Royal Desires - 1/?
Title: Royal Desires - Chapter One
Pairing: Colin/Ryan
Chapter Rating: PG
Summary: An AU story where the young prince Stiles must marry a bride if he ever hopes to keep the throne, but is sidetracked by his passion for a stable boy named Colin…
Author’s Notes: Okay, Colin’s described as a stable boy, but he’s actually about 40 in this fic. All right? XD And Ryan is 38, let’s say.
Also, apologies for anyone still waiting on Wrath and Emeralds. I feel pretty stupid having posted chapter one of that and not having chapter two finished. And this story has sort of overtaken my interest, so I'll post this one first. At least this one's almost finished. :)
Royal Desires
In a faraway land long ago, before the idea of improvised comedy had even set forth in anyone’s mind, there lived an honourably royal family by the name of Stiles. Their extravagant palace, also known as Stiles Manor, sat bang in the middle of very overgenerous land and woodland (the driveway alone was two miles long).
Then, on one dark and dire day, the King and Queen of the manor passed away in the most incomprehensible circumstances. Upon death, they left behind all their wealth, their legacy and one son. His parents’ will clearly stated that the young prince must marry within a week of their passing or else the inheritance, and indeed the throne, would no longer belong to him.
The prince went by the name of Ryan, not that anyone actually used his name at all - and that was just one of the many things about his life that he hated. Another one was that he never got to go out anywhere by himself and make friends. The only times he got to venture outside palace grounds was when there were charity functions or strictly business parties where everyone wore suits and stale aftershave and expected royal company - and even then, he’d go only because he was forced to by his parents.
Something else Ryan detested about being a prince would be that he would be waited on hand-and-foot, and nobody let him do anything. The manor had cooks and butlers and servants, who just made him feel utterly fussed over.
Ryan sat by his bedroom window and sighed. The deaths of his parents two days ago made him feel sad, confused, alone, but mostly relieved. After all, they weren’t exactly what you’d call ‘model parents’.
There was a knock at his door, and after a mandatory “Come in,” entered the prince’s footmen, Brad and Greg. They both had the biggest grins on their faces, the sort you’d wear after winning the Superbowl or something.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” greeted Greg. “Did you sleep well?”
Ryan disliked being labelled as ‘Your Highness’ or ‘sire’, it made him feel less individual. He was about to scold Greg for doing so as he’d previously asked him on many occasions not to do it, but gave up and instead settled on a half-hearted, “Fine, thanks.”
“Sire, we’ve come up with a great plan concerning the inheritance,” Brad said, looking pretty pleased with himself. Aiding him in his marriage quest was something his footmen had excelled with and also something Ryan had quickly gotten bored of. He pretended to look interested as Brad explained. “All eligible women of the kingdom shall be invited here to the palace and present themselves as brides. You merely have to choose one to marry and voila! The inheritance stays in the family.”
The prince nodded slowly, grasping the concept eventually. “Right. Like, a talent show kind of thing?”
Brad smiled. “Yeah, a bit like that.”
“But, um…” Ryan began, fidgeting with the curtains as he spoke. “What about the eligible guys of the kingdom?”
“The guys?” Greg repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. He and Brad looked at each other in surprise, then back at the prince incredulously. Brad fumbled around in his many pockets until unravelling a long scroll - about as long the man himself.
“Erm, well it states here…” Brad messily scanned the document with Greg fussing beside him and Ryan just rolled his eyes. “Ah! It states here in the will sire, that you must marry a bride. Which is a woman, in layman’s terms.”
“Yes, yes, I know what a bride is,” Ryan sighed, “and I know perfectly well what the will says.” Brad smiled nervously in a small apology, trying his best to wrap the scroll back up and failing repeatedly.
“Excellent!” Greg was incredibly perky this morning, which just served to peeve Ryan a bit more. “Then we shall make arrangements immediately, sire. We promise that you’ll have a bride in no time.”
“Fantastic,” Ryan said with all the enthusiasm of someone on death row. “I’m going out for a ride.” He barely looked at the pair of bewildered footmen as he brushed past them and out the door, heading for the outside stables. His mood had significantly dropped, and all this talk of forced marriage and inheritance was making his head spin.
