Chapter Text
Duty is carved into Ray's very being; his spine is held rigid and his shoulders square as he trails after Ser Varano, the King’s own Housecarl—and his mentor. The silence between the two men is filled with the metallic ring of their armor echoing against long stone halls. He doesn't need to be given a pep talk or to be briefed on the importance of his new post. He doesn't need a reminder that he must be disconnected from the bond he once shared with Prince Iero. He knows it. He has spent the last nine years proving it.
This was an opportunity almost taken from him. He was at the top of his class, innately talented with a blade, but the Royal Guard knew of every connection to the Iero family. They knew that the boys used to play together, that they grew up side by side. From being attached at the hip, tracking mud through these same ornately decorated halls as boys, to the thralls of adulthood that barely allowed the occasional exchange of polite letters after Ray left for training. To now.
Ray was no longer that care-free boy.
Frank stands at the end of the Great Hall, exhausted, hands tightly clasped in front of him as he stares at the door. He can feel sweat prickling under the too-tight collar of his jacket, a deep purple that his dresser loves to say complements his hazel eyes. His ever-tapping foot stills as the doors shift.
The heavy doors of the great hall groan as they open, and Ray only catches a glimpse of Frank beyond the pauldrons in front of him before he forces his eyes downward. It’s only by his rapt attention he kept on Verano’s footfalls to keep them in sync that he doesn’t run into the older man’s back when he stops just a few paces before the Iero thrones.
"Your Highness.” Ser Varano bows at the waist. “On behalf of the Royal Guard, we present to you your Housecarl going forth: Ser Toro," the older knight presents him as if they had never met before. Ray sinks to one knee before the prince, balancing his forearm on the other.
Time moves like molasses as Frank watches Ray kneel before him, an unusual stoicism surrounding his old friend. There is a dizzying flood of feelings that crashes into Frank, hearing the words your Housecarl bounce against the marble walls. Frank's eyes flicker between Ray—no, Ser Toro—and the older knight.
Ray allows himself to look up, his expression steeled. He nods once, trying not to categorize every difference in Frank's appearance just yet. "Your Highness."
Ray’s voice snaps Frank out of his spiraling thoughts. This wasn’t quite the reunion the prince had hoped for. The presence of his father’s housecarl keeps Frank's hands clasped firmly in an attempt to exude the poised and confident air he knows is expected of him. The slight quirk of Frank's mouth into a smile is the only thing that betrays him. The gears in his head slowly crank into place, and he feels his face flush as his gaze finally settles on Ray.
"Uh—Welcome," he winces slightly at the way his voice catches. "I hope the journey here wasn't too strenuous." Every practiced line for this moment escapes Frank's brain, leaving him floundering for words. He nods at the other knight and looks back down at Ray. The air is oddly thick from the forced formalities, silent but for the lingering echo of voices against the stone.
Ray nods once from the floor, deep enough it's almost a bow. They were about the height he is on his knees when they first met. The thought makes him flinch. It's respect to avert his gaze when the prince looks down upon him, so Ray keeps his head down.
"No trouble at all, Your Highness," he says, eyes still somewhere on the stone between them.
Frank clears his throat. "I've heard great things about your talents, Ser Toro."
Verano chuckles lightly. "He will be too humble to tell you, but he was the best in his year. Trained under the best of the best." The knight's gaze falls on the back of Ray's curly head. "If any trouble should arise, I will be who you report it to."
Ray winces, but there's no worry there. He has no intention of slipping up. His job is his honor.
A deep furrow finds its way between Frank’s brows as he settles back into his role, his place. “I expected nothing but the best,” he quips, but his voice feels hollow. “I’m sure there won’t be any trouble here.”
As Frank ages, he continues to feel himself grow rigid under the increasing weight on his shoulders. The addition of a personal guard in his life is simply another load added to the pile of burdens he never asked for and cannot escape. The reminder that he is simply the most important man in almost every room he enters envelops him like a wool cloak; heavy, itchy, and thick. He finally allows his gaze to settle back on the older knight.
"Do you need anything else from me, Your Highness?" Ser Varano asks, hands behind his back.
