Chapter Text
||||||||||||
Trumpets blasted a sonorous melody, carried on the wind that had flags in the royal colors flutter and dance as it swept across the courtyard. The main gates stood open to allow the villagers to pour in and fill the courtyard to the brim. No one was denied entry this day, for the joyous occasion was that of welcoming their lord and master, King Shaun, back from his travels. The King had been away for a long time to carry out negotiations and settle treaties with distant and mysterious lands, the names of which only educated and well-traveled citizens would be able to tell you. The milling crowds were abuzz with chatter and laughter, eager to see their King reunited with his family at last.
It was a rare connection they had - the royal family and the people under their rule – one that was more or less unheard of in earlier records or from neighboring regions. The respect that the citizens had for them was earned through something everyone could give, something that didn't cost a thing, yet was more precious and valuable than any kind of riches. The same care and devotedness that King Shaun showed his wife Laurelle and their family, he showed his people too. And just as much did his people love their king and his family in return.
King Shaun was a fair monarch who ruled with a steady hand and a compassionate heart. Never did he need to set fear into his subordinates, because he was by nature the kind of man who when speaking, others listened. That certainly didn't mean that there weren't those who disagreed with him, or those he needed to be a bit firmer with. Yet there hadn't been the slightest threat to his rule, neither from outside nor from within the borders of his kingdom, in all of his nigh on 15 years on the throne.
Still, King Shaun was meticulous in keeping a strong league of defense around him and had a solid scattering of loyal knights appointed to different regions around the land. Being princes, King Shaun had already made sure that all his sons would receive training in the art of war when they were older. Then, if need be, they would know how to defend themselves and their people, and if they never had to make use of their knowledge, it was at least a character building skill to have.
Though, there was no need to worry about such things yet. The royal children still had some years until that would appear on the agenda, the youngest of them being only a few months old.
A boy with tussled hair the color of rye on a summer field stood among the gathered that day. His cheeks were flushed with excitement at being allowed to join his mother after pleading with her to take him with her. He was standing far up the narrow corridor left between the crowds for the royal party, almost at the very entryway to the inner wards, where no one but the noble with their counsel and staff were allowed in. Much like many other children there, he was right at the front of the crowd, just in between two guards that stood a few paces apart to flank the path. His mother was standing behind him, her hands a comforting presence on his shoulders so that he wouldn't vanish in the sea of people.
Tyler's little heart was beating fast and he kept leaning forward to peer past the guard blocking his view of the open gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of the king. It was his first time attending something like this, having been deemed too young when this had taken place earlier during his six year long life. He'd never seen any member of the royal family in the flesh before and only knew of them from the stories his parents had told him.
Suddenly, the trumpets blared once more and the noise made Tyler jump as cheers rose from the crowds around him. He rose up on his tippy toes, leaning this way and that to see past the waving hands that disrupted his line of sight. White flower petals began raining down from the battlements above them just as Tyler saw the first few guards riding in on grey stallions. After them followed the king's advisors and there, just behind them on a horse the color of rich, fertile soil, rode King Shaun. The cheers rose magnificently in volume as people began spotting him, and Tyler lifted his hands to cover his ears at the loud noise.
King Shaun waved back at the crowds, smiling widely, for he too was glad to finally be home once more. Once inside the gates, the king swung his leg over the back of his horse and slid off, landing on steady feet on the ground beside it. A flurry of movement in the corner of his eye made
Tyler's focus shift to two little brown haired boys dressed in dark blue embroidered tunics rushing down the stoned path. He followed them with curious eyes and saw the king laugh and kneel, spreading his arms out wide to catch the boys as they hurled themselves into his embrace.
"Who are they?" Tyler asked, glancing up at his mother while lowering his hands from his ears.
"They are the two oldest princes," Jackie smiled down at her son and lifted her hand to point at the three as they were hugging. "That's Steele, the crown prince. He's six, like you. And the younger one is Troye; he's just turned four this summer."
Tyler turned back to look at them just as the king rose to his feet, bringing the younger prince up into his arms and settling him on his hip. With his other hand on the older prince's shoulder, they began walking up the path once more. Tyler studied them carefully, his curious gaze quickly landing on the boy sitting on the king's arm, fascinated by his blue eyes and the wide, laughing smile on his round cheeks.
