The Lost Royal

Reminisce

Damian

She wasn't there. Of course, she wasn't. I am completely obtuse. It was midnight. Normal people are sleeping while, here I am, wandering in not the right state of mind.

I would just have to wait until tomorrow.

I couldn't sleep. My mind was annihilated with thoughts of her. I might have a pipsqueak of the age of 12, and she was 7 when I met her. The little time that I had gotten to know her was the best reprieve of my life. 

The palace was demanding for the young prince that I was back then. Especially my uncle who was ruthless to me. He had never tolerated my existence. 

He hated my father and didn't want the throne to be passed on to me. Neither did I, who wants to carry the burden of the entire country?

He didn't have a son of his own but if he could he would have adopted one to replace me. I wouldn't have felt loss, rather I would be grateful that he spared me from those abominable duties. I am not selfish to not want the responsibility. Only that I just despise the attention.

Most would want that kind of life. Power. Dignity. Affluence. I was a free mind. A scholar. My past- times were dedicated to reading novels. Sometimes I would wander the gardens and lay on a bench with my face catching sun rays, shadows dancing on the book in my lap.

I used to dally with the girls in the court. It wasn't serious. A complement. A peck on the cheek. I knew if I pursued them more, it would end with a trail of broken hearts. Even when it wasn't, they wanted more than I could give.

They were powerful girls from distinguished families but I didn't want their connection to trap me in the future. I dare say, I grew up to be a charming, witty young man, easy on the eyes, and nothing deterred the mob of women always chasing me. 

All that changed when I met Anna. Anastasia. She was different. She played with me. Maybe it was because she was young but she was refreshing. She looked up at me as though I was a companion. 

I met her at a young age of 7 so it was unsettling to realize my attraction, a fair amount of warmth and sense of protection over her. It was even more so startling to find that I was bonded to her. 

Something that no one knows is that we have a much deeper, withheld family secret. Many have killed to protect and have died for this secret. The Romanov royal line is also a line of witches.