As they inch closer to the shack, Lucius quietly climbs up the stack of logs next to it, and peers into the window. Miu whispers for him to come back, but he dismisses her with a wave of his tail.

A man sits on a pile of pillows in the corner. His head of dark, cropped curls is buried in a notebook, the one covered in doodles and paint, the same one that got them into worlds of trouble over the years. Finally free of the baby fat that plagued his teenage ego, his jawline is clenched tightly in what seems to be frustration. He’s tapping a pen against his canines, deep thought. His sepia skin is glowing, even in the dull yellow shine from the old lightbulb hanging overhead.

As sharp as always, the man immediately notices the poke of the white cat’s head in the window and glances over with a smile.

Lucius’ breath gets caught in his throat at the sight of those kind, golden eyes. Warm as ever.

For a moment, it feels as if nothing has changed.

…

The boy was the son of farmers.

The youngest of a squadron of older brothers hurdling towards adulthood, he was his parents’ happy little accident.

Each morning, when the rest of his family rose at dawn to travel to work on the far side of the Vale, he would lie on his side, pretending to be deep in sleep.

Staring at the wall, he would wait for his mother’s gentle coos to escalate to his brothers’ amused shouts, and then for their voices to dissipate to resigned footsteps. Once the cloud of tired but loving chatter vanished into the trees, he would sit up with a victorious grin, ready to decide what to do with his day.

By the time the little princes could worm their way out of afternoon tutoring, the boy would have already been in the brush for hours.

Armed with whatever tools his brothers left behind, a shovel one day, a bucket the next, he would make his trek through the thick of the trees that crusted the shores, and set up shop. Making flower crowns, building a dam, making dirt pies; whatever the course of the day called for.

He would be found draped in an old tunic—more likely than not, the one he woke up in—covered in the evidence of his day’s play, and drowning in one of his older brothers’ pairs of linen trousers. Smiling from ear to ear, mashing around in his own world, the farmer’s boy looked like an alien to the stiff-collared crowd of young princes.

Whenever they would cross paths in their play, the boys would quiet down and observe him as if he were a wild animal. He didn’t have the self-conscious, self-important rich kid sensibilities that the others did.

“It’s clear that his family is poor, but doesn’t he have at least one real toy?”

“Isn’t he a bit too old to play pretend?”

“Doesn’t he have any friends?”

Lucius would never join in the whispers and chortles, but he wouldn’t stop it either. He’d eye the boy curiously, listening carefully to the strange words he used in between his cackling and sound effects.

When the others grew bored of the spectacle, they would start heading towards the Coast, calling out for Lucius while he looked on, hoping to someday catch the boy’s eye.

Lucius would never forget the day that he finally did.

It was one of those lucky mornings when the castle was too quiet.

His father was away on business. The chancellor was out siphoning money from the tradesmen. The courtsmen were out lording their tiny morsels of power over the commoners.

And his tutor was running behind schedule.

So, in true Prince Lucius fashion, he snuck into his father’s chambers, slipped his hand into the secret compartment beneath his bed, and clicked his tongue victoriously when he felt the tip of a key against his fingertips.

Key tucked tightly in his fist, Lucius skipped down the hallway, looking both ways before he opened the door to the vault. Briefly pausing to make a silly face at his reflection, he continued on to the study. He climbed up on the desk in the far corner and gently brought down the latest map he’d created.

This one was of the Vale.

Or more specifically, as far as he’d gone towards the Vale, as marked by a crude drawing of the strange boy, his greatest landmark.

From the tales the other boys told, the Vale was an Elysian meadow encircled by a barrier of brush. But so far away from the castle, it was always just out of his reach; whenever he’d finally get close enough to see through the trees, the evening bell would toll, and he would have to race back home.

But that day, Lucius had nothing but time.

Quickly changing into the plain, loose commoner’s clothes he’d begged Lady Amara to sneak him, Lucius couldn’t help the pleased hum thrumming from his lips. He ran back into the vault to admire his new outfit.

Satisfied, he neatly packed his haversack with his map, pencils, and a few of the canned snacks lying around. With a pep in his step, Lucius made quick work of the dark staircase, ready to seize the day.

Sighing in relief when he reached the end of the hallway, he quickly swung the door open, smiling in the face of the beaming sun.

He didn’t even need to double-check his route against the map.

As soon as he felt the early morning sunrays beating on his skin, he ripped into the bush. Dodging tree branches and leaping over stones, Lucius mentally logged each landmark he passed; the tree dripping with purple sap, the permanently arid patch of dirt. His grin spread to reach his ears when he hopped the fence into the Vale and finally wandering into uncharted territory. His head was on a swivel as he searched for that curious final landmark.

Lucius’ mystery boy was perched in the treehouse his brothers had finally built for him, just above the border. He closed his book and sat up on his knees, peering down suspiciously at the intruder.

His apprehensive glare softened into a knowing smirk when he caught sight of the baby blues flitting around the clearing.

It was one of the rogue little princes. The one who seemed to be kind-hearted, but a bit of a coward. And who had a terrible staring problem. Lucius. He couldn’t help but learn his name after hearing the boys yell it so often as they tried to break him out of his creepy trance. He almost didn’t recognize him without his doublet and ruffles.

Deeply amused, he watched the boy search all along the fence, gently poking his head in between the trees, clearly searching for him. Just when he was about to take pity on the boy and make himself known, a gazelle’s head peeked through the foliage, sending the boy scrambling backward in fear.

