Gritting his teeth, Laurence stormed towards the banquet hall, his ornate cape unfurling behind him like a fierce banner. He did his utmost to pretend his new shadow wasn’t around.

Avril trailed close, his steps unnervingly silent as he said lightly, "You seem tense, Your Highness. Fear not, for I shall be right behind you, always."

"Will you?" Laurence muttered derisively under his breath, his heart pounding as he tried to ignore the infuriating presence of his new personal knight.

The heavy doors, adorned with intricate gold carvings, opened to reveal a grandiose banquet hall. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, illuminating the room with a warm golden glow. Tables were piled high with extravagant dishes, overflowing with colorful fruits, succulent meats, and decadent desserts. The room was filled with Loros' elite, dressed in lavish clothing and engaged in animated conversations.

"Subjects of Loros," King Alphedor boomed from his raised dais. His voice resounded across the grand hall, each word resonating with authority and echoing against the pearl architecture. "The hour is upon us when a prince must cast aside the comforts of his studies, to behold the vastness of his future kingdom."

Heads turned, the crowd hushed in anticipation, and all eyes sought the source of the impending revelation. 

"Prince Laurence has proven himself a scholar and sealer of remarkable aptitude," the King continued, his tone swelling with pride. "As such, in two days he will embark on a journey to understand our lands and people, to grow into the leader Loros deserves."

The thrum of applause filled the air as the young prince stepped forward, standing tall as his eyes scanned the room, searching for familiar faces amidst the sea of guests. 

After taking a deep, steadying breath, Laurence addressed the crowd.

"Thank you all for joining us this evening," he began, his voice steady despite his churning emotions. "I am honored to have such esteemed company and I hope that each and every one of you will find joy in our festivities. Above all, I look forward to forging strong bonds with many of you tonight."

With a final nod to the crowd, Laurence stepped down the short staircase and began making his way through the hall, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with his guests.

Tonight was about forging alliances and proving himself as a worthy heir.

Meanwhile, Avril slipped into the line of guards along the banquet hall's walls with practiced ease. His shorter stature made him less imposing than his peers, yet there was an undeniable sharpness to his gaze as it followed Laurence's interactions. 

Upon pure coincidence, the spot Avril found happened to be beside Barton, who turned to the younger knight, offering a grin as warm as the chandeliers above.

"Quite the turnout, eh?" he said, nudging Avril with an elbow that seemed too friendly for the formality of the occasion.

Avril did not turn, his smile never faltering as his eyes remained locked on Laurence, who was now laughing at some shared jest among the nobility. Barton's grin waned, replaced by a furrow of suspicion, his gaze narrowing at Avril's silence. His easy-going nature soured to annoyance; it was unlike any guard to ignore camaraderie's call.

"Say, I heard the most peculiar story from the prince this evening,” Barton prodded, trying to pry Avril's attention away from Laurence. “He said he crossed paths with a palace knight he didn’t recognize. You wouldn't happen to be the one he was referring to, would you?" 

The question hung in the air, unanswered.

"You entered the hall with him, so the king himself must’ve appointed you as his guard,” Barton reasoned. “If you're going to be watching over Laurence, I would like it if we could build a rapport."

Avril slowly rotated his head and met Barton's eyes. He offered a smug smile that held no trace of confirmation or denial, only a silent challenge. 

Barton's annoyance deepened into frustration. He perceived Avril as an arrogant upstart with his cryptic grins and unsettling focus. He scoffed under his breath, turning his back on Avril to hide his irritation.

"Should've known better than to expect straight talk from a sealed tongue," he muttered, though loud enough for Avril to hear. But Avril simply kept his smile, eyes once again drawn to Laurence like a compass needle to north.

Laurence's laugh tapered off as a slender hand extended toward him. Duke Marley Alderban, his hair a burnished copper against the ballroom's golden light, stood poised in expectation.

"May I have this dance, Prince Laurence?" Marley's voice was smooth like velvet, his words laced with practiced charm. "And perhaps a word on your forthcoming journey?"

"Of course, Duke Marley," Laurence replied, clasping the offered hand in a firm shake before accepting the dance invitation with a courteous nod. "The floor is yours."

As they moved to the rhythm of the strings, their steps measured and precise, Laurence felt the weight of many eyes upon them. Though he’d been acquainted with Marley since they were children, he couldn’t allow himself to behave casually in his presence at the moment. 

