watchful sister

Later that afternoon, the royal attendants arrived for Eren's daily dressing ritual. Elysia had been called away to urgent Council business—likely concerning the Thornvale negotiations—leaving him with the attendants and Sorrel, who'd been watching him more closely since the walking incident. Before departing, Elysia had instructed them not to change his diaper, having already attended to it herself.

"The princess has selected the ceremonial robes for today," the head attendant announced, opening an ornate wooden chest that smelled of cedar and age. "The House of Morning Light will be visiting, and the youngest princess must be properly presented."

Eren's stomach twisted as they pulled out layers of shimmering silver and pale blue fabric—delicate, glittering, undeniably feminine.

'Not another dress,' he thought, restraining himself from outward protest.

The attendants bustled around him, their voices a chorus of meaningless compliments about how lovely he would look. Each word made his skin prickle with discomfort. It wasn't merely the frills or the absurdity of dressing an infant like a porcelain doll. Something deeper twisted inside him each time they called him "princess"—a fundamental wrongness he couldn't yet articulate but felt with absolute certainty.

"She seems distressed," one of the younger attendants noted as Eren squirmed away from the fabric.

"She's probably just tired," another dismissed. "Now come, little princess. Let's get you dressed in these beautiful clothes."

'I'm not a princess,' Eren thought with quiet defiance. 'I'm not a she.'

The fabric enveloped him, soft yet suffocating. Each layer felt heavier than the last, a physical manifestation of the identity being forced upon him.

"Doesn't she look beautiful?" the head attendant beamed, holding him up for inspection.

"Like a true daughter of the royal line," another cooed, placing a delicate silver circlet on his head that felt too heavy for his infant brow.

Throughout the process, Sorrel had remained in her usual place by the window, silent but observant. When the attendants finally departed, she crossed the room with purposeful steps.

"You don't like it, do you?" she asked, crouching to meet his gaze.

Eren looked at her directly, recognizing the intelligence behind those green eyes. Of all his sisters, Sorrel was the most perceptive, always sensing what others missed. She was watching him now with careful consideration.

He allowed himself to stare back, knowing his eyes carried an awareness no infant should possess. 'You see more than the others, Sister. But you still don't understand what I truly am.'

Sorrel tilted her head slightly, as if sensing the weight of his unspoken thoughts. "There's something different about you," she murmured. "Something I can't quite define."

Eren remained still, revealing nothing. But he knew with certainty that she'd noticed the discrepancy between what they believed him to be and what he was.

"Can you speak yet?" she asked suddenly. "Mother said you made a sound this morning."

Eren hesitated, calculating the risks of revealing too much too soon. "Ma..." he said deliberately, stopping before completing the word.

Sorrel's eyes narrowed. "Not quite 'Mama,' is it?" She leaned closer. "You're holding back."

The door swung open before Eren could respond. Elysia entered, her expression composed but her gaze sharp and assessing. She paused, looking between them with the practiced scrutiny of a queen accustomed to court intrigue.

"What's happening here?" she asked, her voice carrying the subtle authority that commanded truth.

Sorrel rose to her feet. "Mother, I've been observing Eren. The walking, the awareness, the attempted speech—this isn't merely accelerated development. This is something entirely different."

Elysia's face remained carefully neutral. "Exceptional growth is not unheard of in our bloodline."

"This goes beyond exceptional," Sorrel pressed. "Even in our bloodline, children aren't supposed to walk or speak until they're at least two years old. She—" She faltered, frowning slightly as if the pronoun didn't quite fit. "She understands things no infant should comprehend. There's something you haven't told me."

'Two years?' Eren thought, carefully keeping his expression blank. 'They expected me to pretend I couldn't walk for two years?'

Elysia turned toward the window, gazing out over the ancient treetops that surrounded the palace. "The Council does not embrace change," she said after a measured silence. "What they cannot understand, they fear. If they discovered Eren was... different, before I was prepared to act, I cannot predict their response."

"So you've known all along," Sorrel stated, her voice flat with realization.

"I've suspected," Elysia corrected, turning back to face them both. "But even I don't fully comprehend what we're witnessing."

She crossed the room and knelt before Eren, placing a gentle hand against his cheek. "Some truths must wait for their proper time."

Eren met her gaze steadily, frustration building beneath his composed exterior. 'And how long must I endure this charade?'

Sorrel observed them both, her analytical mind clearly piecing together fragments of a puzzle still incomplete. "I won't speak of what I've noticed," she finally said. "But I won't stop watching either."

"I would expect nothing less," Elysia replied with a subtle smile.

Eren remained silent, his thoughts racing behind an infant's face. He'd already revealed too much with the fire magic incident. Now his very identity was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal. The truth would inevitably emerge.

When it did, the revelation would change everything—not just for him, but for the entire royal house.

Later that evening, after Elysia had departed and the palace had grown quiet, Sorrel returned to the nursery. She found Eren awake, staring at the ceiling as if studying the star patterns painted there.

"You're still awake," she observed, settling into the chair beside his crib. "Just as I thought you would be."

Eren turned to look at her, maintaining the perfect stillness that no ordinary infant could manage.

"I've been researching the ancient texts," Sorrel said quietly. "Looking for precedents, for anything that might explain what you are." She leaned forward. "There are legends of souls that return, of memories that persist beyond death. Is that what happened to you, I wonder?"

Eren blinked slowly, deliberately, neither confirming nor denying.

"Whatever you are," Sorrel continued, "whatever secret Mother is protecting, I'll discover it. Not to expose you—" she smiled slightly, "—but because knowledge is its own reward."

She reached into the crib, adjusting the silver circlet that had slipped askew. "The Council meeting today was about the succession. Did you know that? They're already discussing your future, little sister." Her smile faded. "Or perhaps not sister at all."

Eren couldn't prevent the slight widening of his eyes.

"Yes," Sorrel whispered. "I'm starting to understand. And when I do fully comprehend what you are, we'll have much to discuss." She rose gracefully. "Rest well, Eren. Tomorrow brings new opportunities for both of us."

As she departed, Eren stared after her, realizing that in Sorrel, he might find either his greatest ally or his most dangerous adversary. Only time would tell which path she would choose.