The boy in the tree barely held back a laugh. “She’s friendly,” he called out lightly. Despite the softness of his voice, he nearly scared the prince into a heart attack. The boy broke his wary gaze with the gazelle to glance nervously up at his soon-to-be friend. The boy grinned down at him in encouragement. “I promise, she’s sweet. Want to feed her?”

Even from up in the trees, he could see him gulp anxiously, whipping his head back to keep an eye on the gazelle blinking back at him. He nodded reluctantly, backing up slowly before turning to the treehouse.

The boy made his way to the flower pots crowding the corner of his treehouse. Unceremoniously, he uprooted the prettiest of the bunch, the jasmine.

He returned to the window to see Lucius standing nervously just at the ladder. With a grin, he held his fist out and gently released the flower, watching as it cascaded in the wind, sending Lucius in an elaborate shuffle to catch it.

Lucius gingerly caught it and smiled up at the older boy. He couldn’t help but to mirror it back at him. “Thank you!” He turned and ran back to the fence.

“Walk slowly,” The boy gently chided from the tree. “Or else, you’ll scare her away.”

Nodding, a bit embarrassed, Lucius slowed his roll and took careful steps toward the gazelle waiting for him.

She quickly moved to approach Lucius. Frightened, he stopped walking and glanced back at the older boy. Seeing him nod with his thumb stuck out in encouragement, Lucius swallowed the lump in his throat and turned back, still nervous but coasting off of the boy’s vote of confidence.

Lucius stretched his hand out to the gazelle slowly, offering the jasmine flower. After a brief sniff, it snatched the flower up with its teeth, keeping its eyes on Lucius’ frozen body the entire time. Lucius stared at its horns where they were dangerously close to his eyes and waited with bated breath for it to finish eating. Before he knew it, the gazelle was licking his hand for leftover dander, then swiftly retreating into the brush.

When the coast was clear, Lucius wheeled around, triumphant, whooping in celebration. Seeing the double high-five waiting for him at the base of the tree trunk, he ran back to the boy at top speed.

Their hands crashed together in a bum rush of excitement. Lucius quickly pulled his hand away and stuck his hand out proudly. “I’m Prince Lucius, what’s your name?”

Instead of shaking his hand, the boy flashed his big wolfish grin and spun around, gesturing towards the ladder. “I can show you my name better than I can tell you. You wanna come see?”

Lucius, caught up in the adrenaline of the moment, nodded eagerly. The ladder’s rungs shook worryingly as he rushed ahead. “Don’t worry,” the boy called up from below him. “If you fall, at least I will too." Lucius sends a snort over his shoulder.

He climbed into the treehouse and was immediately taken by the space.

It was nothing like his or any of his friends’ bedrooms. If he didn’t know any better, he’d suspect that the boy had taken a peek into the hidden study in the castle for inspiration.

Books were stacked on top of each other all over the floor. Plants lined one of the walls, beautifully bathing in the sunlight sneaking through the trees. There were no chairs or desks, just piles of blankets and pillows marked by suspiciously butt-shaped indents.

Each wall was covered with an assortment of doodles. Olives, lemons, gazelles, and berries were painted all along the room, interspersed with tacked-on drawings, pressed flowers, and maps that looked just like his. Only the ceiling was colored plainly, painted with some sort of script Lucius doesn’t recognize. A series of swirls and squiggles.

The boy leaned against the door with his arms crossed. “You know what that says?”

Lucius pulled his eyebrows together as he looked back at the boy. “No, what language is that?”

He went shape by shape, explaining each curve to Lucius in great detail. The sounds they made, their origin stories, and more. Lucius didn’t even know it was possible to know so much about letters.

“So when you put each of those letters together, what sound do you get?”

Lucius studied the writing on the ceiling, taking a moment to build the pronunciation up on his tongue, wanting to impress the boy. “Nizar?”

With a proud nod of approval, the older boy, Nizar, finally stuck his hand out for Lucius to shake.

And from that moment on, they were locked in.

The sun peeked into that treehouse, gliding over them like a kaleidoscope as their days together built into months, and those months grew into years. The stuck-up princes and lonely days in the brush became figments of their pasts. Their heads started to bump against the ceiling, and their soft laughs became gruff with age where they echoed against the trees.

But now, as Lucius looks into the old treehouse, the one they had to move to the ground because the tree couldn’t bear their weight anymore, he can’t help but imagine the look of disgust that would have contorted Nizar’s face had he shown up in his true form.

Miu looks expectantly at Lucius where he’s transfixed with the man in the window. She whispers harshly, and far too loudly, “Lucius, surely you do not expect me to disturb this stranger at this hour, in this body. I’ll terrify the man!”

Nizar’s eyes widen in fear as he jumps up from the corner. Ducking against the ceiling, he makes his way to the door, swinging it open.

“Who’s there?” He calls out harshly into the night.

Lucius and Miu freeze, staring at each other as if that would pause the moment.

He swivels his head in the darkness, landing on the yellow eyes bulging at him in the darkness. “No way,” Nizar whispers.

Quickly but cautiously, he approaches, looking intently at Miu. “Brother Emery, is that you?”

Emery? Lucius looks on in confusion as Miu mutters, “Uh, yes, that is me,” she looks down at Lucius nervously before she adds, “Brother.”