Anne-Marie tossed and turned in her bed, unable to find a comfortable position. The muffled sound of footsteps, echoing from somewhere outside her room, made it impossible to drift back to sleep. The noise was incessant, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to resonate through the entire palace. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a pillow over her head in a futile attempt to block it out. But the footsteps only grew louder, more urgent.

What could possibly be happening at this hour?

Groggily, she reached for her wristwatch on the bedside table, the only item she had managed to remove before falling into a fitful sleep. The tears she had shed earlier had left her eyes heavy and swollen.

"Past ten PM?" she muttered, frowning in confusion. It wasn't even midnight yet. How long had she been asleep for?

The footsteps outside her door quickened, accompanied now by the faint but unmistakable sound of wood clashing against wood. The noise was aggravating, and a dull headache began to throb at her temples. She sat up in bed, rubbing her tired eyes, trying to make sense of the situation.

The door to her room swung open abruptly, and Ivanka, her maid, rushed in, her expression one of anxious urgency.

"Miss Vutron—"

"What's going on?" Anne-Marie cut her off, her voice sharper than intended. The noise outside was overwhelming, and her patience was fraying.

Ivanka kept her gaze low, respectful but tense.
"I'm sorry you were disturbed, Miss. The prince and the royal guards are practicing swordsmanship outside the palace."

Anne-Marie stared at Ivanka, trying to process what she had just said. Practicing swordsmanship? At this time of night? In the pouring rain?

Without a word, Anne-Marie pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She hurried to the window, brushing past Ivanka. The rain was still coming down in relentless sheets, distorting her view, but she could make out the figures outside. There was Aiden, shirtless and drenched, engaged in a furious bout with one of the royal guards. They clashed, their wooden practice swords slicing through the air, while a small army of guards stood behind, watching in silence.

Was he out of his mind?

Anne-Marie's pulse quickened. The sight of Aiden, so consumed by his rage, battling against his own men in the driving rain, unsettled her. She didn't understand what was driving him, but she knew she had to intervene. Before Ivanka could utter another word, Anne-Marie stormed out of the room, her bare feet slapping against the cold marble floors as she raced toward the courtyard.

The moment she stepped outside, the rain hit her like a wall of ice. It soaked through her clothes in seconds, chilling her to the bone. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering uncontrollably, but her determination pushed her forward. Ivanka followed closely, rubbing her arms to create heat, her own expression a mix of concern and dread.

When Anne-Marie reached the courtyard, she froze, her breath catching in her throat. The scene before her was almost surreal. Aiden was in the middle of the vast lawn, surrounded by statues of Breton's past kings, their stone faces set in expressions of stern authority. Aiden fought with a raw intensity that she had never seen before, each strike of his wooden sword filled with a palpable frustration. The guards, hesitant and clearly reluctant, blocked his attacks but did not retaliate with the same force.

The rain fell harder, the ground beneath them turning to mud, but no one seemed to care. Aiden's face was a mask of determination, his hair plastered to his forehead, his muscles straining with every movement. The guards exchanged nervous glances, their reluctance obvious as they tried to avoid striking him. They were going easy on him, Anne-Marie realized, and that only seemed to fuel Aiden's anger.

With a powerful swing, Aiden's practice sword shattered against the guard's, sending splinters flying. He stopped, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with exertion. The broken sword fell from his hand as he raked his fingers through his wet hair, his frustration boiling over.

"What was that?" he roared, his voice cutting through the rain like a blade. "What the hell was that?!"

The guards flinched but remained silent, their eyes downcast. Their fear was evident, but so was their loyalty. They were caught between their duty to protect the prince and their fear of incurring the queen's wrath if any harm came to him.

"Forgive us, your highness!" one of the guards called out, his voice strained to be heard over the storm. "We can't help ourselves. If any harm befalls you, the queen wouldn't let us live!"

Aiden's eyes narrowed, his frown deepening as he glared at the guard who had spoken.

"The Queen?" he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're going easy on me because of the Queen?"

The guard's silence was answer enough. Aiden's fury ignited anew, and without a word, he turned and stalked toward a rack of swords nearby. Anne-Marie's heart leaped into her throat as she watched him reach for a sword with a golden grip—the Imperial Sword, the legendary weapon passed down through the generations of Breton's royal family.

Anne-Marie had heard stories about that sword, seen it on television, but seeing it now, in Aiden's hands, was entirely different. The sword was magnificent, its blade gleaming even in the dim light, despite the rain that poured over it. It was the imperial sword, passed onto the crowned princes of Breton. It belonged to King Gorent, Aiden's great, great, great, great grandfather, one of the greatest kings in the entire Breton, known for saving the kingdom from the battle at dead water several years ago, he won that war with that sword and passed it down to his son who passed it down to his all the way down until Aiden.

Even after so many years had passed, the sword still remained the same, beautiful, majestic and so strong. The imperial sword was not only known for that, but for its real gold and shinny grip. So many times, a few people had attempted to steal it but they never succeeded and it never really left the palace especially since the introduction of guns in Breton. She watched Aiden pull the sword out of its sheath and she beheld it's beauty even more as it shone even with the rain, content Abel would have killed for. He would have been so amazed if he was there.

