Project Chronos Draft Scene
Will had always been a morning person, so when consciousness returned, it did so slowly.
Not all at once, but in gentle pieces.
His bed was impossibly soft, softer than anything he'd ever slept on before. It felt less like a mattress and more like sinking into a cloud wrapped in silk.
Not like electricity, but something deeper.
Finally, Will opened his eyes.
For a long moment, he simply stared upward.
The ceiling above him wasn't painted.
No, it wasn't the familiar white ceiling of his bedroom in Hawkins.
Far above, thousands of tiny lights shimmered like stars, slowly shifting across the dark surface. At the center of them all stretched an enormous constellation unlike any Will had ever seen. It curled through the heavens with impossibly long limbs and countless tendrils, its stars glowing a deep violet that reflected across the room.
As if it had been a gift from the heavens themselves.
As if it was something beautiful.
The room around him unfolded like something from a dream—or perhaps a nightmare.
Everything was black, silver, crimson and deep purple.
His bed alone was larger than his entire bedroom back in Hawkins, framed by polished black metal carved with twisting vines and unfamiliar symbols. Rich curtains cascaded from the canopy, embroidered with silver thread that shimmered whenever they caught the light.
Every piece of furniture was elegant without being delicate, all sharp angles softened by luxurious fabrics and glowing technology seamlessly woven into centuries-old craftsmanship.
One entire wall was nothing but windows overlooking the city.
The capital of an empire.
Except Hawkins had become something impossible.
Dark towers of glass and obsidian stretched toward the sky, connected by glittering bridges suspended between buildings. Airships drifted silently overhead while streams of glowing traffic flowed through the streets below.
Massive banners bearing unfamiliar crests fluttered from rooftops, and at the center of everything stood the palace itself, sprawling across the city like the heart of an empire.
His eyes wandered across the room, passing towering bookshelves, a writing desk cluttered with half-finished sketches and rolled blueprints, a wardrobe larger than his old bedroom, and shelves lined with strange mechanical birds and intricate little sculptures that looked almost alive.
Then he saw the portraits.
One stretched nearly from floor to ceiling.
Joyce stood proudly in an emerald gown trimmed with silver beside Hopper, who wore ceremonial black armor etched with glowing green filigree. Between them stood three children.
All three wore black and emerald ceremonial robes, silver circlets resting upon their heads.
Beneath the painting, engraved into a silver plaque, were two words.
His eyes drifted to the portrait beside it.
This one was even larger.
Seven families stood together beneath towering banners.
House Creel occupied the center, Henry and a woman seated upon twin obsidian thrones beneath the symbol of a black eclipse surrounded by seven stars. Around them stood Kali and a young woman who strongly resembled Henry, dressed in royal purple and black.
To one side stood House Wheeler.
A stern-looking man stood proudly beneath a crimson-and-silver raven while a raven haired-haired woman rested beside him.
Only a small silver crest worked into the painting where another figure should have stood.
His gaze dropped to the brass plaque beneath the frame.
The words sent a chill through him.
Before he could think on it further—
Three sharp knocks echoed through the room.
The enormous doors swung open.
Nearly a dozen servants filed inside with practiced precision.
Some carried folded garments over their arms.
Others wheeled polished carts laden with breakfast trays, steaming tea, neatly organized correspondence, and tablets glowing with softly scrolling schedules.
One servant carried a long black garment bag embroidered with silver thread.
Another rolled in a mirrored dressing stand.
A third carefully placed a leather portfolio atop Will's desk.
None of them looked surprised to see him awake.
"Good morning, Your Highness."
A woman near the front unfolded a crystal tablet.
"You have breakfast with the Council in forty-five minutes, followed by strategic planning with House Wheeler, your telepathic synchronization lesson with Her Majesty Queen Joyce, diplomatic studies at eleven, wedding preparations after luncheon—"
The woman paused only long enough to glance politely over the edge of her tablet.
"...Wedding preparations, Your Highness."
Another servant stepped toward the wardrobe.
"We've prepared three suitable ensembles."
With one practiced movement, he opened the garment bag.
Inside hung an outfit unlike anything Will had ever seen.
It was somewhere between a royal robe, a tailored suit, and ceremonial armor.
Layers of black silk fell beneath structured emerald panels edged in silver. Fine metallic embroidery climbed the sleeves like twisting vines while a high collar framed the neck, fastened with an ornate clasp in the shape of House Maldonado's stag.
And impossibly futuristic.
A second servant approached carrying a velvet case.
Unlike everything else, they stopped several feet away.
Instead, they carefully set the closed case upon a nearby table before immediately stepping back.
Every servant lowered their eyes.
One of them spoke softly.
"Your crown, Your Highness."
Will looked between the servants, "...am supposed to...do something…"
The room fell strangely quiet.
The older woman smiled almost apologetically.
"No one touches a royal crown except the one to whom it belongs."
Will slowly approached the case.
The polished black wood reflected his bewildered expression.
With hesitant fingers, he lifted the lid.
Resting upon midnight-blue velvet was a circlet of blackened silver.
Emerald crystals were woven through twisting branches of silver until they met at the center, where House Maldonado's stag rested beneath a crescent moon.
For reasons he couldn't explain...
Like the room itself had been waiting for him to put it on.
The servants immediately stepped aside.
The doors opened once more.
Mike stood in the hallway wearing an almost identical outfit of midnight blue, silver and black, his own circlet sitting slightly crooked atop thoroughly unbrushed hair.
Trailed what looked like a few very exhausted servants carrying garment cases, tablets, breakfast trays and armfuls of clothing.
For several long seconds neither of them spoke.
Taking in the unfamiliar clothes.
The impossible palace outside the windows.
Finally Mike broke the silence.
"...Please tell me this is happening to you too."
Will let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
"I was hoping you could tell me it wasn't."
The servant lingering just behind Mike shifted nervously.
"Your Highness," he said carefully, never lifting his eyes from the floor. "Prince William's attendants are still preparing him. If you would permit me to escort you back to your own chambers, breakfast begins in thirty-two minutes."
Then at the dozen servants surrounding Will.
Something told him they couldn't have this conversation with an audience.
He had absolutely no idea why the words came so naturally.
Every servant looked up in surprise before immediately remembering themselves and lowering their eyes again.
The attendant behind Mike hesitated.
Was he allowed to do that?
He tried to sound far more confident than he felt.
"That was not a request."
Then every servant bowed in perfect unison.
"As you command, Your Highness."
They immediately began filing toward the doors with practiced efficiency.
One attendant stopped beside the velvet case containing Will's crown.
"Your Highness..." he said softly to Will. "Shall we return when it is time for breakfast?"
The servant bowed deeply.
"Very good, Prince William."
The room emptied in less than a minute.
The doors slid shut behind them with a soft hiss.
For the first time since waking...
Mike immediately spun toward Will.
"What the hell is happening?"
Will threw his hands into the air.
Then simultaneously looked down at the matching silver rings on their left hands.
"...Apparently we're engaged."
Will rubbed a hand over his face.
Mike looked down at the silver ring already resting on his left hand.
"...I don't remember proposing."
"I don't remember saying yes."
The absurdity of it all almost made them laugh.
Then one servant cheerfully announced—
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