Age Gap12 min read
"My Thousand-Year Heart: I Saved a Prince and He Stole Mine"
ButterPicks12 views
"I'll protect you—don't be afraid!"
I didn't mean to sound like a shout, but my feet were already moving. Four black-clad men circled him and the blood on his chest looked wrong for a human wound.
"Who are you?" one of them barked.
"I'm Annika!" I answered too loud. "Leave him alone!"
They laughed. "A child? Get out, little girl."
"I am not a child," I said, and I moved.
They lunged. I swung. I was small, but my fist was fast. Two fell. One dropped. The last one stumbled back and swore. They scattered like startled birds.
"Are you all right?" I asked while kneeling. His armor was torn, his breath shallow.
He looked at me and the world slipped. His face was sharp, his skin a warm tan, and his eyes held a tired storm. He tried to sit up and failed.
"My name is Leo Duncan," he said, voice thin. "Thank you. You saved me."
"I will bandage you," I said, and I smelled iron and a faint bitter herb on his skin. "Hold still."
I tore a strip of cloth from my sash. My hands moved because Grandpa Mason had taught me hands that move. I poured a little powder. My hands glowed like a tiny lamp when I used my own spirit power. I pressed the cloth to the wound.
"What's that smell?" Leo blinked. "It warms me."
"It's a pill," I said. "It will clear the poison and bring back your strength."
He swallowed the little round thing I held out. His face softened like a page in the sun. Relief came into him.
"Annika," he said, and his lips twisted into a smile that should not have made my heart flip. "Annika... stay with me."
I didn't answer. I had a grandpa waiting, and I had promises in my head. Still, I walked him home.
"Grandpa!" I cried at the gate. "I brought a brother back!"
Mason Kato came out wiping his hands. He squinted, then laughed until his face folded. "You bring back more than one, little moon," he said, and opened the door.
Leo sat by the fire and let me feed him. I watched him breathe. He watched me, quiet and odd like a man who lived too long in war rooms.
"You are small," he finally said. "But fierce."
"You saved me first," I said. "You might be small too when you are surprised."
He grinned. "Then this place will be full of small surprises."
I slept with the cloth of his shirt tucked in my bundle. I woke early and climbed the hill to practice. Grandpa had told me patience, herbs, and a rule: do not show your magic unless it must be shown. We had waited a thousand years for me to walk like this. I was eighteen in a human body's count, but older than that in the ways that matter.
Three years passed like a long story told in small pieces. I learned every page of the medicine book and every strike in the martial manual. I stopped being the mushroom in the forest and became Annika Larson who could stitch a vein closed and throw a punch that stunned a bandit.
But even perfect practice fails when the heart is new.
"Will you go down with me?" Leo asked one night when my hair smelled of kitchen smoke and the moon looked like a coin.
"Down?" I blinked. "I thought Grandpa would never leave the mountain."
Mason only smiled and tapped the kettle. "Old bones like to stay," he said. "But the world below needs to be met. You will go. When the time comes."
"I want to see the city," I told Leo, and my voice had heat. "I want to eat the sweet candied fruit. I want to see lights that are like stars on trees."
"Come with me," Leo said then. "I have a house down there. I will keep you safe."
My cheeks got warm. "You promise?" I asked.
"I promise," he said, and I felt something like a net tightening gently around my chest.
He was the first person who said "promise" like the world would bend to it. I believed him, but I also kept my hands ready for work.
We learned each other in close, clumsy steps.
"Why do you call me 'little moon'?" I asked once.
He laughed. "Because your laugh is all light."
"Then don't call me that," I said, and I stuck out my tongue. "Call me Annika."
"Annika," he said, as if he had found the word he wanted to keep. "Annika, will you teach me how to be small again? How to remember how to be calm?"
"I will teach you how to breathe," I said. "You teach me how to eat in the city."
He tried to be formal. The world had not been kind to him. He had the soldier's set jaw and a prince's careful habits. But he smiled at me like I made the day softer.
A week later his wound flared open. He had pushed himself upon hearing a strange cry—my name in a thin voice—and had burned his own strength to see if I were hurt. I found him on the floor, blood wet at his ribs.
"You shouldn't have moved," I cried.
"I couldn't not," he said. "You were crying."
