Wakey-Wakey

In a chamber of gilded-cum-crimson walls with a towering canopy bed, crystal chandeliers, and marble floors fit for royalty, a sharp, ragged sound pierced the stillness of the room as air rushed into the strained lungs of the person lying on the wooden masterpiece.

And, as the lungs filled with the most needed air, a sensation seemingly long forgotten, the figure of a frail-looking child with long, silver hair bolted upright, his vision blurry and limbs trembling as though every cell of his was reawakening after ages of deep slumber.

But, while admiring the room around him awash with warm, golden sunlight that was spilling through the embroidered lace curtains, the sudden torrent of light left him dazed for a short moment giving him no choice but to notice the gentle scent of Lilac hung in the air, 

The faint rustle of unfamiliar sheets beneath him was also deafening in the silence, his senses overcompensating for the long time they were shut.

Alas, everything felt alien—the soft bed beneath him, the ornate furniture decorating the room, and the slow ticking of a distant clock accompanied by the rhythmic sound of steps. Yet, there was a strange familiarity to it all, as though this place, this world, had existed just beyond his past mortal reach, waiting for him to wake up.

Suddenly, A frightened voice startled him, along with the sound of something fragile hitting the hard floor and the faint creak of an opening door. "Your-Your Highness, y-you are awake?"

He turned sharply, his movements abrupt and mechanical as if they were made by an old, unoiled machine.

In front of him, a young woman stood a few steps away, her classic Victorian maid uniform impeccably maintained.

She had soft, brown eyes that held a mix of fear and wariness along with short chestnut hair neatly tied in a bun. Her hands clasped tightly in front of her, holding a small metal tray that had now lost its use as all it once contained was spilled all over the floor. 

Her posture was rigid, and though she tried to appear calm, the subtle tremble in her stance betrayed her unease.

He stared at her.

And she stared at him.

His expression was cold and unreadable, his piercing gaze dissecting every nuance of her demeanor while she seemed a foot away from crying out of fright.

"You," he said at last, the word low and deliberate, his voice hoarse and harsh as though unused for years.

The air seemed to chill with the weight of his tone, and the maid's hands tightened even more reflexively around the precious silver piece in her hands.

"Your Highness Sethius, y-you gave me quite a scare," she said cautiously, her voice trembling ever so slightly despite her attempt at composure and maybe forgiveness. "I-I thought you would never wake up again!"

He tilted his head and squinted his eyes slightly, his movements eerily precise. The name she spoke—Sethius—meant nothing to him, yet it clung to the edges of his awareness, demanding his acknowledgment.

 "Why?" he replied, the word strong and final. He continued to study her, his sharp gaze unwavering. The way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the fast and uncontrollable blinking, the slight downturn of her mouth—all of it spoke of discomfort, perhaps even fear while searching for an answer. Which, he found strangely satisfying.

Slowly but deliberately, he shifted his attention to his surroundings once again, leaving the maid even more frightful.

The expensive sheets, the elegant carvings on the bedposts, the faint hum of life outside the window.

It was all so starkly different from… from what?

A vast emptiness pressed against his mind, the remnants of something he couldn't name nor remember.

He felt as if his brain was a puzzle, one with hundreds of thousands of pieces all mixed, representing his memories, waiting for him to piece them together.

 "Where am I?" he asked, his tone a bit icy and measured.

The maid hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. "In your chamber, of course, Your Highness. Did you also hit your head? Perhaps you don't remember…" Her voice trailed off, uncertain, her hands fidgeting as though searching for reassurance in what she wanted to convey.

"Remember what?" he rasped, his voice cold and a bit disoriented. His brow furrowed as he tried to grasp the situation. "What do I need to know, maid?"

She hesitated, a flicker of fear crossing her face once more. "T-That you were poisoned Y-Your Highness".