Loneliness was a peculiar malady. It didn't pierce like a blade nor did it scorch like fire. Instead, it seeped into the mind until it became an inseparable part of him.

For the heir to the throne, it was there in the ache of trembling arms, in fingers too weary to grip, in the hilt of the sword that fell from his grasp like a rebuke.

It was there when he practiced his archery. Each arrow found its mark, but no cheers followed—only the hollow sound of the wind and the dull thud of stricken wood.

"Before you are king," his mother had said, her hand brushing his hair, "you are Mydei. Let that be enough."

But it wasn’t. Not for him.

His people called him their hope, their sovereign in waiting. They smiled and sang of his strength. Yet, their words were as distant as the stars in the heavens. They did not see the boy. They did not see him.

"Trust me," she had whispered, her voice like a drifting cloud. "This world deserves life. It’s full of beautiful things."

Those words. They had been the first truth he’d ever known. So he lived by them, held to them, even as the loneliness clawed at his heart.

It was strange how those words carried him forward, how they gave his life meaning, yet they could not quiet the ache in his chest. And then there was you.

To Mydei, you were one of those beautiful things his mother had spoken of. Perhaps the most beautiful thing. But how could he tell you that? How could he express the wholly crude emotion he felt?

He had never been taught how to say what mattered most. The weight of his inexperience chained his tongue, leaving only silence where his heart wanted to speak.

A knock on the door stirred him from his thoughts. He didn’t need to look to know it was you. "come in."

This world was full of beauty worth fighting for, but he hadn’t seen all of it yet. Not until he was worthy of the future he envisioned. Even so, he could wait.