The Blind Prince and His Mangy Cat

There he stood, Ambrose, in all of his glory, rugged yet dressed up. A dirty alley cat, they would call him. He didn't protest because after all, they weren't wrong, with his tan skin and dirty, tattered clothes; and yet, the boy was littered with jewels and bangles - where he obtained them was a mystery; well, to most. His father was a merchant. The two had their very own fruit stand, where they would sell homegrown and wild fruits, and it occasionally served as a place for them to trade, barter, and negotiate. Ambrose had always been the splitting image of his father - fit and tall, dark with unruly hair; his face one of the only things being different. He had bright, green, mono-lidded eyes bearing a prominent inner corner and acknowledging his South Korean descent. He and his father lived in a small stone hut near a large patch of woods and a bustling river; though, for the past few months, he'd been living in a tent with his senior officer in the military - of which he'd joined in hopes to help his father's debt - Philip Frederic-Cocteau. He'd heard from other men - and once from Philip himself - that he was a prince, coming to follow tradition as the men in his family had for ages. Ambrose couldn't help but wonder why on earth a prince would willingly fight, get dirty and raw, not shower for days and live on scraps, when he could have everything he wanted back in his pretty little palace. The rumors of his royalty were only confirmed when Frederic received a letter from his father - announcing some sort of royal ceremony that Ambrose didn't care enough to listen about. However, his mindset changed when Frederic, not only his commander but also one of his closest friends, asked him to visit the castle, to accompany him. And so, here he found himself - dressed up in a nice suit Frederic had his tailor custom-make for him - shaking hands with the young ruler he had heard too much about. The Yorian Dynasty's youngest.

His very own; The Blind Prince.