Chapter Text
William wakes up to a sour taste in his mouth. The darkness of the late night sits outside his window like stagnant water. He rolls over onto his side, facing away from the window, and burrows deeper into his comforter. He lies like that for a few content minutes, until his stomach lets out a monstrous growl.
It wouldn’t hurt to get a quick midnight snack… Will’s house does have multiple kitchens and bakeries. As he slips out of bed, he notices that his body feels extra stiff. As he stretches, he hears and feels multiple pops and cracks across his body and down his spine.
Will approaches his closet door, and blood rushes to his head, causing him to hold onto the door handle for support. More reason to get nutrients, he thinks, as it slowly subsides.
He slips on a fresh shirt and a pair of dark blue trousers. Their fabric is cold against his still-warm skin. He pulls on the comfiest pair of shoes he could find- a pair of sheepskin boots lined with real bear fur, a birthday gift from his brother- and slips out the door. William cringes as the tall white wood of the door slams behind him. The usual nighttime silence of the castle is replaced by the sounds of many people at work. He watches as a servant makes his way down the hall, replacing the burnt-down candle stubs with brand-new, tall wax sticks. The man bows to the prince as he passes him.
That’s strange, Will thinks. Replacing the candles is usually a morning job, but perhaps they decided to get it out of the way before all the ball preparations.
The prince navigates his way through the massive castle's halls and staircases to get to the castle kitchens. He’s surprised to see so many maids up baking and cooking. The heat from many ovens warms his back, and sweat dampens his skin. The smell of a spicy soup fills his nose, and he inhales deeply. The spices tickle his senses.
He pushes open the light door to the pastry kitchen to find his mother and the baker in a deep conversation. “Mom?” he says. “What are you doing up so late?”
She turns around, surprise on her face for only a moment before it melts into a loving and familiar smile. “My boy, what do you mean? Why are you up so early?”
Early??? Had he woken up and mistaken the darkness for the night? Probably. Damn, he is stupid.
“Well then, good morning, mother, how are you?” He picks up a small scone, intending to satisfy his howling stomach, when his mother snatches the pastry from his hands.
“I don’t think so, mister. Those are for the ball. You may have as many as your heart desires tonight.”
Will sighs as he takes the bland biscuit handed to him by a maid. “Another thing, dearest, is that I would kindly ask you to stay out of the castle or just in your room for the rest of the morning until late noon. We have many things to attend to, and I don’t want you getting in the way.”
“It pains me that you think of me as such a nuisance.”
His mother laughs, something rare in these more trying times. “Angel, you know that is everything but what I mean.”
“I know, Mama. I love you.” He wraps his arms around her shoulders, and she leans her head into his chest.
“I love you too, my baby. Now go bother your sister or whatnot.”
Will tsks as he leaves his mother. He treks back up to above ground. The air up here is so much cooler and more refreshing than the stuffy hot air of the kitchens. The heat of the ovens must make it boil down there in the August heat. Good thing it’s only June.
Will finds himself outside. Gravel crunches underfoot. As he steps on the grass, beads of dew soak into the brown material of his boots. It’s a chilling smell, a warm feeling that morning. It’s going to get hot later. Will can’t wait to watch the wet of the night rise off the ground in clouds of steam.
When he arrives at the stables, he takes a deep, healthy breath of hay and manure. However gross it may be, it’s a comfort to the prince. A smell that reminds him of his childhood.
His earliest memory.
Sunlight shines through the trees. It pierces young William in the eyes as he looks up into the kind face of his brother.
Jonathan is holding out his hand, offering him help stepping up onto the horse. Will shakes his head.
“I can do it all by myself.”
The four-year-old boy takes a tentative step onto the foot buckle and…
Disorientation. The world, the sky spins in William’s eyes. They seem to eat him full. Finally, after what seems like forever, he hits the grass with a soft thud.
The shadow of a figure appears above his head. “Careful there, please let me help you up?”
The thought of his brother’s voice still hurts. He takes another breath. This one brings back yet another memory.
The horse's back shifts under him, snorting in time with each trot. Will grips onto the leather handle of the saddle like his life depends on it. It sort of does.
His eyes are squeezed shut, and his small body is so, so tense. A hand, only a bit larger than his, slides onto his shoulder, melting away a little bit of that cold stiffness. A kind voice thaws the rest of it.
“Relax, William. You don’t have to be afraid of falling off the horse; it won’t kill you.”
The smaller version of himself huffs. “Yes, but it will hurt.”
His brother lets out his then-boyish laugh. Will looks back at him, watching how the sunlight shines through his hair, turning it from its usual light brown into a dirty blonde.