“No, thank you. You’re dismissed.” Frank’s voice clips, glancing back toward Ray. The knight bows and turns over his heel, making his way out of Ray’s peripheral.
It takes strength for Ray to keep his gaze forward as Ser Verano takes his leave, leaving him alone in the room with Frank. The prince. He can see the ink from his family tattoos creeping down the back of his hands in the corner of his vision. The great hall doors shudder and creak with another groan as Verano takes his leave, echoing off the stone and filling the tense silence between them.
“You may be at ease, Ser Toro,” Frank can’t help but drawl out the rank of his former friend, feeling for the edges of where their boundaries sit now that they’re alone. He allows his arms to fall to his sides as he takes a step toward Ray, just barely preventing himself from circling the armored man like a hawk. “My congratulations to you are in order.”
Ray feels himself rise to his feet before he can even think about it, his armor shifting into place as he levels his posture back to attention. Now addressed properly, he finally meets Frank’s eyes.
"It would be improper. I should be the one congratulating you, young prince." He swallows instead of cringing at the sound of his high voice wavering.
Frank tilts his head to the side as he watches Ray stand back up to his full height. He feels heat prickle up his neck at the intensity of Ray's eye contact, as if he didn’t dare to look anywhere else. Frank breaks the gaze to unashamedly inspect the way Ray has changed over the years. His eyes sweep from head to toe and back up to head again, brows furrowing in concentration as if Frank has to memorize every detail in this moment. If his eyes linger for a second too long on the broad expanse of Ray's shoulders, that is between him and God.
It's strange for Ray to be pulled apart under Frank's gaze, but it's nothing he didn't expect. It has been a long time since they saw each other, and there's much about Frank to take in that the knight doesn’t allow himself to do just yet. Ray just didn't quite expect to feel like he was being dissected by someone he used to play pretend with.
"You have grown into your role quite a bit over the years." The words may be slightly ironic, considering Ray now had to angle his head down to look at Frank, but it was true. They had so much less to worry about when they were kids.
Frank barks out a bright laugh at Ray's comment, arms crossing over his chest as he looks up at Ray's face. "Please, I was born into this. I would be here so long as I was still breathing." He's deflecting, and he knows it. He spent so much time struggling against the rules thrust upon him, doing his best to piss everyone around him off so that maybe, just maybe, they'd take this title away from him.
He was never quite that lucky.
"You, however, worked your way to the top of your class under my father's guard, a man who takes security so seriously it stresses me out from the opposite wing of the castle. If I ever saw him crack a smile, I'd think the world is ending," Frank grins, but it doesn't quite meet his eyes.
Ray clears his throat and nods once, not in any position to argue. It sits on the tip of his tongue, but his lips don't let it pass. The urge to tell Frank just how impressive it was to see him like this—royal and refined—instead of the kid with sticks in his hair and mud on his teeth that Ray grew up with. They’ve changed a lot, but the prince still has a flicker of fire simmering behind his eyes.
"King Iero is fearful for a reason. You are his only heir," he says softly, bowing his head. "It's imperative to have a guard to put his life before yours." Ray says it like it means nothing, like his own life is meaningless. Despite that, a small smile is mirrored on his lips, barely contained. "It is an honor to have worked my way into this position, Your Highness."
Frank's smile falters and he drops his arms to his sides. He manages to stop himself from scoffing, flexing his hands as if he isn't quite sure what to do with himself. "Nothing is going to happen to me. The man is paranoid."
This is a common, some may say well-practiced argument that Frank has had with most members of his inner circle. The idea that he is more important than others, solely because of his lineage, creates a deep discomfort in his chest, cold and hollow. Some people, like Gerard, follow it with vague comments about ever-shifting waves, while others, like Mikey, tell him in no uncertain terms to suck it up. His father just dismisses him and ends the conversation before the words even finish falling from his lips.
Frank shakes the thoughts out of his mind, smiling back up at Ray. When he speaks again, it's soft, like the words are fragile. "I—I really am proud of you for getting here. Selfishly, I'm, uh, glad to know I won't be forced to keep some asshole around me constantly." He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up for the first time that day.
