K.J winced as he stirred, his body protesting each small movement with a dull, throbbing ache that radiated from his back. His skin was sticky with a thin sheen of sweat, yet he felt a familiar warmth clinging to him—Oliver's leather trench coat, now draped over him like a protective shield. The coat smelled faintly of smoke and the lingering warmth of the fire, comforting him as he slowly pieced together his surroundings.

He glanced down, noticing his attire had been swapped for simple black braies, and a hazy recollection surfaced of battling the river's relentless currents, his body tossed and strained by the water until Oliver had pulled him free. A shiver ran through him, not from the cold, but from the memory of being helpless against the river's force.

The fireball Oliver had conjured hovered gently above the sand, casting flickering warmth through the small cavern, its light dancing across the rocky walls. K.J shifted slightly, trying to adjust himself under the coat, but a sharp pang in his back made him inhale through gritted teeth. Unable to fully sit up, he curled his legs closer, nestling himself deeper into the coat's embrace, allowing the supple leather to settle warmly against his skin.

His gaze fell on his own clothes, laid out beside the fireball, dry now and neatly folded. He marveled at how long it must have taken them to dry unless Oliver had used his magic to keep the warmth steady and intense. He shifted his gaze outside the cavern, peering toward the river's edge. Snow had begun to fall gently, dusting the rocks and slowing the once-violent river to a quieter, more subdued current under the growing chill.

Settling back, K.J. allowed himself to relax, his body cocooned by the fire's warmth and Oliver's coat.

"I see you're finally awake," Oliver's voice broke the silence, carrying a note of relief as he stepped into the cavern, his silhouette framed against the snowy landscape beyond. In one hand, he held K.J.'s bow and quiver, slightly worn from the river's beating, with only a few arrows left. "I found this near Drakard's nest along the riverbank. Seems he made it his territory now that Nyssa's icy mist has driven creatures from their usual haunts."

Oliver set the bow and quiver beside K.J.'s nearly dry clothes, casting a glance over him. K.J. noticed the other hand holding a small bundle of green, herbaceous leaves. Before he could make a curiosity facial, Oliver clarified, "I managed to find Drake herbs not far from here, about half a mile west. These will help with the pain and close up the wounds."

With practiced care, Oliver knelt behind K.J. and began grinding the coarse leaves, releasing a pungent, earthy scent. K.J. tensed as Oliver gently applied the herbs to his back, pressing them firmly into the two deep gashes and the numerous scrapes across his skin. A wave of sharp pain jolted through him, and he let out a strained groan, his fingers digging into the loose sand in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

Oliver, sensing K.J.'s struggle, extended his hand and interlocked their fingers, his grasp firm and reassuring. "Hang in there," he murmured softly, watching K.J.'s face contort with each press of the herbs. With one hand, he worked the finely ground herbs into the wounds, while his other hand held K.J.'s firmly, offering a steady anchor against the throbbing pain.

The warmth and strength of Oliver's grip helped K.J. focus, and slowly, he felt the sharp ache dulling as the Drake herbs took effect. The pain lessened to a more manageable burn, and K.J. exhaled, finding solace in Oliver's grounded presence.

Oliver let out a sigh of relief, resting his hand on his knee as he gazed across the fire. The red flames danced, casting warm light across his face, highlighting a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. K.J. sat opposite him, offering a brief, shy smile.

"I'm glad you're doing okay," Oliver said, breaking the silence. "That was... one hell of an ordeal." He chuckled, the sound soft and genuine, as if the laughter helped ease the tension of the past few hours.

K.J. looked from Oliver to the flickering flames, feeling the warmth settle over him. Something shifted inside him—a rare sense of trust. Oliver had proven himself, not just as a prince but as someone who genuinely cared. Gathering his courage, K.J. decided to speak, his voice rough and unpracticed, carrying the unmistakable accent of someone who hadn't had formal training in speech.

"Thank you," he managed, the words heavy yet clear.

Oliver's eyes widened, surprise and wonder lighting up his face. A smile, wide and sincere, broke across his features. "You... you spoke?" he stammered, barely containing his excitement.

K.J. nodded, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "Yes," he replied, concentrating on forming each word. "I... I hope I speak clear."

Oliver leaned forward, his expression one of pure admiration. "Yes, K.J., you speak clearly. I understand you." He gave a small, encouraging nod. "What are you thanking me for?"

K.J.'s gaze softened, meeting Oliver's with a mix of gratitude and newfound confidence. "For saving me... from river," he said, careful with each syllable.

Oliver laughed, his eyes warm. "I did what I could. You're welcome, truly. It's an honor to hear your voice" He paused, his tone more earnest. "Would you mind if we talked a little more? I think it's incredible that you want to speak with me."

