Chapter Five: Becoming
The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting golden stripes across our bedroom ceiling. Ellyn lay next to me, still half-buried under her blanket, and I blinked slowly, trying to summon the energy to sit up. The scent of roasted grains and honeyed bread wafted up from downstairs, wrapping around me like a warm memory.
A soft knock echoed at the door.
"Wake up, Ellan, Ellyn—it's time for breakfast," Father called. His voice, even when quiet, had a kind of warm gravity to it. Steadying.
Ellyn yawned and stretched beside me, her hair a tangled mess against her pillow. I rubbed my eyes and sat up.
"Mornin'..." she mumbled.
I smiled to myself. No matter how much things changed around us, Ellyn always managed to stay Ellyn.
We got up and slipped into our morning routine—brushing, washing, changing clothes—all without saying much. It was a quiet dance, the kind of rhythm only twins shared. We didn't need words to understand each other.
By the time we made it downstairs, the table was set beautifully. Mum—Flora—was already placing the last dish on the table. I caught the quick flick of her eyes toward us, then toward Father, whose damp hair still clung to his forehead.
"At least dry your hair first, you two," she scolded lightly, handing him a towel.
Father just grinned, rubbing his neck. Ellyn laughed quietly. I didn't say anything—I rarely did during breakfast—but I took my seat and reached for the bread. The crust was soft, still warm.
Mum's tone shifted, just a little. "Today's the day. We'll be leaving for Harwen late this morning."
I paused, mid-bite. My chest tightened. So it was really happening.
Father nodded. "The Crown Prince Ceremony is still a few days away, right?"
"Yeah. But there's a lot to prepare before then."
Mum looked directly at me. "We'll be doing a full rehearsal before the real ceremony. Everything must be perfect."
Perfect. That word again. It had been following me ever since they told me who I was supposed to be.
"It's the most important day of his life," Father said.
Mum's expression softened. "Yes. It is."
Important. But I didn't feel ready. I wasn't sure I'd ever feel ready.
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10:00 A.M. – The Journey to Harwen
We stood by the front door. The house was quiet—too quiet. Our luggage was already packed and shrunken with magic, tucked into Mum's bag.
Mum pressed her hand against the door. Runes lit up, pulsing like a heartbeat. Then the door creaked open, and I saw it—Harwen.
The gardens looked like something from a storybook. Trees like marble pillars, flowers that shimmered when the wind touched them. Birds with feathers that glowed. Everything felt... too beautiful to be real.
And yet, here we were. Stepping through that door, leaving behind everything familiar. Somewhere far off, a single bell tolled—low and slow, as if marking something more than our arrival.
I glanced back once—at the hallway, the couch, the faint scent of Montreal. It already felt smaller, like the frame of a painting I'd stepped out of. Ahead, Harwen waited—brighter, sharper, and far too big to fit in my chest.
Goodbye, Earth. Hello, destiny.
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Harwen Palace – Preparations Begin
The palace buzzed like a hive. Servants everywhere. Decorations, crystals, scrolls. It was overwhelming.
We didn't even make it ten steps before a maid darted off, announcing our arrival. Another name—"Imperial Grandchildren." It still didn't feel like it belonged to me.
Commander Verrian stood in the Grand Hall like a statue carved from purpose. I'd only seen him once before, but even now, I felt the pressure of his presence.
At first glance, he looked like the kind of man you'd cross the street to avoid. But when I let my gaze linger, I saw it wasn't malice—just a cold, unwavering focus. The kind that comes from taking a duty too seriously to soften it.
When he met my eyes, he bowed—exactly as he had to Grandfather. He already looked at me as a Crown Prince, though I hadn't yet become one.
We didn't greet each other. I just walked past him with Mum.
"Summon the tailors," he ordered. "Everything must be done with precision and care."
I swallowed. Hard.
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Inner Garden Meeting
We gathered in a quiet garden. The trees whispered above us, sunlight flickering through the leaves. Grandfather Hanford sat with us, looking more like a legend than a person.
"You have three days," he said, eyes locked onto me with high expectation. "Today, you'll be fitted for your ceremonial suit."
His crimson eyes shone a little as a soft smile formed on his lips. It was only the second time I had seen him smile—a smile that looked just like Mum's.
He didn't speak cruelly—but there was no space for doubt in his tone either. Just expectation.
Mum nodded. "I'll handle everything."
Grandfather looked to Father. "You trust me with him?"
"Of course," Father said, smiling gently. "He's yours too."
I didn't speak. I just kept my hands folded in my lap.
What could I have said? That I was terrified? That I didn't want to disappoint them?
As Grandfather walked away, his crimson cloak trailing like fire, I felt the weight settle heavier on my shoulders.
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The Fitting Room
It was like stepping into a storm of fabric and mirrors. Tailors moved fast but gentle, like swans. Crimson. Black. Silver. Violet. All of it swirled around me.
I stood on a pedestal, arms out, trying not to fidget. But every time someone touched my sleeve or collar, I flinched. Not outwardly—but inside, I winced.
Mum chuckled from the side. "You look like a walking tomato, Ellan."
I shot her a look and turned away. My ears burned. But a small part of me was grateful. She wasn't mocking. She was... trying to ground me.
The tailors kept going. One outfit after another. Nothing felt right.
Until the last one.
Crimson jacket. Black shirt. Silver threads. And the flower—soft, red, warm.
When I looked in the mirror, something shifted. The jacket's weight settled on my shoulders—not heavy, but certain. I didn't look like me anymore. But I didn't look like someone else, either.
I looked... like who I was becoming.
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Training and Formal Lessons
Every hour was a lesson. How to walk. How to speak. How to bow.
Every gesture had meaning. Every word had weight.
I wanted to get it right. Not just for them—for me.
Sometimes, Ellyn peeked in through the door and made faces. I almost laughed aloud. I knew she just wanted to cheer me up, and I also knew she must have felt lonely without me by her side—even for a few hours. I felt lonely without her too. Maybe it was because we were twins. Well, Mum would chase her off, half-glowering and half-smiling; she wanted me to focus on the lesson.
Even when I stumbled, Mum's voice steadied me. "You're doing well," she said. "You don't need to be perfect. Just be sincere."
Sincere. I held onto that word like a lifeline.
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The Final Rehearsal
The Grand Hall shimmered. Banners lined the walls. Everything was in place.
I stood at the doors, hands clenched at my sides. The moment they opened, I walked—one step, then another. Each echo was a drumbeat in my chest.
When I bowed, it felt like the entire palace was holding its breath.
When I spoke, my voice cracked, then steadied.
Every word was a promise I didn't yet know how to keep—but meant with my whole heart.
Verrian nodded. Barely. "Let us hope the actual ceremony is even smoother."
As the servants cleared out, Mum walked to me, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
"You did great," she whispered.
I met her eyes. "Do you think I'll make a good Crown Prince?"
She smiled, soft but sure.
"You already are."
I didn't feel like it yet.
But the crown was coming, whether I was ready or not.