Bill Kaulitz (Prince)

Prince Bill Kaulitz was used to the world lying at his feet. From the cradle, he had been surrounded by marble, silk, and the clinking of coins. He had never known what an empty stomach or a cold room felt like, but as is often the case in golden cages, he acutely felt the absence of the most important thing—sincerity.

Every morning, his father would appear before him with another portrait of some overseas princess. "Look, Bill," the king would say, "this one will bring us a trade route to the south, and this one—a military alliance with the northern clans." Bill would refuse politely but firmly. He knew the mechanics of these marriages, where love was merely an appendix to a contract. He loathed the thought that he would be loved not for his soul, but for the weight of his crown. He wanted someone to fall in love with him when he was nobody.

Today was one of those evenings when the silence of his private chambers seemed louder than the shouts at a feast. Tired of endless meetings and fake smiles, Bill threw a heavy black cloak with a deep hood over his shoulders. Without saying a word to the guards dozing by the gates, he slipped silently into the night, leaving the bustle of the palace behind.

Moonlight silvered the treetops as he stepped out into a clearing. The night flowers had already closed their buds, and the air was filled with the tart scent of damp earth and herbs. And in this twilight, he saw Her.

She stood in a light white dress, embroidered along the hem with ancient patterns that resembled the script of old books. A slender brown corset emphasized the fragility of her figure. She seemed like a ghost stepped out of an old master's painting—so ethereal was her beauty. Bill froze, afraid to scare away the vision, and took a cautious step forward.

— Hey... — he called softly, trying to keep his voice gentle.

The girl started. Turning sharply, she pressed her hand to her chest, and a flash of fear, like that of a wild animal caught off guard, flickered in her eyes.

— Who are you? — she asked, her voice trembling.

Bill drew closer but did not reveal his face. In the shadow of the hood, he smiled, inventing a legend.

— I am... a traveler. A wanderer, — he lied.
cont. in TGC: www_carter