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The castle is lively, even livelier than usual. Something like that is a hard feat to achieve, when on a normal day the palace is thriving with noise. But add extra bodies and loud music to exist in the grand ballroom, and suddenly it isn’t as difficult to achieve anymore. A ball is being held within the castle walls, and people from all over have come to celebrate.
After all, it is no small occasion when the Red Desert’s very own king reaches thirty. It is a grand cause for celebration, when said king is the last remaining member of the Royal Family.
People are dancing, twirling around on the ballroom floor as the live orchestra plays to entertain their guests. Most in attendance are dressed lightly, wearing light layers and soft fabrics. They all live in a state of merry joy, existing in the moment of celebration for their king. Guests have come from other neighboring kingdoms, safe for one.
The Kingdom of Dogwarts.
For years there has been tension between the two kingdoms, and it is a tension known well. The Red Desert’s king had been working toward some kind of neutrality, a peace between both. However that peace could never be reached, and the two kingdoms have remained as uneasy enemies. It is something unfortunate, as Dogwarts has claim to the mighty enchanter, a magical tool that could help many. There is only one in existence, no one knows how to create it.
The feud between the two kingdoms is not a thought on anyone’s minds tonight, for it is time to honor their king. It will be a thought for the morrow, when the king’s birthday has passed and life returns to normal. For the night, there is joy to be had, dances to be danced, food to be eaten. The night is a break from the harsh reality of the world, a chance to get lost in the fantasy of bliss.
However, there is one knight of many that hovers on the dance floor, just on the outskirts.
A red cape sits on his right shoulder, held in place with a golden clasp, the length of it reaching his waist. Beneath the half cape is a structured tunic, a deep maroon. The collar is popped, sitting around the knight’s neck comfortably. Ornate gold buttons decorate the front of the tunic, a pin clipped to the left of his chest. The pin is golden, in the shape of a lilac and poppy, stems crossing over each other. A diagonal strap reaches from his right shoulder to his lower left side, disappearing under the belt around his middle.
The knight is known well to people within the kingdom, Sir Grian, the king’s personal guard. He’s well respected by those around him, despite having been within the castle for the shortest amount of time out of everyone. It’s only been one short year, yet Grian exists among them like he’s been there from the beginning.
He watches as people dance and twirl their partners around, laughter filling the air. A thoughtful expression rests on his face as he gazes at them, shoulders at ease. His soft brown eyes follow the movements around him, foot idly taping on the ground in time with the music.
The knight has spent some time greeting guests, making sure everyone who comes inside has an invitation and hasn’t just snuck in. The king has practically invited every person within the kingdom and then some.
He had advised against it, but the king is a man with truly too big a heart.
Sighing, Grian glances up toward the grand staircase, where said kind king will appear shortly for a speech. He hasn’t appeared yet, and the ever loyal knight can only hope he’ll be on time. But the king has never been one for timely appearances, with how flippant he is about certain things.
It had thrown him off the first time they met. A lot of things about the man had thrown him off when he first met him.
There are rumors about the Red Desert king, rumors that Grian had been well acquainted with when he was dumped practically right at the king’s doorstep. People claimed the king was cruel and ruthless. They claimed that he was a heartless man, quick to anger with a streak of violence.
And yet the man Grian met was nothing like the rumors made him out to be.
The king was kind, almost so kind that it hurt. He had put himself on the same level as Grian, kneeling on the ground with him. He hadn’t hesitated. Warm and soft fingers had raised Grian’s chin, and he had stared into gentle green eyes.
“You don’t need to kneel for me, Grian. We’re equals, you and me.”
Grian hadn’t known what to make of the man at first, but after living alongside the king, there isn’t a doubt in Grian’s mind.
He’d give everything if his king asked him to.
The thought had terrified him at first, admittedly. Everything is a lot to give one man, especially a king. He could put his heart on the line, his loyalty. He could leave with nothing remaining. The thought made Grian afraid, unsure if such vulnerability was something he wanted to offer up. He still wanted to protect a piece of himself if he could, keep himself intact should anything ever happen.
