HIGH SCHOOL DIARIES (A Tale Of Love And Deception)

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The deep path of Edinburgh seemed endless, cloaked in shadows cast by towering pines and the dense fog that rolled in with the night. Lamia, flanked by Catherine and Hadrain, walked silently, the chill in the air biting into their skin. Ahead of them loomed an enormous gate—blackened iron, entwined with vines, and worn from centuries of exposure to wind and rain. Beyond it, a roaring river raged, its currents glinting silver under the moonlight. The gate stood like a sentinel, separating the wild expanse from the opulent world hidden within.

Lamia's breath caught in his throat. The sight filled him with equal parts nostalgia and unease. "This place," he murmured, his voice trembling. "It hasn't changed."

Catherine's wide eyes sparkled with awe. She was visibly thrilled, her cheeks flushed from excitement. "A castle," she whispered, as if the word alone held magic. "A real-life castle. I've dreamed of places like this—tales of kings and queens, balls and banquets. And now, I'm standing here." She turned to Lamia, her smile radiant. "With you, Lamia. It's like a dream come true."

Hadrain, ever cautious, scanned their surroundings. The castle grounds were bustling with life. Dozens of sleek, modern cars lined the driveway—a stark contrast to the historical grandeur of the castle's stone facade. The hum of engines and distant chatter echoed in the cold night air. Hadrain's expression darkened. "It looks like something important is happening. Are you sure we should go in? It feels like we're intruding."

Lamia's midnight blue eyes glinted with determination. "This is my home, Hadrain," he said, his tone resolute. "Even if they've forgotten, I haven't. I loved this place once. And after everything, I've returned. Why should I hesitate to walk through doors that were always meant to welcome me?"

Before Hadrain could argue further, Lamia stepped forward. The iron gate groaned in protest as he pushed it open, the sound reverberating like a warning bell. Catherine and Hadrain exchanged wary glances but followed close behind.

When they reached the castle doors, Lamia knocked firmly. Moments later, the doors creaked open, and a guard stepped out. His massive frame blocked the entrance entirely, and a jagged scar cut across his face like a lightning bolt, giving him a menacing aura. The flickering torchlight reflected off his steel-plated armor, casting sharp shadows across his features.

Lamia instinctively stepped back, his hand flying to his chest. "Oh! You startled me," he said, his voice shaky but polite. "I'm Lamia, and I'd like to speak with Queen Fiona."

The guard froze, his expression unreadable. His dark eyes widened slightly as if he had seen a ghost. His mouth opened, then closed again, as though words had failed him.

Hadrain frowned at the awkward silence. "What's the problem?" he snapped, his sharp tone breaking the tension. "The man is asking for an audience with the queen. Are you deaf or just stupid?"

Before Lamia could interject, the guard's stoic facade cracked. His eyes widened further, and he staggered back a step. "Y-your Highness... You're alive..." he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words sent a ripple of shock through Lamia. "What?" he asked, confused.

The guard didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned to the other guards stationed nearby and shouted, "He's back! His Highness has returned!"

A flurry of motion followed. Guards abandoned their posts, running towards the gate, their excited shouts echoing through the night. "The king's son has returned!" one of them cried. "Prince Alexis is alive!"

Lamia's face flushed with embarrassment as the guards rushed to him, their eyes alight with a mixture of awe and joy. One guard—a tall man with a thick beard—grabbed Lamia in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground.

Catherine giggled at the sight, though she could see Lamia's discomfort. "They must've missed you," she said with a playful smile.

"Wait, stop!" Lamia protested, squirming out of the guard's grip. "You've got it all wrong. I'm not King Charles. I'm his son, Lamia. I've come to visit my family, though I don't remember much. I'm here to rediscover what I've lost."

The guards fell silent, their joyous expressions dimming slightly. The tall bearded guard, who introduced himself as Angus, stepped forward, his face a mix of confusion and sadness. "You mean to say... King Charles is gone?"

Lamia's throat tightened. Memories of his father's death resurfaced, a sharp pain stabbing through his chest. "Yes," he said quietly, his voice heavy with sorrow. "My father was murdered, along with the rest of my family. I'm the only one who survived."

A hushed silence fell over the group. Even the ever-cheerful Angus seemed at a loss for words. "I'm sorry, Your Highness," he said finally, bowing his head.

Lamia forced a small smile, though tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Thank you. But can we go inside? It's been a long journey, and my friends and I are tired."

Angus nodded, regaining his composure. "Of course, Your Highness." He turned to the other guards and barked orders. The massive doors swung open, revealing the castle's interior.

The grandeur of the castle took their breath away. The marble floors gleamed under the light of crystal chandeliers, and towering columns lined the grand hall, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings of dragons and vines. Velvet tapestries in deep red and gold hung on the walls, depicting scenes of battles, coronations, and royal feasts.

Catherine gasped, her eyes darting from one magnificent detail to the next. "It's... it's like a palace from a fairy tale," she whispered.

Hadrain, however, was less impressed. His sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the opulence but also the tension in the air. Something felt off.

Ahead of them, the sound of laughter and music spilled from a massive ballroom. As they approached, the chatter quieted, and dozens of eyes turned to the newcomers. The crowd was a sea of silks and jewels, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility. At the far end of the room, a woman sat on a golden throne, her posture regal and her gaze piercing. Her gown shimmered like liquid gold, and a crown of diamonds sparkled atop her auburn hair.

"Alexis?" the woman's voice rang out, trembling with disbelief. She rose from her throne and approached slowly, her eyes locked on Lamia. When she reached him, she cupped his face in her hands, her expression softening. "My boy... my sweet boy. You're alive."

Lamia's breath hitched. "Grandmother?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Queen Fiona nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, my darling. I'm your grandmother. And now that you're here, we can finally begin to heal."

The crowd erupted into murmurs, but Queen Fiona silenced them with a raised hand. "Tonight, we celebrate," she declared. "The rightful heir to the throne has returned. My grandson, Alexis, will reclaim his place as the future king of Edinburgh."

The announcement sent shockwaves through the room. Two men near the throne—Aidan and Douglas, Fiona's other sons—exchanged furious glances. They stormed forward, their faces red with anger.

"Mother!" Aidan hissed. "You can't just hand him the throne! He's been gone for years. The crown belongs to us!"

Queen Fiona turned to them, her expression cold. "The throne belongs to the rightful heir. And Alexis is his father's son."

As the argument unfolded, Hadrain clenched his fists. He couldn't lose Lamia to the throne—or to the marriage Fiona had mentioned. He had seven days to win Lamia's heart, and he would use every moment wisely.

Meanwhile, Catherine's face paled, and she bolted from the room, clutching her stomach. Lamia turned to follow her, but Hadrain held him back. "Let her go," he said softly. "Right now, you have bigger battles to fight."

Lamia sighed, his midnight blue eyes clouded with doubt. He had returned to reclaim his past, but the future was already proving to be far more complicated than he had imagined, but even as this why must he leave Catherine behind? So he left the ball hall.