The palace halls were silent in the early hours of the morning, the usual hustle and bustle of court life still slumbering beneath the weight of night's departure. The sun had only just begun to crest the horizon, casting a pale, golden light over Ustaria, its rays touching the rooftops of the city below and crawling ever upward toward the towering spires of the royal castle.
David Pennington, the youngest of the Pennington heirs, stood alone on the balcony outside his chambers, leaning against the stone railing as the first rays of sunlight painted his fair skin. He was handsome—there was no denying that—blessed with the sharp, chiseled features of his father in his youth, but with a softer, more charming expression. His dark hair, tousled from a restless night, fell casually across his forehead, and his eyes, a brilliant shade of blue, sparkled with a mischievous glint. He looked every part the princely figure, but beneath that boyish grin and captivating gaze, there lay something far more complicated.
David's reputation had preceded him for years. While his siblings—Harris, Lilliana, and Ruby—were known for their military prowess, political ambition, and diplomatic skills, David had become infamous for his reckless indulgence in the pleasures of court life. He was the king's beloved son, yes, but his behavior often bordered on scandalous. Women of the court, both noble and common, whispered about him—about his charm, his conquests, and, more often than not, his disregard for the consequences of his actions.
The courtiers feared him as much as they admired him. To be close to Prince David was to invite either great favor or devastating scandal. He was, after all, King Harley's favorite, and that protection gave him a certain invincibility in the eyes of those who sought to manipulate the power structures within the court. But for all his charm, David had not earned the respect of the nobles as a potential ruler. Where Harris was seen as a warrior and Ruby as a diplomat, David was viewed as a charming boy with little thought for responsibility.
He knew what they said about him. He could hear it in their laughter at court dinners, their barely veiled insults during public appearances. But none of it seemed to matter. Not when his father's love shielded him from any real consequence.
The breeze that blew across the balcony was cool, carrying with it the scent of the dew-drenched gardens below. David closed his eyes for a moment, breathing it in, savoring the quiet before the inevitable chaos of the day began. Despite his careless exterior, there was a part of him that longed for moments like this—moments of solitude where he wasn't expected to be the charming prince, where he could escape the weight of his father's expectations.
It was an odd thing, to be the favored son of a king. On one hand, it gave him the freedom to do as he pleased, knowing that his father would always protect him. But on the other, it shackled him with a burden he was unsure he could carry. His father had whispered to him more than once in private that the crown would one day be his. David knew his father's health was failing, and as much as he had avoided thinking about it, the throne was looming closer with every passing day.
But did he want it? Could he even bear the weight of it?
The answer was as elusive as the morning mist that still clung to the garden below. David's thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps behind him. He turned to see one of his personal attendants, Edwin, standing at the entrance to his chambers, a slight bow in his posture.
"Your Highness," Edwin began, his voice polite but tinged with hesitation. "Your father, the king, has requested your presence this morning. He wishes to see you at once."
David raised an eyebrow, surprised. His father rarely called for him so early, especially without prior notice. Usually, their meetings were scheduled, predictable—another opportunity for Harley to impart his endless wisdom or to scold him for his latest indiscretion, all while still wearing that proud, fatherly smile.
"At once?" David asked, running a hand through his messy hair.
"Yes, Your Highness. He made it quite clear."
David let out a soft sigh but nodded. "Very well. Tell him I'll be there shortly."
As Edwin bowed and left the balcony, David remained for a moment longer, looking out over the horizon where the sun was now fully breaking free of the night's grasp. He felt a strange unease settle in his stomach, though he couldn't place why. His father's summons felt... different this time. There was an urgency to it, something that made David's usual carefree nature falter, if only for a moment.
With a resigned sigh, he pushed away from the railing and stepped back inside his chambers. He glanced at the disarray that surrounded him—the remains of last night's indulgences. Fine wine spilled across the table, empty goblets discarded carelessly, and a disheveled bed where, hours earlier, the soft laughter of a noblewoman had echoed against the stone walls.
She was gone now, of course, leaving only the scent of her perfume lingering in the air. David didn't even remember her name. Or maybe he never asked.