“It might hurt, sure, but it’s just a little bump. But it’s over so fast you barely feel it. I should know, I’m basically ten years old already.”
A snort from a horse brings Will back to the present. He shakes his head and his body in an attempt to rid himself of any lingering thoughts of his brother. Too early to be grieving.
The prince approaches the stable located at the far end of the stable. A pure white horse knickers at will when he extends his hand in a greeting. “Good morning, Apple.” The giant sweetie sniffs around his hands and shirt pocket, looking for a snack. “I’ll feed you on the ride.”
Apple seems to fix him with a skeptical side eye. Will undoes the stall latch, grabbing the horse's saddle and ear bonnet. “Come on, boy.”
. . .
In the field, steam rises from the windflower infested grass. Butterflies dance across the rainbow reflections from the sun. Will imagines that from someone watching on, Apple must look like a unicorn in a scene like this.
As he and the horse trot along, Will lies back and spreads himself out on Apple’s hindquarters. The smell of condensation and the sweet grass fills his nose. A soft breeze tickles his cheeks and plays with his hair. This feeling is so… picturesque.
Unfortunately, perfection can’t last forever because the sun is starting to make his vision go red despite his closed eyes, and he sits up, blood rushing to the head. Will directs Apple into a more wooded area. It’s quiet and not insanely bright. Just will's preference. Creepy? Maybe. Relaxing? Definitely.
Just as Will begins to get comfortable, lying back again, he starts to hear a sound. Loud clanging like metal hitting metal echoes from over a distant hill. Curiosity piqued, the prince decides to investigate. His hair flops in his eyes as Apple trots in an up-down-up, down step, and he brushes it out of the way.
Finally, the hill gives way, and the sight of at least two dozen boys and sharp, shiny swords. So that’s what the sound was.
Will spots his father only a few feet away, also perched on top of the hill, watching the boys closely. Occasionally, he would shout something like, “Great defense, Xavier”, or “Push back, Jasper! Stand your ground! PUSH BACK!”
Jasper did push back. Jasper stood his ground. Jasper, with one great shove of his sword, sent his opponent falling to the ground. The victorious page looks back up at the king, a surprised but smug look on his face. Will's father chuckles. “That’s it, son. That’s it.”
It’s then that Will approaches the scene, Apple trotting slowly. The King's face lights up as he sees his son. “My boy! I'm glad to see you!”
The prince smiles back. “Hello, father. What have you got going on here?”
Jim turns back to the boys, all spread out around the field, a proud look on his face. “I’m training up these boys to be fine knights. I’m going to assign one, the best one, to protect you.”
Will hums in response as his father tries to get the attention of the page that was defeated by Jasper. It takes Will a second to realize that it’s the Knight from the performance hall yesterday. The one with dark hair and equally dark eyes. “It’s alright, Michael, everyone must lose eventually.”
Michael.
Michael stands up, brushing grass and wild flowers off his clothes. Will wonders why they aren’t wearing armor like yesterday. The boy runs a hand through his long curls, and his gaze lands on Will. Michael smiles, exposing the dimples in his cheeks. “William, this is Mike. Mike, I’m sure you know who Will is.”
Will smiles back, and when the boy kneels down in a bow, eyes still looking up, Will feels heat in his cheeks. “Are you so often defeated like this?” the prince chides.
Mike's eyebrows quirk as if he’s surprised by the question, maybe embarrassed too. Nevertheless, his smooth mouth saves him and his pride. “Of course not, my lord. I went easy on delicate Jasper. He really needed a win today.”
Beside him, Jasper's jaw drops open. “Excuse me? You let your guard down, it’s your own fault you lost.”
Mike waves at Will and turns back to bicker with Jasper. Will feels like that wave was not a goodbye. Jim sighs, like maybe this isn’t the first time Mike has baited young Jasper into a raging, defensive mess. “I’m training him for you, you know.”
The prince meets his father’s eyes with surprise. “For me? I thought you were training them equally?”
“At first I was,” Jim admits. “But Michael was just so different. So determined to be the best, so willing to go all in to protect, so… intense. He’s exactly what we need to keep you safe every hour of the day. So I trained him specially. Extra practices here and there. Soon, though, he’s going to be around our family more, around you. We need you two to get familiar with each other. And once he’s ready, he’ll move into the room right next to you.”
Jim pauses, hand stroking his mustache. “Or in your room. Your mother grows more and more paranoid by the day.” Will sighs. Of course, his mom would want a knight to literally watch him sleep. She means well, obviously, but that would definitely be over the top. But if it was Michael… Will wouldn't have too many complaints about sharing a room with the boy.
