Becoming Prince Rian

I realised I wasn't in my body as soon as I woke up - because, for some reason, I was being held. Physically held, in the arms of a man I did not recognise... and he was walking with me - in his arms.

Well, I was a 6ft tall, 36-year-old man who had not been to the gym in 3 years. A man with a face lined with age should not be able to carry me this easily - I began wiggling around but the man's hold on my body tightened,

"It seems his highness has woken up," the man said, his voice was warm, and his gaze was fond. I stared at him because he was holding me in his arms like I weighed nothing.

For a moment, it didn't process - and then it did.

See when I'm scared, or upset or surprised, I don't scream or shout or panic - I just shut down. You could practically hear the windows error noise in my head and see the blue screen in my eyes as my brain went in full system reboot mode.

"Your highness?" The man asked he looked at my dad's age or maybe slightly younger. His face was clean-shaven and his shoulders were broad - clearly, this old man worked out. A slight buzz started ringing at the back of my head,

"It seems you still aren't feeling too well," the old man sighed, he began walking down a long hallway, through doors that others would open for him and the entire time, the buzzing became louder - until it was all I could hear.

I didn't recognise anything - this place I was in was grand, and this man carrying me called me 'your highness' with sincerity - like that something people actually called other people. The only time I've been called 'Your Highness' is when I asked my little sister for a favour and she was being a little shit about it.

But here was a grown man my father's age, holding me in his arms and calling me 'your highness' like it was a completely natural thing.

The buzzing in my ears was starting to make my head throb, and my arms and legs ached like I had run a marathon the day before - a bone-deep dull throbbing. I squirmed around in the man's arms and he frowned,

"We're almost at your bedroom your highness, please wait just a moment more," the old man said gently and sure enough - we only passed through one more set of grand double doors, before coming to a room about as big as my studio apartment.

There was a grand four-poster bed with a canopy of gold-laced white curtains. In fact, everything in the room was clean and cool white with gentle linings of gold that made everything look expensive. It felt like if I touched something I would leave smudges on it.

The old man set me on the bed, piling pillows behind me so I was propped up against the headboard, and covered me in a white duvet before handing me a glass bottle. It looked like something you might find in a 'My First Science Kit' box. A test tube with a cork stopper and an electric blue liquid swirling with an almost metallic sheen inside.

"You should drink it all, your highness, I have some juice ready for you as well," the old man said, I was a bit hesitant to drink it - but then I was in shut-down mode, my brain wasn't working and I couldn't think of any counter-arguments against drinking what looked like a test tube of melted slushie.

Well, I already didn't know what the heck was going on, so I pulled out the stopper with a 'pop' and downed it on one.

The taste wasn't bad - well - it wasn't good, like drinking vinegar but apart from my eyes watering a little - it wasn't too bad. Plus the old man took the tube and handed me a glass of apple juice almost immediately.

"There, you should feel better soon," he said and bowed once before leaving the room.

I cradled the juice in my hands, and stared around the room - the old man was right, the discomfort in my body, the dull pain and the buzzing - it was all starting to fade away. My vision cleared and I actually started calming down enough to be able to think.

I stared at my own hands, that were smoother and smaller than the hands I actually knew - even my nails were neatly trimmed and manicured. They looked like a child's hand, and judging from the size difference between me and the old man - I must have been a child, or rather, was I in a child's body?

Didn't think kind of thing happen often in the novels my little sister read? Someone who wakes up in the body of someone else. Our age difference was big since my little sister was born from my father's second marriage - but we were close since both of our parents worked.

I smiled at the thought - she would often stash her things at my apartment - the things she didn't want our parents seeing - novels and manga with more explicit and sensitive content.

I remember reading a few of those not long ago, just a long weekend with nothing to do but have a beer and skim through a novel or two hoping to find a decent idea for her birthday present.

Is that what had happened to me? How unfair, she had been planning for something like this her whole life. She would probably be extremely jealous if she knew.

It calmed me down some more - thinking about it like that, so I decided to do what those characters in the stories often did - find out who I was. If this was just some elaborate dream, then I would wake up soon and that would be that.

If not, and I was really in another life, in another world or another time - then I suppose knowing who I was would be best.

Unfortunately, the original occupant of this body didn't conveniently keep a diary which outlined their everyday life, I did however find a few novels. Their taste in books was quite grim, thrillers and horror stories. I also found a prescription for some medication in one of the drawers - thankfully, it seemed like I could read everything just fine.

From the prescription, I found out my name was Rian A. Lockridge, and considering the old man from before called me 'your highness' I assume I'm a prince of some kind.

While flipping through the drawers, I also spotted some open letters, a few invitation cards from what seemed to be other nobles, a bright red envelope caught me eye, it was already open so I slipped out the card inside - it was a wine-red card with golden ink announcing the birth of the 3rd prince.

And that was a name that sparked something in my memories - not so much actual knowledge - but it was certain I recognised that name - Marcus Argenroi Lockridge. Is that what the A in my name stands for as well?

Either way, Marcus Lockridge was a character I recognised because his poster was up on the door of my sister's room - a character wielding a sword and wearing a red cape if I remember correctly. I'm pretty sure I bought her that poster too.

Ah, if she ever found out about this situation she would probably commit several murders as blood sacrifices to take my place.

Either way, I don't remember the flow of the story much - but Marcus Lockridge was the male lead competing for the crown and the female character was someone who had already lived her life once and gone back in time after being unjustly killed.

And then shit happens, there are some fight scenes and they become the benevolent rulers of the kingdom to live happily ever after. Well, I supposed it was clear who to not make an enemy of.

I stared at the red card in hand, it had a date and time for a banquet to celebrate the birth of the new prince - I suppose this was something I've attended already? Come to think of it, I don't even know the date...

How should I play this? Amnesia seems a bit cliche... well I suppose I have no other choice, I guess it will be amnesia.

After tidying the drawers, I hobbled back to the bed, pausing at the full-mirror in the corner of the room. It was set up next to the door which I assumed was the walk-in-closet all rich people seemed to have.

I took a breath and closed my eyes, blindly walking forwards until I was stood in front of the mirror, before finally opening my eyes.

Right. I suppose it made sense.

There was a huge feeling of disconnect between what I was seeing in the mirror and what my brain felt l should look like.

The boy in the mirror had silky black hair and wide blue eyes. I looked to be about 12 or 13, not quite having it puberty yet from the looks of the milky smooth skin and delicate features. I could pass for a girl really.

And here the male lead was tall and handsome and rugged... I suppose it made sense he had to be special - maybe I would hit a growth spurt soon. Would my voice break? Ah I can't believe I have to go through all of that again.