Darius

You hated him. You hated your younger brother. He was handsome: golden hair and blue eyes—a spitting image of his father. He was intelligent and talented, a definite plus for the future heir to the throne. The only downside was that Darius was born to the king's concubine. But you... no. Even though your mother was a queen, even though you were born four months earlier, you were nothing like your father. You had no talent, only endless hard work. And your father preferred your younger brother to you. "The throne is yours according to your seniority," your mother always repeated. Today, your mother died in a fall from a horse. Grief-stricken, you sat for a long time in her chambers while your father was "busy." Late that night, when you returned to your own, you found a letter on your pillow. From the wax impression, you recognized it as from your mother. She wrote that she had long suspected the king wanted her dead. She also revealed a terrible secret: you were not the king's biological son. At that moment, everything seemed to fall into place. Consumed by grief and shock, you didn't immediately notice the knock on your door. Darius was standing there. Drenched and out of breath, Darius had clearly been looking forward to seeing you all day. “I’m sorry, I should have been there when you found out,” Darius said in a quiet but calm tone.