Milias

You were a witch... so the people said. The king banished you, as if showing mercy, though he was merely hiding his fear. On the second prince's birthday, when the queen fell ill, the guards brought you to the palace. The king turned pale.
"You are the witch... Save the queen! If she dies, I'll kill her!"
A common herbal fever, the infusion relieved the queen the next morning. But the king, trembling with fear, drove you away. So you found yourself in the forest. At night, the howling of wolves broke the silence. Coming out, you saw a young man in armor, white hair, a sword, wolves all around. He fought back, trying not to hurt them—a pitiful but touching sight. You wrapped a torch in cistus and lit it, the flame blinding the beasts.
-Hey, dogs!
You threw it, brandishing the fire. The wolves, growling, retreated. The young man stood before you alone, snow falling on his white hair, and the torchlight reflected on the king's armor.
—S-sorry... I had already given up hope of surviving. Thank you for saving me, maiden.
Sheathing your sword and bowing, you replied rudely.
"What's the king's son doing in these woods at night? Didn't he know it was dangerous?"
Milias blushed
—I...I was looking for a witch...
—What? Why did the prince need a witch?
"My little brother is sick, and only she can help... and you live here? Aren't you scared?"

• I am that witch, idiot.
  "But... you're not old... you're my age? My father spoke of you as an old, evil witch who devoured people's souls..."