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He was nought but a stable boy, and he made an honest life from that. He worked hard with the royal horses, the beautiful and majestic beasts a reward of their own. It was his job to polish their tack, ready the horses for war, or simply ready them for patrols. He worked within a small team, each who took great pride in their tasks.
Lance’s personal favourite was a massive dapple-grey mare, affectionately called Blue. She was stunning, her dark dapples stark against the light grey coat, with dark eyes that were so soft, so gentle, it was hard to imagine her in the field of battle. Yet, she was one of the strongest, bravest horses in their care. She had to be strong, carrying knights into jousts and battles with pride and strength.
Blue also happened to be the personal favourite of the crown Princess Allura of Altea. A well deserving spot for such a lovely mare.
Adversely, the stable hands had a collected least favourite horse. Lance was of two minds with the deep, liver chestnut mare who would take great joy in pinning the unfortunate stable hand who was tasked with her stall. Red was far swifter then Blue, the fastest mount in the yard. She was nimble, her legs thinner, then her companions, but no less sturdy.
Red seemed to only like one person, her own knight. She was one of the very few horses at court to have only one rider, deemed mostly unsafe for others. She’d heavily injured another knight by throwing them at a boar, but she’d never do such a thing with her knight.
Lance was one of the unlucky two stable hands who were able to get close to Red safely. She would pin her ears, threaten to bite, but she never had with Lance. He brushed her down, readying her for her next round of patrols. The stable hands had access to the rotations of knights, so they would have steeds ready for them.
Red flicked her ears back, warning Lance as he neared her flank. He pulled back, reaching a hand to brush at her shoulder instead. She relaxed, and Lance continued, grabbing the heavy saddle and placing it delicately on her large back. He was glad he was strong, these saddles were impressive and the horses were huge. Red herself, slightly smaller than most other horses in the stables, stood at an impressive 16.3hh.
Taller than your average joe.
Lance readied the beast with a small smile, knowing he’d soon have the company of Red’s knight. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forwards to it, just a little.
Keith was incredibly handsome, even for a knight who’d seen their fair share of battles. He was strong, had fought and won many battles. He was the second son of a powerful duke, his older brother being the first knight to princess Allura. Keith was just as formidable as his brother, Lance knew it. Red had picked the right rider.
The doors to the stall opened and Lance turned, clasping the final buckle of Red’s bridle. The mare shuffled, edging towards Keith with pricked ears and bright eyes. He reached up, raking a soft, gloved hand over the single white marking this horse had, a small star between her eyes.
Lance watched, trying not to make it too obvious. It was always endearing seeing the knights with the steeds. These were the beasts who carried them for hours, into battle and tournaments. The least they could do was offer them a pat.
It was also refreshing having a knight who wasn’t out to harass the stable hands. Lance had received his fair share of scars from handsy, rough knights who thought they were superior.
Keith led Red away, mounting without a word and urging the mare forwards. Lance watched them leave, saw the dark tail flick as they left. Keith was a knight, he had no reason to talk to the stable hand, despite how much Lance wanted to.
Instead, he returned to his duties, working through his own list to care for the horses.
Sometime later, another knight entered the yards. He was big, surly, walking with so much purpose his armour clanked and spooked one of the younger mounts.
“You, boy.” The knight jutted a gloved finger at Lance. “Fetch me a steed.”
Lance nodded, not wanting to incur the wrath of this knight. He scurried to find a horse, locating a lovely bay gelding with such soft eyes. He was beautiful, a white star on his forehead and three white socks.
He moved quickly, handing the reins to the knight once ready.
“Help me up, boy.” The knight said, snatching the reins from Lance and leading him into the open. Lance followed, unable to do anything else. “Today, some of us have important things to do.”
Lance tried hard not to roll his eyes, or at the least, conceal it. He fetched the mounting block, ignoring the glare from the knight. Some were certainly better than others. It was their job to protect people, but that didn’t always extend to the peasants.
He would love to see the knights prepare their own horses, if it was so unimportant.
“What was that, boy?”
Ah. No brain to mouth filter, he’d said that out loud.
“Sorry, sir,” Lance said, trying to sound meek and apologetic.
It didn’t do anything to appease the knight. He stepped back, slapping a hand across Lance’s cheek and bruising it swiftly. His head whipped to the side at the force. Beside them, the bay gelding shifted, unease in those beautiful eyes.
“I could have your head for such manners,” he spat, taking the reins once more.
Lance looked down. It wasn’t the first time his life or his job had been threatened. He sort of had form.