~~~
“Take it easy, big guy. I’ll be finished in a minute.”
Colin thoroughly brushed off Lance, the black stallion who always had a habit of hoofing at the hay near his feet in impatience. The animal just wanted to be let out into the grounds so it could get a bit of exercise and fresh air, and Mochrie, the stable boy come servant, knew that feeling of wanting to be free very well.
His day was fairly routine: Get up, feed horses, clean them, let them out, clear out used hay, add fresh hay, maybe a small break if he was lucky, let horses back in, more feeding, more cleaning (if they had per chance decided to roll around in the mud) and any other chores in between before bed, ready to get up and do it all again the next day.
It was a very hectic and demanding schedule, but Colin was well used to it by now. Plus, he really did like the horses he cared for - even if they were temperamental and impatient first thing in the morning, as he recalled when Lance let out another frustrated whinny.
“Calm down, boy. Easy,” Colin pulled on the reigns, reaching out to pat the animal reassuringly. “Not long now.” Lance calmed considerably and flicked his ears, which made Colin smile. “I’ll get you a drink - you’re being very hectic this morning.”
He gave him one last firm pat on the neck and retreated to the back of the stables to fetch a bucket. On his journey, he passed his sleeping quarters, which sat in the corner of the wooden structure with no real enclosure. Colin only had a few belongings, all of which were stashed in a metal chest under his wooden bed.
He paused, his eye catching his keepsake chest and wondered if he should have another indulgent dive into it…
A loud whinny from the stallion broke his thoughts and he laughed, shaking his head. “What’s the magic word, Lance?” he called, not getting any reply as expected. Stubborn creature, he tutted to himself, going over to scoop the bucket into a trough kept at the back.
The pail was heavier now and Colin struggled as he brought it over, grunting under his breath at the weight…
A figure sweeped in through the entrance suddenly, which startled Lance into rearing erratically and knocked into Colin and the heavy pale. The servant tried his best to rescue the falling bucket, but could only watch as it fell to the concrete with a thud, and the liquid contents threw itself outwards in a haphazard display.
The water ran across the floor and collided with someone’s feet, while the spray managed to give that same someone’s legs a good soaking in the process.
“Ahh! You clumsy oaf!” was the angry rebuke given by… Oh no, it’s him…
“Your Highness!” Colin panicked immediately, coming face to face with the one and only prince Stiles. The older man scrabbled to pick up the bucket and stooped low in respect and equal embarrassment. Flustered, he stammered, “F-forgive me, sire! I… I wasn’t paying attention-”
“Like hell you weren’t!” the prince snapped, shaking himself free of water. “My feet are all wet now!” Indeed, his royal footwear had become somewhat drenched, and Colin blushed like caught-out schoolboy. “I’m so sorry, sire, I’m sorry…”
The prince snorted in frustration as he walked past Colin in deliberate ignorance and set about mounting his favoured black stallion with gracious ease. He did have the most defined muscles Colin had ever seen, and it didn’t seem to faze him that Lance was almost as tall as he was.
“Open the gate,” he ordered, and Colin wordlessly obeyed whilst trying not to look the young prince in the eye. The impatient horse was finally free to go, but before Lance could whisk him off in the grounds, the prince had looked down moodily at Colin and muttered a sincere, “I’ll deal with you later.”
As Colin watched the man gallop away, he sunk down onto his knees, and then flopped sideways until he was sitting. He couldn’t believe that he and his own stupid clumsiness had outraged the very owner of the estate and heir to the throne. What kind of inadequate moron can’t carry a bucket of water properly anyway?
Colin wiped at his brow with a sleeve of his ratty work shirt, brushing away at his eyes also when he felt tears beginning to pool. Stop it, he thought to himself harshly. It was just an accident, if you only explain to him when he gets back…
He didn’t bother finishing that thought, as he knew that the prince would never give him the time of day.