In the end, it was almost losing his king that solidified Grian’s decision.
There had been an accident, something he hadn’t been around for because he was pulled away for other duties. He wasn’t sure of the details at the time, he was far more focused on the king. He remembered seeing the man and thinking how close he came to losing everything without even knowing it.
Grian had knelt at the man’s side right then and promised him it all. He had realized what his everything was, who his everything was. He couldn’t afford to lose any of it.
Of course, the foolish man had just chuckled, taking Grian’s hand in his own. “You’ve given me your loyalty. That’s everything I need.”
It was over from there. Grian had no chance.
“You know, I thought you were meant to have fun at balls. Not hang around in the corner the whole time.”
Grian lets out a yelp at the sound of a familiar voice by his ear, spinning around on his heel to glare at the person behind him. The very king on his mind. “Scar!” he exclaims, tone scolding. The man before him has broken into quiet giggles. He looks pleased with himself, and Grian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Your Majesty.”
Scar’s snickers quiet down as he looks at Grian with an innocent smile, “I’m sorry G, I couldn’t resist! You were so focused that I had to take the opportunity.”
Grian grumbles something under his breath, something akin to disapproval. “This is why no one takes you ser–” his voice stops as he looks at Scar, registering what he’s wearing. Grian carefully inhales, “Where’s your shirt?”
The king hums innocently, as if he doesn’t see the issue. Covering his shoulders are golden shoulder pads, a fancy dark brown cloak trailing behind him. The inside of the cloak is colored red, and there’s a matching pin to Grian’s hanging on the fabric. His chest is completely exposed, leaving his scars on display, though the fabric of the cloak covers a few on his arms. He’s dressed in brown pants with a red sash around his waist for a belt. On his head sits a golden crown, hair curling around it.
“I don’t have one!” Scar helpfully supplies, cheerful.
Grian stares at him, “…did you really come to your own ball shirtless?”
“Why indeed I did Grian, thank you for noticing!” Scar grins at him, leaving the knight to pinch the bridge of his nose with a quiet groan. “What?!” the king cries, “It’s hot in the desert!”
“You are exhausting, King Scar,” Grian grumbles in return. The man really will take any opportunity to show off his chest. Why? Grian doesn’t have the faintest clue.
“Hey, I’m not that bad!” Scar chuckles in return, a smile dancing along his lips. Grian huffs at him, because he is in fact that bad, causing Scar’s smile to widen into a grin. The king’s gaze then turns curious as he shuffles a step closer to Grian, “Sooo, why’re you just hanging around the party? I thought you’d be dancing with Timothy or something.”
Grian snorts, “You mean Timmy.” He corrects the man without missing a beat. And then, “I’m keeping watch.”
Scar makes a noise at that, as if offended by the very idea of Grian doing anything but dancing. “What?! But this is a ball, Grian! You’re meant to be having fun!” he protests, looking at his knight with a deep frown. “Weren’t you the one who told me you’ve never been to a ball before? C’mon, you can’t spend the entire night being a wall hugger!”
Grian lifts an unimpressed brow, “King Scar, I am your knight. It’s my duty to protect you at all times.” Besides, he’ll enjoy the evening plenty at Scar’s side. The man is a thousand times more interesting than some boring old ball. Even if it is for Scar’s birthday.
Yet the king seems less than pleased with his answer, his frown softening into something more genuine. “I want you to have fun,” he says softly, voice dipping low. Their conversation becomes more private, suddenly, leaving Grian more aware of the man before him. “I don’t want you to miss out on a night like this just because you’re protecting me, lovebird. There are plenty of guards stationed around the place, something you handled, if you recall.”
“I remember.” The name makes Grian’s cheeks burn, and he quickly fights it back. Scar is always doing this, always giving him something. Something he knows that Grian cannot accept because of who they are, where they are. “I’m not missing out on anything, King Scar,” he argues, because he genuinely doesn’t mind doing this. “I’m…” He catches the words before they can fall from his mouth, cheeks growing warmer.
