The first thing I noticed after my "birth" was how bright this place was. Golden sunlight poured through a massive window draped with velvet curtains, making the polished floor gleam. My vision was still blurry, but I could make out two figures hovering nearby.
One was the woman who had held me earlier — my new mother, I guess. She had long, silver hair that shimmered like strands of moonlight. Her eyes were a deep, soft blue, the kind you could get lost in, filled with warmth and patience. Even when she moved, there was a calm grace to her, as if she had been born for the role of queen.
"Look at him," she said softly, her voice like a gentle breeze. "He has your hair, Leon."
The man standing beside her — my father — was tall, broad-shouldered, and looked like he could wrestle a bear. His short, dark-golden hair caught the light like polished metal, and his eyes were sharp amber, full of confidence and authority. He was the kind of man who could intimidate a room without saying a word.
Father crossed his arms, a proud smirk tugging at his lips. "Hmph, but those eye…are yours, Celestia."
So, silver-haired mother with blue eyes, golden-haired father with amber eyes. I could feel my own tiny face being inspected like a prized jewel. If they were right, I'd inherited my father's hair and my mother's eyes — an interesting mix.
Mother leaned closer, cradling me in her arms. "His features are delicate… almost too perfect for a boy."
Father chuckled. "He's my son. Give him time. He'll grow into a man who can lead armies."
Wow, no pressure or anything, I thought.
From what I'd seen so far, my mother, Queen Celestia, was warm, composed, and gentle — the type to comfort a crying child or remember everyone's birthdays. My father, King Leonhardt, was straightforward, proud, and maybe a little scary, but he clearly cared in his own way.
Celestia rocked me gently. "Leon, you shouldn't speak of battles in front of him. He's just been born."
"I'm preparing him early," Father replied with a grin.
Mother rolled her eyes but smiled. "You're impossible."
While they talked, I couldn't help but compare this scene to my previous life. Back then, I never knew my real father, and my mom had always been busy working to keep us afloat. Seeing two parents who were both here, both looking at me like I was the center of their world… it felt strange.
A knock came at the door. A man in a polished uniform stepped inside and bowed deeply. "Your Majesties, the court has gathered to hear the announcement."
Father's smirk returned. "Good. Let them see their future king."
Wait—future king?
It still hadn't completely sunk in that I was a crown prince.
Celestia glanced down at me and whispered, "Don't be afraid. You have us."
The two of them walked toward the balcony. My tiny self was carried out into the blinding sunlight, where cheers erupted from below. Thousands of people stood in the palace courtyard, their eyes on me.
Father held me up with one hand — effortlessly, like I weighed nothing — and declared, "Behold! The firstborn of Leonhardt and Celestia! Your Crown Prince!"
The roar of the crowd was deafening.
I was still trying to process the fact that I'd gone from dead teenager to royal baby. And somewhere deep inside, I remembered the last thing I'd seen before all this… my childhood friend's tear-streaked face.
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The balcony announcement ended, but my father seemed to enjoy holding me up like a trophy. My little newborn body didn't exactly appreciate it — my tiny legs kicked instinctively.
Mother noticed and sighed. "Leon, put him down. He's barely an hour old."
Father chuckled, handing me back to her with exaggerated care. "Fine, fine. But he didn't cry. That's a good sign."
Not crying? Yeah, because I'm too stunned to react. I'm still processing the fact that I'm apparently royal property now.
As we stepped back into the royal chamber, a maid approached with a basin of warm water and soft towels. "Your Majesty, shall we clean the young prince?"
Mother smiled and nodded. "Yes, gently. He's delicate."
The maid began wiping me with a tenderness I wasn't used to. In my old life, hospital nurses weren't exactly this graceful. My father watched like a hawk.
"You're holding him too softly," Leonhardt muttered. "He's a prince, not glass."
Mother gave him a sharp look. "He's my glass, and I'll make sure he doesn't get scratched."
I couldn't help but snort — well, as much as a baby could snort. My tiny laugh came out as a strange cooing sound.
Mother gasped softly. "Oh, he's laughing. Did you see that?"
Father's lips twitched upward. "Hah. Must have inherited my sense of humor."
Sense of humor? From you? I doubt it.
The maid finished, wrapping me in a blanket embroidered with golden thread. A small crest — a lion wrapped around a sword — was stitched at the corner. Guess that was the royal emblem.
Mother rocked me again, studying my face. "Leon, look closely. His nose is yours, but his eyes… they're shaped like mine."
Father leaned in, his gaze intense. "Hmph. But his jawline will be like mine when he grows up. Strong."
"I think," Mother said with a teasing smile, "you just want him to be a smaller version of yourself."
Father smirked. "Is that so bad?"
I mentally rolled my eyes. These two really are opposites. She's the calm sea, and he's the storm that refuses to stay quiet.
The door opened again, and an elderly man in fine robes stepped in. His long silver beard and staff gave him the air of a storybook wizard. He bowed deeply.
"Your Majesties, may I offer my blessings to the young prince?"
Mother nodded. "Of course, Grand Sage."
The old man approached, his eyes crinkling kindly as he peered at me. "Ah… those eyes. Blue as the winter sky. And that hair, golden like the summer. indeed."
Great, I'm already being poeticized like some rare artifact.
He placed a warm hand over my forehead and whispered something I couldn't quite catch. I felt a faint tingle — magic, probably.
"There," he said softly. "A blessing of protection. May his path be free of darkness."
Mother smiled warmly. Father gave a curt nod of approval.
And me? I was still thinking about the path part. Because if my past life taught me anything, it's that life never goes according to the path others lay out for you.
The Grand Sage straightened, still smiling. "And what shall the young prince be called?"
Mother and Father exchanged a glance. Mother's expression softened. "We discussed this before… I want his name to carry hope. A reminder of light after hardship."
Father nodded. "And strength. A king's name must be remembered."
Mother looked down at me, her eyes warm. "Then it's decided." She raised her head and spoke clearly. "His name will be Adrian Leonhart."
The Grand Sage repeated it with a small bow. "Prince Adrian Leonhart… may his name echo through the ages."
Adrian Leonhart, huh? Sounds fancy. Better than being 'that guy who died in a car crash,' I guess.