Chapter Text
The soft, warm air was gently brushing through the grass outside the window. Summer felt like forever, but it would last long anymore. Everything had its time, the seasons as life. Some things, he’d never quite understand. How plants gain life, grow and evolve for seemingly no purpose. How the stars felt so close on clear, warm nights, it’d be so easy to pull them down and keep them in the palm of his hand. How love was always described in books and fairytales as pure and honest, when it couldn't be further from the truth. His truth.
Lando was the rightful heir to the throne of Auredon. His kingdom, his home, his world. He knew of the life beyond their walls, but he’d never bothered to leave. Even if he wanted to, felt the longing pull of the outside, his father would’ve let him. Not alone, anyway, not free.
The idea of war beyond their people, of conflict on other’s ground, it never had a pull on him anyway. He much preferred his home, his fathers kingdom, soon his own. He knew these walls like no one else, had roamed these streets more often than he could ever think to count. So many days and nights he had spent hiding around the trees and bushes, lingering in his favorite shops and hiding from his guards.
While his father was protective of him, he wasn't trapped either. When he was younger, growing up, his mother had tried her best to make him feel normal. She tried to give him a childhood, friends, everything she had too. He knew he was different, he knew the elders looked at him differently and some kids didn't like to talk to him much because he was different. He didn't live with them, wasn't taught with them. She had tried, but there was only so much she could do. When Lando looked around his friends, the kids he knew, he had always felt it. Not only the ones who didn't talk to him, no, it was the ones that did. The way they talked about trips with their families and dinner with their father. In the way they dressed loosely and indifferencial. In the way they cared so much less and yet, so much more.
Lando always found it quite hard to ignore how different his life was, and even more how different it’d be. From as early as he could remember, he was prepared to be king, to rule. He was taught how to make decisions, even ones you don't want to take. How to put the people's needs in front of your own, how to make sacrifices. He was taught how to stand up straight and smile for his folk, how to dress appropriately and how to always keep your calm. For the people.
Now, that was his worst problem. A problem he couldn't let them see, couldn't let anyone see. He had to be strong, for the people. For his people.
It felt stupid to think about. To rule, for him to rule something as great as what his father had built. How was he ever going to live up to him, to provide for their nation, for a nation that put all their trust into his shaking hands? It didn't just feel stupid, it felt irrational. But they didn't know that, so he was not going to think about it. Besides, he wasn’t king just yet.
His father was still here, still ruling, still providing. He didn't see him often, much less did they talk about anything meaningful. He didn't quite remember if he was always like that, but ever since she died, they barely talked. But he was still here, and as long as that was the case, Lando was going to do anything but take responsibility. People relying on him, trusting him to do what's right? How was he going to know? He hadn't really lived enough at twenty-four to decide anything, much less know why. Then again, his father did. His father was more than capable to lead. Why couldn't he be?
The sun was shining through his opened window as gently as he remembered his mother's touch late at night. The air smelled of fresh flowers and burning coal from inside the castle. His skin was warm, so were his hands. Still, he couldn't bring himself to think of warmth and flowers.
Until she walked along the street, right under his window high up. She, whose warmth and flowers followed wherever she went. Her smile was so pure and bright, her dark hair flowing along with the breeze. She was all he wanted to be, all he needed to be. And soon, she’d be all he’d ever known. Soon, he could live in her field of flowers all day long, until she was his queen.
And she already was all he’d ever known. All he was ever supposed to know. It wasn't her fault, nor his, and he’d never blame his father for it either. It was for safety reasons, for reassurance, for balance. For peace. Lando understood it very well, and for the years and years they’d spent growing up together, he’d tried his best to keep understanding. To never look at someone else the way he looked at her. To always do her right, to never question her. To hold her hand in public and to give her kisses as softly as he could.
She was perfect, in every way. She never looked at Lando with anything but admiration, never touched him with anything but love. She was as calm as the flied of flowers she danced through, her laugh as bright as the sun shining on her dark skin. She was always kind, to whoever she’d meet. She was always content with what she had, never argued back when she should’ve. She was perfect, in every way.
That's what his father thought, anyway.
All these years, Lando tried. He really tried. Tried to love her, tried to see in her what she saw in him. Tried not to lie in every confession he’d made, in every kiss he’d pressed on her forehead. When she laughed at him, so full of light, he smiled back. When she brushed her hand against his, he’d intertwined their fingers without protest. All this time, in all their closeness, he’d never found what he was so desperately looking for. Truely, he wasn't sure if he’d ever had an honest moment of intimacy in his life.
