Princess Sephina barely noticed her surroundings, as she walked towards the dining hall. Ever since her encounter with the prisoner in the dungeon, she’d found herself on edge. Could she really have seen what she thought she’d seen? It seemed impossible, yet it had been there, clear as day. She would have liked to discuss this with her parents, but rarely did she see them on busy days such as this, when matters of state were their top priority. But no matter, they would be there for dinner. She could speak to them then.
   Her mind had been whirling all day. She knew by now that the torture would be over, yet she had trouble knowing what she should feel about this. If she was wrong, then she could go on as before, hating him, glad for his pain, believing he deserved every second of agony he was in. But if she was right, how could she feel anything other than guilt and regret over his fate? Did she want to be right, and feel this way? Did she want to be wrong, and lose the first shred of hope she’d had? This was all so complicated to her.
   But of course she wanted to be right, this is what she’d wanted, what her family had wanted, for eighteen years. She would just have to hope he could forgive them.
   Entering the dining hall, she saw her mother and father were already seated at the end of the long, empty, table, awaiting service. Wondering how she was going to say it, she seated herself next to them.
   “Good evening dear,” her mother greeted her. “Did you have a good day?”
   “It depends on what you could call ‘good’.”
   “What do you mean?”
Taking a deep breath, Sephina prepared to tell them her thoughts on the prisoner. Now was as good a time as any, not that it would make it any easier.
   “Well, today mother, I went to see the prisoner.”
   “The Black Rat? Wasn’t he in the dungeons today?”
   “Yes mother, that was where I went.”
   “Dear, the dungeons are a horrible place, you really shouldn’t be there. You’ll get your beautiful dress dirty.”
   “I understand that mother, but this is the first time we’ve had a Black Rat captive. I wanted to question him about Alvereign.”
   “Honey,” her father interjected, “he was never going to reveal anything about that. He’s a lowlife thief, he has no morals, no honour. That’s why we didn’t ask him.”
   “I know father. I just thought I’d try.”
   “Did he say anything?” her mother asked, her own concerns for her son showing.
   “No. But…”
   “But?”
   “Well, you see mother, father. While I was there, I saw… something. And now, I’m really not sure what to think. I know what it means, but… I don’t know how it’s possible.”
   “What was it, dear? What did you see?”
   “A ring. A small, silver ring. In his ear.”
The sound of clattering echoed through the hall as the queen dropped her fork, which she had been fiddling with, onto her empty plate.
   “Are you sure?”
   “I’m positive.”
   “But… but that can only mean…”
   “Hold on honey,” the king tried to calm his wife, “we can’t know anything for certain right now.”
   “Father, I’m not a liar!”
   “I know you’re not dear, and I believe you. I just think we should look at this for ourselves before we get our hopes up. We will go and see the young man, and if it seems that it is there, and it is real, then we will right the wrongs.”
   “But dear,” the older woman cried, “what if it is him? How will he forgive us?!”
   “As I said, we will right the wrongs. Come. We should go to the prison.”
The queen nodded and rose with the king, shortly followed by Sephina. Her heart beat, nervously, in her chest as they left the room. Her soul filled with excitement and dread as she walked, and she began wringing her hands as she often did when she felt like this. Her brunette curls whipped in front of her face with the pace she walked, forcing her to tuck them behind her ears, in a fashion she hated so much, revealing a small, silver ring, that went through her ear.
   Struggling to keep her breathing steady, she whispered to herself: “Brother, I’m sorry.”

*

   Struggling against the temptation to continue sleeping, Eliroh opened his remaining eye. That was strange. Sure he was seeing things, he closed his eye tightly, and opened it again. No, still the same. He tried it a few more times before he was convinced that what he was seeing was real. And yes, it was real alright. But how was it possible?
   Above him, an embroidered cloth of the deepest red hung across oak beams. He tried to sit up, but found that he was still too weak from the events of the previous day. However, his wounds didn’t hurt anymore, or at least not as much - they were a dull ache at most, even the worst of them. And not only did they not hurt, they had been bandaged, and probably cleaned too. But why?
   Trying, and failing, once more to sit up, he finally noticed that this was not where he had fallen asleep. What he lay on was not the wooden bench of the prison cell, but rather a soft bed that enveloped him in white, silk sheets. Looking around him, he saw that translucent drapes surrounded him, blocking off view of wherever he was, save for a few silhouettes.