Will’s cheeks once again filled with heat, this time, it left its embarrassingly warm trail down his spine. He shook off the feeling as best he could. Still, it stays as Will realizes that Mike is watching him out of the corner of his eye. He pretends not to see, bidding his father a farewell, and sets back off for the castle at a galloping speed.
As Will rides back home, his mind still lingers on the dark-haired boy. Something about the Page haunts him in a way. Something about the depth of his dark eyes. They tell him a story, a story he doesn’t want to know the end to, and at the same time, he knows exactly how it’ll end.
The way he bowed to Will, yet refused to put down his head. A bold move, yet Will found no bone in his body to take offense from it. Every bone told him to turn right around and watch Michael until the sun sets and the moon rises. Still, he keeps going, body aching from the way Apple's body rises and falls. The sun is behind the castle spires by the time he returns. Back in the stable, a group of the castle’s boys crowd around a stall.
Lucas parts from the crowd and helps Will down from the horse’s back, saying, “Good evening, my lord, I hope you fared the day well.”
“Thank you, Lucas,” he replies. “What’s all the matter? I’ve never seen that stall used before.”
“Why, my lord, there’s a new horse.”
“Is there? Just a mere hackney, I assume?”
Lucas’ smile widens as if greedy to know things Will does not. His picture perfect smile is almost offensive to Will. “Just come see."
He waves for Will to follow him, and the sea of boys parts to make way for them.
In the stall, a midnight black horse stands tall and firm. Its coal coloured coat shines in the dim light of the stable, and its hair… its beautiful mane shimmers like a reflection of the moon in water. Will notices a paltry dusting of white spots spread across his nose. They're barely there, but visible if you look hard enough. “Gorgeous, isn't she?” Lucas asks from behind him.
Will turns around, suddenly confused. “Wait, why is it here? We don’t need a new charger, we’re not going to war.”
“You are correct, my lord, this stallion is not for war,” Lucas states matter-of-factly. Will wishes he would just get to answering his question faster. “It is rumored that there will be a new and influential Knight upon these grounds, all for the safety of you. Your father bought this charger for him. And I heard that he will be attending the ball tonight.”
The surrounding boys whisper with anticipation. Will’s mind spins. Tonight? Father didn’t mention that Mike would be adapting to court life so soon. Suddenly, he feels self conscious about his appearance. Usually, for these things, he’d be just fine in whatever suit or garments the maids dressed him in, but now that feels light.
“Please excuse me,” he announces. “I believe it’s time for me to prepare for tonight.”
Most of the boys wave and call after him things like, “see you tonight,” or, “dance with the princess for me!” Usually, he’d laugh and wave back at them, but this time, they’re met with maybe a small smile and a halfhearted chuckle that one could argue was just a grunt.
What if I have to dance with him? the prince thinks. Even if we just talk, he’ll see all my imperfections.
He can’t solve this problem, but maybe he knows who can…
. . .
The door of his sister's room stands tall and pink at the end of the hallway. He shouldn’t feel nervous about asking his own sister to do his godamn makeup, but here he is, hand hovering over the door, pulse quickening, praying that Jane doesn’t read into the situation. Just as he’s about to knock, the door opens and Max, the red-headed maid, stands in the doorway. “Oh! My lord, I had no idea you were at the door. Please forgive me.”
He smiles. Max’s presence never fails to calm his nerves. “Do not feel remorseful, fair lady, I was about to knock, and please, you can just call me Will.”
She smiles back and steps away from the door, leading him into the bedchamber. On the chair in front of her desk and massive mirror, Princess Jane sits, combing through her perfectly soft brown hair. “Max, I think a braid would be perfect for tonight, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course, and I could add some of the flowers from the garden in it to match your dress!”
The princess gasps when she sees Will. She runs to him, throwing her arms around him. Her lavender perfume really does its trick, unknotting the nerves in his stomach and calming his worried thoughts.
“Hello Jane, you look lovely.”
She pulls back, her hands resting on his shoulders. “You look amazing, too! But why are you here? You should be getting ready for the ball.”
“That’s actually why I’m here,” he says. His teeth grind together as he pauses. “You know that powder and such that you put on your face that makes you more pretty…?”
Jane stares at him, confused. “Um, do you mean makeup?”
Fuck.
“Yeah, yeah, I mean makeup.” He mentally berates himself for making this weird. “Well, I was wondering if you could put some on me for tonight.”
Max approaches from behind, hand resting over Jane’s on his shoulder. “Let’s do your hair too.”
He’s never been happier to have them in his life.
