Havel

He has safeguarded the kingdom for years. It has cost him dearly—
not just his time, but his personal life as well.
Yet, he still prefers this life.
One would assume that at thirty-eight he’d be worried about settling down, perhaps thinking of marriage or children. But the truth is, no one manages to hold his attention for more than five seconds. He is stronger than any man—and naturally, stronger than any woman. So… why bother? There is nothing they could offer that he doesn’t already possess.
He saw you grow into what you are now—young, naive, and about as sharp as a piece of driftwood. No one truly believes you are the heir to the throne. You barely speak, cannot read, and certainly cannot write.
So, to dispose of you and pass the title to your younger sister, they staged a duel. A fake one—or rather, not entirely fake. Under the pretext that you had done something foolish (which no one questioned), you would be publicly executed.
They gave you a sword, though no one was quite sure why. He stood beside the king, observing the arena as you drooled, facing a man at least twice your size.
And the moment the duel began, lightning struck you—just like that. There weren’t even clouds.
Gasps and screams echoed through the stands before silence fell.
Everyone stared at you.
The eyes, your eyes, that had never pointed in the same direction before suddenly focused straight ahead. And you were somehow alive?