"He's pretty," Tyler remarked, his words becoming quickly swallowed up by the bustle of jubilation around him.
As Tyler watched them walk past him and drawing ever nearer to the gates of the inner wards, he saw something fall from behind the king's back. It bounced slightly as it landed on the stone paved ground a few paces in front of Tyler and he looked down to see that is was a stuffed doll, its features worn and threadbare in some places.
Quickly looking back up at the retreating back of the king and his sons, Tyler gasped as he realized the younger prince must have accidentally dropped it without noticing.
Without giving it a second thought, Tyler wiggled out of his mother's grip, hearing yet ignoring her crying out his name as he rushed forward. The noise from the crowds turned from cheerful to that of shocked gasps as Tyler made his way to the doll and bent to pick it up.
"Sire!" Tyler called as he set off after the royal party, which had yet to notice anything amiss. Even the guards seemed unsure of how to proceed.
Running to catch up, Tyler was a bit out of breath as he turned to face the king and his sons once he'd made his way passed them. "Sire!" he tried again, lifting the doll up and waving it around to gain their attention. "You dropped this!"
King Shaun pulled to a stop at the commotion, his eyes widening and quickly flitting down to land on Tyler. His gaze was steady and it seemed to pierce through Tyler as the king stared back at him intently. Tyler gulped as he suddenly realized that he was probably stepping out of bounds of what was appropriate behavior toward someone of so much higher standing than him, and quickly bowed his head in submission.
"My lord dropped his doll," he mumbled while staring at his feet, feeling his cheeks flush. He didn't lower his arm however, instead keeping it lifted to show the cause of his brazen interruption of the proceedings. A pause followed, the moment hanging suspended in the atmosphere as everyone seemed to hold their breath, awaiting the king's reaction.
"How chivalrous of you, my boy," a deep voice spoke gently above the collective whisper that washed through the crowds around them.
Tyler felt his eyes widen, wondering if he'd imagined the voice, and lifted his head to stare at the man in front of him.
"May I be so bold as to ask your name?" King Shaun smiled down at him, his eyes seeming to twinkle with merriment while the prince looked from Tyler to the tattered doll in his hand.
"Tyler, my lord," he replied and let his eyes flicker for second to the boy on the king's arm as he lifted the doll once more, urging the prince to take it.
"I hope you haven't forgotten your manners while I was gone, Troye?" King Shaun turned his head to focus on his son. "Now, what do you say?" he asked while bending slightly to allow his son to pluck the stuffed toy from Tyler's grip.
"Thank you," Troye said in a small voice and as soon as King Shaun stood back up, he turned to hide his face in his father's neck, clutching the doll to his chest. The king turned back to smile at Tyler once more.
"Indeed, thank you, Tyler. You would make a fine knight one day," he added with a wink before stepping around Tyler to continue his way toward the castle.
Tyler backed up a few steps to allow the rest of the advisors and servants past, letting his eyes following the retreating back of the king and his sons as they walked away. His mother came rushing up, a bustle of skirts and flushed cheeks.
"Tyler, that was very kind of you, but please don't run from me like that again," she admonished him gently while ruffling his hair. "And especially not to disturb the king or his family."
Tyler simply nodded at his mother and turned to look toward the gates again. He did so just in time to see prince Troye lift his head from his father's shoulder and peek back at him. They stared at each other for long moments before Troye and his father were swallowed up by the crowds of the inner bailey and vanished from Tyler's sight.
—^-^-^—
"Is mother joining us? Maybe we should wait for her," Steele asked as he turned toward their father at the head of the grand table in the dining hall.
Troye looked up from his plate and saw his father shake his head briefly, a frown forming on his brow as he lifted his cup of ale to his lips. Shaun gulped down the contents before setting the cup down a bit heavier than necessary and waved one of the servants over for a refill.
"Her chambermaid tells me the queen wishes to be alone this evening," Shaun replied monotonously and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Go on, eat your meal. Your mother wouldn't think it disrespectful."