It didn't matter. Not to his father, not to his people. He’d marry her, if he loved her or not. It wasn't like he had a choice either. It wasn't like he had ever been given a choice. Lando knew he shouldn't complain, knew how privileged his position was. It just felt so unfair, still. Maybe he was wealthy, and lived in a castle, and had food and water whenever he wanted it. Sometimes, however, he wondered if he’d give it all away, for if it meant to not live a lie, but live a life. Be happy, be honest, be at peace with who looked back at him in the mirror.
He’d never get to find out. So, he stopped bothering to imagine it. It would only make his skin itch more, make his hands shake more. He couldn't have that.
“Lando! Come down here, won't you?”
Her smile was so bright as she shouted up towards his window, her hands reached out as if she could catch him right as he was falling. He’d never fallen before. He never would. But her smile was so bright, and her voice so full of joy.
“I’ll be right there, love” he called back, giving her the warmest smile he could offer.
Sometimes, he wondered if she knew. If she felt the way his smile dropped when she wasn't looking, in the way his lips were cold on hers. He hated thinking she would. It wasn't her fault, and she was so kind. And worst of all, she loved him, more than he’d ever loved anyone. She looked at him as if he was her whole world, all that mattered. Sometimes, he couldn't even look back at her from the guilt creeping up his throat, tugging at his sleeve. That's why he did get up from his seat at his window, abandoning the ray of sunshine that lit up his body. Instantly, he felt the warmth leave his body, feel a cold shower run down his spine.
When he turned around, he was met with a mess of a room. A while ago, he’d forbidden any housekeepers to even enter his room, much less clean it up. It all began when he started running into his room, hands shaking, chest refusing to rise. And he’d shut his door as tight as he could, sat down on the floor in front of his bed and tried desperately to breathe. And the door had opened, for he’d forgotten to lock in the heat of the moment. And the kind woman, who had watched him grow up all his life, who he’d barely managed to remember the face of, had never looked at him so pitiful and sad. Being looked at like that wasn't acceptable. It wasn't trustworthy, nor responsible. He’d sworn to never be looked at like that again.
The shaking didn't stop, neither did his mind get quieter as time went on. His room was the only place he felt the resemblance of safety in, for it still wasn't his dear mothers arms.
A quick look in the mirror revealed the clothes he needed to tuck straight, the curls he needed to separate to look presentable. It revealed the bags under his eyes he had to hide, his broken lips he had to fix. He did, at last, she waited for him outside. She, so fucking perfect it made him want to tear his own skin off his bones to form it into something new, something as perfect as she was. Maybe that's why he was never able to love her, maybe she reminded him too much of everything he could never be.
When he looked back into his mirror, he looked close to it. Looked close to what he was meant to be like, what his mind was supposed to look like. Satisfied, he put on his smile. It was all that mattered, no one would see what lingered behind his eyes, under his skin. No one would ever see it, so why bother fixing it? All that the people cared about, therefore all that he cared about was how he presented himself. And that was calm, collected, perfect. The perfect son, the perfect king.
Someday.
As he walked along the big halls of his home, Lando focussed on his breathing. He felt the warm air from outside flowing through the rooms, he carried it with every step he took. A deep breath in. His steps on the ground were soft, not too loud, not too silent. He walked with pride, with elegance. A deep breath out. His back was always straight, his eyes always paying attention. Never losing himself in thoughts, never letting his mind wander too far. A friendly housekeeper turned around to smile at him. He smiled back, he always did.
Through the big, open entrance door, the sun painted half of the entrance hall in a light yellow. In the summer time, especially on warm days like the current, they always kept the door to the castle open. While some had worried about it, the king didn't see a threat in his own people. He trusted them, trusted the people he ruled to be happy enough, and they were. While, surely, the entrance was surveilled the entire time, no one had ever even attempted to break in with mal intent. Lando didn't know closed doors as a safety measure, until he had to close his own.
But, the guards greeted him more formally than he’d like, and as he set foot on the concrete stairs leading outside of his home, he took another deep breath. Nothing quite made him feel as peaceful as nature itself, freedom itself. For a moment, he listened to the birds chirp, the sound of hooves against gravel, the light chatter of staff and knights out of service.
“There you are” a voice exclaimed happily, the smile evident in each word she spoke. As Lando turned to his right, he was met with dark, soft brown eyes and even darker, softer brown hair.
“Hello Carla” Lando spoke with his softest voice as he returned the smile. With ease, he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. He didn't have it in him to kiss her honestly, he hated lying. Its all he’d been doing.
“Where’ve you been? I was looking for you!”
“Were you? What have I done now?” he asked defensively, fighting back his smile.
“Lando” she rolled her eyes, half-heartedly punching his right arm.
