In the King's Palace of Runa
"Your Highness, please wake up! You're already late," Yelena pleaded, gently shaking the bundled figure under the covers.
"Ugh... Yelena, five more minutes," Princess Ashia groaned, rolling over to bury her face deeper into the pillows.
"If you care about me even a little, please get up. At this rate, I'll die single and childless," Yelena sighed dramatically—her most reliable tactic.
A groan escaped Ashia as she peeked out from the blankets. "Gods, you're so dramatic... Alright, alright! I'm up."
"Thank you, Your Highness!" Yelena beamed, immediately moving to prepare the princess's outfit.
Ashia dragged herself toward the washroom. Today was unusual—for the first time in months, the royal family would share breakfast. The King, whose health had been steadily deteriorating, was finally leaving his chambers.
Dressed and ready, Ashia followed Yelena through the marble corridors. At the dining room doors, Yelena paused and offered a soft smile.
"Enjoy your meal, Your Highness."
Ashia stepped inside. Her younger brother was already seated.
"Ashia-sis!" Prince Azard waved enthusiastically.
"Good morning, Azard," Ashia said with a soft smile, taking her seat.
"Guess what? I'll be joining the Magic Academy this summer! Mom's been planning it forever. I'm kind of excited."
Ashia raised an eyebrow. "Is it your idea or Mother's?"
Azard grinned sheepishly. "Maybe a bit of both? I do want to learn magic. You went there, didn't you? Was it fun?"
Ashia paused. Painful memories flickered through her mind like unwanted ghosts.
"Yeah. Of course it was," she lied with a practiced smile.
"That's nice to hear," came a deeper voice from the doorway.
They turned.
King Azar stood there, leaning heavily on a cane. Once a man whose name had ended civil wars and overthrown a tyrant, now he struggled with each step.
The joy on the children's faces faded.
Still, the King smiled. "What's with the long faces? Let's enjoy our meal."
With careful, measured movements, he took his seat. Queen Ria entered quietly and sat beside him.
"It's been a while since I had food like this," Azar said with a grin. "Soup every day nearly killed my taste buds. This... this feels like a meal."
Despite his frailty, his warmth lightened the room.
"These dishes aren't ideal for your condition," Queen Ria murmured.
"One day won't kill me," the King replied with a chuckle, savoring each bite.
When the plates had been cleared, King Azar turned to his son.
"So, Azard. Excited for the Academy?"
"Yeah, Dad! I want to get strong like you," Azard beamed.
Azar smiled faintly. "Good. Ashia," he continued, turning to her, "I want you to return to the Academy too. How about rejoining when Azard does?"
Ashia blinked. Even Queen Ria looked surprised.
"If that's what you want, I'll do it," Ashia said, voice steady but eyes distant.
"You won't be alone," Azar added. "Your escort will enrol as a student. Since outsiders aren't allowed in the High Academy, this was the only way. You have no objections?"
Ashia shook her head. "No, Father."
"Good," he nodded, pushing himself up with effort. "Enjoy the rest of your day."
He turned to leave, but Azard called after him, voice quiet.
"Dad... will you be okay?"
Azar paused, walked over, and ruffled his son's hair.
"I'll be just fine," he said softly. Then, with Queen Ria by his side, he left.
Ashia and Azard stood in silence.
She glanced at her brother. His smile had faded. He masked his worry poorly—a tension clung to his shoulders that had nothing to do with youth.
There was nothing they could do. If the kingdom's best healers and mages couldn't help, how could they?
"See you later, Azard," Ashia said gently, then turned and left with Yelena.
In her room, she collapsed onto the bed with a groan.
"Your Highness," Yelena sighed, "you should change out of that dress first."
"Yelena!"
"Yes, Your Highness?"
Ashia turned on her back, staring at the ceiling.
"Father wants me to return to the Academy."
"If he says that, even after knowing everything that happened," Yelena said, laying out her next dress, "then he must have a reason. Don't you think?"
"If all he wants is for me to get stronger, I can do that here. The General agreed to train me in combat. The Arch Mage said he'd help with magic. He knows that."
"Then maybe strength isn't what he's after," Yelena said thoughtfully.
Ashia narrowed her eyes. "Then what is?"
Yelena hesitated. "I think he wants you to connect with people. To understand them. To be..."
"To be what, Yelena?" Ashia demanded.
Silence.
Ashia sat up, voice low. "I can't be him. Even if there's no other choice, I'll find another."
She clenched her fists.
"I don't want to rule this kingdom. I don't want to be Queen. Not now."
Back in the King's Chambers
"A king who can't even sit on his own throne," Azar muttered, lying in bed. His voice carried more bitterness than strength.
Queen Ria sat beside him, holding his hand.
"How are the festival preparations?"
"Smoothly," she answered. "We'll hold it once the Hunters return from Velhein."
He looked toward the ceiling. "Ria... I'm going to announce my condition at the festival."
Her breath caught. "You can't be serious."
"I am. How long can I keep hiding it? These people... they followed me through war, through peace. I owe them honesty."
"But the throne. Ashia's not ready."
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm preparing alternatives. If she can't inherit, someone else will. I'll make sure the kingdom is in good hands."
Ria looked at him quietly for a moment, then nodded. "Whatever you decide... do it before your body gives out completely."
Azar gave a faint smile. "I intend to."
And so, they waited—two rulers facing a future they could not stop, only shape.