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“Will, please stay still for me?”
The recently re-named William looked up from the novel he had been reading. Next to him, Albert had risen to his knees and was holding out a flower crown. He must have woven it after discarding his own book, which William noticed had been put to the side. He followed Albert's instructions, letting him place the interwoven greenery on his hair.
“Here, Your Majesty. A happy crown for our gentle King.”
“King?”
Albert smiled peacefully at William's startled interrogation.
“Well, of course you're our King. Don't you agree, Louis?”
On William's other side, Louis, who was holding a daisy chain, considered his brother with deep seriousness. His eyes lingered on the flowers in his hair.
“It fits you.” The youngest finally answered solemnly.
Concern filled William’s chest. He didn't like how quiet and grave Louis seemed - and most worryingly, the fact that Louis was trying to hide it. William needed to fix this. However, he knew better than to address the matter directly. So he continued the conversation.
“I'm not a King.” He protested weakly, despite knowing he was outvoted.
But Albert was once again weaving pieces of foliage together, a serene smile on his face, and Louis soon imitated him, frowning in concentration as he picked up where he'd left off on his flower chain.
I don't want to be your King. I don't want to rule over you, and I don't want you to defer to me. I just want to be your brother.
Louis couldn't help but feel defeated as he considered the pitiful daisy chain he had created. He had been hoping to offer it to his brother once it was complete, but Albert had beaten him to it. And even though the older boy had had less time to craft it, given that he had first read the last chapters of his book whereas Louis had started waving flowers as soon as they had settled in the garden, the crown the older boy had made was so much more intricate than his own. And it looked magnificent as it perfectly complemented his brother's hair.
Louis shouldn't have been surprised. It was becoming increasingly obvious to him that Albert had much more to offer his brother than he did.
When Louis had been about seven or eight years old, he'd started to believe that he was old enough not to rely on his brother quite as much anymore, and most importantly, old enough to support him in turn. Admittedly, for a short while, it had seemed like it could be true. William had even accepted Louis’ help when they'd gone against Lord Baxter in court.
However, when Louis had fallen sick, William's protective instincts had spiked higher than ever before. And with them, his unwillingness to accept Louis’ implication in anything even slightly risky.
It was when things had started to seem desperate that they'd met Albert. And despite Louis’ many, many misgivings - and, he should confess, a significant amount of jealousy over William's attention - he had to admit that the boy had superbly risen to the occasion in the end.
Yet it was still hard for him to accept how much place the brown-haired boy had taken in their lives. Difficult, too, to witness how much more than Louis Albert had to give to William - and how easily the latter accepted the nobleman's generosity.
Distracted as he was by his glum thoughts and the flowers he was waving together, Louis nearly failed to register Albert's presence before something light and slightly ticklish was placed on top of his head.
“And for our brave Prince; a fierce crown befitting his valiant soul.”
Louis froze briefly, before looking up. Albert was studying him joyously, seemingly delighted with his work. Which felt - strange. Had Albert ever looked at him like that before? He always looked at William with stars in his eyes, and Louis also felt the same look when Albert looked at them both together, but he'd always assumed that his brother was the sole reason for the green-eyed boy's excitement.
He had never expected Albert to ever look at him - just him, just Louis - the exact same way he did William.
(Neither Louis or Albert noticed William's quiet joy at seeing them interact so genuinely. He knew the two of them could learn to love each other as much as he loved them both, if only Louis stopped being so wary and Albert so shy.)
“Louis does make for a wonderful Prince.” William agreed. “But I must protest my own title again - in all logic, shouldn't you be the King? You're the oldest.”
“Age has nothing to do with it - you're doubtlessly better fitted than I ever would be to be a King - and an incredible one at that.”
“What are you then?”
“Hmmm… a jester, I suppose?”
“A jester?! That's utter nonsense, it doesn't fit you at all! Well, except for the fact that you seem quite dexterous I suppose.” William relented, observing Louis’ crown - he hadn't gotten to take a good look at his own before it had been placed on his head. “Speaking of, where did you learn to make such complex flower crowns? I hardly think heirs are encouraged to partake in such activities.”
Albert smiled softly, sitting back down with his knees drawn up close to his chest.
“Two years ago,” he started quietly, “one of the girls at the orphanage - her name was Heather - got completely enamoured with the idea of flower crowns. She asked me if I could try to find some instructions on how to make some. I hadn't been visiting there for very long, and other children had seemed eager to try it too, so I was very determined to fulfil that request. After weeks rummaging through libraries and bookshops, I eventually found a short booklet on the topic, with clear instructions and helpful illustrations. Until the end of summer, making flower crowns was all we did every time I went.”
