Work Text:
Six months into his new position as Prince Henry’s equerry, and Shaan was still adjusting.
When he was first offered the job, he had the visceral urge to refuse it on the spot. He had little to no interest in babysitting spoiled, entitled, rich, white boys, no matter how nice and wholesome the official media tried to present them to the public.
But it was a good job, if he did this right he would have so many options when he finally moves on. Besides, his parents are devout supporters of the Crown. Eternally thankful to the monarchy that allowed them to immigrate, blind to all the bad it stands for, they would be so proud of him.
Suffice to say he befuddled upon meeting the teen personally. His Royal Highness Prince Henry was both kinder and meaner than expected in turns.
Initially, Shaan attributed the contradictory behaviour to the grief caused by losing a beloved parent. Then, he assumed the Prince was finally showing his true colors in private. The first time he was made aware of the 18-year-old’s interest with other men, he figured he discovered the root of it all.
The truth, hidden in plain sight, seemed woefully insidious once it dawned on him.
Shaan was somewhat aware of the erratic sleeping habits. He simply failed to see how deep the exhaustion ran. He got desensitized about it from the start.
After all, it was an open secret amongst the staff that the young prince could be found awake at all hours, mostly keeping to himself.
He tried to stay hidden most of the time. Every time a restless Henry was caught outside of his rooms by staff, like a rare encounter with an exotic animal, everyone knew by lunch. And like the sighting of a mythical creature, every time Henry was found asleep in an unlikely spot, the news spread like wildfire before the end of breakfast.
He was always careful to stay quiet and not disturb anyone, but the sounds of him shuffling around echoed through the Palace walls, proof of life where it shouldn’t exist.
Like a shining rose in the middle of the desert.
The little prince was tired.
Lack of sleep gradually, inevitably, twists the mind.
Shaan memorized countless protocols and rules, dictated by etiquette, as part of the requirements for being an equerry. For every unlikely scenario there should already be a plan, or at least a guideline, for him to follow. He never expected this job to be so unpredictable.
No employee handbook explained what to do when one found oneself facing a listless prince, sprawled on a wing back chair, despondently staring at the high ceilings.
“Can I help you with anything, Your Highness?”
“I’m tired. It hurts.”
Shaan bit his lip. Decidedly not something that was included in the job description. “I am very sorry to hear that, sir. Can I get you something for the pain?”
“I just want to sleep,” a tear spilled over the side of Henry’s face, dropping to his temple and disappearing into the blond hairs. Upon further inspection, Shaan could see the stains on his tears that indicated that the six foot tall child in front of him may have been crying for a while now.
“It’s not supposed to be this difficult, is it?” It almost sounded like satire in that posh accent. Internally, Shaan wished he was dealing with some prickly brat.
Roses use thorns to protect themselves, but in a desert, a rose is still fated to wilt.