"But maybe if you send someone to fetch her? I haven't talked to mother in two days. I wish to tell her about the stag I saw-" Steele tried again, but was interrupted when the king slapped his palm down on the table, making the dishes rattle from the blow.
Troye jumped in fright, both at the noise and at the sudden flare of his father's temper. He knew as well as any of his siblings that it didn't take much for him to go off these days when it came to mentions of their mother. Glancing to his side, he saw Sage stare at her hands as she clenched them together in her lap, her knuckles whitening from the strain and a sheen of tears in her eyes.
"I said, eat," Shaun repeated through clenched teeth while fixing his oldest son with a stern glare. "That's the last time I tell you."
Steele stared wide eyed at his father for a few moments before lowering his gaze to the plate of food in front of him, blinking back tears.
Troye studied his father a moment longer while slipping his hand out underneath the table to gently grip Sage's clenched hands. She looked up at him and Troye gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her that everything was alright, and nudged his head toward her plate. His own distress didn't matter when his sister needed comforting. She was only a little girl, no more than nine years old and even though Troye was merely two years older himself, his heart clenched at seeing her upset by how their father was acting.
The meal that followed was a silent affair, no one at the table making any further attempts at speaking over the quiet din of cutlery scraping across their plates. The knot in Troye's stomach prevented him from managing more than a few bites of the food that had been placed in front of him and he excused himself from the table after only a short while, claiming tiredness.
It hadn't always been like this. They might be royalty and some may assumed them to be more detached from one another than any other family would be; the nobility of Troye's parents dictating the nature of his interactions with them to be that of respect for his sovereigns, preventing them from having close and loving relationships. That assumption couldn't be further from the truth.
There had been a time, not that long ago, when their home was filled with joy – when there wasn't a day that passed without Troye learning over and over again that his parents loved him and his siblings more than anything on this earth. There had been stories of brave knights and fair princesses while huddled up in front of the hearth on chilly nights. There had been silly dancing in the grand ballroom while the servants lining the walls tried but failed to keep from joining in the children's peals of delighted laughter.
There had been flower picking in the fields behind the castle, where no one was left without a crown on their head at the end of the day, not even the king's wolfhounds that ran in excited circles around them. His mother Laurelle, the queen, had always been there – a constant presence in all of those good moments.
And then the queen fell ill. It happened suddenly with a high fever and headaches which lasted for most of a week. When the fever finally relented, one of the queen's chambermaids noticed a strange red, perfectly round circle on the skin around the back of the queen's knee, setting off a torrent of whispers of witchcraft and divine punishment through the court. The king had been quick to douse the reputations, threatening to jail all those who dared imply that anyone – even God – would have reason to wish harm on his beloved wife.
To everyone's relief, Laurelle slowly recovered and had felt better by the day. That was why it came as a surprise when a short while later, she began complaining about a dull ache in her joints and excruciating headaches. People with knowledge of the body and different ailments were called in from every corner of the land to aid their queen, yet none of their remedies or attempts at restoring the balance of her humors helped for long. The demons that had taken up residence inside Laurelle's body were strong beyond any treatment they could think of. So the queen withdrew into her chambers for long periods, claiming a deep exhaustion that left her unable to do much more than rest.
When any of the children were allowed to visit their mother in her rooms, or when she ventured out to partake in the evening meal, her spirits were low and her mood short, often making her lash out for seemingly no reason at all. The children found it peculiar, but Laurelle would sometimes seem to forget even the simplest of words; one day she had sat in bed, stuttering and huffing in irritation while pointing at the dresser, unable to express that she wanted someone to bring her the comb. And many had noticed her hands trembling beyond her control before she quickly hid them from view once she noticed it too... Not a word was said about it.
With his wife hiding away in her rooms, the king had begun to mourn her as if she had already left the earthly plane. The atmosphere that settled over the castle and its inhabitants was one of hesitance, grief, and careful awareness. Conversations were held in low murmurs and most seemed on edge, watching their words and manners to the point where they were almost skittering from one room to the next to carry out their duties. There seemed to be no hope that things would ever get back to the way things had been before, even if all included Queen Laurelle in their prayers.
