Prince Bayaya

Prince Bayaya

Once upon a time, twin boys were born in a distant kingdom. They had similar faces, but completely different personalities.

The first, born a few minutes earlier, loved being outdoors, horses, wind, and long roads. He was given a little foal nearly his own age and spent hours talking to it as though to his closest friend.

The second brother was calmer. He loved books, quiet rooms, and walks with his mother. The queen became very attached to him, and one day, when the king asked after a long absence which of his sons was the eldest, she named him.

As the years passed, the younger twin was prepared to inherit the throne. His older brother felt more and more that the palace held no path of his own.

One evening he came to his horse, stroked its mane, and said quietly:

“I’d like to see the world. Not because I’m bitter. I simply want to find out who I can become.”

And then the horse turned its head and answered in a human voice:

“Then go. But first ask your father’s permission. Go without a large retinue and take only me. And promise: when I give you advice, do not dismiss it.”

The prince stepped back in astonishment.

“Do you know how to talk?”

“I can. Don’t ask why just yet. On a journey, knowing every secret matters less than having someone you trust beside you.”

The king reluctantly let his son go, but in the end he agreed. So one morning the prince said goodbye to his relatives and rode out of the city gates on his old but surprisingly fast horse.

They traveled for several days until the towers of an unfamiliar city appeared ahead. Near a large rock, the horse stamped its hoof three times. The stone quietly moved aside, revealing a spacious cave with a stable.

“I’ll stay here,” said the horse. “Go to the royal palace. Keep your name secret. Pretend you cannot speak, and ask for work. When you need me, tap the rock three times.”

The prince put on plain clothes, covered one eye with a patch, and went into town. Asked his name, he only smiled and murmured:

“Bayaya…”

And so this name stuck with him.

Bayaya was a quick, clever helper. He soon learned to handle palace business, wrote neatly, mended things, and never refused anyone help. The king’s trust in him grew.

The king had three daughters: Zdobena, Budinka, and the youngest, Slavena. They loved quiet Bayaya for his kindness. He made them flower wreaths, drew embroidery patterns, and brought blossoms from the garden. For Slavena, he always found the daintiest sprig of jasmine or his loveliest drawing.

One morning Bayaya noticed that the whole palace seemed to have gone dark. The king was sitting by the window, not touching his breakfast.

Bayaya gestured to him to ask what had happened.

“Three enormous dragons have returned to Dragon Rock,” sighed the king. “They once terrorized this land. Now they demand a different daughter of mine at the rock each day for three days. Otherwise, they threaten to burn our fields and town gates. I don’t know how to protect my daughters.”

Bayaya immediately ran to the magic rock.

“I knew this day would come,” said the horse. “There’s a chest beneath my manger. Open it.”

In the chest lay three luxurious outfits: red, white and blue, and a light sword that glowed along the blade.

“This sword is special,” explained the horse. “It cuts through spells, not living bodies. Wear red today, and don’t be frightened by the noise.”

On the first day, Zdobena was brought to the rock. But as soon as the nine-headed dragon emerged from the cave and roared so loudly that the windows in the city rang, a rider in red appeared on the road.

“Back to the hill!” he shouted to the people. “There’s enough room here for one rider and one very angry dragon.”

The dragon breathed out fire. The magic horse sped through the flames, and Bayaya swung his sword through the air. Silver lines flashed around the monster. They pulled its heads together like bridles and turned it back toward the cave. With a second swing of his sword, Bayaya cut the ancient spell that bound the dragon to the kingdom. The dragon roared, flapped its wings, and flew far beyond the mountains.

“Is that all?” asked Zdobena in surprise.

“All for today,” said the unknown knight with a smile, galloping away.

The next day, Budinka was supposed to come to the rock. A dragon with eighteen heads appeared, and a knight in white rode out to meet him. And again the magic sword broke the old spell, and the dragon, having lost power over this land, disappeared behind the clouds.

The third day was Slavena’s turn, and the king himself came to the rock. The earth shook more fiercely than ever as the largest dragon crept from the cave.

Then blue clothing gleamed in the morning light.

“He’s here!” cried Slavena.

This battle lasted longer. The dragon sent up clouds of smoke, and several times the horse nearly stumbled. Bayaya held his ground. At last, his sword blazed so brightly that the dragon shut every eye. The spell shattered like a shell of glass, and the creature, no longer bound to the rock, rose into the sky after the other two.

Slavena ran up to the rider.

“Tell me at least what your name is!”

Bayaya was about to answer, but the horse whispered softly:

“It’s not time yet.”

And he galloped so fast that in a moment only a blue ribbon of dust remained on the road.

Not much time passed, and the kingdom was threatened by a new disaster: the neighboring ruler decided to impose his terms by force. The troops gathered at the border. Bayaya came to the horse again.

“Today,” said the horse, “you must stop the fighting rather than defeat anyone.”

Dressed in white, Bayaya rode between the armies. One stroke of his magical sword cut the battle flag’s pole without harming anyone. He called loudly for talks. Seeing the unknown knight face arrows and threats without fear, both sides agreed to halt. By evening, they had made peace.

Bayaya had suffered only a slight wound to his leg in the clash. The king bandaged it himself with a strip torn from his cloak.

When everyone returned home, another question arose. The king had previously recklessly hinted to several nobles that for help in the war they could hope to marry his daughters.

Slavena frowned.

“Father, helping the kingdom does not give you the right to choose for us.”

The king was silent for a long time, and then nodded.

“You are right. I said too much out of fear. The choice will be yours.”

The sisters proposed the old custom of golden apples. People they trusted gathered in the garden. Zdobena rolled her apple toward a young man she had long respected, and Budinka did the same. Slavena’s apple rolled straight to quiet Bayaya.

The girl was confused. She was fond of Bayaya, but her heart remembered the unknown knight.

That evening, Bayaya went to the rock for the last time. The magic horse carried him to the palace, stopped and said:

“You can manage on your own now. The strongest magic is no longer in the sword. It is in telling the truth.”

Bayaya hugged his friend’s neck. The horse touched his shoulder with his nose, then dissolved into moonlight.

When Slavena opened her door, the same knight stood before her. He took off his eye patch and showed her the strip of the king’s cloak around his leg.

“I’m Bayaya,” he said in his own voice. “I kept silent to honor a promise. I was with you in the garden, at Dragon Rock, and at the border. But I don’t want you to choose me because of an apple, gratitude, or an old custom. If you say no, I’ll accept it.”

Slavena looked at him for a few seconds, then laughed.

“So many times I wished Bayaya would speak! And all along, he was saving up an entire speech!”

She held out her hand to him.

“My answer is yes. Because that’s what I choose.”

The wedding was celebrated in the palace, and later Bayaya set off with Slavena for his native kingdom.

There the queen finally confessed to her husband and sons the old lie about which of the twins was born first.

“I was afraid of losing a place for the son I had favored too much,” she said. “And I acted unjustly.”

The younger brother approached Bayaya first.

“If the throne is to be yours, I will give it to you.”

Bayaya shook his head.

“I haven’t come back to take anything. We’ve both grown up, and each of us has a right to choose his path. Let’s not put right an old injustice by creating a new one.”

The brothers made peace. The younger ruled wisely for many years, while Bayaya helped him and traveled between the two kingdoms. Later, when his brother chose to retire, Bayaya accepted the crown without quarrels or bitterness.

And sometimes on a clear night he would go out into the field and hear the light clatter of hooves far away.

Then Bayaya would smile.

A true friend may vanish from sight, but his advice travels beside you for a long time.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