The Year 2000 (Flashback of Lord Ardan Eryndor and Aldric Draekhaven' past in high school)
Ardan Eryndor
Today is the first day of high school, and my nerves are shot. Getting into Regent Crest High wasn't easy, but I suppose all the sleepless nights paid off. A full scholarship. A fresh start. A chance to prove myself among the best of the best. I tell myself that over and over, but it does little to ease the knot in my stomach. I smooth out the sleeves of my blazer, the fabric slightly stiff from being new—or maybe just from my tension.
The classroom hums with the low chatter of students who already know each other. Their laughter and whispered conversations make me feel like an outsider before I even step in. "It's just the first day. You'll be fine." I repeat the thought like a mantra as I push the door open.
"Class, sit down and be quiet," Miss Isolde announces, clapping her hands for attention. "I know today is the first day of school, but that doesn't mean you can go around making noise." She glances toward me, and my stomach flips. "We have a new student joining us. Come in and introduce yourself."
I inhale sharply, then step forward. Immediately, I feel the weight of dozens of eyes locking onto me. Judging. Measuring. Intimidating. My mind tells me to stand firm. To hold my ground.
"Confidence, Ardan. You belong here." I clear my throat. "Hello, everyone. I'm Ardan Eryndor, and it's nice to meet you all. I hope we get along well." My voice sounds even and controlled, just as I practiced. Miss Isolde raises an unimpressed brow.
"Is that all you have to say?" "Yes, ma'am," I reply. A few students snicker. I pretend not to hear them. She nods. "Alright, go find a seat anywhere. Let's begin class." I take a seat near the back, relieved to finally blend into the background. The teacher drones on, her voice fading into a rhythm that almost soothes my nerves. Almost.
Then—
BANG!
The classroom door swings open with enough force to rattle the windows. The air seems to shift, growing tense in the way it does when someone important enters a room. A boy strolls in, hands tucked into his pockets, his uniform slightly rumpled in a way that looks intentional. He's tall for our age, sharp-featured, with an expression that screams boredom and defiance all at once.
"And I don't tolerate lateness to class, Mr. Draekhaven," Miss Isolde says, her voice firm. "This should be your last time." But he doesn't even acknowledge her. He walks past her as if she doesn't exist, his dark eyes scanning the classroom like it's his kingdom. And then, those eyes land on me. I stiffen.
He approaches, each step slow, deliberate. The kind of walk that makes people shrink back without realizing it. "You're in my seat," he says, his voice smooth yet edged with something unspoken. I blink. "Oh. Um... I didn't see a name on it, so I thought—" He doesn't move. Doesn't say a word. Just watches me.
The silence stretches. Too long. Too heavy.
Heat prickles at the back of my neck. My hands scramble to pack up my things. "Sorry," I mumble, standing aside. He slides into the seat effortlessly, leaning against the window as if he owns it. Then—just as I'm about to leave— "What are you standing there for? Sit down." It takes me a second to process that he's talking to me.
"W-what?" He doesn't look up, doesn't repeat himself. Just gestures to the now-empty seat beside him. I hesitate. Every instinct tells me to sit somewhere—anywhere—else. But something about the way he said it makes it sound like an order, not a request.
So I sit.
For the rest of the lesson, I do my best to focus, but the awareness of him sitting beside me is overwhelming. It doesn't help that I can feel people staring. Not just at me. At us. I don't understand why—until I hear the whispers.
"Why's Draekhaven letting the new kid sit next to him?"
"Weird... He usually sits alone."
"Poor guy doesn't know what he's gotten himself into."
I pretend not to hear them, but the questions swirl in my mind. I steal a glance at Aldric Draekhaven. His face is unreadable, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. Like the words around him don't exist. But something about the way he leans back, the way his fingers drum lightly against the desk... It feels intentional. And for the first time since stepping into Regent Crest, I get the unsettling sense that my life just changed. That I stepped into something I don't understand.
And that Aldric Draekhaven wanted it that way.
*****************
Aldric
My father is talking, but I am not listening. Not because I don't care—I do. I always do. But because I already know what he's going to say.
"Draekhavens do not fail."
"You are not like the others, Aldric. Do not lower yourself to their level."
"Regent Crest is merely the beginning. You will dominate. You will lead. You will win."
I stare at my reflection in the polished mirror of our grand dining room, adjusting my tie with slow, precise movements. My uniform is crisp, tailored perfectly to my frame, but I roll up the sleeves of my blazer anyway. I don't like feeling contained. My father's voice carries on in the background, layered with his expectations. His commands. His ownership. I hear him. I always do. I just don't care to respond. At least, not until I'm forced to.
"Aldric," his voice snaps like a whip, pulling me from my thoughts.
I turn my head, meeting his gaze evenly. "Yes, Father?"
"You heard me." He folds his arms, measuring me. "What did I just say?"
I smile—just a small, calculated curve of my lips. "That I will make the Draekhaven name proud. That I will not disappoint you. That I will crush the competition without hesitation." His expression remains unreadable, but I can see the approval flicker in his eyes.
"Good," he finally says. "Now go. And remember, you do not bow. You do not kneel. You command." I nod once, then turn on my heel and leave. I hate being late. Not because I care about the rules, but because I despise walking into a room where things have already been set in motion without me. Control. That's what I thrive on.
So, as I push open the classroom door—harder than necessary—I take in everything within seconds. The layout. The students. Their reactions. Most flinch at the sudden noise. Some stare, wide-eyed. A few smirk, amused. I don't care about any of them.
Except for one.
A boy I don't recognize is sitting in my seat. I pause for half a second, studying him.
Ardan Eryndor.
I know his name because I make it a point to know everything before I step into a new environment. Scholarship student. Smart. Quiet. Doesn't come from money. A wildcard. He looks nervous but not weak. His back is straight, his hands steady as he gathers his books. But I can see it—the uncertainty. The way he's still trying to belong. He will learn soon enough.
"You're in my seat," I say, my voice even.
It isn't a request.
He blinks, flustered. "Oh. Um... I'm sorry, the seat wasn't taken, so I thought—"
I don't move. I don't need to.
The silence stretches until he finally understands.
He scrambles to pack up his things, stepping aside. The corner of my mouth twitches, but I don't let the smirk form fully. Instead, I walk past him and take my seat—my seat—leaning against the window like I own the world. Because I do. Then, as he hesitates, hovering awkwardly like a lost child, I glance at him.
"What are you standing there for?" I murmur. "Sit down."
I don't look at him again, but I feel it—the slight tension in the air. The unspoken shift.
The first piece of the puzzle locking into place.
I hear the whispers.
"Why's Draekhaven letting the new kid sit next to him?"
"He never lets anyone near him."
"What does he want?"
I smirk. They should be asking what I've already decided. Because the moment I saw Ardan Eryndor, I knew. He is mine. And he doesn't even know it yet.
*************
Now, we've gotten a glimpse of Romeo and Venecia's dads past. What do you think? Please like and comment.