Roman was curious about something. He wasn't sure why he'd been thinking about it lately, but he decided to ask the king anyway. "Hey Dad?" he started, getting his attention. "How did you and Mom meet?"

The king looked at him in surprise, but smiled sadly as he recalled the memory. "She was a princess from another kingdom, much smaller than ours," he began. "I was of an age we were expected to take a spouse and my father threw a large masquerade ball, inviting all the neighboring kingdoms. It was an opportunity for me to meet someone."

Roman nodded, following along with the story closely. "She was so shy, and was clearly not from one of the luxurious kingdoms, but once I started talking to her, I knew she was the one I wanted to marry," the king said with a smile.

"Does- does it have to be a royal?" Roman asked cautiously. "Like, if I fell in love with a subject of the kingdom, would I be able to marry them?"

His father leaned forward, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The prince was terrified he was about to tell him that it had to be a royal. He could almost hear his voice telling him to marry for the good of the kingdom already. "Listen to me Roman," he said. His heart was racing as he nodded, waiting for him to continue. "Marry for love."

The prince's eyes widened in shock. "Really?" he asked. The king smiled wide, nodding.

"I would never deny my son a chance for love, true love, not the fake love that develops from forced marriage at best. I want happiness for you, and a good future for the kingdom. The two should always go hand in hand. If you're happy, the kingdom will prosper. If you're miserable, without a doubt the kingdom will eventually fall."

Roman smile gratefully at his father. "Thank you," he said breathlessly. He was pulled into a hug that he gladly reciprocated.

After they'd pulled away from their hug, the king excused himself, saying he had matters to attend to. He was the king after all. Roman stayed seated, turning over what he'd learned in his thoughts. He could marry for love, regardless of status. A smile found its way onto his lips as a weight on his chest eased.

He wanted to visit the artist boy again, but he didn't want to go with his guards, or get the attention of a prince. Heading back to his room, he opened his closet. It was filled with any kind of clothes he could ever want or need, being the prince; and a stylish prince at that. He selected a simple brown, hooded cape to drape over his clothes. He pulled up the hood and made his way out of the palace without being seen.

He was once again strolling through the village, in awe of everything he saw. He doubted he could ever stop being in awe of such a place. The prince then heard something that put him on edge. His gaze followed the sound, heart racing.

"Give us your money," somebody snapped. Roman cautiously moved toward the sound, finding something that made his skin crawl. "Or do you want another one?"

The artist boy met yesterday was pressed up against the wall, blood dripping from his lip. He looked angry rather than scared, but Roman still gasped. "How many times do I have to say, 'I don't have any money on me and even if I did I wouldn't give it to you' before it penetrates that thick skull of yours?" he said, sounding bored despite bleeding from his lip.

"You always make this so much harder than it needs to be," the boy holding him against the wall said as he released him.

"I'm not your little servant boy," the artist snapped, wiping the blood from his lip. "I helped you out one time. One time; and you were sick and poor then. You're not poor anymore, and you're definitely not sick anymore."

"You still have to help us," one of the boys snapped. "You owe it to us."

"I don't owe you anything," he replied. "You owe me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

He turned to leave, causing Roman to hide behind barrels and crates. He heard the men chuckle among themselves before one of them spoke up. "We heard you had a little run in with the prince yesterday," he said, a smirk so devious Roman could hear it in his voice. The artist boy stopped in his tracks.

"What of it?" he muttered quietly. Roman was holding his breath; what did he have to do with this?

"If you won't pay us, perhaps we'll take it out of the prince, as compensation for traveling all the way to his kingdom for nothing," the boy said evilly.

Another boy spoke up, an even worse smirk on his face. "And I've heard he's quite handsome, perhaps we'll find other ways he could make it up to us."

Roman's heart was in his throat. Were these guys serious? His eyes widened as the artist boy whipped around, marched right up to the guy who had said it, punched him right in jaw and pinned him against the wall by the throat. The prince's heart stopped; where had that come from? No one else in the alley dared to breathe.

"You even think about touching him, I swear to god I'll make sure you 'get paid' for it," the artist spoke, voice like poison. Roman's heart fluttered; there was something about the artist boy's want to protect him that made his cheeks warm.

Without another word, he released him and left the alley with heavy and forceful steps. Roman watched him take a deep breath, run his hand through his messy hair, shake out his red hand with a wince, and head back toward his stand. He was left standing there, watching him go with an awestruck face.

Why had he acted so strongly about protecting me? Was it just loyalty to the crown? Or, Roman's heart fluttered again as the thoughts flowed. Was it something to with how he feels about me?