Chapter Text
In the Kingdom of Nijisanji, everyone received their soulmark at eighteen.
Some woke with names written delicately across their wrists in silver ink. Others discovered symbols hidden beneath their collarbones or intertwined along their fingers like threads of fate itself.
It was celebrated like a holiday.
Families gathered.
Friends cried.
Entire futures changed overnight.
And Prince Freodore hated every second of it.
Not because he disliked soulmarks.
But because he didn’t have one.
At eighteen years old, the future heir to the throne stood alone in front of his bedroom mirror with bare skin untouched by destiny.
No gold lettering.
No silver thread.
Nothing.
The kingdom whispered about it constantly.
‘Cursed prince.’
‘Unchosen heir.’
‘Perhaps the stars themselves rejected him.’
Freodore pretended none of it hurt.
He learned how to smile through it years ago.
Still, every year during the Soulstar Festival, something inside his chest ached quietly when he watched others find the people fate had written for them.
This year was no different.
“You should be downstairs,” Uki said softly from the doorway.
Freodore glanced away from the mirror.
Queen Uki stood elegantly beneath the warm lantern light of the hallway, expression gentler than the court ever saw.
“The festival has already started,” he continued.
Freodore forced a small smile. “I’ll be there soon.”
Uki’s gaze lingered on him for a second too long.
“You don’t have to pretend with us.”
That nearly broke him.
Because the truth was humiliating.
A prince without a soulmark felt incomplete in a kingdom built around destiny.
And worse, Freodore had started wondering if perhaps the kingdom was right.
Perhaps there really was no one meant for him.
The Soulstar Festival transformed the city every year.
Lanterns drifted through the streets like fallen constellations, glowing gold against the dark evening sky. Music echoed through crowded markets while couples compared matching marks with flushed smiles.
Freodore stood high above it all from the palace balcony.
Alone.
“You’re brooding again,” Fulgur said.
Freodore sighed softly. “I’m observing.”
“That’s royal language for brooding.”
Despite himself, Freodore smiled faintly.
King Fulgur stepped beside him, arms crossed as he looked over the city below.
“You know,” Fulgur said after a moment, “when Uki and I first discovered our marks, we thought fate had made a mistake.”
Freodore blinked slightly.
“You did?”
“Your father hated me,” Uki said, appearing beside them with perfect timing.
“I did not hate you.”
“You challenged me to a duel.”
“You insulted my coat.”
“It was ugly.”
Freodore laughed quietly before he could stop himself.
The sound softened both of their expressions instantly.
Then Uki’s voice softened.
“Fate is strange,” he said. “It rarely arrives how people expect.”
Freodore looked down at his empty hands.
“…What if it never arrives at all?”
Silence.
Fulgur answered first.
“Then you choose your own future anyway.”
Freodore wanted to believe that.
He truly did.
But later that night, long after the festival music faded quieter beneath the stars, Freodore stood alone in his room and wondered why destiny had skipped him entirely.
At exactly midnight, pain exploded across his skin.
Freodore gasped sharply, stumbling backward against the edge of his desk.
Gold light burned beneath his collarbone.
Not painful.
Not exactly.
But overwhelming.
His hands shook as glowing letters slowly appeared across pale skin.
One name.
Then another.
Then a third.
Freodore stared.
Kaelix.
Seible.
Zeal.
Three names written in brilliant gold.
His breath stopped entirely.
That was impossible.
Soulmarks didn’t work like this.
They couldn’t.
One soulmate was rare enough.
Three.
No one in recorded history had ever received three names.
The palace doors burst open only seconds later.
“Freodore?” Uki’s voice called urgently.
Fulgur followed immediately behind him.
Then both froze.
Gold light illuminated the entire room softly.
And Freodore stood in the middle of it trembling.
Uki’s eyes widened first.
“…Oh.”
Fulgur stared directly at the names.
Silence filled the room.
Then, quietly—
“Three?”
Freodore looked terrified.
“I don’t understand.”
Neither did they.
Because fate had just rewritten something ancient.
Elsewhere in the kingdom..
Three other boys woke to gold lettering burning across their skin.
And every single one of them whispered the same name.
“Freodore?”