The Fallen Prince: A Prince's Mistake

Death's Truth

I'm Castor, the Fallen Prince of Highsilver, and in 24 hours, I was about to discover a dark truth that led to millions of deaths and an inevitable war.

Most people my age wake up to their parents yelling at them to get up. I, on the other hand, woke up to thousands chanting my name, telling me to show my face. As always, I chose to ignore them and go back to sleep. But before I could even close both eyes, my father's exasperating voice echoed through a microphone, forcing me to sit up and say goodbye to a nice sleep. I lay my head against the dozens of plush cushions on my endless bed, sighing. Although I would fight to think otherwise, I knew I'd have to eventually get up.

You see, I was the beloved prince of Kajle, the country's most powerful kingdom. That meant everything the public saw had to be a sign of power and perfect. It worked out well for me because I was either with Archie, my best friend and a highly respected protector of the sacred kingdom... or sleeping. Going out with a strong and skilled fighter looked good for me and the people as they thought he was training me. Behind closed doors, we would simply walk around the quiet areas of Kajle and enjoy the small glimpse of freedom the people had. We loved the power and riches we received, but sometimes nothing is better than freedom. And that was something we just weren't allowed. In our eyes, at least. But I wasn't a massive fan of the prince stuff. I like attention as much as anyone else, but there's a limit. The limit is broken daily. Countless letters and gifts, several people bowing before me like I was a god, and girls swooning and begging to be my queen. I had too many things – things that could go to those who actually need them.

Something my father disapproved and made me swear to never say in public was that I'd be completely fine with living in a regular one floored house while the homeless and poor could stay in the palace. That's the beauty of Kajle's king. He loves his people – but only when they're watching. I knew the truth. So did Archie, and so did my mother. He was tall with a back that never bent. He was short-tempered and gentle when he wanted something from me. But a small part of me respected him for his bravery and swordsmanship. His parents died before I was born, meaning he took over the crown at fourteen. My parents had me when they were eighteen because they wanted a jump start on the whole heir thing. I wasn't even the first one either. But now they were around thirty-five, and I was sixteen, meaning my dreaded day had come.

Let's not forget about my apparent perfect mother. She wasn't as bad as my father, obviously. But she wasn't a good person. Because I hold a special hatred to those who stand by and watch something bad happen knowing they can change it. Sure, she was kind to me, and every other day had a one-minute conversation with me about possible wives. Mother of the year. But, again, those who didn't live in the palace didn't know the truth. To the people, she was an angel. Luxurious blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes. An impeccable smile and elegant laugh. A real goddess. If the goddess was the female version of Satan. Then again, she also gave birth to the Fallen Prince – a literal devil. And boy did that guy cause mayhem. Maybe if he had been happier with his surroundings and parents, kingdoms wouldn't have burned down at his hand.

Looking around for the source of the sound I heard earlier, all I saw was my disgusting, endless room. Several, useless, chestnut wardrobes surrounded my brick walls, the same style of clothes sitting in each one. In them were pure black shirts and overly priced jeans. I always asked why they couldn't have been given to people who actually needed them?. I insisted they be given to charity, but my father just called me ungrateful.

I didn't know how the cleaners did it, but, as always, my floor was immaculate. Rugs made by the finest weaver sat on the spotless ground, while my clear windows let the sun happily shine in my room. In a corner near my back window, a petite drawer held secret items. Inside were my favourite books about sword fighting, the outside of my prison and rival kingdoms, alongside emergency weapons and food. Also, a golden key the size of a knife was hidden underneath the drawer – a key that allowed me to get out of Kajle. It was torture; I held the key to my dreams, but guards stood by the gate 24/7, denying any entrances and exits to anyone, apart from my parents and people who could bribe them. Laying across the walls, bookshelves holding the rarest of ancient secrets proudly stood anywhere I looked – except up, where a gleaming chandelier loomed above me, held by a golden chain 20 metres long. Yes, my room is actually that tall. To each side of my king-sized bed sat a drawer that held radiant lamps and delicious, fresh snacks made by the cooks. Next to me were gifts from girls that were pointlessly in love with me – thornless roses, gifts from shops and, to my surprise, a white marble dagger that caught my eye. To my right, an ebony door hid my bathroom. Far in front of me was a huge balcony that was barely visible. I squinted my eyes a little more and saw two figures looking out at the beautiful weather.