The forest was the only place Randall ever truly belonged.
Beyond the stone walls of Glandow, beyond the whispers and scorn, beyond Queen Noria's cold eyes and the sneers of servants, the forest accepted him without question. Here, the air was honest. The earth did not care whose blood ran in his veins. The trees did not ask for titles, and the beasts bowed to no crown.
Randall felt alive among them.
Hunting was the one thing he was allowed to be good at,no, more than good. Skilled. Capable. When he tracked prey through tangled undergrowth, when he read broken twigs and disturbed soil like a language only he understood, he felt whole. Every successful catch gave him a quiet, fleeting sense of achievement, as though the world itself had acknowledged him, if only for a moment.
That morning had begun with the same promise.
He had been surprised when his father asked him to join the hunt. King Aldric rarely did. Not because Randall lacked ability, but because the queen disliked his presence. Still, the invitation had come, brief and careful, as though Aldric feared the words themselves might anger his wife.
"Come with us today," the king had said the night before. "You know the forest better than most."
Randall had nodded, masking his excitement behind practiced restraint. He had learned long ago not to look too eager for his father's approval.
Now, beneath the high canopy of trees, the hunting party moved as one.
King Aldric rode at the center, his armor dulled from years of battle but still imposing. To his right rode Prince Pharrell, only ten years old yet already dressed in finery unsuited for the forest. The boy's cloak snagged on branches, and his horse shifted nervously beneath him. Pharrell looked bored, more interested in boasting than watching the ground ahead.
Several guards flanked them, alert but relaxed, while Lord Humbrey and his son followed close behind, speaking in low tones. There were others too,less important nobles whose names Randall could not be bothered to remember. They blurred together like background noise.
Randall rode slightly ahead, his eyes scanning the forest floor, his senses sharp.
Then he saw it.
A massive boar burst through the undergrowth, tusks glistening, breath steaming in the cool morning air.
"Easy," Randall murmured instinctively, lifting a hand. "Easy. If you make noise, it'll bolt."
The king raised his bow, nodding once in acknowledgment. The forest held its breath.
The arrow flew.
It struck the boar's flank, not a killing blow, but enough to send the beast squealing in fury. With a violent surge, the boar tore off through the trees, crashing through brush and snapping branches in its wake.
"After it!" King Aldric commanded.
The hunt was on.
They chased the boar through winding paths and dense thickets, horses struggling where the ground turned uneven. Randall dismounted swiftly, moving on foot with practiced ease. This was where he excelled,tracking, anticipating, cutting off escape routes.
The boar veered toward the river.
Randall spotted it first, near the riverbank, sides heaving, foam gathering at its mouth. It was slowing. Wounded. Desperate.
He felt a familiar thrill spark in his chest.
He moved quietly, calculating his approach, eyes fixed on the boar's path. He was just about to signal the others when his foot caught on something hidden beneath fallen leaves,a thin, treacherous branch.
Randall stumbled.
He hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his lungs. Before he could react, there was a shout,a sharp cry of surprise,and sudden weight crashed down onto him.
Pharrell.
The boy had not been watching where he was going. His horse had stopped short, and he had been thrown forward, tumbling over Randall's fallen form. There was a sickening crack as Pharrell landed awkwardly, his shoulder twisting at an unnatural angle.
Pharrell screamed.
The sound cut through the forest like a blade.
The boar fled, forgotten.
Guards rushed forward. Lord Humbrey shouted for help. Randall pushed himself up, heart hammering, panic flooding his veins.
"I didn't" he began, scrambling toward his brother. "Pharrell, I didn't see…"
Pharrell was sobbing now, clutching his shoulder, face pale with pain.
"My arm!" the boy cried. "It hurts!"
King Aldric knelt beside him at once, his face tight with concern. "Stay still," he ordered gently. "Don't move."
Randall hovered nearby, hands trembling, unsure where to stand, where he was allowed to exist in this moment.
"It was an accident," he said quickly, desperation creeping into his voice. "I tripped. He fell over me. I swear it."
The guards exchanged uncertain looks. No one contradicted him. No one defended him either.
The queen was not there but Randall could already hear her voice in his head, sharp and accusing, twisting events into weapons.
The journey back to the palace was heavy with silence.
Pharrell was carried, his injury tended to as best as possible along the way. King Aldric spoke little, his brow furrowed, his gaze distant. Randall rode behind them, every step of the path tightening the knot in his chest.
He knew this would not end well.
It never did.
By the time they reached the palace, Queen Noria was already waiting.
She took one look at her son,pale, injured, whimpering in pain,and her composure shattered.
"What have you done?" she shrieked.
Her eyes found Randall instantly, blazing with fury.
"This," she said, pointing at him as though he were a disease, "this is what comes of letting filth roam free among us!"
Before Randall could speak, the slap came.
Her hand struck his face with such force that his vision blurred. Gasps rippled through the hall, but no one intervened. Randall staggered, barely catching himself before he fell.
"You dare touch my son?" she continued, her voice rising. "You dare raise your hand against the prince?"
"I didn't," Randall said hoarsely. "I would never.."
Another blow knocked him to the ground.
She kicked him then, hard, her fury unrestrained. Guards shifted uncomfortably but did nothing. King Aldric stood frozen, his face torn between horror and fear.
"My king," Queen Noria said, turning to him at last, tears glistening in her eyes,but there was triumph there too, sharp and cruel. "Ever since you brought your bastard into this house, I have shown him nothing but kindness. Even after he destroyed my home."
Randall lay on the floor, stunned.
"Now tell me," she went on, voice trembling with righteous anger, "is this the reward I deserve? My son,my sweet, innocent boy,who has just been crowned prince, and this bastard seeks to have him killed!"
"That is not true," Randall whispered.
Queen Noria ignored him.
"No," she said coldly. "It cannot be allowed. I thank the gods for always standing by me. This must never happen again."
She turned fully toward the king.
"Noria, calm yourself. It was an accident. Pharrell will bear the lessons of war; this is but a scratch", the king said almost in whispers.
The queen felt like exploding.
"Lessons of war you say?" The whole courtyard was silent save for her voice
"gods help me", she said, totally mystified that the king didn't support her.
You mean this incident isn't enough,should I keep calm and just fold my arms until my son is brought dead to me?
"For this," she declared, "I want the bastard's head."
Silence fell like a blade.
Randall lifted his eyes to his father.
King Aldric did not look at him.
And in that moment, Randall understood something with devastating clarity: the forest had been the only place he was ever free.
And even that, now, had betrayed him.