For the first time in his short life, Troye felt uncomfortable in his own home. He still loved his parents, more than anything else, but their focus was elsewhere than on the happiness and wellbeing of their children.
Maybe it would always be so from now on, Troye thought as he slipped through familiar corridors and up the stairs toward his chambers. It hadn't been that long ago since he'd been allowed to move from the nursery, which he'd shared with his sister and younger brother Tyde up until then, to his own set of rooms. For now, the maids from the nursery tended to Troye too before he could be appointed his own chambermaid. This meant that he was alone once he reached his rooms and shut the heavy oak door behind him.
Candles had been lit, lighting up the corners of the room to chase away the ever growing shadows of the autumn evening. Though, Troye was much too distracted by the events at the table downstairs to retire for the night just yet. The thought of practicing the reading that brother Eliot had assigned after Troye's last lesson didn't appeal at all.
Looking over to the far right corner, Troye saw the candles there flicker in a slight breeze, one that couldn't be felt anywhere else in the room but there, and all at once, Troye knew what he was going to do to clear his head.
Quickly sweeping a cloak over his shoulders, Troye hurried over to that very corner and lifted the heavy tapestry that covered most of the far wall, depicting the scene of a battle long ago. Behind the tapestry was a small wooden door, about half the height of a fully grown man and therefore reaching Troye's chest. He opened the door and bent forward, stepping onto the narrow stone staircase beyond and closing the door behind him.
Having used the secret passageway many times before, Troye was quickly descending the stairs, knowing his way despite the pitch black of his surroundings. It wasn't long until the stairs leveled into a short corridor and moonlight trickled in through the exit just up ahead.
Troye pushed the thick of twigs and leaves aside, pushing through the shrubbery that covered the exit of the passageway from view and stumbled a bit as he finally reached the outside world. Straightening his back, he regained his balance and glanced back over his shoulder at the high walls topped with battlements further behind him. The night guard wouldn't see him from here, not while he kept to the little grove of trees that surrounded him. He turned forward again and set off in a slight run; he couldn't be gone for too long and he wanted to have a moment in his favorite stargazing spot before anyone would miss him.
Emerging from the trees and stepping out into the open, Troye gasped and skidded to a halt when his eyes fell on the dark outline of a solid form a bit further down the field. The grassy planes sloped gently, tapering into an old dried out river bed that wove and cut through the landscape. Large fields billowed as far as the eye could see, a few denser patches of trees scattered along the hilltops. The slope opposite to where Troye was standing was adorned with the dark etchings of a fairly travelled road and Troye had observed merchants with heavy wagons make their way toward the village on it on many occasions.
At first Troye thought it might be an animal. One could never be too careful and a wolverine or a bear would mean fleeing as fast as he could in the other direction. But as Troye kept his eyes trained on the being, he could slowly make out a very humanlike head perched atop a set of shoulders, and soon realized that he was looking at the back of someone sitting in his spot.
With his heart racing, Troye crept closer, careful not to make any noise.
Who would be sitting outside alone in a field this far away from the village and at this hour? Troye ignored the little voice in his head that wondered if he shouldn't be asking himself the same thing and moved ever nearer to the person. Could it be a hunter or maybe a beggar? What if it was an escaped murderer?
The closer he got, the faster Troye's heart pumped in his chest. But the reduced distance also meant that Troye was starting to get an idea of the size of the stranger. They weren't much bigger than Troye. At closer inspection, the person had short blond hair that took on a slightly iridescent quality in the moonlight and on the grass beside them lay a bow and quiver full of feathered arrows.
Troye swallowed and pulled at his sleeves while pausing in his step. The other boy didn't seem all that dangerous. Troye didn't know that many children his age besides his own siblings and the few that lived with their parents in the bailey around the castle. And although he'd made his way out here to be alone for a moment, perhaps a bit of company wouldn't hurt.
Standing only a few paces behind the other boy, Troye took another step forward and didn't notice the twig he'd stepped on before it was too late.
It snapped loudly under his foot and Troye almost stopped breathing when the boy in front of him was suddenly on his feet, drawing back the string on his bow and aiming an arrow right at Troye's head.
