The prison-like room was a haven for the two young girls, mirror images of each other with matching green eyes that shimmered in the dim glow of the underground lamps. Days passed unnoticed. Time seemed to stretch and blur. They are counting the days based on the meal that was given to them. Three meals per day. The fourth meal would signal the start of a new day, a makeshift way to track time in a world without sunrise because of the lack of windows.
At first, the peace in this dark sanctuary unsettled them. The absence of struggle, of the ever-present need to survive, made them restless. They were not used to this kind of stillness—this strange, unearned peace.
Living in the forest was never easy. The harshness of the environment, with its dense trees, biting winds, and the constant struggle for warmth, made survival a daily challenge.
Winter is worse.
The cold bites deeper, and the once-abundant forest becomes a silent, frozen wasteland, leaving nothing but barren trees and frozen ground. Hunting becomes a desperate struggle. The usual game is harder to find, and the animals that do remain have become wary, hiding deep in the shadows of the forest. Wolves and wildcats stalk the snowy paths, searching for anything that might cross their path. And they, too, grow bolder in their pursuit of food.
The village near the forest was far from inviting. Strangers were met with suspicion, especially when they arrived from the deeper parts of the forest. People here had learned to be cautious, to trust only their own. Outsiders, they believed, brought more than just new faces—they brought trouble.
That is all what the twins know all their life. They knew that the only thing they could depend on was each other. Maris often thought back to the days before they were locked away—snippets of a life that felt distant and fractured. There were moments, fleeting flashes, of laughter, of sunlight, of something else entirely, she dreamed of asking her sister to run the other direction which is impossible since they are always together but those memories were always clouded, always too far out of reach.
She would squeeze her sister's hand from time to time to let her know that she is alive and she's here and she would squeeze her hand back. She would breathe a sigh of relief.
The beautiful man with green eyes and jet black hair named Balmir who brought them here was nowhere to be found. At first, she thought that they were imprisoned in some dark, cold dungeon but she could not hear any other people around them aside from the guard and the one who brought food. It is only her and her sister Amanda.
The man called each of them outside the room and asked some questions related to her family. Her family that she is so ashamed to face.
What is your name?
Maris.
What is your family name?
Lovardi
What is the name of your parents?
Maria and Benedict
How old are you?
I can't answer. I do not know.
The questions keep coming and the answers are getting harder.
Why did you run away?
I didn't.
Who is the other person you are with?
That is my sister, Amanda.
"That's not Amanda." Balmir said, his voice low and skeptical.
"Tell me the truth! Who is the person left in the room?" His anger seeped in his voice.
"That is my sister!" she snapped.
"We look alike! I do not know what you mean!
This ungrateful man that serves the man that they saved from the snowy path. Amanda shouldn't insist on saving Arthur. She shouldn't let herself agree with her sister. If not for the fancy clothes the price was wearing at that time, she wouldn't bother. She thought that he might help them go back to their parents.
Another man entered the room, it was Prince Arthur.
"Balmir. I could hear your voice down the hallway.
Do not forget that if not for them, we are preyed upon by wolves."
He calmed himself and backed down.
Both of them left the room and left Maris to her thoughts.
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I didn't run away. We didn't run away.
Mother and Father are always away, busy making money so they could provide us riches. We grew up surrounded by servants but no amount of luxury could fill the space they left behind.
We were mischievous, always causing trouble, desperate for their attention. But instead of spending time with us, their apologies came in the form of lavish gifts. Time with them was rare, a fleeting thing. We were lucky, they always said.
Our birth nearly cost our mother her life. Money was scarce back then and because of our condition. Still, they told us we were beautiful—our white hair and pale skin, a sign of something special. But the sun burned my skin too easily, and my eyes never focused the way they should and I couldn't see far. Conversations are more effort than they should be, like trying to hear through a thick wall or under water.
But that isn't a problem anymore.
I can see clearly now. I can hear better. The sun no longer scorches my skin like before. I don't remember when it changed—perhaps after we fell off the cliff.
A strange memory lingers.
I fell off the cliff alone and when I opened my eyes, black smoke surrounded me before darkness swallowed me whole. Then, I woke again, Amanda was there, not too far from me. Had she fallen too?
Blood stained the ground. I tried to move—first to sit, then to stand—but my body refused to obey. So I crawled, inching toward Amanda, pressing a trembling hand to her nose. A breath. Relief washed over me. She was alive.
We never meant to run away.
We were only playing, hiding in the carriage that carried produce to our estate. We thought it would be fun, that maybe—just maybe—our parents would come home more often if we disappeared for a while.
It was a stupid idea.
Giggling, we nestled deeper into the cart, unnoticed by the driver, the rumble of the wheels masking our presence. The roads were rough, unpaved. Every jolt sent our heads knocking against the wooden lid. And then, curiosity got the best of us. We peeked outside—
And we saw the mountains.
It was thrilling. It was a great adventure. We had never been to the mountains before. When we had asked, our parents hadn't taken us. Instead, they bought trees to plant near the estate, hired workers to shape artificial hills—an imitation of the world beyond.
Then, the wheels snapped.
The cart lurched. The horses screamed, their hooves pounding against the earth as they tore free from their reins. The road was too narrow. We were tilting, sliding—
And in that split second, I pushed Amanda to safety.
After that, I remember nothing I am sure of. I hit my head pretty badly.
-
Balmir followed Crown Prince Arthur into the saloon, his mind drifting as they walked. The journey felt long enough for his thoughts to wander, his attention slipping away from the surroundings.
The girls who found Arthur wounded resembled the pictures at his house. Albinos are rare. Rare enough that despite his travels, only Amanda is the one he encountered. People who have albinism rarely live long due to the combination of physical health risks, social stigma, and lack of access to healthcare. They looked like Amanda the first time he met her when he was seven years old.
Balmir snapped out of his thoughts as Arthur abruptly stopped in front of a door, pushing it open and stepping inside. The door closed behind him with a quiet thud, leaving Balmir standing in the hall, alone. For a moment, he lingered, unsure of what to do, but there was little to be done.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Balmir heard that the crown prince arrived, he hurried to see him. He was flabbergasted to see who he brought. The girls resembled the pictures at his house. The likeness was uncanny. They looked exactly like Amanda the first time he met her when she was ten years old. He dropped his knees in front of him. The movement caused the wound on his side to tear open again, and fresh blood stained his white shirt. He never doubted that he was alive.
"I am glad you are back, Your Highness. Truly." Balmir said, his voice thick with emotion, tears brimming in his eyes. The servants are also emotional that their master came back alive. All of his elite guards who accompanied him to survey the forest were all dead. Every carcass that is being discovered brings relief that it is not him. No news means good news.
The prince has many enemies, and they nearly succeeded in eliminating him. In gratitude for saving his life, he ordered that the girls he brought with him be treated as guests of honor.
He gestured for Balmir to follow him as the servants led the girls to their rooms to bathe and feed them. The prince didn't bother to wash himself first. A servant hurried to give him a damp towel to clean his face.
Balmir followed him limping but he did not complain. When they got inside the prince's room, he locked the door and drew the curtains. He waited for him to speak.