And, after a sentimental pause, he adds delicately, "It's good to see you again."
That smile on his lips grows. "That means a lot, Your Highness," Ray bows again, a little awkward, but he doesn't look away. Ray is glad it’s him who has this position as well. No other knight knows of Frank’s stubbornness as intimately as Ray does; none of them know of his habits or his penchant for trying to sneak into trouble. Any other guard would have a hard time pinning the prince down. "I'm glad to see you as well. You look— I mean, the years have been kind." He falters a little, sitting back up straighter than before.
Frank, ever one to wear his heart on his sleeve, can't help the blush that creeps across his cheeks. He clears his throat gently and tugs at the cuffs of his sleeves, suddenly very interested in how they sit on his wrists. For a moment, Frank is thirteen again, tired and sore from running through the woods and from falling out of trees, only to look up and see a fifteen year old Ray standing over him, equal parts amused and concerned. Making sure that he didn't break anything and helping him up, before immediately shoving him.
The sincerity of his simmering feelings causes the prince to deflect once again. "Kind? That’s debatable, but they have certainly been long," he laughs softly, not entirely sure why accepting compliments from Ray is proving to be such a challenge for him. People fawn over Prince Iero all of the time and he takes it in stride, often with a wink that leaves the other swooning.
"Long indeed," Ray agrees. He doesn't need to add how much harder the years have been on him being away from his friends. He smiles, a bit of the tension he was carrying dissolving, if only by a fraction. There is still a wall that must be held between them, but that doesn't mean he can't revel in the warmth of familiarity that settles in his chest.
"Ah, housekeepers have most likely brought your luggage to your quarters by now. Would you like me to show you where they are?" Frank's words are rushed, suddenly itching for a change in topic. "You'll be staying near me, of course. Can't be too far from any late-night murder plans," he rolls his eyes, clearly still not bought into this being a necessity.
Ray straightens himself back out at the mention of moving, squaring his jaw and resting one hand over the hilt of his sword. "Of course," he echoes, spinning on his heel towards the door and following after Frank when he takes off. "The proximity is good. I'm not just here to guard, you know," he inserts himself two-and-a-half paces behind Frank as they make their way down the hall, just as he was trained. The hall doesn't feel quite as intimidating as it did upon his entry. "I am at your beck and call."
A rather unrefined giggle erupts from Frank's throat at that, causing him to scrunch his nose. He leads them both with the easy confidence of someone who could navigate this building on smell alone. He shoots a look over his shoulder at Ray, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Careful there, Ser Toro, or I'll start finding the most ridiculous ways to take advantage of that."
The knight laughs cautiously at the comment, ducking his head in a way that makes his curls drift into his face for a moment. "You're allowed to take advantage of it, Your Highness," he says softly.
“Hm, good to know,” Frank grins back at Ray, all teeth as he continues to lead the pair through winding halls. Any attempt at slowing down to close the distance between them is matched by the knight’s pace, forcing Frank to speak over his shoulder. “How, ah… How has your family been?”
Ray blinks, like he didn’t expect the question. “Oh. Very well. My brother is managing more and more of the farm, but my ma is still the real head of the house. She always will be,” he laughs.
Frank snorts, sorting through a fond rush of memories of Ray’s mother. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”
Ray scoffs with amusement. “Maybe that’s the problem,” he says flatly, but with humor. He lifts his chin, rubbing at his mouth with his gauntlets. “How’s your father?”
Frank’s smile dies on his face, but he turns his head forward to mask it from Ray. “Oh, just swell,” he drawls. “Just as suffocatingly strict, only now I have a schedule to follow, meetings to attend, decisions I have to make.” There’s a bitterness to his tone he couldn’t mask if he tried, born from years of being all but puppetted. “I still don’t get to leave the castle without a small army following me. Isn’t that fun?”
“Ah,” Ray says, almost regretfully. He pauses before speaking again, long enough for it to near on awkward. “It is for your safety…”
Frank glares over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. “Alright, first rule of being my housecarl: Don’t tell me things I already know,” he flashes a teasing smile before Ray can really feel like he messed up. He’s well aware of this station he’s forced into. “I’m still going to complain about it.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Ray bows his head once.