“Is that any way to speak to a person?” the new voice made Lance’s head jerk. Keith stood there, astride the beautiful Red, covered in a layer of sweat. Keith scowled at the other knight, dark eyes daring him to argue.
“Ah, Sir Keith. I was just coming to relieve you.”
“No need,” Keith said. “I had Hunk replace me.” He glanced briefly back to Lance, then looked back to the knight. “I expect patrolling the western side will be productive.”
“Of course, Sir Keith.”
“And one more thing,” Keith moved Red closer, the mare’s ears flicking back, the whites of her eyes visible as she tensed, ready for battle. The gelding, the poor thing, danced away, eager to not be anywhere near the dangerous mare.
“I never want to catch you hitting another of the castle’s workers, whoever they may be. Am I understood?”
The knight scowled, but Keith’s eyes were dark, firm. Dangerous.
“Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir Keith.”
Lance watched the bay leave in a flurry of hooves, the rider keen to be away from the higher knight. Keith dismounted, passing the reins over to Lance with a much gentler hand.
“She will require a drink,” Keith said. “And she stepped on a rock.”
Lance nodded, easing the steed back towards her yard. She followed, slightly tender on her near front. The moment she was back on the soft straw, she relaxed, chewing slightly to release tension in her jaw.
“You shouldn’t let them get to you,” Keith hadn’t left. Lance almost jumped, turning to see Keith standing at the door, watching him. Sir Keith, Princess Allura’s friend. One of the most impressive knights of Altea, someone to be feared, sometimes more then even Shiro.
Lance turned away, removing Red’s bridle with practiced ease. “He is a knight; I am but a servant.”
“Without you, there would be no one to care for the horses,” Keith said, like it was the simplest thing ever. “All lives matter, regardless of their birth status.”
Lance turned back to Red, trying to hide how pleased he was by the comment. It was so refreshing to hear a knight speak this way. To hear a knight at all, really. Usually, it was just grunts and yelling.
He distracted himself by offering the water pale to Red, who took great, greedy gulps of the liquid. He went about picking up each hoof, taking care on the tender foot to remove the stone. She would have a slight bruise, but the royal farrier would have something to aid with its healing.
“You are good with her.”
Keith was still there. Wasn’t this boring? Didn’t he have better things to do then watch a servant with a horse?
“She’s a good horse, bit cranky.”
The knight offered the mare another pat, and she yielded to him instantly. “She just needs to earn your trust.”
Lance was pretty sure he never would, not to the level Keith had, but he was pleased Red had this. The knight was someone he admired a great deal. When he was younger, he’d always wanted to be a knight, but it was only those of noble blood who were allowed.
It was only after Red was packed away, brushed and sweat free that Keith left. Lance watched him leave, hoping he would return soon. He couldn’t ignore the small, blooming warmth at the thought of seeing that beautiful knight again.
“Shut up,” Keith snapped, glaring at his older brother. Most, almost all, others would’ve cowered from the glare. Not Shiro.
He was too busy laughing. “Did you say hello to your little stable friend?”
“He’s not my friend,” Keith said. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
Shiro shrugged, a wide grin on his face despite Keith’s death glare. “Who cares about that? You think he’s cute, right? You should see where it goes.”
Keith could only scowl. His mind unhelpfully presented him with the image of the pretty stable boy, who’s blue eyes looked like puddles of endless ocean. The only boy Keith had seen able to tolerate Red’s antics. The only one who stood up for the others against knights with far more power and strength. Lance, the boy who made Keith want to be a better knight.
Not that he could ever tell the boy that.
“I think he would care.”
Shiro sighed, shaking his head. He slung an arm around Keith’s shoulders, drawing him in. Keith winced, he was tired and sore from a recent skirmish with bandits. “I just want to see my little brother happy, Keith. If this young stable boy does, then, would it be so bad to try?”
“Yes.”
He couldn’t have someone as beautiful as Lance, he would never be so lucky. He couldn’t have Lance turn him away. The class gap made it easy to ignore, made a good excuse. Lance was under obligation to do anything Keith said. He hated the idea of using that power to force him to say yes. It was too complicated.
Of course, that hadn’t necessarily stopped Lance from arguing with him in the past, or any of the other knights for that matter. When they’d first met, Keith had gone to the stables with Red, dressed in attired easily confused with a simple peasant. Lance had taken Red, proceeded to rabbit on about proper care for horses, and Keith had fallen.
Of course, then Lance had learned from another stable hand just who Keith was, and he was all apologies, but it was too late. Keith had seen who was beneath the peasant exterior. He wanted to know more.