Max proceeds to pull up a second chair for Will from the corner, and he gratefully sits down. The nerves are back, and he’s starting to think maybe this isn’t a good idea after all…
What if I look ridiculous? What if I look exactly like Jane? What if Michael doesn’t like it?
Will startles at that last thought. His brain immediately jumps to damage control. it’s not like he needs to like-like it… It’s called being presentable. It’s not the same as when Jane primps when she’s to meet with a boy! No, definitely not the same!
It’s too late to turn back now because his fate is sealed as Max begins to brush his cheeks gently with a cream colored powder. The hairs of the brush tickle, and a little bit of the foundation finds its way into his nose. He sneezes as the minuscule grains of makeup absolutely nuke the nerves in his nostrils.
Pink rouge is tapped into his cheeks and his nose for good measure. Max wraps small metal coils into his hair. She tells him they’ll make his hair wavy like Jane’s. He can only hope for the best.
As his hair ‘sets’ max, Will listens to Jane’s animated rant about the most beautiful stranger she’s glimpsed around the castle lately.
“Oh, will, he looks like an angel. But not like the angels that mama described, oh no, he’s quite unique. His hair is as wild as the mountain’s flowers and as dark as my onyx looking glass. He’s got quite the physique as well…”
Realization zaps Will right down his spine. She’s talking about Michael. Max seems to read his thoughts. She nods wisely, almost sagely. “Michael, the page. We grew up together in the country villages, as wild as the grass.”
Jane straightens up, fingers absentmindedly running through her hair. “Michael…,” she repeats, her mind obviously somewhere else.
Will realizes that this is his chance to ask about this still mysterious Mike without being too suspicious. Not that there’s anything to hide! Still…
“So, Max, what’s he like?”
Without looking up from Jane’s braid, Max is quick to answer. “Annoying.”
Wills is quite taken aback before she continues. “But also kind. Caring, though sometimes too much. Cocky but not rude. Oh, and quite the heartbreaker! He’s rejected even the most beautiful maiden in every town.”
The prince is not surprised.
A sly expression seeps its way into Jane’s face. Her mouth quirks into a lopsided smile, as if trying to stomp it down but failing painfully. “I’m sure it’ll be different with me. I like a challenge.”
“Of course, your loveliness,” Max swoons. “You two are a match from heaven.”
Something jabs at Will in his gut. It is… jealousy?
Yes. It’s definitely jealousy.
Why should Jane get Michael? She has half of the castle's suitors ruthlessly devoted and wrapped around her perfect fingers. Could she just not let him have Michael without pouncing on the knight like an attention seeking cat?
“William, are you feeling alright?” Both girls are staring at him as he glares at the floor. He looks up and unclenches his fist that he had no idea was so tight.
He shakes his head as he tries to rid himself of as much tension as possible. “Of course. Say, do you think my hair is finished?”
Max hums, still staring at Will strangely. She stands up from where she was sitting on the floor with Jane. The girl unwraps each coil carefully, and each one springs up in a little curl, once free.
When she’s taken them all out, Max brushes his hair, and in the end, his usually volume-less mop of brown hair looks not unlike Mike's unruly curls. “Perfect!” Max exclaims. “You look amazing.”
Will has to admit, he does look good. His usual blemishes are gone, replaced by clear milky skin, and the redness in his cheeks actually looks good for once. It’s a subtle beauty, more boyish, unlike Jane’s purple eyeshadow and dark red lipstick, but it still makes a big difference. You can tell he’s wearing makeup, but not in a tacky way.
The redhead lets her hands fall onto his shoulders and lets out a quick exhale. “Now you can really impress whoever you want to see tonight.”
And there they are again. The knowing eyes. They’re blue, and deep, and seeing right through his skin, straight to his secrets. They’re so intense, Will is actually scared they’ll cause the mirror to crack.
“Thank you, Max,” the boy says as he stands up.
Will joins the girls on the floor to help Max tuck flowers into Jane’s braid. He helps his sister decide on a dress, laughing as she twirls around in each option, showing off her moves for later that night.
Eventually, it grows time for him to leave, and he wraps his arms around both girls before he turns toward the doors. “I expect to see you both at the ball tonight.”
They smile and wave as he slips out the exit. When the door closes behind him, the prince lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The stress of max really figuring out his secrets and intentions finally fell from his shoulders. Even so, his emotions don’t stop pestering him. He heads back to his room, jealousy continuing to eat away at his stomach.
In the safety of his living quarters, Will sits down on the bed. He lets the silence fill his head. He welcomes it as he dresses in his fancier garments. He takes any small amount of peace before the hell that tonight will be.
He’ll need it.