When the King of Paican declared that his crown would not be passed down by blood, but by marriage, chaos swept through the royal halls like fire.

The King had three sons and one daughter, in none of whom he had a shred of hope to carry on the family name—so he decided to persuade them with the only thing he knew would convince them: the crown itself.

"Father, you cannot do this!" Cassian roared, his voice causing each maid to flinch in fear. He was the youngest of his sons—the most prideful, the most cunning. The one whose desire to rule undoubtedly burned the strongest.

"Cassian is right. Should we not expect to be chosen for our merits? For our dedication to this family? This is preposterous." As usual, Elric was right behind him, supporting every one of his words. The second son—the dutiful and forgotten one. The cowardly one.

"And what is this dedication you speak of, son? You have done nothing but waste my riches all these years. You have not once thought of a way to carry on our legacy. You are spoiled, and it is time I put an end to it."

"Spoiled? I've done nothing but serve you the best I could! How many enemies have I defeated for you? Can you not recall?"

The argument kept growing louder and louder. Slowly, the servants had started to flee the room, one at a time, afraid of what the princes could throw at them in a fit of rage.

It was true that such a rule had never been forced upon them before. Usually, the crown would be passed down to either the eldest son or the most deserving one. But a coronation brought forth by marriage? Could the King have gone mad?

"Well, I guess you can count me out of the race," Mira whispered, a small smile dancing on her lips. She was leaning on the window, arms crossed, hidden by the shadows of the curtains, looking with amusement at the scene unfolding before her.

"Why? Reckon your beloved lady-in-waiting won't be too pleased if you found a husband?" She rolled her eyes, but her grin grew wider as she pushed her brother playfully.

"Shut up, Lucian. I simply do not wish for a husband."

Lucian.

The eldest of the King's sons. Everyone had been sure the crown would be passed down to him—until a few minutes ago. Ever since he was born, that’s what he had been training for: becoming the next ruler of Paican.

One might think he'd be the one to take in the news with the most frustration, but he was calm, standing next to his sister as usual. Yes, it was a shock. But not enough of a reason to lose his temper. If anything, it was the entitlement of his brothers that was starting to get to him: all their talk about sacrifice and dedication, as if they had ever gone through what he had been forced to.

"So, I take it you are not mad?"

"Why would I be? I just need to get married. This doesn't change anything." Mira shot him a quick glance, a hint of confusion creeping onto her face.

"Wait, you're going to run for the crown as well? You?"

"Of course I am. And I'm going to win, too. There's no way Cassian and Elric are going to be the next King."

"But I thought you hated—" Suddenly, Lucian's figure tensed, straightening up and looking taller than ever, towering over Mira. His eyes were stern, as if warning her not to push the topic any further.

"Not now, Mira." She raised her hands in defeat and watched as he took a step toward their brothers.

"Father." His voice—the voice of the eldest—was enough to instantly shut down the whining of the other two, who turned their attention toward him, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Please tell us what we should do to earn the crown."

"I am glad to see you motivated, Lucian. I expected no less." His father's voice was calm, but no emotion could be read in his expression. Whenever he had to speak to Lucian, that was a common thing. He had always done his best to show him nothing—except anger and disappointment when needed—to shape him into the man he was born to be. "It is simple: whichever one of you is first to find a spouse I deem worthy will be crowned King. Of course, before that, you will have to get married. I will not accept a courtship, nor a simple alliance. It has to be a marriage. That is all."

"Do you know how long that will take, Father? To find a suitable noblewoman? To reach an agreement with her family? It could be more than a year before one of us marries!" Cassian again, with his incessant moaning. Of course he was the one most affected by this. He had always been one step behind their father, appeasing him in every way possible, hiding his true self behind either the caring son or the ruthless soldier façade, just to gain his approval.

"Then I guess you’d better move fast, brother." Lucian smirked, just enough to cause his anger to rise even more.

"Stay out of this, Lucian. You don't even—"

"Well, I will get going now. Father, brothers, Mira; I’ll see you soon." Before Cassian could finish his sentence, the eldest had already turned on his heels, heading for the huge wooden door of the throne room, his steps echoing against the high walls.

As he passed her, he could see Mira and her raised eyebrows, clearly entertained by all this. She sent a quick thumbs-up his way before hiding her hand under her robe once again.

Once he finally reached the hallway, one of the servants ran toward him, carrying his furs carefully. He nodded in his direction—a silent thanks—before stopping to think for a brief moment.

Despite everything, Cassian was right. A marriage with a noblewoman would take way too much time to organize. Not to mention, he had no intention of going through all that trouble just to satisfy his father's whims. No, there had to be another way—a faster, more suitable way.
He didn’t want to give his family the victory they were looking for. He didn’t want to bring them another spoiled royal.
He wanted to make a fool out of every single one of them.

"Ready my carriage. We are going to look for my spouse."

The servant jumped a little, surprised by the sudden announcement. He had been taking care of Prince Lucian since he was but a child and knew him well enough to tell when he was up to no good. This was clearly one of those times.

"Prince Lucian, are you sure? Just like this? Should we not organize a bit better beforehand?"

"No, just like this is fine." The servant, Riven, sighed, scratching the back of his neck, trying to decide what would be the best thing to do. Yes, he was Lucian’s servant. But until the coronation, the King would still be his ruler, and he had no intention of angering him in any way.

"Fine. Where shall we head to? Another kingdom? Perhaps I should ask the maids to prepare enough to eat for a few days—"

"We’re going to the slums. Come on, follow me." Without another word, the Prince marched forward toward the carriage, a certain confidence in his step—one only someone with a plan could have.

Riven brought his hand to his mouth, biting it briefly, aware that what they were about to do would lead to nothing but trouble. He didn’t need to be aware of the plan to realize it was going to be ridiculous. Then, finally, he followed Lucian, slamming the carriage door shut.

"Prince Lucian, you will get me killed sooner or later."