There were so many horses filling the stables. A huge ball was to be held at the palace in honour of the princess’s birthday. People had travelled from all over to attend, leaving the stable hands with plenty to do.
Lance was working overtime with the others to ensure all animals were well tended to. He was glad this would only be for a couple of days; this was becoming tedious. There were far too many.
He moved through the stable blocks to the well, the cover of darkness making it difficult to see. He knew where the cobblestones pressed above the others, taking care not to trip. He caught movement in the corner of his eye and Lance watched someone move towards him.
He would recognise that mullet anywhere.
Lance hurried his pace to the well, eager to get out of the knight’s path. Instead, Keith merely walked, dark eyes watching Lance. He wore an almost casual outfit, like the one he’d worn when they’d first met. He wasn’t looking to take Red out then, but there was no other reason to be at this well, nor this part of the castle.
“Sir Keith,” Lance said, giving him a nod when it became clear the knight was moving closer to him specifically.
“Lance,” hearing his name from Keith’s mouth was always a surprise. Lance knew it was foolish, knew nothing would truly come from it, but he couldn’t help but enjoy these little encounters with the knight.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Taking a stroll, or is that not allowed?”
Lance flushed, grateful for the darkness to cover the redness of his cheeks. There was something playful in his charming voice that made Lance want to hear more. He didn’t want to be reminded that Keith was so much more important than himself, or that he could have his pick of anyone in the land. Someone like him would never pick Lance.
But, oh. He could dream.
“Of course,” Lance said, lifting his bucket from the well and replacing it with another.
Keith took a step forwards, arm raised. “Do you need a hand? I’m good at carrying buckets.”
Lance wasn’t sure if this was a test. He was sure Keith wasn’t that cruel, but he’d also heard stories from other castle staff who would get into so much trouble if they were caught asking a noble for help.
“I’m ok, thank you.” That had to be the correct response, but something in Keith drooped. He looked disheartened, somehow. Lance had to look away, unable to get the image from his head.
“If you’re sure. That looks like a lot of water.”
Lance was used to it, and it wasn’t that far. The horses drank a lot of water, he was doing this sort of trip several times a day. He had built quite the upper arm strength. “Thank you, though. Should you be getting back inside?”
Keith ran a hand through his hair, looking somewhat sheepish. “My brother kicked me out. Apparently I was too busy moping.”
Lance laughed quietly, turning a bright smile to Keith. “You, mope?”
Keith shrugged, the relaxed features of his face so different to what he’d grown used to from the serious knight. “I could never.”
Lance lifted his bucket back over the edge of the well with a grunt, picking up the other and setting off. Keith followed behind, like a tall, dangerous shadow. They passed Red’s stall, the mare fast asleep in the straw with her nose tucked to her knees.
“I’ve never seen her sleep,” Keith said as they moved along.
They passed Blue’s stall, the grey mare poking her head out as they did. Lance checked her water, then topped it up with both buckets.
“She’s everyone’s favourite when she sleeps,” Lance said, gesturing to where Red slept. He offered Blue a soft pat, the mare’s soft eyes watching him lazily. He moved along, filling up more water buckets with what remained.
“She looks so peaceful,” Keith said. “I’m glad. I can’t imagine it’s an easy life for them.”
Lance shrugged, emptying the final bucket to a palomino. “It’s what they’re trained to do.”
As he turned to gather more water, Keith grabbed two empty buckets and hurried back to Lance’s side. He made to object, but stopped when Keith just marched on forwards, buckets at his side and heading for the well. He’d said not to help, right? Keith didn’t seem the type to turn around and hit him, right?
He kept an uneasy eye on Keith as they filled up the buckets.
“Are you going to the ball?” Keith’s voice was so loud in the darkness, disrupting the uneasy peace Lance had found.
Lance frowned, looking down at his empty buckets. “Am I? Keith – Sir, Sir Keith, I’m not even a palace servant. I’ve never stepped foot within the castle walls.”
Keith seemed genuinely surprised, eyes widening slightly. Lance couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t like anyone wanted a smelly servant within their clean walls. Certainly not near all the foreign nobles.
“Not even royal balls?”
“It’s not our place, I’m no noble. I’m perfectly happy to watch the horses whilst its happening, goodness knows it creates enough work. Are you going?”
Keith nodded, slow and unsure. He kept his eyes on Lance. “I am.” Of course he was, he was brother to the princess’s first knight. It would be weird if he didn’t.
