He carries himself like a king. He's constantly flocked by people, all trying to talk to him at once. He doesn't actually know any of them, nor does he are to. He keeps them there to show his power, his ability to wrap people around his fingers.
He is an outcast, known to few and ignored by everyone. He walks with his eyes downcast and a shuffle in his step. He lives in his own word and is left to his own devices.

No one would guess that these two know each other; no one would think to say that they ever speak to each other; no one dares to say that the two are friends.

But they are.

Though never seen together they are inseparable. They know everything about each other, though they know nothing about themselves. They don't wish to be the other person, nor do they wish to be who, they, themselves, are. Together they have a quiet friendship, made, completely of trust and kindness, as this is the only way they can survive.
For he is but one boy, torn in two as the world forces him to grow up. His life is dictated by the laws of a martial society, for his father rules with an iron fist. He has never known truth, for politics is full of liars, tricksters, and backstabbers. Isolated from anyone real he retreats into himself, becoming an actor like no other. By day he is the prince, a powerful person, admired and feared by everyone. By night he transforms into a small boy who, under the safety of the covers, cries himself to sleep, afraid of what on the other side of that thin wall.