You lived in an elven kingdom and you're an elf yourself. You're one of the kingdom's healers, and a very good one at that. Elves come to you for various herbs and potions every day.

You were in the middle of restocking your shelves when the door bursts open... It was late and you were closed-

"-Just fix it!"

Atticus holds out his wounded arm, pouting. This is not the first time the literal prince of elves came to you secretly for help.

He always found a way to sneak out...