They carried their buckets back to the stalls in silence. Lance wasn’t surprised by how easily the knight lifted the buckets, he wore 30kg armour on the regular and fought enemies with huge weapons. The loose shirts did little to hide his impressive muscles.
“Thank you, for the help,” Lance said, finishing the last bit of water for the night.
Keith nodded, an easy expression on his relaxed face. “I enjoyed that, thank you, Lance.”
Since then, Keith just kept popping up. The day of the ball, Lance had seen Keith no less then four times. Once, to retrieve Red. Twice, returning the mare. But the other two times were just to chat.
The castle was alive with light and sound. Lance watched from the edges of the stable, his duties fortunately done for the evening. He would be passing over to the next team shortly, looking forward to sleeping nice and early. He would be happier when the additional horses returned to their own residences.
People milled about, well dressed and ready for the ball. Lords and Ladies moved in and out of the main castle entrance, laughter following them. Lance could see the staff attempting to move about with great speed, trying to keep out of the noble’s way.
Lance could hear the faint sounds of music being played, carried over the quiet night air. He wondered what it might be like, dancing in the well-lit ballroom, surrounded by people wearing fancy clothes. Dancing with a partner, a warm embrace in the cool night. He wondered what it would feel like to have someone smile at him, say he was special.
Briefly, his mind flashed to Keith. He wondered if the knight had picked someone to dance with, or if he’d be standing stiffly against the wall, watching. He hoped it was the latter, but he couldn’t be jealous. It wasn’t like he would get to dance with him.
Movement caught his eye, closer to the stables then they should be. Someone was walking towards him, dressed in fine clothes. Lance wasn’t about to stop a nobleman, but he knew they would be angry if they got horse dung on their finery.
Except, it wasn’t just any nobleman. It was Sir Keith. He looked beautiful, well groomed for the first time Lance had seen. Layers of formal clothes that made him look far too attractive to be fair. The reds and dark blues contrasted with each other to create a perfect shadow, his hair brushed and slicked back.
Keith changed course once he spotted Lance. “Lance, good evening.”
“My lord,” Lance gave a short bow, a bend of the head. Seeing Keith in this attire, it was hard not to address him by proper title.
“So formal,” Keith said, shaking his head slightly. There was a small smile on his lips. “Have you finished for the evening?”
Lance nodded, body edging closer to the stables. “I can fetch Red for you though, if you require her.”
Keith held up a hand, effectively halting Lance. “Let her rest, I came for you.”
Lance frowned, unable to ignore how ominous that sounded. Had he done something? Rude to another noble? He tried to wrack his brain, but he found nothing. “I’m sorry?”
Instead of arresting Lance, or threatening, he extended a clean hand. “It’s come to my attention that you have never been asked to dance before.”
Lance’s jaw dropped. He really hoped this wasn’t happening. He didn’t want to read this wrong. “Ah, no, but that’s ok.”
Keith’s hand stayed between them, unwavering. “I would like to change that. Would you do me the honour, Lance?”
“You want to dance with me?” at Keith’s nod, Lance looked down. “I’ll get you all dirty.”
“I believe that clothes can be washed.”
Lance blinked. “I won’t make someone clean up after me.”
Keith didn’t have a response for that. He lowered his hand, something almost sad washing over his features. Lance wasn’t imagining it – the knight looked sad. Disappointed.
“I understand,” Keith said, and Lance ached to reach forwards, to take that hand. He couldn’t. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
With that, he left.
Keith didn’t go back to the stables for a week. When he did, Lance wasn’t there. Someone else, a young stable hand Keith hadn’t met before, was trying to get a saddle on Red. The mare was puffing, unhelpfully not allowing the cinch to get tightened. She threatened to kick, stamping a back hoof dangerously, whites of her eyes angled to the unlucky soul.
“Where is Lance?”
The stable hand yelped slightly, jumping at the appearance of the knight. He seemed more frightened of Keith then of the mare that wanted death. “He called out today, my lord.”
Keith frowned, watching Red’s next attempt. “Do you know why?”
The stable hand looked uneasily between the knight and horse. “His mother took ill, my lord. That’s all I know.”
Keith hadn’t known. Of course he hadn’t. How could he? Lance had never talked about his home life before.
Red chose that moment to step forward, teeth wrapping around the boy’s arm. Keith grabbed for her, shoving her off the boy. She snorted, moving back to the corner of the stall, angry eyes watching the two.
A deep bruise was already beginning to form around the young boy’s upper arm and Keith winced.
“Thank you, please tell Lance I asked for him, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course, my lord.”
