Chapter Text
Will didn’t enjoy being different.
He was a cleric, like much of the population on Lorikeen, a wielder of many spells which could heal and hurt alike.
But he was also a prince, specifically to King Henry, the ruler of Lorikeen.
The royals lived in a grand castle, surrounded entirely by a moat, built from intricately carved stone. Guards were lined around the water at all times, warding off any potential infiltrators. The castle was as grand as it was strong and tall, made with thick stone which could put up a good fight against dragon’s fire or an enemy's cannonballs.
It had been Will’s home for the entirety of his life, having never known the lands beyond, which were supposedly rich with mushroom towns of elves, enchanted woods with fairies, roaring waves of seas. Deserts which spanned entire islands, mountains which almost touched the stars—orcs, trolls, goblins which all roamed such lands.
Will wanted to see it all, only ever hearing of what lay beyond the castle walls from gossip.
King Henry believed it was best he remained in the castle—his abilities apparently too valuable to be lost if Will somehow perished in the outside world.
And Will wasn’t the type of person who fussed, who complained under orders, especially under ones of the most important person in the entirety of Lorikeen. He tended to bite his tongue and nod, carry out his duties without a snide remark or angsty retort.
It didn’t mean that he fucking enjoyed it.
It didn’t mean that, when he wasn’t with King Henry, or one of the King’s instructors, ruthlessly perfecting his skills, he wouldn’t sit on his balcony, observe the stars and two glowing moons, sighing and wishing for change.
It didn’t mean that he didn’t spend his waking hours wondering where his family were. King Henry wasn’t his biological father, meaning that Will had real parents out there somewhere, maybe some siblings too.
He had no idea, and King Henry preferred not to speak of them, always giving Will a harsh look or snapping if Will pursued any further. All he knew was that his mother had offered him to King Henry, as the hospital workers who’d delivered him believed he was powerful, more powerful than most other clerics.
So, Will knew that he wasn’t wanted; easily disposed of.
It didn’t mean that he liked living in the castle, knowing that his mother and father were out there, and he didn’t know who they were. They might have given him away, but they surely still loved him, right? Maybe wanted to see him if King Henry wasn’t so strict about visitors entering the castle.
In fact, everything to do with Will’s security was what he’d consider ‘over the top’—and that was putting it lightly.
Wherever Will went, he was accompanied by what King Henry considered the ‘finest’ of knights. Usually there was only one, rather than a pack. King Henry had a roster where Will’s guard rotated every few days, so he wasn't stuck with the same person for too long.
When Will was walking along the halls, he’d have a guard by his side. When he was training or sleeping, they’d be waiting by the door. At the cafeteria, he always had company, same with the library and courtyard. When he was showering—yes, showering—they had to wait in the bathroom. Much to Will’s relief, King Henry was fine with them just being in the bathroom whilst Will washed himself in one of the stalls. Still not as much privacy as he wished.
All of the guards were fine. Well, okay, that was a bit of an oversimplification.
Some were mean; were impatient with Will about the most irrelevant things. Would snap if he tripped, took too long in the shower, slept in. If they weren’t rude, then they were boring, apparently having no interest in making conversation with Will, preferring to carry out their duties in silence.
Will couldn’t blame them since they were assigned to surveillance his activities—not like they were ordered to offer him personal company.
He couldn’t help but long for a real friend—his life as a prince being rather lonely.
Despite this, Will’s favourite time of the day was when he was alone.
He’d figured out that quite frequently, the guards who were posted outside Will’s room at night fell asleep, leaving Will to sneak out, wander the castle alone. He mostly just wandered around, practising stupid prank spells like falling armour stands near unsuspecting victims or conjures of realistic looking pink mice to scuttle around—just things he could get away with since no one ever believed a story of oddly coloured animals or magical inanimate objects, regardless of how convincing the teller was.
Most of all, he loved watching the King’s knights assemble.
Every week, about a hundred or so would gather in the courtyard upon King Henry’s instruction, form their rigid lines and straighten their backs, stand there and do nothing but look noble for almost an hour before the King’s dismissal.
Will hadn’t much clue of why such battalions were formed. Sometimes there were battles where it was a necessity for the knights to be summoned. Will figured that the battalions were more of a ritual to instil discipline, to check on each individual, assess their performance and posture.