"Don't shoot!" Troye cried and lifted his hands in front of him, terrified of what the boy might do yet thankful that he hadn't released the arrow.
"What do you want?" the boy demanded, still keeping his weapon lifted and pointed at Troye.
"I was just curios," Troye spoke quickly before the boy changed his mind about keeping him alive. Troye stared at the boy while pleading with him, but when the other didn't so much as blink in response, Troye closed his eyes and waited for the worst.
"Please, don't kill me," he whispered and felt tears start to build in his eyes. He'd never been so afraid and now it seemed his curiosity would be his demise. Silence permeated the night air around him and Troye could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he waited for whatever was about to happen.
"What are you doing here?"
The question came in an unexpectedly mild voice after the horrors that Troye's mind had imagined and he blinked his eyes open to stare at the boy, relieved to find his bow lowered but not out of his grip.
"I- I swear I wasn't trying to intrude. I'm Troye, one of the -"
"I know who you are," the boy interrupted and shifted his stance while dropping his arms to his sides, letting the bow and arrow hang from one hand. "And I asked what you are doing here. It seems a bit foolish of a prince to leave the safety of his castle at this hour."
"Stargazing," Troye replied and tried to regain his breath. "I come here to look at the stars."
The other boy paused while processing Troye's words, his regard steady. Troye tried to calm his heart and held the boy's gaze just as steadily, wondering how he knew who Troye was.
"I could have killed you, my lord," the boy said in a lower tone, as if afraid to speak louder of what he'd been close to doing.
"But you didn't," Troye answered and gave him a small smile of gratitude. The sudden bark of humorless laughter that escaped the other made him jump.
"Thank God for that, or I'd be dangling from the gallows before dawn," the boy said and turned to fall back into his seat with a deep sigh, his legs seeming to almost give out from the way he folded them underneath him.
Troye decided to take the gesture as invitation to join the boy and walked quickly forward to sit down beside him. "I didn't mean to startle you. What is your name?" he asked as he turned to look at the other's profile as he stared out at the landscape. Sitting this close, Troye noticed that although clearly very young, the boy looked a bit older than him, if only by a few years at most.
"It's Tyler, my lord," the boy replied.
"Please, call me Troye," Troye insisted. "I'm glad to meet you, Tyler, even if I could have done without the threat of death." He added a short laugh to make his jest clear.
"Oh, we've met before," Tyler said and turned to smile mysteriously at him.
"We have?" Troye lifted one of his eyebrows at Tyler in curiosity and tried to recall if he'd seen him before. "I'm afraid I don't remember. When?"
"Don't fret, it was a mere moment and I'm sure you've had more exciting things to fill your memories since. But I've never forgotten."
There was a strange fondness in Tyler's eyes as he looked at Troye and Troye suddenly found himself unable to look back. He felt his cheeks fill with heat as he averted his gaze.
"I got to speak to your father and I've later understood how special that is," Tyler continued after a moment.
Troye blinked, the small smile on his face gone in a beat.
"Oh," he said and was unable to disguise the slightly disappointed quality of his voice. Trying to make sense of where it had come from, he picked at a few blades of grass distractedly.
"But I also got to hand you back your doll," Tyler added and smiled at him when Troye lifted his head once more.
A brief image of a boy much smaller than Tyler, but with the same color hair, flashed in front of Troye's minds eye and he frowned in concentration as he tried to latch onto the fleeting memory.
"Hang on. I think I do remember you," Troye said as he focused on Tyler's face. "It was when father came back from one of his travels."
Tyler looked surprised for a moment before laughing gently. "Indeed. I'm impressed that you remember."
"Of course I do, that doll was my favorite," Troye smiled back. "Thank you again for returning it, Tyler."
The smile on Tyler's face softened. “I am glad I could help, Troye."
Their conversation soon turned to other things, their focus settling on the stars that were strewn across the dark sky above them. The moon shone bright, only a few days away from being a perfectly round disc in the heavens. Troye pointed out Orion and the Great Bear, as well as the Seven Sisters that he had learned from his mother. Tyler listened avidly while Troye told him ancient tales from civilizations long gone of how the stars had been lit.
