Of Crowns and Sorrow (Arc 2)

Huge olive curtains adorned the window. Rows of books lined the side wall. A mahogany desk stood with a chair behind it, files cluttered across its surface. In the middle of the room, meticulously carved couches surrounded a low desk. A figure sat at the main desk, going through papers, a small frown on his face. His ash-grey eyes were deeply concentrated; dark brown hair settled softly below his ears. High cheekbones and lips pressed in a straight line completed his focused expression.

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A knock at the door, and a young man entered. His expressions were refined, and an air of elegance exuded from him as he walked. The man at the desk set aside the papers and looked up at the newcomer.

"His Highness Prince Izana, my dear brother," the young man said, amused.

"What brings you here, Jade?" Izana asked steadily.

"Came to cheer my dearest brother. I heard you'd be leading the peace summit in Father Emperor's place." He smiled softly, revealing pearly white teeth.

A sharp glint passed through Izana’s grey eyes before he offered a perfunctory smile. “Thank you, Jade. You may leave if there’s nothing else—I have work to do.”

“You wish to send me out as quickly as you can. My heart aches at your indifference,” Jade said, mirth flickering in his eyes. He gave a small bow, threw in a wink, and left the room. Izana sighed softly.

Aurelion, the strongest empire in the south, was a land where exquisiteness and advancement walked hand in hand. The royal family ruled with grace, and the current Emperor was a notably benevolent ruler. The empire had three princes: the eldest, Prince Julian—the warrior prince; the second, Prince Izana—the Silver Prince, known for his composed brilliance and unwavering pursuit of peace; and the youngest, Prince Jade—the playful jewel of the empire.

His attendant reminded him for the fourth time that he needed to rest. At last, he set the pages aside and rose to retire for the night. His grey robes swayed slightly as he stepped out of the shower, a pendant of intricate design hanging around his neck—its center subtly hiding an engraved I.

From the terrace, he gazed out. A cool breeze blew, and moonlight bathed the wide courtyards, pavilions, and distant buildings in a silvery glow.

"Peace," he murmured softly.

He walked slowly to the bed and lay down in silence.

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He walked through the corridors, accompanied by his attendant and a guard of knights. Robes of deep purple draped around him, and light caught the silvery adornment tying his hair. With a steady gaze, he marched toward the main hall.

"Hold it."

A steady voice reverberated through the hall, freezing the soldiers in a deadlock. Jade turned toward him with a smile.

"Brother, these northerners are too aggressive," he pouted.

Izana's ash-grey eyes met his, their calm depths laced with silent reproach.

"Put away your swords," he commanded the southern soldiers.

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Then, turning to the northern contingent:

"The rumours of your courage are surely true. But I advise you to stay put while you are here."

The soldiers hurriedly straightened, offering him a bow. The soft clicking of military boots echoed behind him, and a voice reached his ears.

“The reputation of the Silver Prince doesn’t fall short either.”

If Izana’s voice was calm and steady—holding the serenity of the moon yet the power of gushing streams—this voice was wild, fiery.

He turned.

His gaze met the blue-eyed northern princess. Raven-black hair flicked gently as she bowed, a small smile playing on her lips. A single tear slipped down his cheek, unbidden, as his eyes remained transfixed. Her gaze lingered on the silvery pendant at his neck as she rose. Her features were sharp, striking, and she wore a tailored military uniform.

She frowned slightly at the sight of his tear.

“Are you alright, Prince Izana?” she asked, her voice more gentle now.

He wiped his cheek with quiet grace.

“Princess Nyra,” he murmured, returning the bow.

“I’m glad you made it safely,” he said, his voice calm but laced with something quieter, more personal.

“I’ll accompany you to meet the Emperor before you’re escorted to your resting quarters.”

She nodded, her eyes lingering once more on the pendant resting against his chest.

Turning, he began to lead the entourage down the polished corridor, footsteps soft against the stone. As he walked, he gently pressed a hand against his chest—right over the necklace.

There was a weight there.

An ache that made no sense.

An inexplicable sorrow bloomed beneath his ribs, as if something long forgotten was being remembered.

After finishing his schedule for the day, Jade stood before him, a dejected look on his face.

“Brother, I really didn’t offend any of them.”

Izana gazed at him for a moment, then spoke gently,

“We have to be careful, Jade. One wrong step, and all our efforts could go in vain.”

He looked up at Izana—poised, composed, radiating a quiet regality. The adornments in his hair, part of his signature look, only accentuated his natural grace.

Before Izana could speak, Jade suddenly rushed forward, wrapped him in a quick hug, and darted out of the room.

Nyra looked up at the ceiling of her room, her thoughts lingering on the Prince. His ash-grey eyes had been filled with sorrow when he’d gazed at her, and she couldn’t shake the pull she felt—not just toward him, but toward the pendant around his neck. There was an inexplicable longing, a pull she didn’t fully understand.

Out of all the things she had expected from this trip, confusion had been the last.

With a quiet huff, she let her raven-black hair spread softly across the bed before she stood and walked out of the room. A cloak draped over her shoulders as she made her way into the adjacent courtyard. A little fresh air might clear her mind.

“Princess.”

A soothing voice called to her. She turned, and Izana approached with measured steps.

“Do you need something?” he asked, his voice steady as always.