Am I Really Reincarnated with my Trauma?

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.

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