I'm Her Favorite Character

[Elwin's POV]

I stand before an imposing structure of gleaming white stone and intricate ironwork, my eyes wide with disbelief. The building rises before us, its graceful spires reaching towards the azure sky. The air around us hums with a faint magical energy, a protective barrier shimmering almost imperceptibly in the afternoon sun.

"This is really mine?" I ask, unable to keep the awe from my voice as I turn to Lydia and Rowena.

Lydia grins, her fiery hair dancing in the gentle breeze. "You bet, little brother," she says, playfully ruffling my hair. "Only the best for our precious prince."

Rowena nods, her serene smile never wavering. "Male students aren't allowed to live with women their first year."

I raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement coloring my tone. "But I'm 20," I point out. "Surely that's old enough to make my own decisions about living arrangements."

My sisters exchange a knowing glance, a flicker of concern passing between them. Lydia shrugs, her armor clinking softly with the movement. "They're worried about... incidents," she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, women taking advantage of the men."

I can't help but chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief. "Wouldn't that be nice," I mutter under my breath, wishing someone like Octavia would come and try to ravage me.

Pushing that thought aside, I step forward and place my hand on the door handle. It's cool to the touch, thrumming with a faint magical energy that seems to recognize me. With a soft click, the door swings open, revealing the opulent interior.

My jaw drops as I take in the sight before me. The entrance hall is a marvel of architectural beauty, with soaring ceilings supported by graceful columns of polished marble. A grand staircase sweeps upward, its banister a work of art in wrought gold and silver.

To my surprise, the building isn't empty. A small army of servants bustles about, their crisp uniforms a stark contrast to the lavish surroundings. They pause in their work as we enter, bowing deeply.

An older woman steps forward, her silver hair pulled back in a severe bun. She curtsies gracefully, her starched uniform rustling with the movement. "Welcome, Your Highness," she says, her voice warm but professional. "I am Madame Eloise."

I blink in surprise, looking around at the bustling servants. "Wait a minute," I say, turning to Rowena with a furrowed brow. "Didn't you just say no women are supposed to be living with me?"

Rowena shrugs, her serene expression never faltering. "These are our family's servants," she explains calmly. "It's not like they're a danger to you."

I shake my head, feeling a mixture of confusion and frustration. "No, I'm not worried about them," I clarify. "I'm just saying this is exactly the opposite of what you just said."

Lydia leans in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Maybe the academy doesn't see servants as people," she suggests, her hazel eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

I feel my stomach twist at her words. "That's fucked up," I mutter, my gaze sweeping across the room, taking in the bowed heads and deferential postures of the staff.

Lydia nods, her expression unusually serious. "I know, right?" she agrees.

Madame Eloise steps forward. Her eyes, a deep gray like storm clouds on the horizon, meet mine with a mixture of deference and quiet dignity.

"Your Highness," she begins, her voice carrying the weight of years of service, "I assure you, we are indeed seen as people." A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips, softening the lines of her face. "The academy is making an exception in your case, given your royal status. They understand that the first prince of Sunhaven requires a certain level of... shall we say, domestic support."

I nod slowly, relief washing over me. "I see," I reply, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease. "Thank you for clearing that up, Madame Eloise."

The grand hall seems to breathe a collective sigh of relief, the air lightening perceptibly. The soft rustle of fabric and quiet clink of polished silverware being arranged fills the momentary silence.

Suddenly, Lydia's voice cuts through the air, sharp and teasing. "But no raping our brother, okay?" she quips, her hazel eyes dancing with mischief.

The words hang in the air like a thunderclap, echoing off the marble columns. The servants freeze in place, their eyes wide with shock and horror. A delicate crystal glass slips from a maid's trembling fingers, shattering on the polished floor with a crash that seems deafening in the sudden silence.

Rowena's serene expression morphs into a glare so fierce it could melt steel. Her eyes sweep across the assembled staff, promising swift and terrible retribution should anyone even think of acting on Lydia's words.

I feel heat rising in my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. "Don't joke about that!"

Madame Eloise steps forward once more, her face a mask of professional calm despite the faint tremor in her hands. "Your Highness," she says, her voice steady, "I can assure you that every member of this household staff has undergone rigorous background checks and extensive training. Your safety and comfort are our utmost priority."

I nod, offering her a small smile of gratitude. "Thank you, Madame Eloise. I appreciate your dedication."

