The White Prince | L.S AU

[01] "Forelegs the Farm Boy"

Word Count: 1224

It was almost nightfall when the Cherose carriages pulled into the Edolk estate. The sun was beginning to dip behind the trees and Harry had just finished writing the first letter to his mother back home whom he missed very dearly.

Edolk Manor was dimly lit with glass lanterns and the soft evening glow. Its Baroque structure was complete with a crowning central dome and pilasters. The sturdy Istrian stone walls were of a yellowing ivory, ornate with cherubs and quatrefoil embossments. Unlike Cherose Palace—which sat quietly over acres of prairie—the manor was built over mounds of rocky ridges. So rocky that Harry was worried his insides would get scrambled with how jarred the journey was.

The young prince was silent as he scanned the premises through the glass of the carriage, mindlessly twisting the material of his breeches between his fingers.

"We've arrived, your Highness."

His valet, Nikolas, stuck a hand out the carriage to alert the royal guards of their arrival and Harry nodded in acknowledgment. The carriage halted to a stop and the white dray horses neighed contently as a hostler coaxed them with small fruit.

He adjusted the jade brooch which clasped his pure black cloak at the left breast before a royal guard opened the door.

Harry's umber knee-high boots clicked against the ledge of the carriage as he stepped out into the cool autumn air. A breeze brushed past the ends of Harry's white jabot poking out from his cloak, rustling the leaves with a faint promise of colder days to come.

"Your luggage will be transported to the chambers immediately," Nikolas reminded, sweat already beginning to glisten on his forehead as men tended to the horses. Harry smiled in gratitude.

He kept his nose up as he strode to the grand entrance with years of poise, heels clicking against the cobbled floor while brown curls bounced with every step.

A footman greeted him with a curtsy and scampered to open the doors with his gloved hands, chirping a, "Prince Harry of Cherose! The kingdom of Edolk welcomes you, your Highness!"

Harry smiled and whispered a quick thank you while taking his first step into the palace, the small gesture taking the servant aback.

He tilted his head to observe a mural of nymphs and putti on the vault. His gaze slowly traveled down to a blood red carpet draped over the stairway.

Atop the first flight of marble stairs, a lone, petite boy with scruffy brown hair and a stoic expression was leaning against the handrail; right cheek pressed against his corresponding forearm, while he leisurely traced his fingers on one of the balusters.

A sparsely buttoned white blouse was messily tucked into khaki breeches. Without his shoes or stockings, his feet and strong calves were left bare.

Forelegs the farm boy, Harry almost snorted.

Vivid blue eyes met green ones as the boy's eyebrows furrowed—most likely in curiosity at the new face. Harry dropped his gaze out of embarrassment that a stranger had caught him staring. The curly-haired prince finally opened his mouth to greet the young boy, cocking his head to meet his gaze again, but found the area empty.

"Who are the other guests?" Harry asked curiously, eyes still glued on where the boy once stood. More footmen, clad in the same dark blue uniform, came forward to fuss over his cloak.

"The guest list will be in your chamber. Don't you worry, there'll be plenty ladies of your age," the footman smiled.

Harry weakly returned the smile before asking, "Where are the sleeping quarters?"

The servant looked around before beckoning to a young maid, "Marie, please escort our prince to the guest chambers."

He turned back to Harry with a parting smile, "Enjoy your first night in Edolk, your Highness!"

The maid—or Marie—nodded understandingly and curtsied in respect for the prince before leading him up the steps where the mysterious boy had been standing moments ago. The corridors were full of footmen and maids scrambling to prepare the grand celebration; yet Harry had yet to meet another nobleman besides the boy.

While Marie spent the trek explaining the kingdom's history, Harry heavily judged the artworks hanging on the walls, scrunching his nose frequently at the designer's decisions.

A Caravaggio classic next to The Farm of Henry Windle? They've bloody lost the plot.

By the time he'd passed the second Michelangelo sculpture, he'd enough of the distasteful layout and decided on looking at the red carpet's complex design for the rest of his way there.

Though his interest in the golden spirals of threading was short-lived when a rough impact bruised his side and a pair of black penny loafers intercepted his view of the floor.

"Mind where you're stepping, Cherose prince," a high-pitched voice grumbled. As Harry's head whipped up in surprise (and slight annoyance), he immediately recognized the blue eyes. It was the boy from the stairs, now fully clothed.

"Good evening, your Highness," Marie squeaked.

The boy paid no mind to her as he stormed away, his cloak winding behind him in a flurry of red. Clearly, he wasn't in the best mood.

"Who was that?"

Marie held a confused expression, "Prince of Edolk, of course. He's the host for this year's banquet and the heir of this kingdom."

Harry hadn't expected him to be so, well, tiny—especially considering how terrified the maid seemed to be.

"Is he always this unhappy?" Harry whispered, in case the prince was still around the corner. Marie was silent for a moment and Harry considered repeating the question before she finally spoke.

"I'd prefer not to disclose any information about the prince," she hesitated. "I haven't been around long enough to confirm the stories."

"Stories?" Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Marie's dark eyes widened at this, realizing she was only digging herself deeper.

"My deepest apologies, your Highness, I'm afraid I cannot feed your curiosities," she shook her head. "But fair warning, do not talk of the king unless absolutely necessary. His father is not exactly in his Highness's favor."

Harry silently nodded, deciding not to press further. It wasn't long before they rounded a corner where the red carpeting ended. He began to chew on his lip and ran his fingers through tangled curls out of habit.

Harry's father seldom, if even ever, mentioned the prince of Edolk. Whatever the talk was about him couldn't have been that groundbreaking, right?

"Your chamber, your Highness."

Marie pulled on the golden handles of a extravagant red pair of doors and opened them. As he'd expected, the room was just as grand as the others. Harry smiled politely.

"Your valet will escort you down to the soirée and a royal guard will be situated in front of your room for your protection, do ring the provided bell for any requests," she drawled. "Please be dressed appropriately by twenty-one-hundred."

Harry bobbed his head until she was finished and gave her another smile, "Thank you, Marie."

She bowed, "My pleasure. Be sure to enjoy yourself, your Highness."

With one last curtsy, she was off and he was left alone. Harry had barely known him but boy, those blue eyes never left his mind.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: so how was it? good, bad, dECENT? more louis/harry interactions coming up! it's about to get juicy ;)

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