Page 6 of The Frog Prince (The GriMM Tales #6)

Three

Alwin

O h!

Oh, but this was the last thing Alwin had thought would happen when he’d heard footsteps disturbing his peace.

He had made his days predictable on purpose. It helped him cope. It made existing like this easier. When he became the Frog Prince, the world he knew had shrunk to this forest and the glen and the frogs that stayed with him. The vastness of what used to be his had dwindled to very little.

Now it felt like it had pulled in even more. Narrowed down and centered around one singular person.

Alwin pressed a palm to his chest, his heart thundering uncontrollably under the skin. His ears echoing with sweetness and his heart was full of a kindness he’d all but forgotten could exist.

The first thing Alwin had noticed when Otto stepped into his glen was, of course, his beauty.

One could not deny the brilliance of the sun.

Handsome, wide, and strong, he was a statue come to life, painted with gentle pinks and soft yellows that offered a warmth Alwin wanted to curl around.

He had eyes the color of the clearest spring and hair that looked as if the sun itself wrapped its rays around each strand.

Alwin knew that shade of gold very well. It never failed to make him look twice, then look again, then never want to look away—an echo of the innocent boy of his past he still hadn’t let go of, even after all these years. And now he’d found it again.

He’d thought he’d never seen anything so stunning, but then he’d realized Otto was more .

It was written in the way he walked, his steps careful so as to not disturb his surroundings too much. He kept quiet, almost respectful of the force of nature that was Alwin’s home. He had helped one of Alwin’s frogs. Unprompted. With nothing to gain from it.

Alwin knew his frogs were just critters to humans. Vermin. Expendable. Disgusting. Something to frown upon and step over. Or worse, on. They had even gone so far as to start to hunt them for food.

Yet Otto, despite the urgency and his fear for his sister’s life, had taken the time to stop and not only help Farwin, but carry him to safety.

It warmed Alwin to his cold core. Made him feel like he was lying on a warm stone under the sun, soaking up the heat.

He felt alive. For the first time since he became this…creature…he felt like the life he’d clung to with all of his might was within his reach.

Was this what hope felt like?

It felt too grand to be hope alone. Too loud and earth-shaking. Alwin didn’t dare to voice out loud what he thought it was, but he knew this fragile flutter of the heart wasn’t easy to come by. And he cradled that feeling close to protect it, like a delicate butterfly in a hurricane.

He watched down the path from his hidden spot among his ruins, heart pounding as his frogs led Otto back to his home. He wanted to trail after him, desperate to stay close to that warmth now he’d discovered it, to let down the facade of the Frog Prince and beg for a kind word or look.

That would have to come later.

He had one chance to show Otto he was more than a monster creeping through the forest. More than a nightmare plaguing people’s pleasant dreams. He had to show Otto that the prince was still there.

Under the green skin and wrapped around brittle bones he was still there.

And he had so much to offer to someone, if only they’d take the time to look.

“Well then…” he said, forcing himself to stand up. He forced his thoughts away from Otto’s beautiful face and focused on preparations for his impending arrival.

Three days.

That was how long he’d given Otto.

And that was how long he had to make the glen, his home, into a place Otto could grow to like.

“I will require some assistance,” he said, and before he could even finish the sentence, the glen filled with frogs of all shapes and sizes. They sat on the ground, sprawled on rocks and tree trunks, and floated in the shallow puddles around him.

The braver ones climbed his clothes and perched on his shoulders and the top of his head.

Their croaks filled the air, and he lifted his hand to quiet them.

“Friends,” he said, “we have three days to make this place presentable. I believe the one I have been waiting for has finally come to find me.”

The frogs puffed up in excitement, their cheeks and chests rounding with restrained croaks.

“I will allow a moment of excitement,” he said, and the cacophony that followed washed over him like a tidal wave.

He smiled wide at their genuine joy and hope for him, accepting tiny handshakes and thanking them for their enthusiastic congratulations.

What do you need, Your Majesty? one frog asked after things had settled.

Alwin tilted his head toward the ruins he claimed as his own.

“We need to turn our home into a place that could be a home for Otto as well. We need to clean up and find a place for him to sleep where he will be comfortable and feel safe.”

Water’s safe, one frog said.

So’s the mud, another one added.

We share mud, a third one supplied.