Albert had said all this with clear fondness for the memories. Louis wondered if he regretted cutting ties with the orphanage when he took them in.
“Ah, I suppose we did leave the orphanage in the middle spring, a bit early to resume the activity perhaps. That being said… There was no one named Heather at the orphanage when we were there. Did something happen to her?” William asked softly, clearly worried about Albert's reaction to the question.
Albert’s smile shrank, but didn't fade.
“No one knows. She was there one morning, went into town, and never came back. The sisters asked after her for a couple months, but they told me they never found anything.”
Which didn't necessarily mean they didn't know what happened to the girl, Louis understood as he studied his now complete flower circlet. Only that if they did, they chose to keep Albert in the dark.
“I'm sorry.”
“It's alright, Will. Thank you for asking, actually - those are good memories, I enjoyed revisiting them.”
William studied his older brother pensively, but didn't add anything.
Albert's gaze, meanwhile, had fallen on Louis’ finished creation.
“Oh, it seems like it's about time for King William to try on his new crown.” Albert grinned jauntily.
The older boy shuffled toward William, and reached out to remove his own offering from the blond's hair.
“No.”
Albert stopped just short of touching the crown, and looked towards him. William also stared at him curiously. Louis only then realised he had been the one to speak up.
No, he understood, he didn't want Albert to remove William's crown so he could wear the one Louis had made. In fact…
“You're wrong, brother Albert. It's not for him.”
Albert slowly let his hands fall back to his sides, stunned.
Louis… Louis had just called him brother. Of his own initiative. In private. Not because it was expected of him, not because he had a role to play, just… Just because.
That had never happened before.
And so Albert sat looking at Louis with barely disguised confusion and wonder, while the younger boy stared back, determination burning in his eyes.
(Tendrils of hope gripped Albert's heart, but he cut them down ruthlessly - it might just be a slip up, it might not mean anything. He couldn't cultivate any kind of hope.)
Louis stood up, and took a decisive step towards his brothers. He still wasn't looking at William.
(The latter watched on, from the sidelines, amazed and absolutely delighted as his brothers finally, finally found a way to each other.)
“Brother is right.” Louis stated. “You're not a jester.”
A hand touched his head, and Albert froze, then complied with Louis’ silent demand that he look back down.
Delicately, something was placed on his hair.
“You're the kingdom's most loyal knight.”
Albert didn't register the nimble fingers making some minor adjustments before Louis stepped back to contemplate his work. He stared in front of him, eyes unseeing, too overwhelmed by the storm of emotions welling up inside him to speak. Knight, Louis had said. Loyal. No, surely Albert wasn't deserving of that kind of praise - but oh, how he wanted to believe his darling brothers really did see him this way. How he wanted to believe that Louis might truly mean those words.
Tears filled his eyes, but Albert refused to let them fall. He didn't notice Louis shifting uncomfortably above him, worried by Albert's continued silence and stillness, or William taking note of both his brothers’ distress and deciding to act.
“I didn't know knights wore crowns.”
Albert and Louis looked at William at once. Louis quickly looked away, lightly blushing at the slight reproach, while Albert immediately found his footing again - tears forgotten - and joined in on the banter :
“It's clearly meant to be a helmet William, shame on you for failing to notice.”
William smiled privately, happy to have pulled Albert away from whatever doubts plagued him, and to see Louis secretly light up at being defended so.
“Oh, right, my mistake. In that case, you look quite regal, Sir Knight.”
“How can I not? This helmet was forged by His Highness himself, you ignorant fool.”
“Is that how you address your King?” William drily replied.
“Oh, so now you don't protest being the King, brother. How convenient.”
All three of them paused at Louis’ sarcastic reply, before they all dissolved into laughter.
It felt good to laugh like that. To laugh in sheer joy, in pure amusement. When had William last felt as light as he did now, leaning on his brothers for support as they all laughed themselves silly?
They spent the rest of the afternoon continuing on this trend. William's book was abandoned to the side, as he chose to restlessly tease and needle his brothers, who pestered him and each other right back. William couldn't help but grin at their back and forth, full of joy at seeing his beloved brothers happy, better yet, happy together. This was the sort of fulfilling happiness William had never dared to dream of.
This was home.
And maybe William could even accept being King, as long as he had the world's strongest Prince and kindest Knight by his side.