Chapter Text
Ratio knew the two golden rules well. The first: knights ought always to bow their heads when any member of royalty passed them by. Unfortunately for him, he served in a castle that almost never saw a dull day. There was always someone visiting, some monarch or baroness from some geographical region several stones’ throws away. People moved in and moved out, so frequently that it was often hard to say who lived there and who did not. The main halls saw plenty of townsfolk who milled somewhat aimlessly about. There were weeks on end during which Ratio bowed so much he thought he’d get a permanent twinge in his neck.
The second rule was more precise: when passed by their own sovereign, they should bow their heads and kneel. Only to their own sovereign. For a knight to kneel to someone they did not serve might as well be a proclamation of defiance and disloyalty. Ratio never failed to kneel when Aventurine passed, but he’d be lying if he said it was easy to bow his head. Keeping his eyes fixed on the graystone floor while the esteemed prince walked past was like staring at a patch of mud while a field of wildflowers was just up ahead. He tried, though, and ‘tried’ was the key word there, as he often failed miserably. He couldn’t help but to peer through his visor, just for a glimpse.
As soon as Aventurine had walked far enough down the line of knights not to see him, Ratio stood again. He turned his head to face the prince’s retreating back, to watch him nod and smile at his present company. Ratio tore his gaze away to bow to the other royals and nod at the townspeople. He mentally recorded their appearances, knowing the importance of memory in the midst of crowds like this. A knight could never be sure when strife might arise, if a sudden conflict might happen. Although he stored the faces of countless people in his mind, there was only one he loved more than any other.
When, finally, the knights stepped out of their perfect line, Ratio marched right out to the inner courtyard, where the people would be congregating. It was awfully busy, the atmosphere loud and lively. So starkly different from what it was while Ratio was training in the early mornings. A group of princesses stood admiring the few marble statues on their pedestals. Several farmers roved about the flower garden, gesticulating wildly as they bragged about their own fields. Ratio’s eyes searched the crowd until he found Aventurine, sitting on the marble edge of the fountain at the center of the madness. He wore his usual smile, clever and full of knowing. Ratio made his way over, treacherous heart beating a little faster with every step. Aventurine stared up at him, and Ratio found himself briefly lost in his bright eyes before remembering his place. He slowly knelt, and the prince’s head followed his path.
“Good afternoon,” Aventurine said, resting his chin in his gloved hands. The flowing green sleeves of his shirt rippled softly in the breeze. He looked at Ratio as if he could see easily through the visor of his helmet.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness.”
“Wouldn’t you rather stand?”
“It’s not right for me to look down to you,” Ratio replied. Aventurine laughed. The sound rose over the drone of conversation in the yard.
“You have a head of height over me when I stand. If I minded stuffy rules like that, I would have appointed someone shorter.” A beat, during which the corners of Aventurine’s lips twitched. “I jest. You can laugh.” Ratio sighed.
“Are you ordering me to laugh?” Aventurine pouted playfully.
“Well, it isn’t any fun for either of us if I have to do that. I’m no tyrant.”
“Would a tyrant want his knight to laugh?”
“You pose a good question. Why don’t we both stand, and put the difference behind us for now? Does that sound fair?”
“If you wish.” Ratio rose to his feet. He reached out with his right hand. Aventurine took it and stood. Though Ratio wore gauntlets and Aventurine gloves, Ratio could almost imagine the feeling of Aventurine’s hand against his. This was the subject of many of his dreams. In all the years Ratio had served him, they scarcely touched directly, skin to skin. Of course, mindless, casual touch was not his right. Although their paths crossed daily, although Ratio knew more about the prince than he’d ever need to, they weren't exactly friends, and certainly weren't equals. They were close in proximity, but Ratio still felt like he was watching Aventurine’s life from its outskirts. He’d felt that for a long time. Aventurine was courteous and kind to him, and that should have been all he’d ever hoped for. Still…
“I fear,” Aventurine said, interrupting his musings. “That I do have people to talk to.” Ratio blinked.
“Of course. My apologies, do not let me keep you.”
“No need to apologize. If this were a quieter day, I would be happy to stand idly with you.” Before Ratio could decide whether this was a facetious statement, Aventurine slid his hand away, their covered fingers overlapping for a moment.
“A question for you,” he said. “One I’ve never asked, but surely know the answer to.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Do you ever let me out of your sight?”
“At times like this, I give my best effort not to. You are vigilant, but that trait does not exist to make up for my possible mistakes. There are times I find it acceptable, though. When you are in your bedchambers, for example, or in meetings with certain royals.”
“‘Certain’? Not all?”
“There are a choice few I dislike the idea of leaving you alone with,” Ratio confessed through gritted teeth. “Please don’t ask for names. It would be in poor taste to give them.”
“Very well. I suppose I have to pay more attention to the times you’re by my side. I’ll guess the names for myself, and I’ll report back to you so we may have a laugh about them.” Aventurine hummed. “That is, unless I have to order you to laugh.” Ratio held back a smile, even though Aventurine couldn’t see it.
“I look forward to it, Your Highness.”
“Good.” Aventurine looked deep in thought for a split second. “I’ll be going. Thank you for watching over me.”
“I– you’re welcome.” And Ratio watched him go.
Aventurine was named as the prince five years ago. Before that, he’d spent several years traveling nearby territories to charm their royals and citizens alike. He was calculated, building rapport with anyone who would listen until ultimately, a province asked him to stay. He did so, establishing trust, climbing the ranks until the people decided to crown him. He was well known, favored for his charisma. But before that, he had been, for lack of a better word, nobody. He was not the son of any queen or the relative of another. Some who spoke of him said that it had been a game of chance that anyone could have played, that he’d gone from a poor boy to a prince simply by being in the right places, talking to the right people, at the right times. Ratio disagreed. Aventurine was special. He was smart, philanthropic, strategic. Surely no one else could have done what he did. But perhaps Ratio was biased.