He closed his eyes. "It hurts."
"Of course it hurts," I said, and wrapped him in cooling paste. "You must promise—no more reckless things."
"I promise," he said, weak and breathless.
He said the promise like a man handing over a sword.
Then, when the time felt like a grown thing between us, he did something I had only heard about from the old stories. He touched my forehead with the back of his hand and said, "Annika, I like you. I like you in a way that makes me count my days better."
I felt ridiculous. "You mean as a friend?"
He swallowed, and suddenly his face was raw. "I mean I fell at the first look."
"I like cherries," I said, because my thoughts were clumsy and my mind had been taught to hide the truth sometimes. "They are sweet and small and they make me smile."
"Annika," he said, and his voice was a safe place, "let me try. Will you... try with me?"
I had a thousand years in my bones, but my heart was new. I nodded.
"Then I will call you my small moon forever," he said, and he leaned in.
My first kiss was a question. It was a soft, curious thing that tasted like river water and sweat and the hint of the herbs I used. He kissed me like someone rediscovering the edge of the world. He kissed me like a man who had known war and then discovered a garden.
I coughed and laughed and then he taught me to breathe, low and steady.
"Close your eyes," he whispered. "Trust me."
"I trust you," I said, and meant it.
We learned kisses like you learn a dance you never thought your feet could do. He taught me slow and quick, soft and urgent. I laughed when he made a mistake. He blushed when I kissed back too fiercely. We were small victories to each other.
One day I took him to the river under the old willow. The water there kept sea-creatures in its belly—bright fish, gentle turtles, and gardens of coral like jewels.
"Can you swim?" I asked, trying to be casual as the fish watched.
"I should be honest," he said, and then made a face. "I thought I wasn't a swimmer."
"That is a lie!" I said and splashed him.
He laughed, and we dove. I gave him a little spell so he could breathe down under with me. We held hands and saw the coral light. Small fish crowded like cousins.
"They told me you were handsome," a bright fish whispered in my ear, because I had always understood animals.
"Did they now?" Leo asked, stilled by wonder.
"They said your armor makes you look like a wave," I translated.
"Wave?" he asked, and then his face warmed. "Do they say good things?"
"Mostly," I said, and my heart was full. He looked at me like the whole tide had turned to gold.
After the river, we went home. I confessed what I feared most.
"Will you leave me if I am not human?" I asked that night, voice small like a moth.
He caught my hand like he could catch a falling star. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not fully human," I said. The words spilled out. I told him about the years in the dark, the growing, the medicine, the rule. I told him about hearing birds and fish speak. I told him about being a mushroom who learned to walk and learned to love.
He listened. The candle threw his profile in hard lines. He looked like he weighed his answer like a heavy coin.
"If you speak truth, I will keep you," he said. "I didn't fall in love with what you are. I fell in love with you. If you are a fungus or a wind or a storm, you are my storm."
I cried, because I had wanted this so much. He wiped my tears with reverence.
"Then we go down the mountain together," he said. "We face the world."
Grandpa Mason had long known this would be the path. He smiled like someone who had set a plan into motion and then watched it grow.
"Go," he said, and he packed a small basket of herbs. "But remember my rule. Secrets protect you."
Down below, Leo's world moved like a drum. Soldiers came and went. His men—strong and loyal—bowed when he ordered. I met Arlo Vincent, a man with bright, simple eyes.
"Annika?" he said. "Leo said you could understand animals. You are something else."
"Annika," I said shyly. "You are Arlo."
Arlo laughed and told me about the flyspeck of camp life. He was loyal to Leo like a shadow.
We walked into the court. The city smelled of oil and spices and a kind of hard laughter. I kept my power small, only mending cuts and offering teas. But quiet people with sharp eyes watched us.
"Your return is risky," Leo said low one night. "There are men who would see me fall."
"Who?" I asked.
"Some men listen to the wrong queen. There is a man named Garth Bittner who has moved like a rat into chambers. He smiles too wide for the light."
"Let them try," I said, feeling a strange calm. "We have friends."
We sent messages by the old ways. Leo asked me to carry a letter to Arlo and another to a loyal captain named Finlay Brock. He whispered names that meant war plans: "Do not let them know. Do not stir the hornet's nest."
