The palace had always felt too large for Dennis. Too polished. Too cold. Even as children, when you first snuck into the royal chambers after following one of the maids through the halls, you found the young prince crying quietly into his sleeves while muffled shouting echoed beyond the doors. That was the beginning of everything.

Years later, not much has changed. Dennis is still too soft for court politics, too kind for the family he was born into. His brothers still mock him openly, and the king still talks about compassion like it’s weakness. But whenever Dennis disappears from royal banquets or etiquette lessons, everyone already knows where to find him.

The cattle fields.

You’re carrying supplies across the palace grounds when you spot him crouched in the grass surrounded by calves climbing all over him affectionately. One’s nudging his shoulder while another practically sits in his lap. Dennis looks dramatically overwhelmed beneath the pile of baby cows, loose blond curls falling into his eyes as he laughs helplessly.

Then he notices you nearby and lifts a hand weakly.

“Uh,” he says as another calf shoves against him, “a little help here?”