Chapter Title: Am I Really Reincarnated with My Trauma?

The flicker of the candlelight danced across the gilded crib, casting grotesque shadows on the stone walls of the nursery.

I whimpered, the prickling heat against my skin a foreign sensation. A pair of anxious cerulean eyes peered down at me, their worry etched like fine lines around them.

"There, there, Daniel," soothed Queen Elara, her voice a melody that calmed the frantic fluttering in my chest.

"It's alright, my little prince."

Prince Daniel. The name felt alien on my tongue, a stark contrast to the rough, calloused hands that had once been mine. Here, my hands were impossibly small, wrapped in silk that felt smooth against unaccustomed skin.

This wasn't the life I remembered. No damp cardboard boxes, no gnawing hunger, no acrid smoke filling my lungs. This was…a palace. A place of royalties.. A far cry from the cold reality I had known before.

Memories of my past life were hazy, fragmented. A life of relentless struggle, of endless nights spent scavenging for scraps. The searing heat, the choking smoke, burning skins, unavoidable pain …and then, blessed oblivion.

But had oblivion truly been a blessing? Because here I was, reborn it seemed, into a life of unimaginable comfort, yet haunted by the echoes of a life I barely understood.

"He seems troubled, Elara,"

rumbled a deep voice from the doorway.

King Alaric, a man with a mane of silver hair and a face weathered by years of duty, strode towards the crib. His eyes, the same cerulean as the Queen's, held a well of concern.

"He's just a baby, Alaric,"

Queen Elara said, a touch defensive.

"Perhaps he's had a bad dream."

"Perhaps," the King conceded, his gaze lingering on me.

"But even princes can have nightmares, wouldn't you agree?"

A lump formed in my throat, the phantom sensation of smoke clogging my airways. I wanted to scream, to thrash against the confines of the crib, but all I could manage was a whimper, a pathetic sound that seemed to echo the helplessness of my past life.

"There's something different about him, Elara," the King said, his voice low. "A darkness I can't quite place."

Queen Elara's brow furrowed. "Don't be ridiculous, Alaric. He's just a child."

"I pray you're right, my love," the King said, his eyes lingering on me a moment longer before turning back to his wife.

"But a darkness unchecked can consume even the brightest flame."

Their words hung heavy in the air, a portent of things to come.

A flame. Darkness.

The echoes of my past seemed to coalesce, a terrifying premonition taking root. Was this new life, this seemingly idyllic existence, truly a fresh start? Or was I destined to be forever bound to the trauma of my past? What's my future held within the royalties? Could I live a peaceful life ? Or was I destined to suffer just like my past life? Everything was unknown to me.

Chapter 2: Don't Worry, Big Brother is Here for You

Two years had passed since my rebirth as Prince Daniel. Though the memories of my past life were hazy, the fear of fire remained a constant shadow. Despite the love of my parents, King Alaric and Queen Elara, and the playful banter of my five older brothers and four sisters, a part of me remained withdrawn, a silent observer in this gilded cage.

Unlike other children who began to manifest their magical abilities around their second birthday, mine remained stubbornly dormant. Or rather, I never tried to use it. After all, it might have caused a lot in wanting a peaceful life. But I was proven wrong.

A cause for concern, the royal physicians muttered amongst themselves, their worried glances in my direction a constant reminder of my peculiarity.

One sunny afternoon, while playing in the palace gardens under the watchful eyes of our maids, I tripped and scraped my knee.

A whimper escaped my lips, a sound that seemed to ignite the world around me. The gardens, once lush and vibrant, were consumed by flames.

Panic surged through me, the smoke thick and acrid in my lungs. The hazy memories of my past life, came into play once again. But this time it wasn't only a dream or memory, it was real. My small body was feeling the heat from my surroundings, burning pain was all over my body.

The maids, young and inexperienced, were no match for the inferno that raged around us. The only thing they were able to do was to scream, gathering the attention of others.

Through the haze, I saw a blur of blue and silver. Aldis, my eldest brother, his usually carefree features etched with concern. With a wave of his hand, a torrent of water erupted from the nearby fountain, dousing the flames and creating a barrier between me and the inferno.

The world dissolved into a blur of pain and exhaustion.

When I awoke, I was swathed in bandages, the worried faces of my mother a constant vigil by my bedside.

