Chapter Text
King Topp of Regis is approximately mediocre in everything he's done.
No wars were started in his stead, but none ongoing were ended. Rumors flew often of his diplomacy failings with other kingdoms and the possibilities of coming violence as a result. It became worse after the death of the Queen. He is gruff, and lonely, and now sick, exacerbating the first two qualities. A man of few words and little understanding of his citizens. They were grateful for him all the same, it could always be worse – they tell each other with tight lipped smiles.
People did not speak it aloud in the castle, but the whispers from the people came through all the same. The confidence in him dwindles still as his sickness increases.
His demise has been the same as his legacy. There's no big bang or heroic sacrifice, simply a slow march towards an inevitable end. He has not reached it yet – but everyone knows it is coming.
After the death of his wife, the King did not allow his only son to venture outside the castle walls often, if at all. The mythologized boy-king who would inevitably soon take the throne. Those outside the tall stone towers knew even less of Shayne than they did their own King, and uncertainty is a frightening thing to a kingdom at unrest.
-
Spencer Agnew did not think of the King as fondly as some. He found him about the same level of King as he did a father, not particularly memorable. Spencer stayed in Regis not simply for the funds, much more than he grew up with, but for the people. For the Prince. Hired as a King’s entertainer, surprising as he was more of a peasant than some of the other options available to such a powerful man. Not that he can complain. No, the true gem in working in the castle is not for the royalty, or at least the one you would first assume. Fascinated by the mysterious Prince, rumored about even in kingdoms overseas, Spencer found something much more interesting than the stuck up he was prepared to find himself working for.
They did not speak between the two of them immediately, or even soon after being hired. Spencer did not want to get on the bad side of the castle’s staff, or worse the royalty themselves. Shayne has an aura of calmness distinct from his father. It almost frightened him more than someone more open about their true feelings. However, once they began to speak to one another a strange sort of bond was formed. It became instantly obvious to everyone around them that Shayne and Spencer were a force to be reckoned with.
He began his trek around the castle’s expansive halls to where he felt every day should begin, much to some of the staff’s disagreement. He had forgotten his hat on the way inside this morning, and the cool air from the ceilings touched the tip of his ears and nose with a gentle breeze. The walls, a heavy stone engulfing every walkway in tall proud towers, were no match for the open windows paneled along the highrise. Spencer liked to think of it as the kingdom pushing its way back into the castle itself, reminding those inside of the beauty existing outside its walls.
The morning walk is always long, the castle itself too big for its current family size. An extravagance of unnecessary lengths, to put it quite literally. Most of the walls remain bare as he continues on, the bells of his clothes making small noises of joy in the otherwise echoing expanse of nothingness.
The only thing adorning the walls of note, ignoring cold metal and outdated family crests, is a detailed portrait of a woman. Without even knowing the history, Spencer thinks a person could tell it is the Queen. There is a simple elegance to her existence that exudes from her very being even in death. The brush strokes on her face are done with care and precision, as if trying to capture a person's essence so it will not ever be forgotten.
Her features are distinct, and besides her kind eyes and bigger smile than is encouraged for prim and proper royals, bears little resemblance with Shayne. Spencer wonders if he ever thinks of this, compared to the near identical ones he bears from the King. Not even he has the privilege of closeness needed to ask such a question, one so personal, but he wonders it all the same.
All of her features are strong, bold. Her hair is exceptionally long, a dark almost black shade of brown that wisps around her sharp face. Her eyes are hazel, and her lips are a soft pink. She’s beautiful no matter who is describing her. Her dress is the same shade of blue as the soft surcoat Shayne is often seen in.
Spencer often looks closer to try to pinpoint the parts of Shayne that descend from her, but snaps himself out of it this time. Too much to do today, no time for his mental frivolities. He does liken the blue of the clothing to that of the sky, he thinks, as he peers out the windows on his right while finishing his walk.
The doorway to the Prince’s room is even royal in its frame. There are intricate carvings into the wood extruding from the stone walls, the doorway itself higher than that of the staff’s. It used to give Spencer a pause in his step, as if he was unsure if he was worthy of even entering. It simply makes him smile a little now.
