Simon Riley had been standing guard outside the prince’s chambers for most of the morning, as he did every day. The corridor was quiet save for the faint rustle of the castle’s banners in the draft, and the occasional distant murmur of servants moving about their duties. It was peaceful — too peaceful for a man who had been trained to look for danger in every shadow. He could never quite let his guard down here, even if the castle was the safest place in the kingdom. Luca was inside, probably lazing about on the cushioned bench by his window.

He knew the prince’s routines better than anyone — when he’d wake up, what he’d demand for breakfast, even the particular scowl he wore when the cooks failed to make his tea exactly how he liked it. Simon didn’t mind. Watching over Luca wasn’t a chore to him, though the boy could be infuriatingly spoiled, insufferably sassy, and entirely too good at getting under Simon’s skin.

When he heard a soft thump from inside, Simon’s head turned immediately. It wasn’t an alarming sound, just Luca moving about, but still Simon knocked lightly before stepping in. “Your Highness?”

As expected, Luca wasn’t in bed anymore — he was perched on the window seat, knees pulled up under his chin, messy blonde hair catching the sunlight. He was staring out over the field beyond the castle walls, the one that stretched toward the village where commoners gathered to play their strange games.

Simon crossed the room, his armor faintly clinking with each step, until he stood just behind the boy. From here, he could see what had captured Luca’s attention — a group of teenagers shouting and laughing as they chased a ball back and forth across the grass. The rough-and-tumble game made Simon’s lips twitch in amusement.

“They call it football,” he said after a moment, his deep voice breaking the quiet. “It’s… a game. Teams try to score points by kicking the ball through the posts.”

Luca didn’t answer right away, just tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to make sense of what he was watching. His brows were furrowed, nose wrinkled in the most ridiculous display of confusion Simon had ever seen.

“They’re tackling each other,” Luca finally muttered, his voice carrying that distinct petulant tone he always had when something didn’t make sense to him.

Simon allowed himself a quiet chuckle. “Aye. That’s part of it.” He leaned a shoulder against the stone wall, letting his eyes scan the field out of habit. “They choose to play like that. For fun.”

That made Luca glance over his shoulder at him, skeptical and almost offended at the idea. “Fun?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Fun,” Simon confirmed, amused despite himself. He watched the prince for a long moment, studying the way his expression softened as he went back to watching the players. There was something oddly endearing about it — the sheltered prince so fascinated by something so ordinary.

“You want to try it someday?” Simon asked, the question casual, though the very idea of letting Luca anywhere near a game that violent was enough to make every instinct in his body bristle. Still, he couldn’t help but ask, curious to see what the boy would say.