The burn on my arm was a constant reminder of the terrifying display of magic I couldn't control and the past that I couldn't get rid off.

The door creaked open, and Aldis entered, his footsteps heavy with unspoken worry. He pulled up a chair beside my bed, his gaze lingering on the bandaged arm.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice gruff but gentle, "big brother is always here for you.”

Queen Elara, tears glistening in her eyes, reached out and squeezed my hand. "We'll get through this together, my little prince," she whispered.

Their love, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of my past life, was a balm to my wounded soul. But beneath the surface, a seed of doubt had been sown. Was this gift of magic a blessing or a curse? And could I ever truly escape the trauma that clung to me like a second skin?

Chapter 3: You Are Awesome, Joseph

Three years had crawled by since the fire. The memory of that terrifying day remained a searing brand on my soul, a constant reminder of the power I couldn't control. Mother rarely let me out of her sight, her worry a suffocating cloak around me. Even Father, usually stoic, couldn't hide his concern. My silence deepened, a chasm widening between me and my siblings.

Maira and Beath, my second and third eldest sisters, tried in vain to coax a smile from me. They'd twirl and pirouette, their laughter tinkling like wind chimes as they conjured vibrant flowers from thin air. But their magic, a source of joy for them, only amplified the emptiness within me.

I longed to connect, to reach out, but the words wouldn't come. My past life, a jumble of fragmented memories, felt like a lifetime ago. Yet, it colored my present, a barrier between me and this world of royalty and magic.

At three years old, I was a paradox – a child with the mind of an eighteen-year-old, burdened by a past he barely understood.

Among my many siblings, there was one I rarely saw – Joseph, the third prince. Twelve years my senior, he was an enigma, a fleeting presence in the vast tapestry of the palace.

From whispers exchanged between the maids, I gathered he was studious, perhaps even introverted. Intrigued, I yearned to know him better.

One starlit night, fueled by a sudden surge of defiance, I decided to act. With a stealth I hadn't known I possessed, I slipped out of my room, dodging Mother's watchful gaze.

My bare feet padded down the hallway, the silence broken only by the frantic thumping of my heart.

Joseph's room was bathed in a soft, golden glow emanating from a stack of books piled high on his desk. He sat hunched over them, his brow furrowed in concentration. The sight of him, so unlike my playful siblings, filled me with a strange sense of kinship.

But my curiosity proved disastrous. As I reached for the doorknob, my foot caught on a loose rug, and I went sprawling face-first onto the plush carpet.

A startled gasp escaped my lips.

Joseph's head snapped up, his brow furrowing further. For a moment, he simply stared, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he set his book aside and approached me.

"Daniel? What are you doing here at this hour?"

His voice was gentle, laced with a hint of amusement.

Panic choked my throat. I scrambled to my feet, but the words wouldn't come. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision.

Seeing my distress, Joseph knelt before me, his concern evident. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and brushed a stray tear from my cheek. A warmth spread through me, a spark of connection I hadn't felt in a long time.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. In a choked voice, I blurted out, "You…you are awesome, Joseph!"

The words hung heavy in the air.

To my surprise, Joseph's stoic facade crumbled. His eyes welled up, and a choked sob escaped his lips. He pulled me into a hug, the gesture unexpected yet comforting.

"I-I'm not awesome, Daniel," he stammered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm just…weak. A healer, nothing more."

His words sent a jolt through me. Weak? The man who could heal with a touch was weak? It felt like a revelation.

Here, in the vast hierarchy of magic, with fire wielders and earth shapers at the top, Joseph, the healer, saw himself as powerless.

In that moment, I knew what I had to do. Hugging him tighter, I whispered, "No, Joseph. You are strong. The strongest of us all."

It wasn't just words of comfort; it was a promise. A promise to show him his own strength, and perhaps, in the process, find the courage to face my own.

From that night onwards, a new chapter began. Joseph became my confidante, my teacher.

He patiently guided me through the intricacies of magic, not to awaken my fire, but to understand it. He shared his vast knowledge of healing spells, his passion for a kind of magic often overlooked.

And as I learned, I grew bolder.

With Joseph by my side, I ventured out of my self-imposed exile, tentatively reconnecting with my siblings. The journey wouldn't be easy.