The imperial family took the art of swordsmanship a great deal. No one ever really saw a reason why they had to even bother about it especially since the world had evolved and developed from using swords but the imperial family of Breton always made sure that their swordsmanship was just as good as their shooting skills. They passed that training down from generations to generations.

He turned back to the guards, the sword held aloft, and Anne-Marie could see the resolve in his eyes.

"From this moment on," Aiden bellowed, "I will fight with my sword, and I will not hesitate to strike anyone who isn't bold enough to fight for their lives. I won't hold back anymore, and I expect you all not to either. Avoid my sword and defeat me, or you will die!"

"Your Highness," Elijah, one of the guards, stepped forward, his voice laced with alarm, but Aiden ignored him, his focus unyielding.

Ivanka, trembling beside Anne-Marie, as they watched him  raise  the sword higher, the rain streaming off the blade in torrents.

"It's up to you," he continued, his voice cold and commanding. "Will you fight me and live, or die tonight by my sword because you chose to go easy on me?"

Anne-Marie couldn't stay silent any longer. She had to stop this madness before someone got hurt, or worse. She took a step forward, her voice catching in her throat.

"Aiden-"

"What on earth is going on here?!"

The voice that boomed through the courtyard was unmistakable, and everyone froze at the sound of it. Anne-Marie turned, her heart pounding as she saw King Albert striding toward them, an umbrella held over his head by one of the court ladies. The Queen was beside him, her expression a mixture of shock and dismay. Both were dressed in their royal night robes, clearly having been roused from sleep.

The guards immediately bowed their heads, their relief palpable. Ivanka and Anne-Marie did the same, but Aiden remained defiantly still, his hand tightening around the hilt of the sword. He let out a scoff, a grin spreading across his face as his parents approached.

Vanessa's eyes were wide with horror as she took in the scene before her. She hurried toward Aiden, her voice trembling with concern.

"Your highness, what is this?"

Aiden sniffed and looked away, the storm within him barely contained.

Elijah, ever the diplomat, stepped forward, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"Apologies, Your Highness," he said, addressing the queen.
"The prince and the royal guards were practicing their swordsmanship—"

"Swordsmanship?" Vanessa repeated, incredulous. "It's almost midnight, and it's pouring rain! You could all catch your death out here! And since when did the prince practice with a real sword?"

"Why?" Aiden shot back, his glare hardening. "Is there a law that says I can't?"

"Aiden—" Vanessa began, but Aiden cut her off with a scornful laugh.

"And if there was, I would like to know what his majesty would like to say about it." He turned to Albert, "Perhaps turn a blind eye, like you always do? Just as you have done with the people of Niyagra."

Vanessa's breath caught in her throat. The sting of his words was almost physical, and for a moment, she was at a loss for what to say. Shame flickered across her face, mingled with helplessness.

King Albert's expression hardened as he observed the exchange. His voice, when he spoke, was as sharp as the blade Aiden held.

"Get me a sword," he commanded, his gaze never leaving his son. "The best and sharpest there is."

Aiden, Vanessa, and Anne-Marie all turned to him in shock. Vanessa's voice was barely a whisper, filled with confusion.

"Your Majesty?"

"Did I stutter?" Albert snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

One of the guards scrambled to the sword rack, quickly retrieving a sword and presenting it to the king. Albert took the weapon, stepping out from under the umbrella, the rain soaking through his robe as he walked toward Aiden.

"Your Majesty," Vanessa's voice was almost pleading, but Albert ignored her, his focus solely on Aiden, who stood defiantly before him.

"It's me, isn't it?" Albert asked, his voice low and challenging as he approached his son. "the reason you're so upset?"

Aiden met his father's gaze, the tension between them almost palpable. The rain poured down, drenching them both, but neither seemed to notice. Albert's words struck a chord within Aiden, a truth that he hadn't fully acknowledged until now.

"Why don't you do something about it, then?" Albert continued, his voice steady. "Fight it out like a man. Face me like a man instead of channeling your aggression toward your staff like a coward."

"Your Majesty, please!" Elijah stepped forward, trying to mediate, but his words were drowned out by the storm.

"Albert, don't!" Vanessa's voice cracked with desperation, but Aiden's glare only intensified.

Aiden swung his sword in a wide arc, the blade cutting through the rain as he positioned himself to strike.

"Don't think I won't," he warned, his voice laced with venom.

Albert didn't flinch.
"Go for it."

Aiden hissed through clenched teeth, raising his sword high. He lunged forward with a roar, but Albert was ready. The king's sword met Aiden's with a resounding clash of metal, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the air.

The courtyard erupted into chaos as father and son engaged in a fierce battle, their swords a blur of steel and fury. The guards and servants stood frozen in place, too stunned to intervene, while Vanessa watched in horror, her hands covering her mouth as she gasped with each strike.

Anne-Marie clutched the front of her blouse, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never seen anything like this—the raw, unfiltered rage that Aiden unleashed upon his father, the determination in Albert's eyes as he defended himself. It was terrifying, mesmerizing, and utterly heartbreaking all at once.

