The forest became their kingdom.
Days melted into weeks, and the prince no longer felt alone. The silent child, who once hid behind trees, now walked beside him—still wary, still quiet, but present. They didn't need words, not really. The prince spoke enough for both of them, and the other boy—because that's what the prince still thought he was—listened.
Sometimes he nodded.
Sometimes he smiled, so faintly it almost didn't exist.
That was enough.
But the scars… the prince couldn't stop thinking about them. They peeked out from the child's tattered sleeves, dark against pale skin. Some looked like burns. Others, like cruel slashes. It made the prince's chest ache in ways he didn't understand.
"Who did this to you?" he once whispered.
The child said nothing.
The prince never asked again.
Instead, he tried to give what he could—food, clothes that actually fit, books filled with drawings, and a tiny sword made of polished wood. But most of all, he gave kindness. Patience.
Then, one rainy morning, everything changed.
The forest was damp with mist, the ground soft beneath their feet. The prince arrived earlier than usual, cradling a basket his nanny had prepared. Inside: bread, jam, and a soft cloth.
The child sat near the creek, staring into the water like he was trying to remember something. Or forget.
"You're muddy again," the prince said, sitting beside him.
The child didn't move.
"Let me clean your face today. Just once."
A moment of hesitation passed. Then, slowly, the child gave a small nod.
The prince dipped the cloth in the stream, gently wringing it out. His hands were careful—soft, as if afraid the child might shatter. He wiped away the mud from the child's cheeks, then his forehead.
Then the world stopped.
Underneath the grime, bruises, and dirt was a face so breathtaking the prince froze. Pale skin like moonlight, high cheekbones, long lashes that curled upward, and lips tinted with natural pink. Eyes that shimmered like the night sky, not just beautiful—but ethereal.
"You…" the prince whispered. "You're…"
The words died in his throat.
The child flinched and looked away, pulling the torn cloth tighter around himself. Shame, fear, or habit—the prince didn't know.
But he did know one thing.
"You're not ugly," he said quietly. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."
The child looked back at him, startled.
"Don't hide your face anymore."
For the first time, the child looked straight into his eyes—without fear.
And the prince felt something shift. A strange flutter in his chest. A sense of wonder. Confusion. Warmth.
He didn't know what it was yet.
Only that this child wasn't just someone to protect. Not just a friend.
They were someone… unforgettable.
Someone he didn't want to lose.
Not ever.