I did what Leo asked. I carried his words through streets and alleys. I used a little trick—my voice could fly like a reed in wind—and I told Arlo in his sleep the secret meeting place.
Arlo came with speed. He rode like a hawk. He gathered men who loved Leo like a drum loves the beat. We waited at the foot of the mountain, secret and quiet, while Leo led his troops back to the capital like a hidden tide.
Then the trap snapped.
At dawn, in the throne hall that smelled like wax and lies, Garth Bittner stood and accused Leo.
"Prince Leo has betrayed the crown!" he cried. "He conspired with foreign traders. He used his men to steal grain!"
Gasps filled the room. I clutched Leo's sleeve.
"That is a lie," Leo said. "Show your proof."
Garth smiled like a man who holds a bluff too long. "You cannot prove it."
He pointed to a stack of papers and a silk pouch and men turned their heads as if the world had a new sound.
"Who would gain from this?" I whispered.
"Someone who wanted to be at his place," Arlo answered through clenched teeth. "Someone who hated him from the start."
I remembered a movement in the camp, a dropped map, a name. I moved forward.
"Stop," I said, voice small. "Listen."
A hush came down like a thick cloth. The queen's attendants leaned in.
"I know this man," I said. "He made the poison that hit Leo. He paid men to track him. I saw him in the camp. I heard him promise to the queen's ward."
Garth's smile tightened.
"How can a child know?" he sneered.
"Because this child is Annika Larson," I said. "And I watch."
They laughed. Then I asked for the papers.
"Let me see the papers," I said.
They placed a folded set before me. I picked at the edges with a thumb. The seals were false, made with wax that used a spice only found near the docks. The ink used a dye used by one of Garth's merchants. I could feel the lie like a sour apple.
"Arlo!" I called.
Arlo stepped forward and produced a handkerchief with the same dye from a pocket. "That belongs to Garth's man," he said.
The hall tilted. Garth's face changed color, then his eyes narrowed.
"You dare?" he spat.
"You sold the poison," Leo said, voice low and certain. "You ordered the attempt. You used a man of mine for coin."
Garth's teeth showed. "You have no proof."
Arlo turned and called Finlay. Finlay came in, heavy and straight-backed. "I have two soldiers," he said. "They saw Garth's men move sacks toward the armory. They saw Garth speak in the market with a foreign agent."
One by one, the evidence came clear. A merchant with a guilty face, a soldier who could not lie to his captain's eyes, a list in a trader's hand.
Garth's face drained. He looked like a mask losing glue.
"You lie!" he shouted. "You thieves—"
"Silence," the judge said. "The court will have order."
They pulled Garth aside and forced him to the floor. He fought and cursed. The servants gasped. A woman fainted. The queen rose, crimson in the face.
"You lie to save your friend!" Garth screamed, and he lunged.
Arlo caught him. Finlay seized his arms. The crowd gathered like the sea. Someone spat. Someone cried. Garth's own men did not step forward. The court watched the face of a man fall.
"You're arrested," the judge said. "For treason and attempted murder."
Garth's eyes met mine for a moment. "You will pay for this," he hissed. "You are different. I will make others fear you."
"You already fear me," I said, with a calm I did not feel. "But you will not take his life."
They dragged Garth away. The crowd cheered. Leo looked at me like the sun had found its center.
"You did it," he said. "You told the truth."
"You did most of the fighting," I answered. "I only told what I saw."
He smiled like he might fall over.
After the trial, the court was loud with whispers that smelled like wind. Many people gathered around Leo and me. Old women pinched their hands like they were about to stitch a new blessing.
"You are the one," a kitchen girl said, eye shining. "The one for the prince."
I flushed and hid behind Leo. He lifted my chin and kissed my forehead in front of them. The room hummed like bees.
Garth's fall rippled outward. Men who had wanted Leo gone stepped back into the shadow. The queen's plans made noise like a broken wheel. But Leo's side was strong. Arlo had proved his loyalty. Finlay had spoken. People with good teeth breathed relief.
That night we walked through the palace courtyard. The stars leaned down. Leo held my hand like an oath.
"Will you marry me?" he asked, sudden and soft.
I stopped. "What if I am wind and root and not fully human?"