Back when they first became close, they would sneak around in their meetings. They had a special knock for Spencer to use to enter, looking back and forth to see who else was in the hall to take notice. With the King sick now, and there much else to do in the castle in the early hours, they take no such cautions.
He opens the door quietly still, peering his head in to make sure he was not intruding. Spencer had been coming by at this time for weeks now, so there should not be much surprise in it, but he likes to be polite when he can.
The light is golden in its morning rays, and a silver platter of Garrett’s dining for the Prince rests untouched on the bedside table.
Shayne sits on the edge of his bed, hands curled in the blankets at his sides. There's a look of profound resignation behind his eyes, a deep sort of sadness that hits Spencer in the chest. He gets like this sometimes, especially as his father has gotten sicker. As if preparing for some terrible fate to befall him – as if Courtney would let it, Spencer would joke. It hurt his heart to see him this way though.
Luckily for him, this is quite literally Spencer Agnew’s job.
He tip toes his body fully inside the doorway, shutting it softly behind him. Spencer intended to start the conversation wittily, perhaps a joke he knew Shayne found stupid and made him laugh. The noise of the door alerted him however, and Shayne looks up into his eyes and makes his brain take a step back. The light from outside hits his face, giving a gentle warm tint to his blonde hair and smooth skin. Some of the darkness in his eyes diminishes as they make eye contact, and that had been his intention all along, so Spencer supposes he’s helping. He gives a full face smile for the Prince, unable to think of anything smart to say looking at him. It feels like looking into the sun.
“Spencer,” he says his name like it is something soft in his mouth, sweet like honey. He’s mixing his metaphors. Shayne has a look on his face, as if him coming is a gift itself and not something Spencer has vowed to do. Something he loves to do. Being weak in the knees is a terrible thing for a jester to be. The Prince stands and makes his way to the entryway where Spencer is still waiting, giving him enough time to pull himself together.
“Your Highness,” Spencer does an exaggerated bowing motion, the bells on his motley tunic jingle with humor. A mockery of how one should be treating any royalty, let alone your own employer's son. A laugh at imagining Spencer truly bowing to anyone in earnest.
The Prince gives the man a knowing look with a small smile gracing his cheeks. “Sir Agnew.” Shayne puts his hand out as if to be kissed. Spencer has a pink tinge to his soft cheeks as he reaches for the other's palm that is undeniable, but they both know better than to comment on. This is a game they have both memorized the rules to long ago, like a game of chess they intend not to finish. A tease. It was started to soothe the Prince’s mind, but he can’t lie and say there wasn’t a selfishness woven into it.
Before Spencer can continue, asking if a royal should be calling such a lowly entertainer a sir, the chamber door slams open. He quickly stands and drops Shayne’s hand from his own, putting his arms behind his torso out of respect. They both know who it is before the door hits the wall behind it with a thud, one that echoes unfortunately down the lofting halls outside.
There is only one individual in the castle with both the gall and power to come into the Prince’s chambers without permission and quiet soothing knocks to wood. The steward of his lordship, Sir Ian Hecox. He always looks slightly haggard nowadays, not that anyone could blame him given the circumstances, but he looks downright mad upon arrival. Spencer hopes for his own safety that is due to outside sources and not his personal tomfoolery that was interrupted. Maybe his nervousness will exude a funny, soothing presence for the other man. He doubts it.
-
“Agnew.” Ian bites the word out, and then looks pointedly towards the door.
Shayne feels his eyebrows raise. Ian is often, one would say, a bummer, but he's not usually mean. Spencer stumbles quickly out the doorway, looking back and giving him a nervous smile as if for good luck. He gives him a small wave before the wood shuts against its frame, trying to show his gratitude in small gestures.
The Prince is unsure as to what has brought the man to his chambers so early, and in such a bad mood on top of it. If it was an update about his Father, he would not be informed of bad news in this manner he is sure of it. Shayne attempted to go through the revolving list of possibilities that would upset Sir Hecox, and none of them seem hopeful for him.