"I must admit, excitement courses through me at the prospect of travel," Laurence remarked, adjusting his glasses with a free hand. "It will be my first time venturing beyond the capital city."

"Excitement is a fine companion, yet danger lurks beyond these walls," Marley countered, his brow furrowing in concern. He steered Laurence through a twirl that wasn’t a usual part of the step sequence, controlling the speed of the prince’s spin.

Laurence met Marley's gaze, hiding any nervousness he felt from the brief break from the practiced arrangement. "Fear not for me, Duke. I will be well-attended by an able entourage," he assured, his tone dismissing any perceived vulnerability. "The perils outside Dondor City hold no sway over my preparations."

Marley smiled thinly, but his dark-circled eyes betrayed the effort behind it. They continued to dance, the space between them charged with unsaid thoughts and the silent scrutiny of onlookers.

Avril's gaze clung to the prince and his dancing partner as his brows knitted. The names and faces of Loros’ important figures that had been forcibly drilled into his brain brought about some slight recognition. 

Finally deigning to speak to Barton now that there was actually something to be gained from it, Avril asked, "That's Duke Marley with Laurence, isn't it?" He subtly tilted his head towards the pair.

Despite his lingering annoyance, Barton could not ignore an inquiry about his prince.

"Indeed," Barton replied, his voice carrying a note of disapproval. "Those two have a history thicker than the castle walls—never did get along since they were boys."

A muscle twitched in Avril's cheek as he watched Marley's hand press just a bit too firmly against Laurence's back. His eyes narrowed, and an instinctual sense of impending trouble arose in his chest.

The dance ended, but Marley’s grip lingered as he leaned in, whispering something that caused Laurence's polite mask to slip for a fleeting second. "Will you join me on the balcony for a moment, Your Highness?" Marley requested. 

Laurence's lips parted to decline, politeness at war with discomfort. Before the words could escape him, Avril was there. He’d glided halfway across the room in less than a moment to lightly tap Laurence on the shoulder. "Might I steal you away for a dance, Prince Laurence?" His voice dripped with sweetness, a beguiling contrast to his usual mocking tone.

More than willing to take any offered refuge, Laurence acquiesced with a curt nod. “Excuse me, Duke Marley,” he said before allowing himself to be led away to a different spot on the floor. 

Marley's face contorted, a scowl creasing his brow as the color of his hair seemed to leech into his cheeks. He masked it quickly beneath a veneer of civility but failed to hide the flash of vexation in his sunken eyes.

"I hope you’re not expecting a thank you," Laurence said coolly, his voice barely above the music as they moved in time with each other. 

"Oh, certainly not," Avril replied, his tone light with an undercurrent of something Laurence couldn't quite place. "A dance with you is its own reward, of course."

Laurence's brow furrowed at Avril's response, skepticism etching his features. He wasn't fooled by Avril's pleasantries; the tension between them was palpable, even in the midst of their fluid movements. Still, they followed the steps of the dance, every pivot and turn executed with practiced grace.

As the dance continued, Laurence couldn't help but grimace inwardly. Being pressed so close to Avril irked him almost as much as Marley’s presence. Despite the elegance of their motion, the coil of frustration reserved for Avril’s existence continued tightening within him.

However, Avril reveled in the moment, his grin widening knowingly. He could sense Laurence's irritation, and it only amused him more. Even as they danced, he remained acutely aware of the prince's internal struggle, a silent victory in their unspoken battle of wits.

The final notes of the song lingered in the air, and the dancers slowed to a stop. 

"Thank you for the dance," Laurence said, his voice carrying more the weight of his title than any possible gratitude.

"Always a pleasure, Your Highness," Avril replied with a bow, his tone dripping with feigned deference as usual.

They parted ways, each step measured and deliberate. Laurence turned to face his guests, his smile practiced and perfect, while Avril slipped through the crowd, his smaller stature making it easy to return to his spot along the wall. He paid no mind to Barton’s intensely questioning stare.

The music swelled anew, a lively tune inviting another round of dances, but Laurence felt he’d already had more than enough for one day. A servant with a tray of drinks was passing by, so the prince plucked one to try.

The wine was sweet on his tongue; its warmth spreading through his chest. A brief respite from the night's tensions.