Ratio had come to fit into this story, just the same, five years ago. His life before Aventurine was a blur of rigorous training, but he remembered the day he was knighted like it was yesterday. The ceremony was long, with Ratio stuck in a seemingly never ending line of soon-to-be knights, all waiting to reach the front to be selected by their monarch. Ratio recalled looking up at Aventurine, waiting. He hadn’t been wearing his helmet, so they were truly face to face. Aventurine lifted a sword, rested the blade over Ratio’s shoulder.
“You will be known from this moment as a knight of my court, Veritas Ratio. Be chivalrous, brave, and loyal to your prince and your land.” Ratio had taken his oath, and would die before breaking it. He’d spent ample time getting used to Aventurine’s busy schedule, the way he ruled, spoke, thought. He found himself beginning to hang on Aventurine’s every word. At first, Ratio was simply interested in the prince. Then, fascinated by him. Eventually, completely enamored. But this was not a fantasy tale with a happy ending like those shared between children, and the one he loved most was the farthest out of reach. Even though he’d given his life to Aventurine, no matter how many times he knelt at his feet or swore his fealty, he would never have him how he truly wanted. How he desperately, hopelessly wanted.
The sun shone down on Ratio’s armor, warming him through. If only the cool winds could also be felt through the metal; the knights could never seem to benefit from this lovely, temperate weather. He pondered Aventurine’s earlier statements in his mind. I would be happy to stand idly with you. Thank you for watching over me. Ah, the warmth he felt now, blooming across his cheeks, was not from the sun. He could still see Aventurine across the courtyard, speaking solemnly to a group of people who looked to be from the countryside. Sensing the attention, Aventurine glanced back over at Ratio and grinned. Ratio’s breath caught in his throat. He could live off of those smiles alone, and never want for anything again. Aventurine turned away from him as quickly as he’d looked over. The gemstones embedded in his thin crown caught tiny rays of sun, and he was the most beautiful man Ratio had ever laid eyes on. He stood watching the prince raptly until the assembly began heading back towards the castle. He and the other knights followed like herding dogs. One of them veered closer to Ratio to speak.
“This is likely to be a gathering that lasts well into the night,” they said. “The people are in good spirits, and the royalty is loath to deny them.”
“I see,” Ratio replied simply. Another long, uneventful day. He wouldn’t complain.
Ratio leaned against an inner wall by the gates, nodding shortly at the groups of people sluggishly exiting the grounds. They looked quite tired— near twelve long hours of conversation and commerce would have that effect on anyone. Ratio suppressed a yawn himself. Only once the last pedestrian had left did he and a few other knights shut the heavy doors.
Ratio moved away from his station and leaned against the nearest wall with a soft groan. He tilted his neck in a slow circle, then rotated his shoulders, eager to remove his armor. His hands were halfway into the process of removing his helmet when Aventurine rounded the corner.
“Ah–! Prince Aventurine,” Ratio said, quickly readjusting his armor and hurrying to stand upright.
“Did I interrupt anything?”
“Not at all. What do you need from me?” Aventurine tapped a gloved finger against his lips. He looked almost remorseful.
“Regarding our little conversation this morning… I have neglected to appreciate what you have done for me these last several years. We don’t talk as much as we did when I was first crowned.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t believe I have ever thanked you directly before today. I feel simply awful.” Ratio shook his head.
“You know there’s no need. My loyalty is not conditional.”
“You truly are noble. I admire that— you inspire me.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.” Aventurine nodded. “A knight like you, Veritas, deserves far more recognition from his prince. I’ll give you that, if you’d like.” He took a step closer, and Ratio leaned away until his back hit the wall again. He sank down a few inches, his legs feeling like they might collapse from under him.
“If you wish to, Your Highness, I—”
“No. I want to hear it from your lips. Tell me what you would like.” Aventurine took another step forward. If he took any more, Ratio might just pass out.
“Or… If you would rather decline, be admired from afar… I would give you that instead.” He rested his hands lightly on Ratio’s knees, spreading his fingertips out over the metal armor that covered them. Although Ratio couldn’t feel the touch, he let slip a small gasp. His eyes darted around in search of other people. If anyone stumbled across this scene— he could not think of the repercussions. Actually, he could barely think at all. Aventurine’s smile grew.
“Well?”
“I do want your gratitude, Your Highness. Please give me your regard.” Apparently satisfied, Aventurine stepped back.
“Very good. Granted.”
“You are exceptionally audacious,” Ratio mumbled. Aventurine folded his arms across his chest.
“It keeps me amused. Will you be watching the gates tonight?” Ratio took the abrupt transition in stride.
“I will.”
“Sounds monotonous.”
“It is not so bad. It’s quiet. I have time to think.”
“And what will you think about tonight?” Ratio hummed.
“How I might better serve you tomorrow, of course.” Aventurine’s face lit up.
“Was that flippancy?”
“I try to keep a sense of humor, Your Highness.” Aventurine clasped his hands together in excitement.
“So you can appreciate my teasing. In that case, I should leave you to your whims.”
“Sleep well,” Ratio said.
“I will, knowing my home is well-guarded. Good night!” Aventurine spun on his heel to walk back the way he’d come. “May the stars keep you company.”
Ratio waited until the prince was certainly gone to finally remove his helmet. Clutching it under one arm, he turned to press his flushed forehead to the cold stone wall.