The carriage did not stop at Namayana Palace’s main residence when we got home but at its side residence. As per royal tradition, Royal children are no longer allowed to stay at their parents’ residence after their first evaluation because they no longer need their parents’ protection since the gods already blessed them. 

Weird, yeah, but I now have a property of my own! That’s something I could never dream of when I was on Earth. We were vastly rich, but my parents would never give their barely one-year-old unica hija a house of her own.

Although it is still technically part of Mother’s palace, we no longer stay in the same building. It’s also nice and comfy. And the fact that Father ordered people to put enchantments and magic circles in my residence guarantees that what happened back then won’t happen again. He also assigned five Royal Knights and fifteen Royal Guards to me, five of whom are guarding outside of my room right now. I also heard Father tell Mother to rest assured since only a couple of people are allowed to go in and out of my place.

Months pass, and I am already a year old, currently waiting in a room with everyone for my first birthday celebration.

My growth has been good, not lacking nor exceptional… or so I thought.

It really isn't exceptional, but not good either. Turns out I’m behind.

I tried to be as normal as possible in terms of growth. I was patient and tried to depict a healthy, normal child of a healthy and normal couple on Earth… but I forgot this isn’t Earth. And that I am not a child of some “normal couple.” My parents are of royal descent. And this world is magical. Absurd things happen here. And one of those “absurd things” is…

Me.

In the Philippines, there is a legend about a brave hero named Lam-Ang who was the son of a chieftain. He could talk the moment he was born and even chose his own name. He also started his journey to find his father the moment he could walk at a very young age. After finding that his father died in the hands of the enemies, he slew their whole tribe… again, at a very very young age.

Absurd, yeah. But this only proved that Lam-Ang was different from other healthy, normal children of a healthy and normal couple because his parents are not some “normal couple.” He’s the son of the chieftain! A royal descent, if you could say.

…

I should have done exactly that.

Because right now, I am the odd one. I am the “not normal” one.

Sure, what I did — coo at them, stare at them, laugh and giggle, open and close my fists — are normal. For a child of a normal family. 

I am not from a normal family.

The things that I did are considered under excellence in the Royal Family of Amari Kingdom.

My eldest brother, Crown Prince Lothario, personally thanked the High Oracle after the latter performed his first evaluation. My second eldest brother, Crown Prince Azraq, started reading ancient language at three months old. The rest of my brothers walked before they turned one. And although everyone is younger than ten, they all talk fluently in both Damaris Language and universal language, while some are starting to learn the ancient language. Some even know how to transcribe a book. Me? I know how to produce bubbles using my saliva and I can close-open my fist with the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars.

I should’ve listened to Mariana when she was trying to tell me information about this world and not shouted at her to send me back without knowing anything. Of course, I wouldn’t admit to it aloud, but I was in the wrong that one time.

Although I technically created this world since this is the setting of my books, those books did not cover much of the Royal Family. In Vendetta, the main setting was the outskirts of the kingdom where a group of women gathered their members. It was only at the end of the book that the Capital was shown after the women were captured and punished in the Capital. In Inamorata… it’s not even a finished book. Besides, I wrote the books when I was young, ten years before I died. It was long ago that I forgot about the story and only remembered bits and pieces of it.

Anyway, I only came to know how different I was in their eyes after a Grand Elder was summoned by the King to look at what was wrong with me. “An odd one,” the Grand Elder said. “But fret not, Hwan Adrian. Women are usually lesser than men, perhaps that’s the reason why Saridayang is later than her Royal siblings.” That’s the conclusion that the man who looked like Gandalf the Gray came up with — women are inferior to men so it was natural for me to be behind my siblings.

What a bull!

If I knew that what I did would come to this, I would have never tried to hide my accomplishments. I shouldn’t have pretended to be “normal.” If only I knew…

Too bad, I am now the stupid child… and first impression lasts… haay…

Although on the other hand, it’s good that I was not seen as exceptional, because if I did, I would’ve been a target of assassinations more since I’d be seen as a thorn to my brothers’ path to the throne. I could use this mask to quietly live in the palace and live the life I wanted… a life behind the curtains.