From his secret window a few floors above the courtyard, Will would stare at their shining armour, their breastplates and arm and leg coverings that glimmered silver, where their helmets, poleyns and vambraces were coloured gold. Each typically held a sword in one hand, a shield with an ominous purple eye symbol stamped in the centre in the other.
Will thought their outfits were much cooler than his own simple robes, though he supposed they had the advantage of allowing him to dodge in combat, less clunk than the armour.
Daily knight battalions was the best entertainment the castle had to offer, which was considerably sad. What else was a lonely prince supposed to do to pass the little spare time he had?
Will rested in his spot now, side resting against the glass window, watching as the knights formed. They stood to King Henry’s attention, the man pacing back and forth around the perimeter, tending to stay around the front.
When the first formed, Will’s head lifted.
There was a newcomer at the front, a knight Will hadn’t seen before.
Perhaps he’d been promoted, or had been assigned to tend to castle duties, rather than pillaging the lands or fighting monstrous beasts, making trades or whatever it was the knights did outside castle walls.
Will drank in the man—or boy, really, considering how young he looked—definitely not much older than Will himself. His night-coloured hair curled around his chin, almost touching his shoulders, from what Will could tell from his helmet covering much of his head. He was quite tall, probably on the skinnier side underneath his armour, unlike most of the guards who clearly had a display of broadness and muscle. Will had no doubt that the man was capable, given he was in the front row, which King Henry typically reserved for his more trusted and valued subjects.
Will pressed his face to the glass, wishing that he were closer. The man’s cheeks were pale, having thick eyebrows and lips. His nose was long, though it didn’t disrupt the harmony of the man’s features. His eyes were the most captivating part of his face: wide and brown, reflecting the moonlight.
In other words, he was beautiful.
Will found himself blushing, feeling foolish for swooning over the knight, who clearly was just doing his job. He couldn’t help but itch for his parchment and ink, to see the man up close, take in those eyes when they weren’t forced to remain a disciplined neutral.
Unlike his previous observings, Will didn’t look at any of the other knights, nor King Henry, who continually paced around, scrutinising each of his subjects. He didn’t remember to keep an eye out for guards roaming the halls in case he was spotted—he was much too drawn in by the dark-haired knight.
What is his name? Will thought, tracing his eyes over the man's strong jawline. What does he like? Where is he from?
Will wasn't sure whether his sudden infatuation stemmed from a desire for a friend, or a desire for something more...either way, Will sighed knowing that regardless of what, it was something he couldn't have.
When the hour of assessment was up, King Henry gave the signal and the knights began filtering out the courtyard, the ones at the back heading to the exit first.
Will exhaled, breath fogging up the window as he consumed his last minutes watching the knight. Who knew if he would see him again? What if it was just for tonight that the man had been placed in the front row?
Up until this point, Will figured that the darkness of night, and his reasonably secluded spot on the window sill several floors up from the ground, made it so no one in the courtyard could see him. He figured that was the reason he’d been a secretive observer for months without gaining any attention.
He was completely disproven, when, for whatever reason, the dark-haired knight’s eyes flickered upward—Will could tell by the man’s chin that tilted. It was hard to see, with it being dark and their distance, but Will thought he saw the man’s eyebrows twist in confusion, pointed towards where Will was.
Will bit his lip, pulling his body away from the window.
He saw me.
His hands were planted against the wall behind him, chest heaving up and down.
Tentatively, he peeked his head back to the window, though the man had left, along with the other knights. The courtyard was empty.
And King Henry would be heading to his bed chambers, which were on the floor above Will’s own bedroom.
Typically, this was when the guard outside his room would wake at the sound of the King’s heavy footsteps, act as if they hadn't been dozing for several hours.
I’ve got to get back.
Will hurried through the corridors, up several flights of blissfully empty stairs. He remembered to lighten his steps coming up to his door, seeing that the guard was still asleep—Sir Troy always slacked off, much more than the other guards—and entering his room, sliding under the covers soundlessly. Sure enough, a startled hum sounded from outside, followed by familiar footsteps, a quiet exchange between the King and his subject.
Will drifted off, thoughts of the pretty knight rotating in his vision.