Johnathan's fourth year dawned, a symphony of confusion and anger. He was no longer the man from [Redacted] but a child in a world that sang of magic and destiny. Each day, the sun's warm embrace seemed a cruel mockery, a gentle caress that served only to illuminate the cage of his new existence. Yet, in the shadows of the castle, whispers grew of a child unlike any other, a child who bore the name Johan Ottonian but carried the weight of a forgotten life.
One crisp morning, as the scent of fresh bread wafted through the castle's corridors, a new presence entered Johan's world. The boy, no more than four years old, was escorted by a parade of noblemen, their robes fluttering like the sails of a ship lost at sea. The child at their center had eyes that sparkled like the stars in the Altearan night and hair the color of burnt umber. His name was Thaddeus, son of the Duke of Elara, a name that rolled off the tongues of the court like a sweet confection.
The Queen, eager to give her son a companion who might understand the burdens of his young boyhood, had arranged the playdate with the hope that it would bring a semblance of joy to Johan's troubled existence. Thaddeus, the apple of his father's eye, was known for his boundless energy and infectious laughter. Yet, as the two children met, there was something in Johan's gaze that made the young Duke's son pause, as if he saw a depth in the prince that no one else could fathom.
Thaddeus, with his eyes of starlit night and hair like a field of harvest wheat, approached Johan with the curiosity of a young fox encountering a rare bird. "Hi," he said, his voice a cheerful chime. "I'm Thaddeus. What's your name?"
Johnathan, trapped in Johan's body, felt a twinge of anger at the innocence before him. "You know who I am," he murmured, the words sounding foreign even to his own ears.
The Duke's son cocked his head to the side. "But I like knowing people's names," he said, his smile as bright as the dawn. "It makes them feel special."
Johnathan sighed. This was a world where names were more than mere labels. They were the fabric of identity, the very essence of existence. "Fine," he conceded. "My name is Johan." It wasn't.
Thaddeus's eyes lit up. "Johan!" He exclaimed, as if discovering a hidden treasure. "That's a great name!"
The days grew into a tapestry of laughter and tears as the two boys grew closer, their friendship a beacon in the gloom that surrounded Johnathan's soul. Thaddeus brought a spark of light to Erstaunlich, his curiosity and joy a balm to Johnathan's wounds. Yet, the shadow of his lost life remained, a specter that hovered at the edges of his vision.
One sunlit afternoon, as they played in the castle gardens, Thaddeus paused in his play. "Johan," he said, his voice as serious as the gravity of a star's collapse. "Why are you always so sad?"
Johnathan looked at him, the mask of his new identity slipping for just a moment. "Because," he whispered, "I'm not supposed to be here."
The words hung in the air like a shattered rainbow, the silence a testament to the impossibility of his situation. Thaddeus's eyes searched his friend's face, trying to understand the riddle wrapped in the enigma that was Johan. "What do you mean?"
Johnathan took a deep breath, the scent of roses and the whisper of the fountain's water a stark contrast to the storm in his heart. "It doesn't matter, you wouldn't get it."
Thaddeus frowned, his young mind trying to grasp the concept of a soul wearing a borrowed body. "But you're my friend," he said, his voice firm. "And that's all that matters."
The words, so simple and pure, nearly struck Johnathan like an arrow to the heart. And so, with the stubbornness of a dandelion pushing through concrete, Johnathan began to accept the hand that fate had dealt him. He would get home, but that didn't mean that he had to be a dick about it to this little kid.
"So what do you wanna do?" He asked calmly, his eyes as blue as the skies of Alteara.
Johnathan, or rather Johan, felt a strange comfort in Thaddeus's company. It was a feeling that had been alien to him since his arrival in this world. "I don't know," he replied, his voice still too high-pitched for his taste. "What do kids do here?"
Thaddeus, with the exuberance of a puppy discovering a new toy, bounced on his toes. "Well, we could play hide and seek," he suggested. "Or we could have a joust with these wooden swords!"
Johnathan, the man from [Redacted], felt a pang of nostalgia for the simple games of his past. Yet, the gravity of his situation was ever-present. "No jousting," he said with a small smile. "Let's stick to hiding."
The two boys ran through the castle gardens, their laughter ringing out like bells. They played until the sun kissed the horizon, painting the world in hues of pink and gold. As they lay on the soft grass, panting from their exertions, Thaddeus spoke again. "Johan," he began, his voice softer now. "Why do you seem so lost?"
Johnathan closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the Altearan sun on his face. "It's a long story," he said, his voice a mere whisper on the breeze.
"I like stories," Thaddeus said, his eyes shining with the excitement of a thousand untold tales. "Especially long ones."
And so, Johnathan told him, haltingly at first, of the world of steel and glass, of the life he had left behind. He spoke of Sam, their quiet nights in, and the warmth of their shared life. Thaddeus listened, his young mind trying to fathom the depths of his friend's sorrow. When he was done, the silence was as thick as the velvet curtains that adorned the windows of Erstaunlich.
"But you're a prince now," Thaddeus said finally, his voice filled with wonder. "You're going to be a hero."
Johnathan sighed. "I don't want to be a hero," he said, the words a weight on his heart. "I just want to go home."
Thaddeus looked at him with a seriousness that belied his youth. "But Johan," he said, placing a small, chubby hand on Johnathan's arm. "You're already my hero."
The words, as simple as a child's, cut through the fog of Johnathan's despair like a knife through warm butter. For a moment, he felt the burden of his destiny lighten. Perhaps, in this world of magic and wonder, he could find a new place, a new home. Perhaps he could be more than just a lost soul in a stolen body.
As the twilight deepened into night, the two friends lay on the cool grass, staring up at the unfamiliar stars. "What's your favorite star?" Thaddeus asked, pointing at a twinkling point of light.
Johnathan searched the sky, his eyes finally landing on a star that burned with the intensity of his longing. "That one," he said, pointing at the star. "It reminds me of home."
Thaddeus nodded solemnly. "I'll call it John's Star," he said. "So you'll never forget where you come from."
Johnathan looked at the child before him, a smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Thaddeus," he whispered. "Thank you for being my friend."
Even if his mental age made it kinda weird.