   “Am I dead?” he wondered aloud.
   “No, Sire,” a girl’s voice replied from behind the curtain. Before he could speak again to ask, the curtain was drawn back, revealing a grand room, and a girl about his own age who, judging from her attire, seemed to be a maid from the castle.
   “Well then where am I?” he pressed her. “What’s going on?”
   “You are in the castle, Sire. You were brought here late last night. The healer wasn’t available, so her apprentice cleaned you up the best she could. She has yet to master full healing though, however she was able to give you a potion to dull the pain for now.”
   “That’s not… ugh, oh never mind, look. Why am I here? Why have they done this? Is this some sort of last rights ceremony? Do they think that I’ll answer yesterday’s questions if they’re nice to me? Have they confused me with someone else? After all, I’m hardly more than a face in a crowd of fugitives to them. Tell me!”
   “Sire, I-”
   “And what’s all this ‘sire’ stuff? My name is Eliroh, and I’m far from one of these lot. Anyone in this bleeding castle ought to know that!”
   “It… it’s really not my place to say right now. Excuse me, I must fetch your sister. She wished to know when you awoke - she’ll answer your questions for you.”
With that, she hurried out of the door, looking slightly flushed.
   Sister? He thought, I haven’t got a sister. That was it then, that was the answer. They’d confused him with someone else, they must have. ‘Oh well,’ he thought, ‘they’ll figure it out soon enough and I’ll be off to the gallows.’
   Trying, with a little more success now he was fully awake, to sit up, he managed to prop himself against a pillow. Reaching to his face, he felt where his eye ought to be. Where he expected to find flesh, his fingers met cloth, a bandage that wrapped around his head to hide the gaping hole in his face.
   On a table next to the bed, a black ribbon lay knotted. Retrieving it, his remaining fingers worked to untangle it, and he used it to tie his hair back into its usual pony tail. His clothes were nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by silk pyjamas that were many times too big for him. The fabric was soft, and comfortable as silk should be, yet the feel of it on his skin made him cringe. He didn’t wear silk, he sold it. That’s just how it went. Only rich men wore silk, men who wouldn’t give you the time of day unless they considered you worthy of their presence, arrogant, self-absorbed men. Men he didn’t even want to be around, let alone be like.
   The door opened again, and the maid re-entered, followed closely by a woman who almost made him wish he had been sent to the gallows.
   “Not you again,” he groaned as Princess Sephina perched herself on the end of the bed.
   “Yes, I had a feeling you’d react like this,” she replied, in a voice much less stern than he had heard it before.
   “How else am I meant to react? Oh never mind, listen, why have I been brought here? What are you lot trying to do? Or is this all a hideous mistake, and I’m meant to be someone else?”
   “No. No, it’s no mistake.”
   “Well then why am I here? What’s your game?”
   “You certainly are suspicious, aren’t you? Well, I guess I can’t blame you - I would be, given your situation. But while I can, I’d just like to say… well, to say sorry.”
   “Sorry?”
   “Yes. I mean, I know it doesn’t mean a lot right now, but-”
   “No, why would you be apologising to me? I’m just a filthy Black Rat, remember?”
   “You are so much more than that.”
   “What are you talking about? And why have you still not answered my question?”
   “It’s kind of difficult. Well, not so much difficult as complicated. No, not complicated but… I guess you could say, I don’t know where to start.”
   “How about at the beginning? That’s always good, Princess.” he suggested, spitting out the final word with a venom she didn’t seem to notice.
   “Yes. Yes, I guess you’re right. And please don’t call me Princess. Call me Sephina. Or maybe, sister?”
   “Sister? Why would I call you… no. No way. You can’t be thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
   “I don’t think it. I know it. You are my brother, the baby, the prince, that was stolen from us so long ago. I am just sorry we didn’t see it before what happened to you.”
   “Gods, lady, I know I said to do something constructive to find your brother, but this is ridiculous. You can’t just make me a cheap replacement.”
   “You’re not a replacement. You are my brother, I’m certain. Mother and father are too, else you would not be here, Alvereign.”
   “Don’t call me that. My name is Eliroh. And I’m not your brother.”
   “You are. It all makes sense. You’re part of the Black Rats, the very gang that took Alvereign, and I’m willing to bet you didn’t just join. You were brought up with them. I’d even wager that you were always told you were an orphan. You’re about the right age too, it all fits! Now I look, I can even see some of father in your face.”