A quick wash and a change into his more formal attire, and David was ready to face whatever his father had planned for him. He left the chambers and made his way through the winding corridors of the palace, his steps echoing softly against the marble floors. The palace felt empty at this hour—servants quietly going about their duties, the courtiers still sleeping off the excesses of the night before.
As David approached his father's private chambers, a strange sense of anticipation built in his chest. He had no idea why Harley had called for him so suddenly, but something told him this wasn't just another one of their father-son talks.
When he reached the door, two guards flanked the entrance. They nodded respectfully as he approached, stepping aside to let him pass. David took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The sight that greeted him was one he had grown used to over the past few years—his father, King Harley Pennington, sitting by the fire, wrapped in heavy furs despite the warmth of the room. The king's once-strong frame had withered with age, his skin pale and thin, his hair a stark white against his once-darker complexion. But despite the frailty of his body, there was still a sharpness in Harley's eyes, a keen intelligence that had not dimmed with time.
"Father," David said as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "You summoned me?"
Harley turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto David's with an intensity that made the younger man hesitate for a moment. There was something different about the king's expression today—something serious, almost grave.
"Come, sit," Harley said, his voice rough but still carrying the authority of a king. He motioned to the chair beside him.
David did as he was told, taking a seat beside his father. He leaned back slightly in the chair, trying to maintain his usual air of casual indifference, but he could feel the weight of his father's gaze on him, watching him closely.
"You've been spending your nights as you always do," Harley said after a long pause, his tone neutral, though David could hear the underlying disapproval.
David smirked slightly, leaning forward with a casual shrug. "You know me, Father. I like to enjoy life while I can."
Harley didn't respond immediately, his eyes flickering toward the fire for a moment before returning to David. "And what happens when your indulgences lead to your downfall, David? Have you thought of that? You are a prince of Ustaria. Your actions matter more than you realize."
David's smirk faltered slightly, but he masked it with a lazy smile. "I don't see anyone complaining. The courtiers seem to enjoy themselves just as much as I do."
"That is the problem," Harley said, his voice firm. "You think this life of pleasure will last forever. But one day, you will be king, David. You cannot live like this forever. The crown is not just a symbol—it is a burden. And that burden will soon fall to you."
David's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the crown. His father had said it before, of course—talked about the possibility of him taking the throne—but this time felt different. There was a finality to Harley's words that unsettled him.
"Is that why you called me here?" David asked, his casual tone slipping slightly. "To remind me of my duties again?"
Harley's eyes softened for a moment, and he leaned forward slightly in his chair. "I called you here because I want you to understand what is coming. I am not long for this world, David. You know that as well as I do. And when I am gone, Ustaria will need a ruler who can lead with strength, with wisdom. Not with indulgence and charm."
David shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the weight of his father's words pressing down on him. He had always known this moment would come—knew that one day the crown would pass to him—but he had never truly thought about what that meant. He had always been the charming prince, the one who could get away with anything. But now, staring into his father's tired eyes, he realized that the responsibility that came with the crown was far more than he had ever imagined.
"Father..."
David began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.
Harley raised a hand, silencing him. "I know you are not ready. But you will be. I will make sure of it. You are my son, David. And you will be king. But you must prove to me that you can carry the weight of that crown."
David swallowed hard, the carefree mask he had worn for so long slipping away as the reality of his father's words settled over him. He had never thought of himself as a ruler—not like Harris, who had always been so sure of his place as the next in line. But now, with his father's unwavering gaze on him, David felt the full weight of the expectations being placed on his shoulders.
The crown was no longer an abstract idea. It was real. And it was coming for him, whether he was ready or not.
"How?" David asked, his voice quieter than usual.
Harley's eyes softened again, a hint of pride flickering in them. "You will learn, my son. And I will teach you. But you must listen. You must understand what it means to rule. And you must put aside this life of pleasure. It will destroy you if you do not."
David nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation settling over him like a heavy cloak. His father's words echoed in his mind, and for the first time in his life, he felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.
"I'll try," David said quietly, his voice lacking its usual confidence.
Harley smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "That's all I ask, David. That's all I ask."
The room fell into a quiet stillness, the crackling of the fire the only sound as father and son sat together, the weight of the future heavy between them.