“Believe it or not, dear ones, humans aren’t keen on sleeping in the mud.” Alwin chuckled softly at the ensuing expressions on his little friends’ faces. “Yes, very shocking. Alas, we will have to find one spot that has a roof still standing. And maybe…”

He trailed off. Truly, he didn’t know what they could do to make the ruins inviting. How to make human eyes see what he saw.

“I am sure I will think of something once we begin,” he said finally, pulling at the ends of his waistcoat and making sure his collar was sitting high enough to cover his entire throat. “So, shall we?”

The frogs croaked and shuffled quickly from the forest floor and waters to the ruins Alwin had turned into his palace. Among the frogs, because he was one of them, but inside a castle, however ruined, because he was royalty, and nobody would take that away from him.

Fitting for a Frog Prince.

Looking out, he let his eyes settle on the piles of rocks stacked behind the well. Rocks hiding the last resting places of his loyal friends.

“I will bring us all home,” he whispered before he walked farther into the gaping mouth of the former castle, coming to stand in what he assumed used to be a foyer.

It was now barely a room.

The stairs led to the entrance, which opened onto two still-standing walls and a pile of stones that used to make up the rest of the wide space.

“We should move those, I think.” He pointed to a pile of rubble, but before he could specify where he’d like it moved, an army of frogs descended on it, shuffling it left and right. “In that corner.”

Alwin gestured toward the far-right corner where there was a fairly deep hole in the floor. He thought the rubble would fill that in quite nicely.

“We need much of the moss and vines torn from the walls as well,” he directed his little army.

Pretty , a frog said, tiny limbs already wrapped around a vine on the wall.

“I agree. But I doubt a human would have the same appreciation for it, so it must go, I’m afraid.”

What does Majesty do? one of his sassier frogs asked, eyeing him as everyone worked hard and he stood in the middle of it, watching.

“Oversee the progress naturally.”

Bigger hands work faster.

Alwin snorted out a laugh that cut off when his mind supplied images of strong hands and long, thick fingers. He pushed them aside.

“Well I suppose you do raise a valid point. What sort of prince leaves everyone else to work while he does nothing himself, hm? I will also help.”

He approached a swarm of frogs attacking a curtain of heavy vines on one of the walls, finding a way to reach between their squirming bodies and grip at the sturdiest ones. He pulled with all his might, but it held fast.

Not helping, one frog said, extending one tiny foot and shoving him in the thigh with it. Alwin winced at the sting of pain.

“I am doing my best.”

The frog paused to stare. Hurt ?

“Nothing to worry about,” he said. “A willing trade I’d make for any of you.”

Move, the frog said, but the croak was softer and the pushing stopped. Alwin stepped back, wondering when he’d become such a pushover for his frogs.

Maybe when he’d realized there was nobody else there.

Maybe when he’d realized they were the only ones not cowering in fear and disgust when they looked at him.

Maybe when they’d made the decision to follow him as if he’d always been a part of them instead of an abomination dropped into their little world, as unnatural on the ruined throne as he would be on his golden one.

Belonging nowhere.

Having no one.

They’d allowed him to claim the broken throne and call himself their prince. To lead them and help them and make their lives easier.

Maybe that was when Alwin grew soft for them.

Soft, a deep, rumbly croak came from behind him, and Alwin turned to see Jurgen sitting on top of a broken column, looking at the mayhem down his short nose.

He was a huge toad, with brownish skin that looked poured together and large bumps all over. He was one of the very first friends Alwin had found when he’d crawled his way inside this place and realized he’d have to stay.

The toad had helped him realize they could communicate and made him see he wasn’t truly alone. He’d also made it known that Alwin’s moping was truly getting on his nerves and would not be tolerated.

He’d reminded Alwin so much of his old friend that it was only natural that Alwin would slip eventually, just like with Farwin. The name had rolled from his tongue one day by habit and could not be taken back.

It was easier on his sanity to pretend they were still here. That they had simply been reborn into new shapes just like him.

“Can you keep it a secret, old friend?” Alwin whispered. “I think I’ve dreamed of that person before. Is that strange?”

Jurgen gave the frog equivalent of a scoff before turning his back on Alwin and settling in.

Yes, he croaked.

“Honestly!” He threw his hands up. “The insubordination…”