The worst fight he and his steward had ever had was over what could be described as relationship drama. It makes him roll his eyes fondly now, but in the moment it was truly devastating. It was one of the moments that made him certain in his fears and hesitancy of becoming King one day. Ian had caught him and Courtney, his head knight, sneaking outside the castle grounds one night and the resulting was a quiet fury from the man Shayne had seen not before or since aimed towards him. His Father had been healthier then, of course, so things were more complicated. He always made things more complicated. Ian had told him to distance himself from her before rumors were spread, and things got more out of hand than they already had, in his words. Now that Shayne is more or less in charge of relations around the castle, it is less of a problem than a young teenager running off with a girl, while tensions rose in the kingdom. Ian had certainly noticed the growing proximity between himself and Spencer, and the idea of having to repeat such a forced separation a second time sits heavy in his chest.
Shayne squares his shoulders as he had seen his Father do in meetings where reports of bad news were expected. It often feels like he is playing a game of royalty instead of being one himself.
Ian holds up a rolled piece of parchment he had clenched in his fist, the indents from angry fingers bent into the pages, and hands it over to him.
“Anthony has requested our council.”
This makes Shayne pause in his fears and speculations. Anthony Padilla, of course, being the King of their neighboring kingdom Evander. Hecox and Anthony had been close, before Shayne’s father fell ill. They would often be seen sitting together in court meetings, and talking for hours afterwards. Ian smiled more often around him. Since King Topp’s health decline, King Padilla has not been seen in Regis. Rumors have grown since then of their kingdoms being close to war, falling apart from each other in diplomacy and trades. Ian made small attempts to clear the air, often with little returned from the other man.
Their kingdoms were close for years, even if it had just been for appearances. His Father had told him when he was little and before war and sickness, that he planned Shayne would later marry Anthony’s daughter Princess Arasha. The thought of an arranged marriage was not uncommon, but it still made his stomach swirl. She was a fine woman, they had met a few times in early childhood while their fathers had meetings of serious nature. They had played together in the garden, digging in the grass and looking at the bugs. He has not seen her in many years now, but he has no hard feelings towards the Princess, simply no close feelings of love either.
Anthony being the one to reach out first is surprising. Shayne can see the frustration radiating off Ian in waves, and he can’t say he blames him for feeling it. He takes the letter from Hecox’s fist as it unclenches and slowly unrolls it.
Ian starts to rant as Shayne reads the text himself, and as informed, Anthony not only asks their council, but in person. This gets his attention. Requesting not only help, but royalty to come to his kingdom personally is not only bold, but shows a true man in need of help. Help for what, he is still unsure, but help all the same. Shayne is not particularly enthused about the tasks he will undergo as King, but the one thing he knows he wishes to do is to go further than his Father did in terms of service to his people.
“I think we should go.”
His words stop Ian in his place and he blinks a few times before responding. He looks like he wants to argue, but bites his lip for a moment, in deep thought.
“Of course, Your Highness. I will be coming along with you, as requested in Anthony’s terms, and I will inform the others to prepare for a voyage.”
Shayne is glad Ian is willing to come along with him. While they have briefly interacted, he does not personally know the King and wants to try his best to get along with him. It will look better for rumors of their diplomacy as well. “The others? I assumed we would be having a small group of staff on this trip.”
Hecox scoffs, as if he said something particularly dumb, which Shayne is used to in recent years. “It will be a small group, I simply meant Sirs Agnew and Miller. We need protection on the way into his kingdom, and I knew you were going to ask about your little friend and accounted for it already.”
This makes Shayne smile genuinely for the first time in their conversation. While he wasn’t going to bring it up immediately, he had planned on bringing the subject of Spencer joining them. Spencer had been originally from Evander, and he knew the safest way to travel across the waters. It hadn’t been a solely selfish ask, just a mostly selfish one.
“Pack more… casual clothing for yourself. We don’t need any more unnecessary attention than what we will get already on our way out.” Ian glances down at the cloak Shayne currently adorns, even in its simple fabric it is obviously sophisticated in its designs. He grimaces at the idea of his people being angry to see him outside the castle after all this time, instead of curious. It is more reasonable a fear than one would first assume, and it mostly just makes Shayne sad he has not done more for them already.
Hecox leaves his room, door slamming behind him with similar force than what he entered with originally, leaving Shayne alone in his thoughts.
The Prince supposes he should pack his bags.