With each swing of their swords, the rain seemed to intensify, as if nature itself was reacting to the intensity of their duel. Aiden was relentless, his strikes wild and powerful, driven by a need to prove himself, to vent the anger and frustration that had been building within him for years.

But Albert was a seasoned warrior, and though he matched Aiden's strength, he fought with precision and control. He anticipated Aiden's moves, countering each attack with a calculated defense that only served to fuel Aiden's fury further.

Zrr.

The sound of fabric tearing pierced through the storm as Albert's sword grazed Aiden's side, cutting through his pants but narrowly missing his skin. Both men paused, the reality of the situation sinking in. Aiden's eyes widened as he looked down at the torn fabric, the near miss sobering him for a moment.

But the pause was brief. Aiden's face twisted in anger as he resumed his attack with renewed vigor, swinging his sword with everything he had. Albert sidestepped, grabbing Aiden by the arm and twisting him around, forcing him to bend over his legs. Before Aiden could react, Albert struck him hard on the back with the hilt of his sword, sending him crashing to the ground.

The sound of Aiden hitting the ground was like a punch to the gut for everyone watching. Vanessa cried out, rushing forward, but she stopped short, frozen in place by the sight of Albert standing over their son, his sword pointed directly at Aiden's throat.

"That's enough!" Vanessa's voice rang out, filled with a mix of fear and authority. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched the two men she loved most glaring at each other, both breathing heavily, soaked to the bone, but neither willing to back down.

Silence,

No one made a sound for a few seconds until Albert drew a sharp breath.

"You see that?" Albert said, his voice cold and unyielding.

"You let your guard down because you foolishly believed that you were too precious for harm to befall you, that i wouldn't harm you. That's weakness, Aiden. You put too much faith in your position as the Prince, and with that position you believe that you can save everyone, change the way the world works, and that in itself is a weakness."

Aiden's breath came in ragged gasps as he glared up at his father, the sword hovering dangerously close to his neck.

Albert threw his sword on the ground.

"Stop this childishness and return to your room at once."

He turned to the guards.

"Clean up this mess immediately."

"Your majesty." They bowed just as Albert turned around to leave.

Aiden had had enough. He was sick of it, sick of hearing the words of a hypocrite, sick of the man in front of him. Defeat? No, he could take anything from that man but defeat. He grabbed his sword and got up immediately, raised it slightly in the air and with a loud yell, he charged towards the king.

"Aiden!" Vanessa yelled at the top of her lungs as she ran towards the king, causing him to turn around quickly. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the scene in front of him. Vanessa spread her hands to protect Albert just as Anne-Marie had her hands over her mouth to stop her from yelling so much when Aiden got closer to his parents, hanging his sword in the air and his angry gaze straight at his father. He was so angry, so furious but he managed to stop, to suspend the thoughts that clouded his head. Albert just stood there, in a lot of shock to even say a word about what had just happened.

"Aiden," Vanessa's voice trembled as she slowly stretched it towards Aiden with tears in her eyes. "Aiden please," she begged him. "Please Aiden, drop the sword."

"Your highness!" Elijah ran to him immediately. Everyone watched with horror on their faces. No one could believe it. Aiden was hurt. He had tears in his eyes and they were threatening to fall. He was fighting everything within him to control himself but his emotions were getting the best out of him.

He sniffed after a few seconds and then pulled his sword down slowly. He started to laugh loudly.

Anne-Marie watched him, she could hear the sadness laced in his voice, she could feel it, more than everyone else standing there and for some reason, it was slowly finding its way to her.

"Weakness?" Aiden finally asked, raising his head back to his father. "You're wrong." He glared at his father, frowning again. "you're wrong. If having a heart that truly seeks the people makes me unfit to be king, then I don't want to be king. If being king means I have to murder my own people, turn my back on them feed on their pains and intentionally deprive them of their rights as citizens of this country then I have no interests in being king. Great will?" He scoffed.
"Who said a great will makes a great king? No, Responsibility does, the ability to be responsible for your people as their leader, to know their pains, to share in those pains. It means not abandoning them, or leaving them to die for a sin one man committed!"

He dropped the sword immediately, the metal clanging against the wet stones. He was standing tall, defiant, staring his father down with a look of pure determination.

"And from where I'm standing, you do not fit into any of the descriptions, You'll be remembered in years to come all right, not as a king, but as a tyrant."

"Aiden." Vanessa was halfway in tears but Aiden didn't care. Aiden turned on his heel, storming away from the courtyard, leaving the stunned silence in his wake.

As he disappeared into the darkness, Anne-Marie finally understood. She had been wrong about him, about everything. Aiden wasn't the arrogant, selfish prince she had imagined. He was a man of deep conviction, someone who truly cared about his people, who was willing to fight for them, even against his own father.

Abel was right all along, Aiden was a prince that was going to make a great king, a true king of his people. A light, he was the light of Breton.
He was the future king, the light that Breton desperately needed.

He, Aiden-Cree Ellington.