As if to punctuate the end of this awkward moment, a gong sounds somewhere deep within the building. Its rich, resonant tone seems to dispel the last of the tension, setting the servants back into motion.

"If you'll follow me, Your Highness," Madame Eloise says, gesturing towards the grand staircase, "I'll show you to your personal chambers."

*****

A day later and it's onto the next task.

The grand hall buzzes with nervous energy as I make my way through the crowd of students. Towering marble columns stretch towards the vaulted ceiling, their surfaces etched with intricate runes that pulse with a soft, ethereal light.

I adjust my collar, still not quite used to the stiff fabric of the academy's standard-issue attire. As I take my place in line with the other freshmen in the designated section for royalty, I can't help but feel a twinge of excitement. This is it, the official start of my new life at Starcrest Academy.

Hushed whispers and muffled giggles ripple through the crowd as students crane their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of their more famous classmates.

Suddenly, I feel eyes on me. Glancing to my left, I find myself face-to-face with an elf. His blonde hair cascades down his back in an intricate braid, and his pointed ears twitch slightly as he regards me with an expression of thinly veiled disdain. His uniform, I notice, is adorned with subtle embellishments, golden thread along the seams, a delicate leaf shaped pin on his lapel.

The elf's lips curl into a smirk, his violet eyes gleaming with barely contained amusement. "You dress rather shabby for a prince, don't you?" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. A snort of derision punctuates his words.

I blink, taken aback by his brazen rudeness. Looking down at my own attire, I run a hand over the crisp fabric of my shirt. It's perfectly pressed, without a wrinkle in sight. The boots on my feet shine with a military-grade polish, courtesy of the meticulous palace servants.

I smirk, deciding not to feed into his provocation. "You think so?" I say, my voice calm and measured. "I feel like the design is simple but classic."

My eyes drift to his pointed ears, their delicate tips peeking through his silken hair. A mischievous thought crosses my mind. "Hey, can I give those a squeeze?" I ask, gesturing towards his ears with a playful grin.

The elf's eyes widen in shock, then narrow with fury. His face flushes a deep crimson, the color creeping up to the very tips of those pointed ears. "How dare you!" he sputters, his voice cracking with indignation. "You plebeian!"

He draws himself up to his full height, significantly taller than me "I demand to know what back water family you're with," he hisses, violet eyes flashing dangerously. "Who would dare besmirch the great elf family of Valwynn?"

I can't help but chuckle at his dramatic display. The sound echoes off the marble columns, drawing curious glances from nearby students. The elf's face contorts with a mixture of confusion and growing anger at my apparent amusement.

Still smirking, I hold out my hand. "I'm Elwin Warbringer," I say, my voice carrying just loud enough for those around us to hear. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The elf's face drains of color, his already pale skin turning an ashen gray. His violet eyes widen to an almost comical degree, and I swear I can see his pointed ears droop slightly.

"W-Warbringer?" he stammers, his melodic voice now quivering with shock. "But... but that's impossible. I was told the Warbringers couldn't produce a male heir."

The surrounding students have gone eerily quiet, all eyes now fixed on our exchange. The air itself seems to thicken with tension.

I shrug, a wry smile playing at the corners of my lips. "I'm not sure they really consider me as an heir," I say, my voice carrying a hint of self-deprecation. "But I am undoubtedly the prince."

My outstretched hand still hangs in the space between us, untouched. I glance down at it, then back up at the elf, one eyebrow raised in mock surprise. "I guess elves have no respect for etiquette," I muse, my tone dripping with feigned disappointment.

The effect is instantaneous. The elf's face, if possible, pales even further. His hands shoot out, grasping mine with a desperation that borders on comical. He shakes it vigorously, his grip so tight I can feel the bones in my fingers grinding together.

"F-forgive me, Your Highness!" he exclaims, his voice pitched higher than before. "I am Faelyn Valwynn, third son of the Valwynn family. It is an honor, truly an honor, to make your acquaintance!"

Faelyn continues to pump my hand up and down, his eyes darting nervously between my face and our joined hands. Sweat beads on his brow, causing a few strands of his perfectly braided hair to come loose.

"I must apologize for my earlier behavior," he babbles, words tumbling out in a rush. "I had no idea... I mean, of course, I should have done my research. I thought there was no one like you in our class."

