Author's POV....
It had been a week since Maelis began adapting to the life of the original owner.
And the palace had not stopped whispering since.
The change was impossible to miss.
The once-feared crown prince-known for arrogance, cruelty, and unchecked temper-had become someone else entirely. He spoke politely now, his tone measured and calm. He listened when others spoke. He greeted tutors, servants, even guards with a nod that held respect instead of expectation.
Most shocking of all, he studied.
And not just studied-he excelled.
Lessons that once bored him now held his attention. Tutors who had resigned themselves to mediocrity stared at him in disbelief as he answered complex questions with ease. Even in sword training, where strength often mattered more than finesse, Maelis stood out.
His movements were unfamiliar to the instructors.
Fluid. Precise. Controlled.
The combat styles he practiced were nothing like those taught in the kingdom. They were sharper, more efficient-techniques born from discipline and experience far beyond his age. None of them knew that in another world, Maelis had been a national-level martial arts champion.
To them, it was simply another mystery.
But despite everything that had changed-
One thing remained the same.
Riven Solcaire was still being bullied.
---
Maelis was walking casually toward his classroom, the stone corridors echoing softly beneath his steps. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor. His mind was occupied with thoughts of sword forms and political history when raised voices reached his ears.
Mocking laughter.
Cruel, careless, familiar.
He stopped.
Just ahead, near one of the pillars lining the hallway, a small group of princes had cornered Riven. The boy stood with his back to the wall, shoulders stiff, hands clenched at his sides.
"Well, look at this," one of them sneered. "Are you wearing rags now?"
Another laughed. "Maybe he thinks holes are fashionable in his kingdom."
Their eyes raked over Riven's clothes-thin fabric worn soft with age, sleeves frayed at the edges. His trousers were visibly too tight, stretched awkwardly as his body grew faster than his possessions were replaced.
Riven said nothing.
His head remained lowered, jaw tight, silence his only shield.
Maelis exhaled slowly.
"You shouldn't make fun of someone on the basis of their clothes, looks, or status," a calm voice cut through the laughter. "Young men."
The princes froze.
Maelis leaned casually against a pillar, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He wasn't raising his voice. He didn't need to.
The air shifted.
Faces drained of color.
"O-Our apologies, Your Highness," one of them stammered, bowing so fast he nearly tripped over himself.
Another followed immediately. "We didn't mean any harm."
They scattered like startled birds, fleeing down the corridor as if they'd seen the grim reaper himself.
Silence returned.
Maelis turned his attention to Riven.
For the first time, he truly looked at him.
From head to toe.
The boy was thinner than he should be. His shirt, though clean, was so worn it barely protected him from the cold. Winter was approaching-the breeze that swept through the corridor carried a sharp chill, and Riven shivered slightly before he could stop himself.
Maelis felt something twist in his chest.
Without thinking too much about it, he reached up and removed his coat.
It was heavy. Warm. Expensive.
He stepped closer and draped it over Riven's shoulders.
Riven stiffened.
This-this was the first time he looked up.
Their eyes met.
And Maelis had to admit it.
The male protagonist aura was undeniable.
Even standing there, dressed like a homeless child, bruised by neglect and cruelty, Riven Solcaire carried something quiet and powerful. Sharp eyes. Controlled posture. A presence that didn't beg for attention, yet demanded it.
The face card was insane.
Maelis almost sighed.
"Keep it," he said lightly. "It's yours."
Then he turned and walked away toward his class, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
Behind him, Riven stood frozen.
First, Maelis had stopped the bullying.
Now, he had given him his coat.
The crown prince's coat.
---
By the time class began, the entire room was buzzing.
Riven entered last.
And the whispers exploded.
The coat stood out immediately-rich fabric, impeccable stitching, the design unmistakable. Everyone knew it belonged to Maelis. The material alone was enough to confirm it.
Eyes followed Riven as he walked to his seat, shoulders slightly hunched beneath the unfamiliar weight.
Whispers turned sharp.
"I bet he stole it," Caleb muttered under his breath to Lucien. "Then the crown prince caught him and forced it on him."
Lucien snorted quietly. "Look at him. Probably begged for it."
Kael leaned closer, voice hushed. "Our crown prince must have felt pity. Did you see his clothes earlier?"
Elric nodded in agreement. "That's the only explanation."
Maelis sat at his desk, flipping open his book calmly.
Oh god, he thought dryly. Here I am trying to save their asses, and these kids are busy digging their own graves.
He sneaked a glance toward Riven.
The boy could hear them.
Maelis knew that much.
But Riven's head was lowered again, dark hair shadowing his expression. His hands rested neatly on his desk, fingers curled just slightly-too still.
Maelis couldn't see his face.
And that bothered him more than he expected.
The class settled slowly, the tutor entering and beginning the lesson, but the air remained tense. Something had shifted-small, almost invisible, yet irreversible.
For the first time, Maelis Ravencourt had stood between Riven Solcaire and the cruelty of this palace.
And for the first time-
Riven had looked at him.
Neither of them knew it yet, but that single moment-by a pillar, beneath a cold breeze-had changed the direction of the story.
Quietly.
Irrevocably.