It wasn't until Tyler tried to hide a large yawn behind his hand that Troye noticed how late the hour had grown, looking up to see the moon much higher than it should be while he was still out.
"I have to go," Troye gasped and stood up quickly, brushing of his pants. "I've stayed much too long."
Tyler got to his feet beside him and rubbed at his eyes while nodding. "I should go too before mother wonders if I've gotten lost," he said through another yawn. "Will we meet here again tomorrow?"
Barely had the words left Tyler's mouth before someone shouted Troye's name from the forest behind them. They started and turned quickly to look, seeing a figure come walking out from the dark line of trees and walk towards them in determined strides.
"Oh no," Troye whispered. "It's my brother."
"Is he angry with you?" Tyler asked and glanced at Troye.
"I don't know," Troye admitted, shaking his head. Steele was close enough now for Troye to be able to make out the details of his face in the moonlight. "Possibly. But now he knows about this place. It's my stargazing spot; I wanted to keep it a secret."
"But I know it now too."
Troye turned to look at Tyler, seeing a quick dispirited look flit across his face. Worrying that Tyler felt like he'd intruded, Troye carefully reached out and brushed his hand against Tyler's where it hung at his side. When the touch made Tyler lift his head to look at him again, Troye smiled softly.
"It can be our stargazing spot from now on," Troye said and saw Tyler's lips lift into a smile just as Steele reached them.
"Troye, are you mad?" Steele huffed through his labored breath and frowned at Troye as he turned to look at him. "What are you doing out here this late? And who's this?" Steele turned his frown on Tyler.
"This is Tyler, my new friend. He lives outside the village with his family," Troye said and saw Steele glance Tyler up and down with a doubtful curl to his lip before turning back to Troye. "I merely forgot the time, is all. You won't tell father, will you?"
"You know I have to," his brother sighed. "You cannot do things like this, disappearing in the middle of the night. What if something happened to you? Think of mother, Troye."
Troye felt his stomach sink at the mention of his mother. It was so unfair. He wished he wasn't a prince; that way he wouldn't have to stay inside the castle's cold stone walls all the time. He'd be free to have all the friends he'd want and go outside as much his heart desired. But he knew Steele was right, no matter how much he wished it wasn't so. With sadness in his heart for the new friend he'd made but most likely would never see again, Troye slowly turned to Tyler once more.
"I'm sorry, but I can't come back tomorrow. It's probably best if I don't return at all." He saw some of the light dim in Tyler's eyes as he spoke and swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.
"Oh," Tyler said quietly and looked down at his shuffling feet. "Then I'm glad to have had the chance to meet you a second time, my lord."
"I told you already; it's Troye," Troye argued gently.
Tyler lifted his gaze and gave Troye a careful smile. "Until next time, Troye."
"Until then," Troye smiled back and lingered for a moment longer before turning to hurry after his brother up the slight incline toward the forest.
—^-^-^—
Tyler stood a bit off to the side in the throne room, holding the heavy shield with Sir Andrew's family weapon carved and painted in bright red and yellow upon it while watching the proceedings. It was a quiet audience with the king, including a few on-lookers aside from the king's advisors and a handful of guards.
Having just turned 16 earlier that spring, Tyler had only recently been appointed as Sir Andrew's new squire, after the previous boy fell ill with consumption. It was by pure chance that Tyler found himself in Sir Andrew's employment; their fathers knew each other from when they'd been farmhands in their younger years and Tyler's father had been quick to offer his son's help without asking him first.
Tyler didn't mind that much - he got to live at the estate with Sir Andrew and a few servants, and even had his own horse. Now though, they were in preparations to leave their land for a while to uphold relations with neighboring regions and represent their court at a few celebrations that the king would be unable to attend.
Tyler was excited to leave on a bit of an adventure for the first time in his young life, but there were small things he already found himself missing. Like the small, dark, seemingly bottomless lake that lay hidden inside the old forest behind his family's farm. And attending the market with his mother and father to sell the produce they gathered from tending said farm and its animals. And the vast fields on the hill behind the castle, where Tyler would often sit on clear nights to look at the stars and try to recall old stories about them that he'd once been told.
