Page 15 of The Frog Prince
Maybe when they’d made the decision to follow him as if he’d always been a part of them instead of an abomination dropped into their little world, as unnatural on the ruined throne as he would be on his golden one.
Belonging nowhere.
Having no one.
They’d allowed him to claim the broken throne and call himself their prince. To lead them and help them and make their lives easier.
Maybethatwas when Alwin grew soft for them.
Soft,a deep, rumbly croak came from behind him, and Alwin turned to see Jurgen sitting on top of a broken column, looking at the mayhem down his short nose.
He was a huge toad, with brownish skin that looked poured together and large bumps all over. He was one of the very first friends Alwin had found when he’d crawled his way inside this place and realized he’d have to stay.
The toad had helped him realize they could communicate and made him see he wasn’t truly alone. He’d also made it known that Alwin’s moping was truly getting on his nerves and would not be tolerated.
He’d reminded Alwin so much of his old friend that it was only natural that Alwin would slip eventually, just like with Farwin. The name had rolled from his tongue one day by habit and could not be taken back.
It was easier on his sanity to pretend they were still here. That they had simply been reborn into new shapes just like him.
“Can you keep it a secret, old friend?” Alwin whispered. “I think I’ve dreamed of that person before. Is that strange?”
Jurgen gave the frog equivalent of a scoff before turning his back on Alwin and settling in.
Yes,he croaked.
“Honestly!” He threw his hands up. “The insubordination…”
Leaving the frogs to deal with the front room, he fought his way toward the back of the ruined castle, hacking away at the vines and gnarled bushes blocking his passage. Plenty of the castle still remained at least partially standing, but a lot of it Alwin had deemed unsafe years ago and refused to re-enter. He wouldn’t risk lives like that. Not his own. Not his frogs’. And especially not Otto’s.
There were parts, however, that had stood the test of time. Sturdy and built to last. He hadn’t troubled himself with muchof it, miserable in his existence as he was, but for Otto, the effort was suddenly worth it.
He had a room in mind.
He made his way toward it slowly, deliberately tearing down the obstacles while keeping the vines and shrubbery that made the place look more aesthetically pleasing, because not all of it was unwanted.
Tiny midnight-blue flowers grew seemingly straight from the hard stone, lining the hallway he was walking through. They reflected the night sky whenever the moon managed to pierce through the canopy and the sunken roof.
Alwin remembered most of his education and was fairly certain the flowers didn’t normally grow or bloom in places like this. He was convinced that somewhere down the line they’d fed off his magic and grown from it. He could have been wrong, but he did like the idea of the ugliness of his very being creating something so beautiful. It served as a comfort on days when he could see nothing of his old self. Nights when the prince was buried deep and the monster was close to the surface.
He kept them now. For Otto. Maybe he’d like them too. Maybe they’d be the first thing of Alwin he’d grow to see the beauty of.
The tiny blooms brushed against his fingers, tickling the sensitive edges as he walked into the room, the door long lost to the passage of time but the roof still standing strong, enclosing the small space in the closest thing to safety one could find in this forest.
The room used to be a servant’s bedroom, from what Alwin could tell. It was small, and connected to a larger chamber to the right that didn’t exist anymore. Instead, the room opened up to the outside, the edges of the hole filled with flowers and mushrooms, and the missing wall allowed a view of the water washing the side of the castle.
He set about cleaning the room as best as he could, trying to figure out how to improvise a bed for Otto.
By the time night fell, he still hadn’t come to a solution, but the room was clear of the largest bushes and vines, and Alwin’s frogs were sprawled on every visible inch of the floor, fast asleep.
“Sleep well, my friends,” Alwin said, resting his back against a wall and sliding down it, watching over his little kingdom.
He wanted to go home. Desperately so.
But he knew he’d be leaving a part of himself in this broken castle, with these misunderstood creatures he had grown to see as friends.
He let sleep pull him under, flickers of gold blinding his vision and echoes of a brilliant laugh in his ears. He chased it like he had done many a lonely night, hoping to find the feeling of comfort it had once given him.
There once was a boy that had understood him without knowing him. Not even his name.
