Chapter 9: Dead Fantasy

The moment Queen Jane hurried up the staircase after Basil, the atmosphere in the entrance hall changed. The excitement that had filled Darius only minutes earlier seemed to drain away, leaving behind an uncomfortable heaviness that settled over everything. The last thing he had ever wanted was to become the source of his prince’s misery. Yet this reunion was the very thing he had spent years hoping for, the chance he had thought he would never get again. Walking away now felt impossible.

King William remained beside him for a while, offering reassurance and attempting to smooth over the disastrous first meeting. Darius heard the words, but they barely registered. Eventually, the king gave up, patting him on the shoulder before retreating, saying something about needing to speak with the butler. He walked away with a strained expression, the weariness on his face impossible to miss.

Soon, Darius was left standing alone in a palace that suddenly felt less like the magnificent dream he had imagined and more like a place where everyone seemed unhappy.

He stood frozen for a few long moments, his gaze drifting toward the staircase. He tried to remain where he was, but lasted less than five minutes before giving up. He couldn’t bear the helpless waiting any longer and eventually made his way upstairs. He couldn’t just stand around doing nothing while Basil was clearly hurting. The image of his brother’s face downstairs kept replaying in his mind, the red eyes, the swollen eyelids, the exhaustion lurking beneath the irritation.

He didn’t even know where he was going or which room belonged to Basil. Everything looked unfamiliar, but the voice coming from one of the rooms farther down the hallway told him he was heading in the right direction. Basil was clearly arguing with the queen. His voice carried faintly through the corridor at first, muffled by distance and the thick wooden door, but it gradually grew clearer, raw with a jagged edge of grief that made Darius’s chest tighten. With every step he took, his legs refused the command of his brain to stop. He kept drawing closer, pulled forward by the pure agony vibrating through Basil’s voice as he vented.

He should probably turn around.

This was personal, private, and none of his business, but his legs ignored every sensible thought his brain produced. The closer he got, the clearer the conversation became.

Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside a closed bedroom door, staring at it despite knowing he should leave. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He had only wanted to check if Basil was okay. Yet the words coming from inside rooted him to the spot.

He heard the quiet, trembling revelation about the birthday gala being canceled. Then came the crushing admission that nobody had even bothered to wish Basil a happy birthday.

Darius’s stomach sank.

His prince had spent months preparing for his birthday, only for it to be forgotten in the chaos surrounding Darius’s arrival. Anger flared hot in his chest, directed entirely at the king and queen. How could they possibly make a mistake that monumental?

Darius understood being worried about their injured son, but forgetting Basil’s birthday entirely? That was unforgivable.

He leaned heavily against the wall outside the room and rubbed a hand over his face. The worst part was knowing he had unknowingly become the reason for it.

Basil wasn’t upset because Darius existed.

He wasn’t even upset because he wasn’t the biological prince.

He was deeply, profoundly hurt because the people he loved had made him feel forgotten.

Darius lowered his head.

Fine.

If that was the problem, then he would fix it. Nobody would ever forget Basil’s special days again. He would spend the rest of his life making up for the neglect his presence had caused, ensuring his prince would never feel discarded, overlooked, or secondary ever again.

"Nobody asked whether I wanted any of it. They’re already out there calling me fake."

Basil’s voice snapped him out of his internal promise, and Darius’s chest tightened painfully for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He knew what it was like to be a nobody. He knew what it felt like to be overlooked, ignored, and forced to fight for every scrap of dignity life offered. But he had never known the horror of losing an entire identity overnight. One day Basil had been the kingdom’s prince. The next, people were apparently calling him fake.

The anger that consumed Darius now was a completely different beast. Fake. Someone out there had actually dared to look at his prince and call him a counterfeit.

So that was why Basil had been crying, why he had returned home with swollen red eyes and a spirit that seemed weighed down by something far heavier than simple anger.

Darius’s eyes turned a dangerous, bloodshot red with fury. He stood motionless in front of the door, his fists clenching until his split knuckles threatened to reopen, listening to the muffled sounds of the queen trying to pacify and console Basil from inside the room. So discovering the truth somehow gave them permission to disrespect Prince Basil?

The more Darius thought about it, the angrier he became. How dare they?

How dare anyone make his prince cry?

How dare anyone call Basil fake?

The urge to hunt down every single person responsible was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

He was so busy imagining exactly what he would do to the people responsible that he almost missed the next words.

"I think it’s best if I leave."

Darius went completely still.

Leave? Who was leaving who again?

After so many long, agonizing years of trying to find a way back to him, of trying to finally achieve this reunion, Basil was talking about leaving and slipping through his fingers again? Not happening.

Before Darius could stop himself, his hand was already on the doorknob. The door swung open. "You are going nowhere."

Both Basil and Queen Jane turned toward him. The annoyance on Basil’s face appeared immediately, and Darius could see the open hostility flaring in his tear-stained eyes.

He knew he had gone too far. He knew his timing was terrible. He knew he had probably crossed several boundaries, but at that moment he simply didn’t care.

He had waited far too long to be with Basil, and there was no universe in which he was going to stand outside that door and listen to him talk about leaving so casually.

He met Basil’s blistering glare.

"If you leave, I’ll leave too." He shrugged slightly, "there’s no point staying here if you aren’t here. You’re the whole reason I wanted to come home in the first place."

Basil’s expression darkened further.

Darius continued anyway.

"I always wanted a big brother. If you leave, that fantasy is pretty much dead on arrival." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "So why not do me a favor and stick around? Just for my sake. You don’t even have to like me yet."