Sighing heavily, he got to his feet, breathed in and out a few times and turned his mind to other things. Margo, the brown and white gypsy mare was in need of her daily grooming, for instance. But she would have to wait a little while as Colin returned to his sleeping quarters.
He sat on the end of the cotton-sheeted bed, elbows on his knees and hands in front of him. He stared at them for a long while and noted how all his years of labour here at the manor at caused his skin to age far beyond its years. They felt like burly men’s hands, not like the ones a shrimpy, slightly clumsy young guy like himself should be the owner of.
Reaching beneath him, he pulled out his metal keepsake chest and winced slightly at the creek it gave out as he opened the lid. It needed oiling, another job for him to do amongst his many others. Sitting prettily on top of his belongings was a picture he had kept since he’d first arrived here. It featured a large lake in the high noon sun, surrounded by trees and candid nature, and a young couple kissing by the lakeside.
Colin wasn’t entirely sure where this picture had come from, nor how it came to be in his possession. But never the less, he liked to have it around - he liked to think that the lake was a sort of reward he’d get eventually after all his hard work.
He brushed two fingers over his picture and sighed once more. “All I want is a little of the good life,” he said to himself wearily, not knowing where he’d heard the phrase before but not particularly caring either.
A familiar whinnying was heard then and Colin had to smirk at the horse’s timing. “All right, Margo. All right,” he called out, placing the picture back into the chest and shutting the lid carefully.
Grabbing the horse brush from a nearby shelf, the stable boy approached the mare and hushed her tenderly, stroking her wispy mane. “You don’t think I’m a clumsy oaf, do you Margo?” he asked her adorably as he began to groom her mane with expertise. The mare gave a snort and moved her head in what looked suspiciously like a nod. Colin laughed aloud, reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a sugar lump, holding it up for Margo to eat. “You’re funny, for a horse.” he giggled and petted her once on the nose.
He continued to groom her fondly, getting distracted every so often when the mare kept moving her head around. She stared for a long while out at the grounds, where the trees lined the great estate like towering guards, and Colin followed her gaze.
“You dream of the big wide world too, huh?” He gave her another pet and then continued. “I want to explore, Margo. Even if it’s only for a day or two and it means I have to come back and work here. Just… to see beyond those trees and those hills. And you know what else? I want someone… anyone… just to tell them I love them and to be loved in return. You know what I mean?”
He paused, wondering why he was talking to essentially nobody. Margo simply chewed at her hay noisily and didn’t seem to be listening. But right now, she seemed like the only living thing he could confide in and trust that she wouldn’t go blabbing to the higher powers. Colin let out a small laugh at picturing that last scenario.
“I’m talking to a horse,” he muttered to himself, but grinned anyway. He gave her one final brush and then generously opened her gate, freeing her from the stables. “There you go. You have fun out there.” Margo didn’t rush out in a hurry, but sauntered casually out until she felt the urge to shake herself in joy and run around with pent-up energy.
Colin silently watched her and smiled, wishing he could share in the joy of being alive.
~~~
Ryan was enjoying letting off steam whilst on his ride around the grounds of Stiles Manor. That morning’s events had made him slightly agitated with the knowledge that he couldn’t escape any of it - he never was a fan of tradition. But people had stuck a certain reputation onto him, and he knew that it was his duty and honour to live up to it, but he still felt like a tiger that had lost its stripes.
His feet were still soaking from that morning’s incident with the stable boy, and the young prince suddenly felt very awful about the way he’d spoken to him. It’s probably not like he’d meant to throw water onto him, after all - but Ryan couldn’t help snapping at the man whilst he was in his bad mood. And his parting words… ‘I’ll deal with you later.’
Congratulations, Stiles. You’ve just won the Jerk of the Year Award for Intimidating and Arrogant Excellence.
Ryan shook himself from his daydream and realised that he was no longer moving; Lance had stopped to flavour some of the luscious grass that grew on the other side of the grounds.
“No, no. C’mon boy,” Ryan pulled at the reigns firmly and the stallion immediately stood to attention. “We have to get back - I owe someone an apology…” And with that, Ryan expertly guided him back towards the stables at a swift speed.
To be continued…