Around the time Dylan was about to turn ten, the Kingdom of Helios had been engulfed in a revolt. To shield the royal family from harm, his father had sent him, his mother, and his elder brother to the Kingdom of Anemoi, seeking the protection of their allies. The royal family of Anemoi had taken them in graciously, offering refuge for over a year.
During that time, Dylan had formed a bond unlike any other with the youngest princess, Lyra. They were inseparable, their days filled with the laughter of innocent games and the quiet camaraderie of shared study sessions. His last memory of her was etched deeply in his mind—her tear-streaked face peeking out from behind her mother's skirts as their carriage pulled away.
Though Dylan had held back his tears for as long as he could, seeing Lyra cry broke his resolve. For months after their separation, they exchanged letters filled with their lives, dreams, and longing to meet again. However, two years after their departure, the Queen of Anemoi succumbed to a sudden illness, and the letters began to dwindle.
By the time Dylan turned fifteen, the letters had stopped entirely. Despite his efforts to reach her, silence was all he received in return. It had been seven years since he'd last seen her, and now, standing in the Kingdom of Anemoi once more, he felt both anticipation and trepidation.
The Morning After
Dylan sat on the balcony of his chambers, the crisp morning air tousling his dark brown hair. The sun bathed the palace gardens in a golden glow, and from his vantage point, he could see the vibrant blooms swaying gently in the breeze.
Yet, despite the serene view, unease gnawed at him.
"Your Highness," Xavier's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Come in," Dylan called, turning as his loyal aide stepped inside.
Xavier bowed slightly. "It seems the palace is still… dormant. The kitchens remain closed, and most of the staff appear to still be asleep."
Dylan raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. "It's nine in the morning. Surely they don't sleep until midday?"
"Perhaps the late dinner affected their routine," Xavier offered.
"Breakfast?" Dylan inquired, his tone expectant.
"I'll see if I can rouse someone," Xavier replied, but Dylan rose from his seat, stretching.
"No need. I'll accompany you. Let us explore."
They roamed the palace halls, their footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. The grand corridors felt unusually quiet, almost abandoned, until the faint sound of laughter and chatter led them to the knights' training grounds.
There, amid a group of knights and palace staff, stood a familiar figure.
The girl from yesterday—her raven hair tied into twin tails—was handing out baskets of bread and milk. Her simple attire was unremarkable, save for the small floral pins adorning her hair. She moved gracefully, humming a soft melody as she worked.
Dylan watched her with quiet curiosity.
"That's her, isn't it?" Xavier muttered.
Before Dylan could respond, the girl turned, and their eyes met.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice laced with mild irritation.
Dylan smirked, a playful glint in his hazel eyes. "We were hunting for breakfast."
"The kitchen doesn't open until noon," she replied flatly.
"Noon?" Dylan exclaimed. "Who eats breakfast at noon? That's just… lunch."
She shrugged, turning to leave, but Dylan caught the end of one of her ponytails, earning a sharp yelp.
"Ow! What is wrong with you?" she hissed, glaring at him.
"You shouldn't walk away while someone is speaking to you," Dylan retorted, his expression unapologetic.
The exchange caught the attention of one of the knights nearby, who stepped forward with a frown.
"Hey! Who do you think you are, manhandling—"
The girl raised a hand, cutting him off. "It's fine. He's just rude, not dangerous."
She turned back to Dylan, huffing. "It's improper to grab a lady's hair. Were you raised in a barn?"
"I do apologize," Dylan said, though his tone was far from contrite. "But it's equally improper to leave a conversation unfinished."
"Unfinished? I thought we were done," she retorted, crossing her arms.
"Far from it," Dylan replied. "Could you kindly direct us to breakfast?"
She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath before gesturing for them to follow. "Fine. Just this once."
The path she led them down was winding and secluded, taking them past a narrow stream and into a secluded part of the palace grounds. At the end of the trail stood a quaint four-story cottage, its stone walls covered in ivy and blossoms. It was charming, almost out of place among the grandeur of the main palace.
"What is this place?" Dylan asked, his curiosity evident.
"Sit here," she instructed, pointing to a shaded table near the stream. "I'll bring something for you to eat."
She disappeared inside, leaving Dylan and Xavier to marvel at the idyllic scene.
"Do you think this is her residence?" Dylan mused, his gaze fixed on the cottage.
"If she were a princess, she wouldn't live here," Xavier reasoned. "More likely, she's one of the staff. Perhaps a cook, given her apron."
"She doesn't act like one," Dylan murmured, more to himself.
Through the open kitchen window, he could see her bustling about, her movements quick and precise. She hummed the same soft tune from earlier, her focus unwavering as she prepared their meal.
"You're staring," Xavier teased. "If you keep this up, she'll think you're smitten."
Dylan ignored the comment, though a faint blush crept up his neck. "There's something about her… I can't put my finger on it."
"Perhaps it's hunger clouding your judgment," Xavier quipped, his stomach growling for emphasis.
Moments later, the window opened, and the girl handed out a tray laden with freshly baked bread, fruit, and steaming mugs of tea.
"Here," she said simply. "Enjoy."
"My lady, won't you join us?" Dylan asked.
"I've already eaten," she replied, brushing her hands on her apron. "I have other tasks to attend to. Leave the dishes here when you're done."
She disappeared before Dylan could protest, leaving him with a growing list of questions.
As they ate, Dylan's mind remained fixated on the girl. Who was she, truly? Her demeanor was far from that of a simple servant, yet her attire and behavior contradicted the idea of nobility.
"I wonder if she had a hand in last night's dinner," Xavier mused, breaking Dylan's thoughts.
"Unlikely," Dylan replied, recalling the bland, barely edible meal. "This food has actual flavor."
"Then she's not a palace cook," Xavier said with a shrug. "Though I must admit, her attitude is unusual. Even for a servant."
Dylan remained silent, his eyes drifting back to the cottage.
"Do you think she'll come back?" Xavier asked.
"I hope so," Dylan murmured, the words escaping before he could stop them.