He let out a laugh before slinging his arms around her neck, pulling her against his chest. He’d never love her like she did, and it’d forever weigh on his chest like the crown did on his head. But, he still loved her, in a way. There wasn't a time without her in Lando’s life, they’d been friends since forever. He knew her in and out, knew every nuance of her voice and every inch of her face. He knew her voice amongst a thousand others, knew her silhouette in complete darkness. He’d never kiss her with love, nor take her hands to marry her, but wasn't all fake. He liked her, just not like that.
“I’m sorry, I wasn't feeling too well” he muffled against her hair as he felt her body relax in his arms.
“Does your head still hurt?” she asked back, leaning away from him to see his eyes.
Lando nodded helplessly, his mouth turning into a small, thin smile. In a way, it wasn't even that big of a lie. His head hurt, just more mentally than physically. She didn't need to know.
“Still, you could’ve let me know. I waited for you”
“I know, I’m sorry, really,” he said with all the honesty he had.
“How am I ever gonna rule with you?” she let out a dramatic sigh, letting her eyes wander the yard.
“Rule?” he repeated, as if it was going to change the fact that it's true.
“Yes, rule! If you can't even be on time for a date, how are you gonna survive a single meeting?”
“Topic change, please” he begged with a cry, letting one of his fall down to open their bodies up. Then, he already started taking a few steps forward, gently dragging Carla along.
“Alright, what do you wanna do instead?” she asked with a cheeky smile, catching up to him.
“Wanted to check up on Ric” he shrugged, slowly heading to the stalls.
“Oh, you wanna take a ride?” she questioned excitingly, and Lando hated how happy it made her sound.
He hesitated for a moment. Rationally, he didn't have the energy he needed. His body was slumped, his social battery draining out faster than ever in the last days. It was as if, as soon as he left his room, he was already too exhausted to speak. Lately, it had become so much, the expectations for the marriage, for the crowning, for the new king. He felt the need to always be on top, always acting, and still always felt so out of place wherever he went. No amount of pretending fixed it. And he wasn't sure anything ever would.
But she wouldn't understand, right? She’s never felt the pressure, the need to be something else. She’s always been everything she needed to be. She’s always been so perfect, always wanted to be royalty. It was a dream come true for her, while Lando felt stuck in a nightmare. And what if she spread the word? If it got out just how on edge he’s been lately, just how much he despised it all? Not that he didn't trust her… He did. He was just scared. Most of all, he was just so scared.
“Uhm, I don't know” he hesitantly spoke as they reached the stalls, filled with horses of royalty and knights.
He instantly headed to the far right, where his light brown shire was standing patiently in its box. Ric wasn't the fastest horse, nor could it jump especially high, nor was it the youngest anymore. But it was Lando’s, it's always been. He didn't care about what he could and couldn't do compared to the knight’s horses, it didn't matter to him in the slightest. Ric had been his one trustful friend ever since he remembered. He was his way to escape this castle, this reality. It was the only time he didn't need to be prince.
“Why not?” Carla’s hand slung itself around Lando’s waist as they stood at the box, Lando already petting the soft, white snout of the animal.
“Father wanted to see me later, I don't think I should leave before,” he sighed while shrugging, letting his smile falter for a moment.
He quickly picked his friendly demeanor back up when one of the knights living in their castle stood next to them, looking to care for his companion as well. They had a big residence, and Lando’s father never saw the reason in not sharing it with the people most important to it, to the safety of it. He had a relatively close relationship with most of the knights, whereas Lando had just barely managed to remember some of their faces, much less their names. Some of them, who ran around the yard at day, who he saw train in the back, he swore he’d never seen before.
The man standing next to them, he’d seen around. Here and there, their ways always seemed to cross, never their eyes though. Maybe it was Lando’s social capability, the lack thereof or the bitter look on the man’s face, it didn't matter. Lando would never speak to these men until he’d be forced to, until he was king. Because until then, most of them seemed over the top anyway. He never paid much attention to those.
“You sure you’re okay?” the soft voice ripped his head around to his right, met with the softest of eyes.
“I’m alright, love, just a bit tired,” he shook his head loosely.
“You should get more sleep then, no?”
He looked down at her dark brown eyes with a small smile, letting his chest rise and fall evenly. Then, he tugged a strand of hair behind her ear, brushing her soft skin. Maybe he didn't love her, but she made him feel cared about. He’d take it, even if he didn't deserve it.
“You worry too much”
“Maybe because you give me too much reason to worry”
Still, somewhere, it pained him to see how much she cared, how deeply she felt. It pained him knowing he wasn't being truthful to her, who deserved it the most. Maybe one day, he could tell her. That, or feel the same. Maybe one day, he could change.
