The Palace and His Sister
The roads parted around them as Victor, Ben, and Anna approached the city. Black-armored soldiers followed closely behind, their measured pace unbroken, blades jingling softly at their hips. The three moved at the heart of it, earning humble looks from the people, whispers that followed them.
Ten minutes more and the imposing shape of the royal palace loomed before them.
Victor slowed reflexively, his eyebrows rising as his eyes ran upward. Walls of marble rose high, sun-kissed white, banners streaming aloft from each spire. Each banner carried the countenance of a lion, roaring in golden yarn against a purple background. The view was magnificent, proud, staggering in its size.
He could not suppress the thought which flitted through his mind—an inner voice tinged with wonder.
So this. is home now. My palace. My family's kingdom. I was once an orphan who had nothing, and now.
For a moment, he forgot himself in that silent internal monologue, chest lifting slowly with a breath that held both disbelief and thanks.
Anna's soft voice cut through. "Son. let's go in.
Victor glanced at her and nodded once. His facade never quivered, but in his chest, his heart pounded harder than he cared to admit.
Together, they walked through the tall gates. The soldiers peeled off, falling back to their stations, allowing the royal family to enter by themselves.
The palace inside unfolded before him—a realm of riches and centuries-long authority. Sunlight poured through colors of stained glass, coloring white marble floors red and purple. Carved pillars towered into arched ceilings, adorned with golden vines that glimmered softly.
Victor's gaze stayed on each detail, memorizing it all.
And then, unexpectedly—
A small figure appeared in the picture.
Feet thudded against the cool marble as a young girl ran down the hallway, her steps swift, almost ethereal. She halted inches in front of Victor, falling to both knees, breathing hard.
Victor flinched, taken aback. The girl raised her face, and for an instant he was seeing a miniature version of Anna. The same purple cascade of hair, the same glowing purple eyes—though tempered by youth, set off by innocence.
Her fine face flushed from sprinting, but her loveliness remained untainted even so.
Victor stiffened. His chest constricted as recognition hit, the inherited recollections of this body waking up. She wasn't a stranger. She was blood, valuable and unreplacable. His little sister.
Ania Lionheart.
Anna's voice drifted over softly. "Dear… why are you dashing?"
Ania faced her mother, tears shining. "Mother, I was concerned about Brother. When the maids said you brought him back, I rushed right away."
Her eyes flashed back to Victor, purple eyes shining. She rose quickly, moving to him, pausing close enough to touch if she dared. Her lips quivered as she spoke.
"Brother… where have you been? Why did you not return earlier? I missed you…"
Her voice broke at the end, thickened by emotion she struggled to suppress.
Victor's heart contracted. He had never experienced the comfort of siblings on Earth. And yet, through the shared memory inherited with this body, he sensed her nearness—her pride, her attachment, her dependence. This was not family. This was the sort of little sister he would incinerate the world for.
He stooped a little, his hand going up to sweep away her hair with unexpected tenderness. His tone softened, with a warmth that few have ever heard out of him.
"My cutie pie… calm down. I'm here. Just your lazy brother, who fell asleep too long. Sorry for making you worry."
Ania's eyes opened wide, her tears flowing freely now. Her little hands shook, holding onto the edge of his sleeve.
Ben cleared his throat quietly, his tone softer than normal. "Dear… leave your brother alone now. He's exhausted. He needs to rest. You may talk to him later."
Ania regarded her father, and then Victor, hesitating. Her lower lip trembled.
Victor bent down, his thumb wiping the wetness away from her cheek. "Listen, little one. I'll rest for a bit, then I'll chat with you as long as you wish. Don't cry."
She sniffled, nodding unwillingly. "Okay… Brother."
Anna moved forward, touching her daughter's shoulder before glancing at Victor. "Son, get to your room. Freshen up. I'll have dinner brought to you later."
Victor nodded his head. "Alright, Mother."
Turning, he strode further into the palace with deliberate steps. His route was not led by doubt, but by instinct; the recollections of his flesh guided him inexorably through halls lined with intricately carved ornamentation and soft lantern light.
He permitted himself to appreciate along the way—the luxurious crimson drapery embroidered with golden lions, the painted ceilings above that showed battles long forgotten, the smooth chill of marble beneath his fingertips.
Finally, he stood before a colossal double door.
Wood shone dark and highly polished, adorned with twisting lotus and rose patterns that unfolded in tendrils along the panels. Brass lion-head shaped handles shone dimly.
Victor paused there, looking at it in silence. His lips curled into the barest of smiles.
So… this is my room now. From today on.
Taking a deep breath, he set the two palms against the doors and shoved them open.
The hinges creaked gently, showing the room inside.