K.J. nodded slowly, his gaze steady as he met Oliver's eyes. For the first time, he felt the weight of his silence truly lift, as if trust itself had opened a door. He took a breath, letting the words settle on his tongue. "I trust..." he said softly, pointing directly at Oliver. "You."

The simplicity of his words held a profound sincerity, and Oliver felt a warmth bloom in his chest. This small phrase—so difficult yet so powerful—was worth more than a thousand words. He smiled, his voice gentle. "That means a lot, K.J." He paused, then added with a grin, "And I have to say, that was an incredible shot back there—the way you hit the Drakard right in the eyes."

A faint, almost shy smile tugged at K.J.'s lips. "Thank you. My..." His voice trailed off, his expression clouding as he glanced down, the memory of his uncle flashing through his mind. The ache in his chest was familiar, but sharing it was still difficult.

Sensing the change, Oliver reached out, his hand resting on K.J.'s shoulder in a gentle gesture of understanding. "You don't need to explain," he said softly. "I can tell your uncle meant a lot to you and had a lot to do with your skill."

K.J. met Oliver's gaze again, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. For so long, he had kept his memories and pain locked away, yet here, with Oliver, he felt understood in ways words couldn't quite reach. He gave a small, appreciative nod and looked around their small shelter, gathering his thoughts before speaking again.

"So... where to next?" he asked, curiosity tinged with quiet anticipation.

Oliver's expression brightened. "We're heading west, to the Magic Academy," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. "It's where I learned to master fire magic. And there, we'll meet Mankoo's brother, Mankee."

K.J. tilted his head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion at the names, which brought a chuckle out of Oliver.

"They're twins," Oliver explained with a grin, amused by K.J.'s reaction. "And don't even get me started on the names. It's... complicated." He turned his gaze toward the cave entrance, where thick snow was falling steadily. "For now, we wait. The storm's too harsh to travel in, and you need to rest. I don't want you moving too much in your condition."

K.J. leaned back against the cool stone wall, his tired muscles relaxing. The warmth from the small fire between them bathed the cave in a soft, flickering glow. Watching the flames dance, he felt something settle in his heart—a feeling of companionship, of shared purpose. For so long, he had felt as if he were carrying his burdens alone. But now, sitting across from Oliver, he felt less like an outsider and more like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

As the storm raged outside, filling the air with the quiet hum of snow and wind, K.J. closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the rare peace.

The next morning, K.J. found himself waking against the warm, steady rise and fall of Oliver's chest, his head nestled there with an unexpected familiarity. Oliver's arm lay draped over K.J.'s shoulder, protective and calm, as if it belonged there. The faint scent of earth and leather lingered on his skin, a subtle reminder of the night's shared warmth. K.J.'s heart raced for a moment as he carefully lifted his head, feeling an unfamiliar pull toward the prince lying beside him. The ache of yesterday's wounds had dulled, but a new sensation—a kind of nervous warmth—swelled in his chest. He quickly pushed it down, uncertain what to make of it, and slowly sat up.

Moving quietly, K.J. dressed in his simple clothes, wincing as he pulled each layer over his sore back. He made his way to the mouth of the cavern. Outside, the valley lay still and blanketed in a cold hush, with the river's soft murmur in the distance. The mist had lifted, and no snow fell, leaving the trees in a pale, morning light. He took a deep breath, grounding himself in the quiet of the landscape.

A faint crunch of footsteps made K.J. glance over his shoulder. Oliver, standing with his back to the cavern wall, was slipping into his tunic, tugging it over his bare torso. For a moment, K.J. couldn't look away. Oliver's body was strikingly strong—his chest broad and defined, skin smooth yet marked by the faint scars that spoke of years of training. His shoulders were powerful, tapering down to arms that looked both graceful and resilient, like a warrior's. The morning light cast soft shadows across the ridges of his abdomen, and the curve of his waist and hips flowed into a natural line that led down to the belt sitting low on his hips, giving him a commanding but relaxed appearance.

It was as if Oliver's body had been chiseled by some divine hand—each line, each curve, effortlessly blending strength and elegance. A warmth stirred in K.J.'s stomach, a sensation that he didn't fully understand but felt acutely. He quickly turned away, fixing his gaze on the trees to compose himself, though the image lingered in his mind.

"You okay?" Oliver's voice broke his thoughts, and K.J. turned to see Oliver adjusting his tunic, his expression open and mildly concerned.

"Yes," K.J. replied, his voice steady as he glanced at the trees. "Just... taking in the fresh air."

Oliver's brow softened, and he chuckled, throwing on his leather coat and securing the straps. "You enjoy the outdoors, don't you?"

"Yes," K.J. answered simply, his lips hinting at a smile.

Oliver chuckled again. "You're a man of few words, huh?"

K.J. raised a brow, his expression teasing. "You have to ask the right questions if you want to know more."