He looked back at Ric, who he knew he’d take out for a ride sooner rather than later, just when he knew no one would notice his absence. Those times became much rarer, however, everyone needing him to be present, signing this, witnessing that. When he was younger, he’d sneak out at night every now and again, when he knew George was on guard duty and wouldn't tell anyone. And he remembered how he’d run out into the fields and stare at the sky forever, run around all he wanted. Nowadays, those nights had become a rarity. He was so tired, too tired. Still. when it felt like his chest was about to explode and the itching wouldn't stop, he awaited the night. Hoped it’d be George at the gates, who wouldn't ask any questions. As soon as he was outside, everything was just so quiet and peaceful, and the sky was so clear, he felt he could see beyond the stars.
When he laid on the back of his horse, staring up at the black void and asking the universe why he was the way he was. Why he couldn't be different, couldn't be like his father. Why anxiety clawed at his neck like the stray cat desperately hung onto the trees outside his window. Why he felt so out of place, and if it’d ever change. The universe never replied, just sent a cold shower down his spine and over the flowers. So he continued living, day after day, hoping it’d stop eventually.
“Come on, I should go,” he admitted before letting his hand glide over Ric’s nose one more time, promising him to be back.
He turned around to sling his arm around Carla's shoulders again, who looked at him with a disappointed sigh. As they started walking back out of the stalls, Lando found his head turning back around for just a second. Later, he’d tell himself it was to check on Ric, but he knew that was a lie. He knew where his eyes danced to instead, who he eyed up and down. He didn't look back. So Lando turned around again, focussing on the steps ahead.
It wasn't a lie, either. His father wanted to talk to him later that day, and Lando didn't exaggerate his excitement either. His father had worn that look on his face, drenched in worry hidden by sternness. Lando wasn't sure what exactly to make of it, but he knew it wasn't good. And with everything going on at the moment, the thought of one more trouble, as small as it may be, annoyed him beyond belief.
So they headed back to the wide entrance hall, two guards on each side of the big door leading into an even bigger, marble hall. It was pretty, their castle. Lando had spent days on days just sitting around the place, staring, reading, he even tried drawing at some point. He stuck with reading, instead. But still, the way the sun glittered on the white tiles, the way the massive pillars divided the room in hall and hallways. It was truly beautiful to him.
Right through the back, he could see the entrance to their ball room, just as big with gold accents lining the walls and floors. While he loved music, loved his soft guitar ringing through empty halls, dancing was always a chore to him. He’d taken dance classes from the very beginning, learned how to keep his back straight and head up, where to hold his hands respectfully and which steps to take. How to guide a woman through the halls, how to hold her steady while her dress gently follows her every move. He knew how to do it, and he was quite a good dancer too.
But it was connected to the balls, to the ceremonies, to the hundreds of people watching his every move, evaluating if he’s worthy enough. Dancing meant never letting his guard down, never stop smiling, never say what you think, just what they want to hear. That, he truly hated.
Standing in the sun, her brown eyes lightened up as she looked up at him, their hands intertwined effortlessly. It had become routine for him. Ever since he knew he was going to marry her, which both their parents had long decided, he tried to make it as easy as fast as possible. He started holding her hand in public, started kissing her lips without hesitating. He started to make it mean less as time went on, started forgetting what touch could mean and instead made it mean nothing. She was his friend, his closest one arguably. Kissing her meant showing appreciation, not love. Whatever it took. At least, that's what he’d been telling himself. He doubted he could live with himself if he didn't, if he faced the truth.
“What does he want, anyway?” she eventually started again, after they had fallen into light chatter about their days. The sun was warm against their skin as they sat on the marble stairs leading up to the entrance.
“I don't know, Alex sounded pretty serious about it” Lando drifted off, staring into the sun.
Alex was his fathers assistant, the only person he ever really considered family after she left. He was the person raising Lando, tried to be there for him. If Lando would’ve let him. It wasn't his fault either, and Lando knew he was only trying his best. He just couldn't. Maybe he just wanted his father back. Nowadays, Alex served mainly to tell him to see his dad, keep him on schedule.
“You think it is?”
“I hope not”
After a small pause, he reluctantly got up from his seat, Carla following his movement. He pressed a small kiss on her soft forehead, stroking another piece of hair behind her ear before he left her side. More or less relieved, he dragged himself through the doors of the palace, not bothering to turn back around. She’d stand there, waiting. Always waiting for him, when she should've stopped a long time ago. It wasn't worth the wait, he wasn't. Sometimes, he wondered what she was going to do when she found out. Someday, far in the future, she would. About all his flaws, all the things lingering inside of him. His frustration, his shaking hands. His guilt, his weight. His lies. Some day, she’d find out.
He sighed, taking step after step up the big staircase, only half avoiding the red carpet lining its middle. He didn't quite know what he was in for, but it didn't look like family dinner. He’d given up on that a long time ago, too.