the first few weeks, to let her grow stronger and stable before I could see her properly.

One day, Dim approached me with a new lesson. "A king doesn’t just need intelligence," he said as he tossed a wooden sword into my hands.

I stared at it for a moment, feeling its weight, then began swinging it clumsily in my room. It was fun at first, but I quickly realized I needed to take it seriously.

Day after day, I practiced. I went outside, striking trees with various attacks. My guards would watch and step in, adjusting my stance or correcting my movements. Their tips felt harsh at times, but I listened. I had to improve.

The days began to blur together. I trained endlessly, while my mother cared for my sister, often tired but always gentle. My father, as always, was absorbed in his endless duties as king.

When I wasn’t training, Alya, one of my mother’s maids, decided to teach me something different—how to make pancakes. It seemed simple enough, but I quickly learned how careful you had to be with the fire.

After a few tries, I decided to surprise my mother. With a small plate of pancakes in hand, I dashed to her room, waking her with my creation. They weren’t perfect, but she smiled and told me they were delicious. That memory stayed with me.

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Years passed. My sister began crawling across the palace floors, her giggles filling the halls. My muscles started to grow, a testament to my training. My mother regained her energy, able to sleep soundly once again and even find joy in the small things.

But today was different.

I had been summoned by my father to the throne room.

I walked in, my heart beating faster than usual. My father, King Alaric, sat on his grand throne, his eyes colder than I had ever seen.

“You’ve grown into a fine boy, Kael. But now, it’s time for you to become a man, to have the strength to lead this kingdom,” he said, his deep voice resonating through the room.

He reached for a knife and handed it to me by the handle. Its blade gleamed under the sunlight pouring through the grand windows.

Before I could ask what was happening, two guards entered, carrying a small, trembling bunny. They placed it on a table in front of me, its legs tied. The creature’s soft whimpers filled the silent room.

I turned to my father, confused. “What do I—”

“Cut off its head,” he commanded, his voice stoic, devoid of emotion.

I looked at the helpless bunny, my hand shaking as I approached. I gripped the knife tightly, raising it, but I couldn’t bring myself to swing. My heart raced, torn between fear and the weight of my father’s expectations.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him watching me intently. His gaze was sharp, unyielding. I didn’t want to disappoint him.

I closed my eyes and swung the knife.

“Eyes open,” my father said coldly, as one of the guards stopped my hand mid-swing.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes. The bunny’s frightened stare met mine. It felt like time froze as I brought the blade down, severing its head with a swift motion.

Blood spilled onto the table. My hand trembled as I grabbed the bunny’s ear and lifted it into the air.

My father clapped once, a slow, deliberate gesture. He gave a single nod before pointing to the door. “You may leave.”

I placed the knife down and walked out of the throne room. My mind was clouded with the image of blood and the lifeless bunny, its purity and innocence taken away by my hand.

For the first time, I felt the true weight of what it meant to be a king.