   “You’re crazy. Perhaps I was brought up a Black Rat, and perhaps I’m an orphan. But you cannot know this for certain unless I tell you. Besides, it’s all just assumption anyway - even if what you assumed of me were true, you’d still have no proof.”
   “But I was right, wasn’t I? About you and the Black Rats, I mean.”
Eliroh faltered. As crazy as this all was, that was one thing he couldn’t deny.
   “Does it matter? There are a few orphans that were brought up among the Black Rats, it’s nothing special.”
   “Maybe not, but you are!”
   “No, I’m not. I am a Black Rat that got caught. Nothing more.”
   “You are so much more.”
   “You have no proof!”
   “How do you know?”
   “What?”
Shuffling closer to him on the bed, she knelt beside him. Smiling, she tapped his earring.
   “This,” she explained, “is my proof.”
   “That is nothing but a trinket,” he objected. “How can that be proof?”
She didn’t respond, instead giving him a look as if trying to tell him she knew something he didn’t. Well, that was right to say the least. He had no idea what she was on about.
   Seeing the confused look on his face, she tucked her hair behind her ear. For a moment, Eliroh thought his heart would stop beating from shock. She had exactly the same earring. What was this? What did it mean?
   Regaining his composure, he stopped himself from speaking, choosing to remain silent. After all, there was nothing to get worked up over. It was just a trinket, it didn’t mean anything.
   “You see?” she pressed him.
   “See what?”
   “Well, you wanted proof.”
   “How is that proof?”
   “Even you should know that such ‘trinkets’ as you called them can only be afforded by the rich. And even so, not even the highest noble would have these. Do you not see, Alvereign, that these are a symbol of the royal family. Known only to the royal family.”
   “What are you talking about? And I thought I told you not to call me Alvereign.”
   “Whenever a child is born to the king and queen, that child has this earring. It is put in place by the royal healer, using a method only she knows. It will never come out, and is made of a metal so rare that only royalty can afford it. No one else knows of these earrings, else we would have a horde of fakes trying to worm their way into the family, or an instant demand for it by those high reaching nobles. Either that or it would become a fashion statement, and that would just complicate things, so it’s best if no one knows. But we know, it’s how we can identify each other if there is no other way to do so, or if our family is hiding. Call it a family secret if you like. But regardless of this, you have this symbol. You are Alvereign. You are my brother.”
   “This is nuts. This whole thing just seems a bit too farfetched to me. I mean, why would you do something so utterly pointless, and try to justify it with all that dribble?”
   “Perhaps it’s a little strange, but it’s tradition. And besides, it’s not pointless - without it, we never would have found you.”
   “Yes you would’ve. You just wouldn’t have been accusing me of being your brother and I’d be dead by now. And I wouldn’t have to deal with your insane theories.”
   “They’re not insane. You really are my brother.”
   “So you keep saying. But really, face it, it’s just not possible.”
   “It’s very possible, and what’s more, it’s true. You can’t keep denying it.”
Frowning, he looked away. She was right, she’d blocked off all roads he might’ve used for denial with her story of the ‘family tradition’. But if it was true, and he had to face it, he had no reason to believe otherwise, then that meant that she was right about the whole thing. Was it really possible that he was a prince? Assuming she was telling him the complete truth, it was a plausible scenario, though not one he was entirely happy with. He couldn’t be one of these snobs, the ‘high and mighty’ royal family. The kind of people he’d grown up hating, and for good reason. How could he be a member of the most selfish family in the land? The very idea made his skin crawl - but maybe that was why he was so vehemently denying her claims.
   “Okay,” he conceded. “Let’s suppose, just suppose, that I am the… your… who you say I am. What happens to me now?”  
   “What do you mean, what happens to you?” she asked, grinning cheerily in triumph. She knew she’d convinced him. “You’ll stay here and be the prince you were always meant to be.”
To anyone else, this might have seemed like an exciting proposition, but it filled Eliroh with dread. He didn’t want to be a prince, he’d been happy with a thief’s life, he wouldn’t willingly change it for anything. But there was nothing wilful about this. Did he even have a choice?
   He couldn’t say anything to these people, they wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t listen. There was no way out of this, in every aspect he was still a prisoner. Just a of a different kind.