Albert

I push the book away again. I'm sick of this. The tutor barely opens his mouth: "Your Highness, Prince Albert at your age..." — but I'm already staring out the window. I've heard all of this a thousand times.

Albert is like an ice statue. Beautiful, perfect, not a single crack. Everything comes easy to him. And I... I'm not stupid, really. But why should I study if every answer I give is compared to his anyway? If I do anything—he's already done it better. If I stay silent—he's the smarter one. I'll never be praised just for being me. Only next to him am I a nobody. I don't want to be second. I'd rather be nothing at all than his eternal shadow.

At dinner, Father's gaze is heavy. Mother is silent. And Albert wears that thin smile of his. Yesterday, he started in on my grades again—loudly, in front of all the servants. Everything inside me began to boil. I took his favorite goblet—the one with the golden dragon—and "accidentally" dropped it. Bam! Shards scattered across the stone floor.

Silence. Albert turned pale. Then Father stood up and spoke coldly, in a way that sent shivers down my spine:
— Stay in your room for two days. You leave only for meals and lessons. And no sweets this week. Tomorrow morning, you will apologize to your brother in front of all the servants.

The next morning. I apologized. Through gritted teeth, staring at the floor. But when I looked up—my brother wasn't smiling. And that was a small victory.

And then my horse was taken away. Albert told Father that I had asked for her to be sent to the military academy myself—to become more disciplined. Father praised me. And my brother watched from the window, wearing his icy smile. That's how he takes revenge. Quietly, elegantly, leaving no trace. And my parents think he's an angel.

This is war. I won't become like him. I'd rather be locked away than turn into a cold snake in a crown. The studies can wait. First, I want to win.