Frank hums, turning his gaze back forward. He only lets himself be a little affected by the awkwardness between them, by the tension his old friend now carries. He clears his throat, desperate to break the strange silence as they enter the next, much smaller hall towards Frank’s isolated quarters.
“How was your, uh, training?” He finally manages. “I’m surrounded by guards constantly, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen or heard anything about the … training you all go through.”
Ray’s head perks up a little at that question, but he almost immediately pulls himself back. “It was… good. Yeah, um,” he swallows. It feels more than improper to voice any complaint about guard training to the prince. “There were a few years where it got a little … lonely, I guess, but that’s nothing.”
Frank glances back over his shoulder, feeling his bottom lip twitch. “That’s not nothing,” he says softly.
Ray blinks, then looks away. “Yeah, well. I made it through okay,” he clears his throat, grateful when Frank turns his gaze back where they’re walking. “Uhh. How is… real Princehood?”
Frank barely suppresses another total drop of his expression. It’s beyond privileged and entitled of him to have this level of contempt for his circumstances—he’s practically doted on hand and foot by dozens of people every day, catering to his every need and whim. As long as those whims didn’t involve having fun or being normal. It’s suffocating at best. He can’t help but to wrangle this discontent coiling in his chest.
Still, he manages an even response as they begin to ascend the spiral stairwell that finally leads to his dorm. “It’s a dream,” he says flatly at first. “I get more responsibilities every year, which vary in intensity from incredibly dull to mildly entertaining, but I find fun wherever I can.”
Ray finds himself smiling at that, a flash of teeth Frank catches out of the corner of his eye. “That sounds like you.”
“Does it?” Frank laughs, letting himself relish in the sliver of camaraderie.
After all this time, Ray still recognizes the door to Frank's room, still marred with the familiar grooves from young boys running into it as they clear the top of the stairs. There’s a particularly long gash in the center, from when Ray slashed it with his first training sword to wake the other boy up.
"Well, ah, you already know which door is mine," he nods over Ray's shoulder to point out the leftmost door on the wall opposite to his. "And that door will lead to your quarters. Hopefully they're, uh… enough."
Ray looks between the doorways as he takes in the sight. It's almost surreal to know that this was where he would be staying now. He hadn't even been up on this floor that many times during their childhood. Only in the later years was he permitted to come up and knock on Frank's door, usually when the prince was too sick to leave his room.
Now, he has worked his way back to his side. Intentionally or not, they were intertwined. Only the width of the hall apart. It's as warming as it is humbling.
"I'm sure it will be more than enough," Ray says softly, forcing a more refined tone to his voice. Professional. "Anything would be an upgrade from the barracks."
Frank hums quietly, tilting his head to the side slightly. "Even so, if you're being made to stay here, I want you to be... comfortable. I don't want you to feel like you're being held hostage by being here," Frank laughs sheepishly. "Even if it's something as small as thinking the curtains are a nauseating color, I want to know." He allows a decisive edge to fall into his voice, nodding firmly.
“That’s too kind of you, Your Highness,” Ray offers a shy smile, giving a small bow.
“Tch, nah, it’s…” Frank waves him off. “I suppose I should let you… get settled. Unpack? Do whatever you need to… do…” He grimaces and glances up at Ray’s face again, searching for something he can’t quite name, before sighing softly in defeat.
Ray blinks once, sobering himself and letting his brain catch up to the request. "Of course, Your Highness." He shoots the prince a sideways glance.
"Take as much time as you need, you know where to find me when you're done. I don't have any other formal commitments for the day." Frank shrugs lightly.
"It won't take me long. I don't have much to unpack," Ray admits, looking towards the door. His door. Already, he feels reluctant to leave Frank's side even for a moment. He manages to quell his anxiety with a last nod before retreating towards the room.
“Alright, then.”
Frank watches Ray as he moves, giving him a small wave and a smirk when Ray glances back over his shoulder one last time before slipping inside. He always was someone who wanted to get the last word in, and the ending of this moment is no different. He quickly retreats into his own quarters after basking in the silent, empty hallway for a moment too long, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as the door closes behind him.