This is part one. Actually, it's more of a "Part One Demo", like the "concept art" of my short story... But, anyway, it's by no means the final draft. I've posted it here to get a pair of fresh eyes on it, as I've done all the correcting that I can on my own. I've checked spelling, grammar, and all sorts. Editing isn't my strong suit, so there are things I missed. Enjoy!

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It was unseasonably warm the day we met, or maybe it was just me. Perhaps it was just the warmth of my heart beginning to stir once again. It's funny to think of it now, how someone so small and fragile could change my life so drastically. He was dirty and hungry, and so pathetically small. A bit like a tiny, injured canary, thinking back. Of course, I didn't realize at the time, as I'd never been truly hungry even once in my life. Even as downtrodden as he was, he seemed so ethereal. His blonde hair laid flat and matted on his head, and his blue-gray eyes were lusterless - almost like a corpse. I think maybe, it was the way he stood on that bridge, gazing out at the wide ocean. You could see a tiny spark of life in those flat, glazed-over eyes that gaped at the enormous blue brine before him. Yes, it was a very warm beginning for us. A very warm beginning, to a very cold story - The story of my Matthew.

That day, I was being escorted home from my 12th birthday party - and my first crowning ceremony. I was to take the place of my elder brother, who'd been murdered three years earlier, as crown prince. I was, without a doubt, unhappy during that time. I had no interest in being a prince, I had no interest in birthdays, and I certainly had no interest in ceremonies. I was staring blankly out the window of the carriage when I saw him. The sun was beginning to set, casting vibrant oranges and reds across his dirty face. He wore the same expression as me, one of apathy. It felt as if I spell had been cast on me. I looked over to my attendant and barked, "Tell the coachman to stop the carriage."
"But, Joseph, we must get you home! It's nearly dark out!" He protested, but I would not be swayed. "Just do it!" I commanded, and he followed through. I didn't even leave the carriage time to fully stop, I'd already jumped out. The boy was looking at me with those dead eyes, as I approached him. Those dead, yet somehow bright, grey-blue eyes. I could tell he was eyeing my lavish clothing, rather than actually looking at me. I was about to speak, when he turned away from me, back to staring out at the ocean. "What's your name?" I asked him quietly. We were quiet for a long time, and I could tell my attendant was getting nervous, from his shouts of, "Young Majesty!". I asked again, equally quiet as before. He blinked, as if broken from a trance. "Matthew." he replied, also in a hushed tone. "Matthew, why do you stare at the ocean?" I asked. Again, he was quiet, but with a puzzled look upon his face, as if he himself didn't know. "I was just thinking if, perhaps, I'd be better off throwing myself into it." He finally replied. This took me by surprise, to be sure. "Throw himself into the ocean!?" I though to myself, "But, what a great waste!"
"Come with me, Matthew." I told him, trying to muster up conviction.
"Okay." He replied, as if it didn't matter a bit. Of course, my attendant threw a fit. "You can't bring that peasant with you, to the castle!" He shouted. I squinted my eyes, tired of being nagged. "Watch me." I growled. And onward we went.

[It was unseasonably warm the day we met, or maybe it was just me. Perhaps it was just the warmth of my heart beginning to stir once again. It's funny to think of it now, how someone so small and fragile could change my life so drastically. He was dirty and hungry, and so pathetically small. A bit like a tiny, injured canary, thinking back. Of course, I didn't realize at the time, as I'd never been truly hungry even once in my life. Even as downtrodden as he was, he seemed so ethereal. His blonde hair laid flat and matted on his head, and his blue-gray eyes were lusterless - almost like a corpse. I think maybe, it was the way he stood on that bridge, gazing out at the wide ocean. You could see a tiny spark of life in those flat, glazed-over eyes that gaped at the enormous blue brine before him. Yes, it was a very warm beginning for us. A very warm beginning, to a very cold story – The story of my Matthew.

That day, I was being escorted home from my 12th birthday party - and my first crowning ceremony. I was to take the place of my elder brother, who'd been murdered three years earlier, as crown prince. I was, without a doubt, unhappy during that time. I had no interest in being a prince, I had no interest in birthdays, and I certainly had no interest in ceremonies. I was staring blankly out the window of the carriage when I saw him. The sun was beginning to set, casting vibrant oranges and reds across his dirty face. He wore the same expression as me, one of apathy. It felt as if ]Iedit: a [spell had been cast on me. I looked over to my attendant and barked, "Tell the coachman to stop the carriage."
"But, Joseph, we must get you home! It's nearly dark out!" He protested, but I would not be swayed. "Just do it!" I commanded, and he followed through. I didn't even leave the carriage time to fully stop, I'd already jumped out. The boy was looking at me with those dead eyes, as I approached him.] [1]Those dead, yet somehow bright, grey-blue eyes. [I could tell he was eyeing my lavish clothing, rather than actually looking at me. I was about to speak, when he turned away from me, back to staring out at the ocean. "What's your name?" I asked him quietly. We were quiet for a long time, and I could tell my attendant was getting nervous, from his shouts of, "Young Majesty!". I asked again, equally quiet as before. He blinked, as if broken from a trance. "Matthew." he replied, also in a hushed tone. "Matthew, why do you stare at the ocean?" I asked. Again, he was quiet, but with a puzzled look upon his face, as if he himself didn't know. "I was just thinking if, perhaps, I'd be better off throwing myself into it." He finally replied. This took me by surprise, to be sure.] [2]"Throw himself into the ocean!?" [I though]t [to myself, "But, what a great waste!"
"Come with me, Matthew." I told him, trying to muster up conviction.
"Okay." He replied, as if it didn't matter a bit. Of course, my attendant threw a fit. "You can't bring that peasant with you, to the castle!" He shouted. I squinted my eyes, tired of being nagged. "Watch me." I growled. And onward we went.]
[1]Those dead, yet somehow bright, grey-blue eyes.
Suggestion: You may consider rewording this sentence.
Ex: Although his eyes seemed void of life, they carried an unexpected brightness.

[2]"Throw himself into the ocean!?"
Suggestion: If your story is told by the main character, which it seems to be, those character's thoughts do not always need quotations.
Story:
I have enjoyed the story so far and I look forward to reading it further. If you need help with editing, want to talk, or want me to read something just message me.
Opinionated Edits (Disregard if you disagree)

SPOILERX

[From a personal standpoint I try and avoid the word very at all costs when I am writing. "Yes, it was a very warm beginning for us. A very warm beginning, to a very cold story" It can serve its purpose if that is just the nature of your main character to use that word, but if you substitute very for other thesaurus words it may give more of an aristocratic feel to your character.]

Disclaimer: These edits are my own personal edits of this work. You are not obligated to give weight to these edits.