Oliver laughed, shaking his head. "Point taken." He moved over to where K.J.'s quiver and bow lay, giving the fire a final flicker of magic to extinguish the last embers. Picking up the quiver, he offered it to K.J., but as K.J. reached to take it, a flash of discomfort made him falter. His muscles were still sore, and the weight of the bow felt a bit too much.

Without hesitation, Oliver stepped forward. "Let me help you," he said gently, moving closer. Taking the quiver strap, he carefully adjusted it over K.J.'s head, ensuring the leather sat comfortably across his chest. His hands were warm, strong, and sure as they slid the strap into place and let the quiver settle against K.J.'s back. Oliver's fingers brushed K.J.'s shoulder lightly as he checked the fit, sending a spark up K.J.'s spine.

"All set?" Oliver asked, his voice low as he looked at K.J. with an easy, steady gaze.

K.J. nodded, feeling his heartbeat quicken under Oliver's watchful eyes. "Yes. Thank you."

Oliver smiled, giving the bow a final click into place on the quiver. "There you go," he said softly.

K.J. managed a quiet nod of thanks, feeling the warmth from Oliver's hands lingering on his shoulder. Something had shifted between them, and as they turned to face the path ahead, K.J. couldn't shake the quiet thrill of standing beside Oliver, knowing he'd found more than just a companion—he'd found someone he could trust and, perhaps, something more he was only beginning to understand.

"Princes don't help their..." K.J. hesitated, struggling with the word he wanted. His voice caught on it, the unfamiliar sounds heavy in his throat. After a moment, he settled on something simpler, even if it wasn't quite right. "Servant," he finished softly, his eyes lowering slightly.

Oliver paused, watching K.J. with a mixture of sympathy and gentle resolve. He sighed, a small smile playing at his lips. "Out here, K.J., I'm just Oliver. No prince, no title. And you?" He gave K.J. a look that was both warm and unwavering. "You're no servant. You're a friend, someone who has saved me more than once. Remember that."

K.J. met Oliver's gaze, his heart lightening a little at the words. There was a steady warmth in Oliver's eyes, and K.J. found himself nodding as a hint of pride stirred in him. He picked up his pace, matching Oliver's stride as they continued westward, the path stretching before them.

"But... you are still a prince," K.J. said, glancing at him. "People know it... they will see..." His words trailed off, unsure how to express his worry.

Oliver chuckled, a sound low and comforting. "Yes, by birth, I'm a prince," he agreed. "But being a prince doesn't make me any less human. The title doesn't define who I am—it's just a part of me."

K.J. nodded slowly, though he still felt a nagging worry. "But where we go... people will know you," he said, his voice filled with quiet concern. "What if they are looking for you?"

Oliver's smile dimmed a little, though his expression remained calm. "There's a port town nearby called Eastreach," he explained. "Isolated enough that no one would think to look for me there."

K.J. tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. "What do you mean?"

Oliver pointed ahead, where the outline of the western mountains loomed against the sky, their peaks rugged and imposing. "The mountains to the west are harsh, even deadly. No one crosses them unless they know the safe paths. But I know someone in Eastreach who can help us cross the Silvervein River to find a safer harbor."

They continued in silence, the crisp mountain air filling their lungs, until K.J. stopped suddenly. He turned to Oliver, a slight furrow in his brow, and reached out a tentative hand to tap just above Oliver's brow. Oliver stilled, watching K.J. curiously. K.J. pointed to the two red birthmarks, circular and unmistakable on Oliver's left brow, a quiet reminder of his lineage. "You are... known for this," K.J. said, his voice soft but serious.

Oliver's smile softened, his hand brushing over the faint marks as if they were as familiar to him as his own breath. "True," he said, nodding. "But Eastreach has always been loyal to the Starks. They won't betray me."

K.J. nodded but didn't look entirely convinced. His gaze lingered on Oliver's face, concern written across his features. "But what if... they talk to others?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of unease. "What if someone goes to another harbor?"

Oliver's expression grew more thoughtful as he considered K.J.'s worry. The weight of his gaze settled on K.J., calm but determined. "We'll deal with that when the time comes," he replied, his voice steady. "Right now, I think we could both use a rest. Besides," he added with a bright grin, "the town will welcome us. They're good people, and you deserve a break from the cold."

K.J. exhaled, letting go of the tension that had been weighing on his shoulders as he absorbed Oliver's words. Oliver exuded a natural confidence, radiating a warmth that calmed K.J.'s anxieties. Walking beside him, K.J. felt a rare sense of safety, a quiet reassurance that he wasn't accustomed to. The path ahead stretched out, winding its way into the side of the steepest mountains. As the clouds began to part, a soft, golden light pierced through, casting a chilly breeze over the landscape.