Keith nodded, turning to leave. He paused, turning his head. “And get that seen to. Order of Knight Keith.”
Lance ran a hand over Red’s mane. It was soft, smooth, he’d worked hard for it to stay that way. The stable master had requested Lance’s return after the mare had taken a chunk from Eli’s arm. Fortunately, with his mama on the mend, he had no issue with returning to work.
She’d taken ill with a cold, but they’d been unable to afford the medicine, so she’d been bedridden.
“You’re back,” Keith’s voice startled him. He turned, hand twisting in Red’s mane. She pinned her ears back, a subtle warning. He removed his hand, instead resting it on her shoulder. She relaxed, moving back to her hay.
“Keith,” Lance said, unable to stop himself. “I – you weren’t supposed to take Red out for another two hours.” It was important for him to know the schedule, it paid to be on time with these knights.
Keith moved closer, reaching one hand to pat at Red’s neck. She allowed it, watching both. “She was very cranky last week.”
“She didn’t get her usual attention.”
Keith nodded. “I heard your mother took ill, how is she?”
“On the mend,” Lance said, trying to hide his surprise. Why would he care about a peasant’s mother?
Keith shifted, somewhat awkwardly in his posture. “About last week.” He took a breath, not meeting Lance’s eyes. “I should never have crossed a line with you, and I’m sorry if I offended you.”
Lance blinked, hand running soft circles over Red’s warm shoulder to ground himself. “You didn’t offend me.” Lance said, because it was true. “I am but a stable hand, Keith. We cannot be more than this.”
Keith’s eyes held a glint, dangerous and daring. “Says who?”
“Ah, the law?”
Keith shook his head, holding Lance’s gaze steadily. “I meant it, you know. I would like to dance with you. But if you don’t, I understand.”
Lance bit his lip, holding his breath. He couldn’t think of another excuse. This was a peace offering, his last chance. It wasn’t some cruel joke, it couldn’t be. Eventually, he sighed. “Keith, I don’t want you to be laughed at. I’m a servant, I could never hold myself at court, and that’s where you belong.”
Keith didn’t give up. “I want you at my side, Lance. I look forwards to coming to the stables, seeing you. I find ways to come by, move patrols so I can be here. I don’t care if you are a peasant. I care that you’re smart, funny, kind and beautiful.”
The words made Lance blush, unable to stop the spread of warmth along his cheeks. He turned away, unable to keep holding that intense gaze. “I am just a servant, Keith. I can’t offer you money.”
“I don’t need money, Lance. I need only a love who will love in return. Please, allow me the opportunity?”
Lance’s resolve was already paper thin. This was everything he’d never dreamed possible. This was what he’d wanted from the moment he’d laid eyes on the incredible man.
Slowly, he slipped his hand from Red.
“I will allow you one date to prove yourself, Sir Knight.”
Keith’s face practically seemed to glow. Something settled within his own chest.
He knew he’d made the right choice.
“We’ll miss you,” the stablemaster said. “No one handles Red like you.”
Lance shot a glance to the mare, innocently eating her hay. “I’ll still saddle her for Keith, don’t worry.”
The stablemaster nodded. “You’d better, I’m not losing more good workers because of her.”
Lance felt an arm drape over his shoulders and smiled up at its owner. “I was thinking we could go for a ride now, if that’s alright?”
The stablemaster could do little to refuse the knight, and soon enough, Keith was sitting astride Red. He’d been given permission from the Princess, who was a lovely young lady and extremely excited to get to know Lance better, to ride her steed. Allura was happy that Keith was happy, apparently, she’d been worried.
Blue was just as incredible to ride as he’d expected.
Keith led them out on a trail, taking the lead with confidence. Lance smiled, easily following his betrothal. Lance hadn’t even been surprised when the knight had asked, several months of courting later. It seemed the next logical progression for them.
“I’ve asked Allura if she would allow me to train you.”
Lance blinked, pushing Blue closer so they walked side by side. “What?”
“You’re a gifted archer, Lance. The kingdom could really use your skills.”
He smiled, reaching across Blue’s side for Keith’s hand. “I’m no knight.”
“Yet.”
Lance found he could do nothing but smile. He would be a noble upon marrying his beloved. There would be nothing stopping him, certainly no laws. He could fight, protect his kingdom. He would do it at Keith’s side.
He’d always wondered what true happiness felt like, but now didn’t. he knew. It felt like this, hand in Keith’s, taking long rides into the forest together. It was slow kisses in the darkness of night. It was them, together, through anything that came.