Start with: a duelist's saber, a jacket or uniform which reflects your personal aesthetic, the power to abandon this course.
A: Heartless, Air and Darkness
B: Descent from the Moon
C: The World Ought to be Destroyed
D: Immanence
Heartless
You lost your heart a long time ago. Maybe it fell into one of those grates in the sidewalk, or a stranger plucked it from your chest and walked away with it, or you woke up in the hospital and were told that the doctors removed it to save your life. You don't really understand how this happened, or why.
For as long as you remain heartless, your wounds don't bleed and you don't need to blink or breathe, though you may continue to do so out of habit. If you're stabbed through the chest you can shrug it off. It won't hurt any worse than you've been hurt already.
Air and Darkness
People think hearts have something to do with love. They're wrong, or at least that's not the whole story; you can experience love just fine. There are strange things you love very fiercely, and ordinary things you no longer love at all.
If you probe the edges, try to pin down what's missing, you think your heart might have been the thing that tied you to the world. You don't care for this place anymore. You'll bear it only while you must.
For as long as this isn't where you're meant to be, you can walk on things that shouldn't bear your weight and perform impossible feats of acrobatics. You're lighter than a feather when you choose to be.
Descent from the Moon
There's something out there that's been waiting for you since the moment you were born. It's a place outside of time, where dreams are real and you're free of life's crushing gravity.
Your perfect world doesn't exist yet. It's a bootstrap paradox - to realize it, to make it more than just a possibility, you have to create it yourself. And to do that you have to know what you're struggling for. What impossible thing would make existence worthwhile? How could the world be redeemed?
This vision can evolve, but you can't choose anyone or anything above it. To be a prince is to want one perfect thing, to act in service of it always, to sacrifice anything that must be sacrificed to bring it about.
As long as you remain certain of your goal, you're as much an idea as you are a person, and you can cut things it shouldn't be possible to cut. This includes trivialities like steel and concrete, but you're also quite capable of parting the rain or killing your reflection.
If you allow anything to stand in the way of your perfect world, lose this ability until you decide what you actually want.
The World Ought to be Destroyed
As compared to your atemporal paradise, the current incarnation of the universe is abhorrent. That it exists, when instead there could be something different, something better, is a cosmic injustice. You won't stand for it.
For as long as you hold the universe in contempt, your will transcends locality.
If you could draw a straight uninterrupted line between where you stand and another point in space, then for an instant you can collapse distance and make those two points the same. You could step across, or flourish your blade to cut everything between one point and the other.
This ability can be used a number of times per day equal to your Prince templates.
Immanence
You know it. You've felt it. There's a way to change everything, if only you reach out and take it. The path laid before you may not be sane, necessary, or kind, but it exists. It is there.
You can summon a castle in the sky. It's Escheresque, not flying so much as hanging impossibly in empty air. From its throne room you command terrible powers: artillery, clockwork soldiers, great engines that loop time and space. There's a gate which could simply remake the world in your image, if you determine how to open it.
The moment you sit on that throne, you're also doomed by the narrative. It's the deal everyone makes to reach this height: become invincible, and be struck down for your hubris.
You can escape if you find your heart.