“Fourth Brother, wait, you’re too fast!” Prince Dion yells in perfect Damari language as he chases Prince Clarion around the sofa where three princes sit.

“Run faster, you sluggard!” Prince Clarion shouts back.

Prince Dion, Prince Dario, and Prince Clarion are of the same age. The twins, Prince Dario and Prince Dion, are the sons of the First Consort, while the Second Consort gave birth to Prince Clarion in between them. 

“Now, now. We will be announced in a minute,” Royal Consort Ermentrude says.

“Yes, Mother,” Prince Clarion answers and sits beside Brother Cathan.

The Queen’s sons, Crowned Prince Lothario and Crowned Prince Azraq, are ages eleven and ten. While Prince Dario, Prince Clarion, and Prince Dion are only three years of age. Next would be Prince Khalil, who is two and is currently being fed peeled grapes in one corner of the room. Prince Cathan, who is only eleven months younger than Father’s sixth son, is one. Although he is only a year old, he is the most intelligent among the siblings. But people say that he isn’t really intelligent and that he doesn’t really understand what he is reading, and only memorizes the contents of the books to appear smart. 

Thud.

“Ow!”

Everyone’s attention is drawn to the corner of the room, where two attendants are assisting Prince Dario in standing up and straightening his crumpled clothes.

“What happened?” His mother asks, her voice concerned, waving her hand for him to come to her.

“The ugly me tripped! Hahaha!” Prince Dion laughs at his twin.

“Shut up, uglier me!” The older one replies, clearly annoyed and embarrassed. He scrunches his nose and wipes the tears that have formed in his eyes as he walks towards his mother

“Didn’t I warn you back at the palace to behave yourself. Look at your brothers; prim and proper. You're the eldest among you, act like one,” she reprimands her son. “Join your brothers,” she tells him. “You too, Dion.”

The two brothers walk toward where the other children are without any complaints. They take a seat next to Prince Clarion and quietly wait for the banquet to begin. Silence ensues in the room after that. The sounds of spoons swirling and being tapped on the mouths of teacups, as well as the quiet clanking of cups being placed on saucers, fill the room.

“Tea, my wife?” Father asks Mother as she holds me close to her.

She shakes her head. “I am fine, My King. I am afraid I might accidentally spill the hot tea and it would hurt Saridayang.” She answers softly, still looking at me and doing her best to entertain me.

“Nonsense.” He dismisses her and proceeds to pour tea on two teachups. After he is done, he gives the Queen a cup, who accepts it gladly but does not drink from it, and offers her a smile. He then takes me from Mother and he gives her another cup of tea. “Now, drink. I could see you are parched.”

Mother looks at him intently for a few seconds before averting her eyes and looking at the cup of tea he gave her, a small smile plastered on her face. “Thank you, My King.”

Father did not answer him, and instead busied himself to entertain me. He puckers his lips as he creates smooching noises and I hear Mother laugh at him. “What?” he asks her.

She shakes her head and changes the subject. “The birthday gown looks good on her. I can’t believe that you once wore it five decades ago.”

“All my children wore it and they all looked amazing in this, but it is nice seeing a girl wear this traditional gown after so many years. The last lady who wore it was my grandaunt on her first birthday. I remember it being white as snow. Now it looks like a faded yellow.”

“But it is still not like any others,” Mother comments.

“Ehem.” Sir Arman clears his throat. “If you may excuse me, Vhar El Haluman, the hall is ready,” he announces.

Father nods his head. “Very well then.” 

Father stands up and hands me to my very own attendant, Nanny Fida. Sir Arman helps Father fix his royal garb while Father also straightens the skirt of Mother’s green crinoline gown. He smiles at her and tells her that he’ll wait for her in the Hall.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Mother addresses him formally.

He nods at her curtly and walks to the Queen’s side to help her wrinkle out her elegant blue crinoline gown. He offers her his hand and says, “Shall we, My Queen?”