Long ago when countries were known as realms, and fairytales were real.
In a small town the would one day be known as F- in the country of France there lived a baker.
The baker was a young man, couldn't of been more than sixteen, his hair was almost as pink as the queens dress, and his eyes seemed to have a habit of changing depending on his mood. When he was in a pleasant mood though, the young eyes were a light blue like the sky.

The baker had no family of his own yet, and lived alone in his small stone shop on the edge of the town. He was very kind, and poor. If you were a child that everyone knew had no family, and begged on the street, he would give you the loafs of bread he wasn't able to sell that day, and if you were lucky (which you normally were) inside the cloth that had the bread there would be a sugar cookie.

The blue eyed baker was loved throughout his town, and in many neighboring towns.
One day though as he was returning home, the baker saw a man by his shop, the man was smoking a pipe, wore dark ragged clothing. A bow, and arrows were at his feet like guard dogs, and he clutched his arm like it was gold.
The baker immediately rushed over to his shop, and asked the man what was wrong.
The man looked up, his eyes were violet he coughed, and said:
"I was hunting, and well didn't know that birds could be so damn rude when they see a rabbit killed."
The pink haired baker, gasped and opened his shop up to the man.
He lit the lanterns around the house, and brought the man to his room.

"Sit." He said "I have some bandages, and alcohol."
The gruff hunter smirked, and sat on the bed.
"Great," he said "I could use a drink."
The baker, shook his head and went to get the needed supplies to heal the man.

He returned, and began to bandage the man up, in silence working on the mans arm without trying to get to distracted by it. The hunter had to take off his cloak, and shirt for Oliver to work on it.
"Thank you baker." The hunter said, as he winced from the bandage tightening around the wound.
"Sorry." The baker apologized, "Helping you is no trouble really, but how long were you waiting out there for?"
The huntsman thought for a moment, then sighed: "About half an hour maybe."
"Half an hour!?" The baker said horrified. "Why didn't you find a doctor?!"
"A doctor requires money, and I have little to none, and I've heard that you are an extremely helpful man."
The baker felt his face heat up, and gave the man a soft smile, before completing the final touch on the bandage.
"Thank you huntsman." He said to the blonde. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

The Huntsman shrugged "The drain pipe is where I normally go."

"You're not going there." The baker said "You can take my bed for the night I'll take the floor if it makes you uncomfortable."
"Baker-"
"Oliver."
"Oliver," The Huntsman sighed "I can't really, you've been kind but I can take care of myself."
"Obviously not." Oliver continued "Look, it's one night what's the harm, besides you could get sick, and die if that wound gets infected."
"That's the dream." The Huntsman chuckled.

His tired, baggy violet eyes could see no amusement on the other mans face.
"Fine." He sighed, he was tired and didn't want to argue with the baker "My name is Françios by the way."

Oliver felt his heart be pulled at those words. Françios.

That night Françios slept on the bakers bed, while the other male was on the floor. The blonde male was trying to sleep, but couldn't help but keep looking at the small figured baker. A skinny baker was uncommon, so why was he so small?

In the morning, the two had breakfast together, and when the huntsman wasn't looking Oliver placed a few loafs of bread into the males bag.
Soon, the huntsman left (much to the disappointment of the baker).