I gently separate my hand from Faelyn's vise-like grip, flexing my fingers to restore circulation. The elf's eyes widen in horror as he realizes how tightly he'd been holding on, and he takes a hasty step back, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Water under the bridge," I say with a magnanimous wave of my hand. The tension in Faelyn's shoulders visibly eases, though his pointed ears remain slightly drooped, like a scolded puppy's.

Around us, the other students are still watching our exchange with rapt attention. Their whispers create a soft susurrus that echoes off the vaulted ceiling, like leaves rustling in a gentle breeze. I can feel their eyes on me, a mixture of curiosity, awe, and, in some cases, barely concealed ambition.

Faelyn clears his throat, his earlier arrogance now replaced by an almost painful eagerness to please. "So, Your Highness," he begins, his melodic voice pitched low in an attempt at casual conversation, "what brings you to Starcrest Academy?"

I can't help but smile at his transparent attempt to gather information. Still, there's something almost endearing about his clumsy social maneuvering. "I'm looking for love, actually," I reply, my tone matter-of-fact.

Faelyn's reaction is comical. His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and his jaw drops open in a most undignified manner. For a moment, he looks less like a haughty elven noble and more like a stunned fish.

"Love?" he sputters, his voice cracking slightly on the word. "But... but you're a man!"

I raise an eyebrow, unable to keep the amusement from my voice. "Yes, I am. Very observant of you, Faelyn."

The elf's blush deepens, spreading from his ears to his cheeks. He fidgets with the golden leaf pin on his lapel, clearly flustered. "I... I just meant... it's unusual, isn't it? For a man to be so... proactive in seeking a wife?"

I shrug, offering him a wry smile. "I suppose I'm an unusual man."

Faelyn nods rapidly as if afraid I might take offense at his words. "Of course, of course! Unusual in the best possible way, Your Highness. Truly remarkable!"

Faelyn's eyes light up, a spark of excitement dancing in their violet depths. "Oh, Your Highness," he exclaims, his voice rising with enthusiasm, "I just had a wonderful thought! I have an older sister who's a senior here at Starcrest. Perhaps... perhaps I could arrange an introduction?"

I regard Faelyn thoughtfully, taking in his eager expression and slightly quivering ears. "Is she as nice as you?" I ask, unable to keep a hint of playful sarcasm from my voice.

Faelyn's pointed ears twitch, and for a moment. But then his face breaks into a wide, genuine smile, the first I've seen from him. "She's much kinder," he says, his tone warm with obvious affection. "Saria has always been the heart of our family. She has a way of making everyone around her feel... special."

As he speaks, I notice a softening in Faelyn's features. The haughty mask he wore earlier slips away, revealing a glimpse of the person beneath the rough exterior.

"Why not?" I say, offering him a smile of my own. "It sounds like a lovely idea."

Faelyn's face lights up like a sunbeam breaking through storm clouds. His pointed ears perk up, quivering with barely contained excitement. "Wonderful!" he exclaims, clapping his hands together in a gesture that seems at odds with his earlier attempt at aristocratic aloofness. "I'll have her servants reach out to yours to schedule it. We'll make sure it's a meeting befitting the Warbringers."

I nod, amused by his sudden shift to formality. "Sounds good," I reply, keeping my tone casual to balance out his enthusiasm.

As Faelyn chatters excitedly about arranging a meeting with his sister, I find my gaze drifting across the grand hall.

My eyes settle on a group of students near one of the towering columns. Among them, I spot a flash of white hair that makes my heart skip a beat. Octavia. She's half-hidden behind the column, her golden eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. When our gazes meet, she quickly looks away, a deep blush coloring her cheeks.

I feel a pang of regret, remembering our disastrous first encounter. If only things had gone differently...

Faelyn's melodic voice pulls me back to our conversation. "...and Saria's quite an accomplished mage, the best our family has ever had." he's saying, his violet eyes shining with pride.

I nod, impressed despite myself. "That's remarkable," I say, genuinely intrigued. "I'd love to hear more about her abilities."

As Faelyn launches into another story about his sister's achievements, I find myself warming to the idea of meeting her. Perhaps this is what I need.

The first step to falling in love is meeting someone, after all. And while Octavia had captured my attention so completely at first, maybe there's something to be said for a more gradual approach. Getting to know someone, learning about their passions and dreams, watching their face light up as they talk about the things they love.

I glance back to where I'd seen Octavia, but she's vanished, leaving only a lingering sense of what might have been.