The morning sun slipped gently through the windows, painting the wooden floor with golden light. Birds chirped softly beyond the cottage walls, and the forest air smelled of dew and early lavender.
Cael sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, watching the two silver-haired boys still curled beneath the blanket.
They were breathing slowly. Still asleep. Still warm.
Still here.
⸻
He hadn't slept much. Not really.
He'd spent the night thinking—wondering if he was making the right choice. If he should've taken them to the village the moment the sun rose.
But now, looking at them tangled up in sheets too big for their small bodies, clutching the pillow he'd shared...
He hesitated.
They looked like lost lambs. Not cursed princes. Not devils. Just children—exhausted, guarded, and bruised by the world.
"I'll take them back," Cael whispered to himself. "It's the right thing to do."
⸻
But when the twins woke, blinking up at him with sleep-heavy eyes and flushed cheeks...
And when he said, gently, "Come on, let's get you back to the village. Your guardians must be worried..."
Something inside them shifted.
⸻
Viel's grip on his sleeve tightened immediately. His eyes welled—not with tears, but something more fragile.
Fear.
"I don't want to go," he murmured, voice barely audible.
Eryx simply shook his head. "We're not going."
Cael blinked. "You can't stay forever. You belong somewhere."
"No," Viel said again, firmer now. "We belong here."
⸻
The next few hours were a quiet, strange battle.
Cael packed a small basket of food. They unpacked it when he wasn't looking.
He offered to walk them into the village. They stared at the floor and said nothing.
At one point, Viel hugged him so tightly that Cael froze in place.
"Don't make us go," he whispered. "Please."
⸻
And just like that... Cael gave up.
He exhaled and smiled softly, brushing a hand through Viel's silken hair.
"Alright," he said. "Just a few more days."
⸻
He told himself it wouldn't matter.
The knights would find them eventually. The twins were royalty. Missing princes. Even if he did nothing, they would be found.
But until then...
He'd give them everything they'd never had.
⸻
He took them into the garden first.
Showed them how to tell the difference between peppermint and lemon balm. How to crush thyme between your fingers to bring out the scent. How to loosen soil with your hands instead of tools.
Eryx pretended to be bored at first—but Cael caught him smiling when a butterfly landed on his shoulder.
Viel clung to Cael's arm nearly the entire time, pointing out birds and mushrooms with wide, shining eyes.
They looked like they had never touched the earth before.
⸻
Back inside, Cael made them a proper breakfast.
Warm porridge with honey and toasted nuts. Slices of apple on the side. Milk with cinnamon.
Viel ate quietly, cheeks full like a squirrel. Eryx stole one of Cael's apple slices without a word and grinned.
"You eat better than most nobles," Eryx said.
Cael only smiled. "Maybe that's because I grow my own food."
⸻
They played in the river that afternoon.
Not real games—just splashing, chasing dragonflies, throwing stones that skipped (or didn't).
Cael stayed nearby, drying their hair with an old cloth, making sure no one slipped.
He couldn't stop smiling.
They laughed. Really laughed.
Sharp, joyful bursts that made the forest echo. That made Cael's heart ache.
Because this was what childhood was supposed to sound like.
⸻
That evening, he made vegetable soup and little hand pies filled with herbs and cheese.
The twins fought over the last one.
Eryx won. Viel pouted.
Cael split his own and gave half to the younger boy, ruffling his hair.
Viel beamed.
Eryx stared at Cael with something unreadable in his eyes.
Something possessive.
⸻
That night, they climbed into bed before he even asked.
Viel clung to his side immediately. Eryx curled up at his back, fingers wrapping into his shirt again.
Cael sighed, laughed quietly, and pulled the blanket around them all.
"Just a few more days," he whispered to himself.
But the twins weren't planning on leaving.
And in the dark, with their arms wrapped around the only warmth they'd ever known—
They decided they never would.