"I already said I would keep you," he said. "But I ask properly now. Will you be my wife? Will you come share a bed that is sometimes cold and a hall that is loud and a world that will try to pull you away?"
"I will," I said, though my voice shook. "If you will promise to protect my heart and my secret when we must hide it."
"I promise," he said, and his mouth was the only proof I needed.
We married in a small way: a ring of braided river grass, Grandpa Mason with proud eyes, and Arlo and Finlay as witnesses. Later, when things were calmer, we planned a bigger day in the fields.
Even after Garth's arrest, there were scraps of danger. Men still whispered. The queen asked for explanations. But Leo moved with a soldier's patience. He cleaned the rot, replaced men who were false, and set people with true hearts into the work he could trust.
"I will plant hyacinths for you," he promised one morning while we sat on the edge of the palace garden. "A field full of purple. I will plant it with my own hands."
"You promise?" I teased.
"I promise," he said, and I believed him.
We went down to the river again and sat with the fish. The bright little creatures still remembered our kiss like a tide remembers the moon. They circled and made small, approving noises. Leo laughed like a child.
"Will you keep listening to them?" he asked.
"I will," I said. "But only when we need them."
He held my hand like a treasure. "Annika, will you stay small with me? Will you always come home when I call?"
"Yes," I said. "I will stay. I will not run."
We planted the first hyacinth together the next spring. The soil was cold and the bulbs were like little hearts. Leo knelt beside me, his strong hands gentle around the bulb.
"One day this will be a sea of purple," he said.
"It will smell like your promises," I answered, and pressed the bulb into the earth.
Years passed in small stitches. I learned to read the city's small hurts and mend them. I did not tell everyone my true shape. I did not need to. Leo's world accepted the Annika who could stitch flesh and calm storms. People came to the little clinic we made near the palace gates. I gave pills and poultices. I laughed too loudly when a child did something silly. I mended soldiers' hurts and Leo's pride.
Once in a while a courtier would glance at Leo and then at me, and his face would be a question. Once they whispered that he loved only the glow of new things. Once someone tried to test his promise by bringing a woman with bright eyes to his hall. He walked in, took my hand, and the room hushed.
"She is mine," he said plainly. "All else is nothing."
They learned fast what the field of hyacinths meant. It meant a quiet, steady love that did not hurry.
Mason Kato grew older and slower. He stayed on the mountain some seasons and in the palace in others. He watched me plant and bring down the strange mushrooms he brewed into safe teas. He patted Leo on the shoulder like a man who had passed the test.
"Annika," he said once, sitting by the garden with a cup of warm tea, "you must never forget how strong you are."
"I won't," I said. "But I will also not forget how weak I am."
"Good," he said. "That is the balance."
One afternoon, years after the court's trouble, I stood in the field we had planted. Purple flowers shivered in the wind like a crowd of small flags.
"Leo," I said.
He came up from behind and wrapped his arms around me.
"Do you remember when you first got hurt?" I asked.
He breathed my name in like an old hymn. "I remember. You gave me a pill and you wiped the blood and you cursed the men who struck me."
"You gave me a home," I said.
He bent and kissed my hair. "You gave me a heart."
We walked between the hyacinths until the sun fell. I reached down and picked a single bulb and pressed it into my palm.
"Promise me," I said.
He looked at me with the same steady look he'd used before courts and battles and dark nights. "I promise," he said.
I pushed the small purple bulb gently into his breast pocket. "For when you forget the smell of home," I murmured.
"Never will I forget," he said.
When the sun sank behind the palace towers, we stood in the purple, and I felt every year I had lived shining through me like a river. I felt my old life and my new life braided together. I had been a mushroom who learned to walk and become a woman who could love.
"Do you think the fish still gossip?" Leo asked with a smile.
"Only about how handsome you are," I said.
He laughed and kissed me. The kiss tasted like the field and the river and small promises kept. Around us the hyacinths held their breath.
"Annika," he said softly into my hair, "we will plant more fields. We will live quiet. We will keep each other."
"Yes," I said, and this time the promise did not feel new or fragile. It felt like a root that had found water.
We stayed. We protected what needed protecting. We loved. And in the violet dusk, with hyacinths at our feet and loyal men at our backs, I let myself be his small moon, and he let himself be my steady star.
The End
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