Chapter Text
Woomph.
Benny landed on the ground outside the far castle wall gracefully, a practiced habit from when he’d been rebellious, had snuck out beyond the estate grounds simply for the knowledge that he was breaking the rules by doing so. Life inside the castle could be so constrained by custom, by propriety. Especially for him as the prince, always expected to be in the right place at the right time, expected to say the right things, a pleasant smile on his face no matter who he was speaking with at the time.
Taking a look around and checking behind him to be sure no one had seen him go, the familiar adrenaline rush of going against the rules swept through him once more, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was always so much more fun, traveling without an official castle escort and guard. So much more normal.
He’d been breaking this rule in particular for years, never caring that it would be unseemly for a prince to be caught sneaking out of his own castle. His coronation was a mere three months away; his time would be much more limited as a king. He’d resolved to enjoy the relative leniency while he still had it, had taken to scaling the walls surrounding the castle like he’d had when he was younger. He always returned before it would become apparent that he’d gone, holding the stolen moments outside the castle walls dear.
He loved his country; there was not a moment where he was ungrateful for the chance to serve it at the highest level. It was only that sometimes the pressure got to be too much, the idea of a nation looking to him to lead, to make the right decision again and again, trusting him with their lives and their livelihoods. He was acutely aware of his responsibilities to his people; most days, it spurred him to study harder, to train more, to do as much as he could to prepare. Some days, it lead to him hopping over the wall, pretending for at least a moment that there was no weight on his shoulders at all.
Making his way down the path into town, he glanced down at his clothes and frowned - they were his most plain, but still a far cry from common, he knew. It would be obvious, from that and the direction from which he came, that he’d be coming from the castle. Still, he hoped that he wouldn’t be immediately recognizable as the prince.
Not too many people outside of the council and the ever-present castle staff had ever really seen him up close. The townspeople would only ever have seen him dressed immaculately, standing on a balcony during official events and holidays. Certainly, they wouldn’t expect him to be wandering down the streets. Even if they caught the resemblance, they wouldn’t assume him to be who he was. He just needed not to draw attention to himself.
Shouldn’t be too much of a problem.
His story, if asked, was that he was simply running an errand for the castle, on his way to the blacksmith’s shop. It was a longstanding tradition, for each new king to be given a sword at their coronation. It was to be more ceremonial than useful, of course. The elaborate designs and usually ostentatious jewelling more often than not rendered them useless for any practical purpose.
And, technically, he wasn’t supposed to see the sword until it was presented to him, but that wasn’t about to stop him. He was excited to check on its progress, to see it being formed, prepared much in the same way he was preparing himself to accept it. To see the designs, the sword being forged, would impress upon him the reality of what he was soon about to do.
It seemed daunting, the coronation. The assumption of so much more responsibilities, of so much more publicity. Benny felt as though there were never any way he could be fully prepared and he drew little comfort from his advisors and predecessors saying that it was a common feeling, that he’d do spectacularly, that the people loved him already.
His thoughts, his doubts of his readiness, consumed his mind until he was surprised to find himself already approaching the center of town. Giddiness filled him at the simple, wonderful feeling of adventure he got from wandering into town and he ducked inside the shop, ruffling his hair in an attempt to make him seem more unpolished, less like he might be the prince.
A bell overhead tinkled at his arrival as he looked around - it felt remarkably comfortable, an obviously well-loved shop. Almost like a home, with little trinkets and personal belongings strewn all over. A pleasant feeling of warmth settled in his chest and he walked towards one of the displays, drawn in by the intricacy of some of the designs.
A voice coming from back behind the counter startled him from his closer inspection of the metal-work hanging on the walls. “How may I help you?” he asked, a friendly tone to his voice, but clearly having said this multiple times already today. Benny startled a little, not having heard him enter from the back, but part of him thrilled at it, at the idea that he was just another person going about their life.
Benny spun around, taking a look at the man who startled him. Kind, dark eyes sparkled with amusement at having taken him by surprise, a bright smile on his face.
“Usnavi. Usnavi de la Vega.” Benny met his outstretched hand with a smile. It was smaller than his, though calloused through his work. He tracked his eyes down Usnavi’s face now that he was closer, still struck by his warm eyes, easy smile. It made him regret having to drop his hand.
The smile grew wider when Benny introduced himself as well. It would have been smarter, probably, to have not used his real name, but something about him made him want to be truthful. He wanted this man to know his name. And besides, he reasoned, only his very closest friends ever called him that. Certainly no one from town would think of him by that name.
Interrupting his train of thought, Usnavi repeated, “So, Benny, how can I help you?”
Dropping his gaze to the floor for a second, he said, “Ah, well, I’ve been sent by the castle.” The words came out in a nervous rush; he hadn’t really developed a plan for what he would do once he got here.
Eyes flitted down his body quickly and the smile turned into a smirk. “I knew it,” he said, sounding proud of himself for having been able to guess. “I could tell. No one around town wears clothes like that. Must be working for the royal family.”
A huff of laughter escaped him; so he’d been right earlier when assessing his clothes. There was no way he’d pass as a commoner. Still, there was no evidence that the man suspected him to be the prince himself, so Benny stuck to his story, said that he’d come to check on the progress made on the coronation sword.
It was odd, Benny decided, to be discussing the prince, and plans for the prince’s sword, and the prince’s preferences, as though it were not him, as though he were not there. But the feeling of oddness was overwhelmed with a sense of freedom. He was not required to be the prince in this moment, with this man.
An almost shy smile stole over his face when Benny complimented his design, assured him the prince would love it. “Thank you very much, sir,” he ducked his head down a little with the praise, inclining it further at the honorific.
“Please,” Benny said, waving his hand lightly, warmth effusing through his voice, “drop the ‘sir.’ I much prefer Benny,” he explained.
“Benny it is then” he replied back, sounding pleased, a wide smile spreading over his face.
Something in Benny made him reluctant to leave, so he wandered around the place, asking questions about different pieces in the shop, about the small personal touches lying around.
Blacksmithing had been his parents’ career, the shop theirs before it became his. Watching him gesture with his hands as he excitedly discussed his work, Benny marveled at his obvious enthusiasm, the way his whole face lit up when he got passionate about a certain topic.
He could watch him forever. Warmth settled in his chest and a soft smile crossed his face.
In the distance, a bell chimed four and Benny’s head snapped up. He’d be missed at the castle, had been gone far too long already. Regretfully, he said his goodbyes to Usnavi.
Climbing back over the castle wall, he realized that he still has a smile on his face. Perhaps he’d find some excuse in the coming days to pay another trip to the blacksmith’s. He was already plotting ways to ditch his guard once again, to make it into town.
He’d found more than just his sword designs in that little store. He couldn’t wait to go back.