Yet, right in that moment, Tyler's focus was elsewhere, for sitting beside the king was a very familiar boy. He looked a bit out of place in the slightly smaller seat beside the older man, with a simple golden crown atop his head and eyes wide, seeming fascinated by the conversation between the king and Sir Andrew.
Prince Troye had yet to spot Tyler at all, since he hadn't yet been present when Tyler and his master arrived a short while earlier. But Tyler had spotted him and now he simply couldn't look away.
The last time they'd met, Tyler had been too young to know why he thought Troye different to any other boy or girl his age. Disregarding the knowledge that he was a prince, which of course made him special, all Tyler had known back then was that he found the prince enthralling for some reason. But watching large blue eyes flicker between the king and the knight before them, Tyler now understood that it was because Troye was absolutely lovely.
He was still young, a soft roundness like that of a child lingering on his features even now in his teens, making him look innocent and a bit too small for his crown. But that didn't make him any less precious, even if Tyler wasn't much older himself.
Tyler smiled as Troye fumbled with something that he had been holding in his hand and almost dropped it to the floor. A small chuckle escaped Tyler as Troye's hand shot out to catch whatever it was just as it was about to roll off his knee.
Troye's head lifted quickly to look in Tyler's direction and paused once he saw him, only to blink and smile a moment later when he seemed to recognize Tyler as well.
They stared at each other for a breath or two before Troye's eyes slowly began wandering down Tyler's body. Then he suddenly seemed to remember where he was and lifted his gaze back to Tyler's, looking close to startled at his own behavior. A blush bloomed on his cheeks as he ducked his head and Tyler felt an answering heat fill his own cheeks while he laughed softly, all at once trying not to draw the attention of others while flattered by the prince's unguarded scrutiny.
Turning his face forward with a bashful smile, Troye waited a moment before glancing surreptitiously at Tyler once more. This time, Tyler couldn't help but lift his hand in a little wave and felt a thrill rush through him as he saw Troye fight a smile as he looked away quickly.
"The sad news of your previous squire reached me just a fortnight ago, Sir Andrew. May his soul find rest. Have you managed to acquire someone to take up his duties yet?" the king's voice interrupted Tyler's silent musings.
Sir Andrew turned to Tyler and gestured him forward to join him in front of the throne. Tyler lifted the shield in his hands and hurried to the man's side, quickly schooling his features into a mask of polite respect, trying not to look at the prince.
"This is Tyler, my lord," Andrew said. "He's the son of a good friend of my father's and he has already proved a quick study and a good worker."
"Ahh, that's good," the king remarked as he glanced at Tyler. "Then, if everything is in order, all that remains is to wish you both Godspeed and that you return safely from your journey."
The king lifted his hand and motioned Troye forward. Tyler's eyes followed the prince as he lifted from his seat and moved toward them, keeping his face carefully blank but for a small smile while he came to a stop in front of Sir Andrew.
"For good fortune, with the Queen's regard," Troye said and lifted his hands to place a beautiful silver needle at the man's collar. Sir Andrew bowed his head in thanks before turning to bow to the king as well.
When Troye moved over to stand in front of him next, Tyler lost his breath for a moment at having the other boy so close. He felt his heart quicken when Troye stepped closer and lifted his hands to his collar.
"For good fortune, with the Queen's regard," he repeated, this time a bit quieter. Once the needle was in place, Troye's eyes lifted to Tyler's and lingered there while he brushed his fingers over the collar, as if smoothing out wrinkles in the fabric.
"Thank you, my lord," Tyler smiled and stepped back to bow slightly, keeping his gaze on Troye's.
"It's Troye," the other whispered so quietly that Tyler almost wouldn't have trusted his own ears if it wasn't for the way Troye's smile widened once more.
Once back on his horse and riding a step behind Sir Andrew on their way back to the estate, Tyler lifted his hand to let his fingertips dance over his silver needle while becoming lost in thought. He hoped that his duties would bring him back to the court soon and that their journey wouldn't keep him from seeing the prince again for too long.
Little did he know just how long it would be until he would see his home again.
||||||||||||