“You’re?” Scar prompts, eyes shining with curiosity and something else.
Void help him. It’s dangerous for his king to make him so weak. “I’m more than happy to spend the night beside you,” Grian finishes, feeling embarrassed. They’ve had their moments before, moments where they were a bit closer than just king and knight. But those moments have taken place behind closed doors, with no prying eyes. This is in public, for anyone to see. To comment.
The genuine joy that appears on Scar’s face is more than enough to soften any kind of worry or concern Grian may have. Scar’s eyes are brimming with fondness as they look at Grian, and his smile is so bright. “Well then, I’m very honored to have such a wonderful man at my side for the evening.” His voice goes so soft as he speaks, warm and laced with something sweet like honey. There’s a hint of something else in his words, something that Grian doesn’t think he should read any further into.
Scar’s eyes drift over to the dancefloor behind Grian, and his eyes shine. “Shall we dance?” he inquires, moving to hold his hand out toward Grian.
The knight looks down at the offered hand, staring at it for a minute. He feels his heart speed up just the slightest bit, the rhythm changing on him as it beats a little quicker. Scar’s hands are warm, if a bit rough from calluses. But they’re soft, inviting. Grian’s hand twitches slightly, as if having a mind of its own.
Who is he to deny his king?
Ever so carefully, Grian lowers his hand into Scar’s waiting one. As their skin touches, a warmth finds itself spreading in Grian’s chest. Scar’s fingers curl around his hand, secure and soft (a traitorous part of his mind wishes he could feel Scar’s hands on him more).
It’s with a gentle tug that Scar is pulling them both to the dance floor. Grian follows easily enough, graceful in his steps. He tries not to think too hard about where they are, choosing to instead focus solely on his king. Scar’s free hand settles comfortably at Grian’s hip, a steady warmth on his side. Likewise, Grian sets his other hand on Scar’s shoulder. He glances down at their feet to make sure neither of them will accidentally step on the other, before he looks up and finds Scar’s eyes on him.
“What?” he asks, just a bit self conscious.
Scar shakes his head, “You’re handsome.”
Grian’s face burns. “Your Majesty…” He swallows and tears his gaze away, biting the inside of his cheek. He hears Scar’s quiet laughter, the hand around his waist pulling him closer than before. He’s pulled closer to Scar’s warmth, and Grian is only flustered further.
He doesn’t give Scar anything else, instead lacing their fingers together as the king begins to lead them. The two of them step in time with the music, easily blending in with the crowd around them. Scar’s hand on his hip is secure, keeping a steady hold on Grian as he leads them.
He isn’t sure how long they dance for, how long their hands are connected like this. But Grian makes sure to soak up all that he can of it. Opportunities like this don’t come very often, so he’s sure to take advantage of it. Although he has a feeling Scar wouldn’t mind offering Grian this if he asked. It’s something he can’t do, ask. He’s Scar’s knight, he must remember.
Even if Scar holds him so kindly, so warmly. Even if this is a moment that seems to go on forever. Scar spins him in circles before pulling him close to his chest again, face just inches apart.
It’d be so easy to kiss him, like this.
Grian thinks he almost does.
But the feeling of eyes on him keeps him in check. He coughs, leaning back slightly, “King Scar… people are staring.” His lips lower in a frown as he looks at the man.
Scar’s eyes still hold that same light, fond yet more. And it’s all directed at Grian, no one else. Grian, his ever loyal, and ever faithful knight. Scar leans in, his hair tickling Grian’s cheek. “Let them,” he whispers, soft and quiet. “Just enjoy the dance, Grian.” His breath ghosts over Grian’s ear, as he pulls back and offers a soft smile. “This is about us, anyway. Loosen up a bit, will you?”
Fondness bubbles up in Grian’s chest as his own lips spread in a smile. He chuckles, shaking his head. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Scar grins brightly, and the rest of the world seems to melt away, leaving only warmth behind.