Work Text:
Remember, everything will be alright
Every morning, as the sun dips its shimmery feet onto the greenery beneath, a young boy looks out of his bedroom window. The world awakens in golden hues, flowers stretch their petals, animals raise their heads, all coming upon a new day. And every morning, this boy, this beautiful, wondrous boy, opens his yearning green eyes towards the view before him. Begging it, wishing it, to take him from this place.
Years pass, mornings have come and gone, and the young curves of the boy’s figure have melted into strong lines of a man, defining him in all the places he had no definition before. And while his beauty is even more unparalleled than it had been in his youth, he still wakes every morning, hoping for the same unattainable dream. Hoping for an escape from this life. Hoping for an escape from this reality where liberty is only a figment of the imagination within his mind.
Hoping to one day, taste the sweet, sweet breath of freedom vividly on his tongue.
It seems childish to wish for something so improbable, but after twenty-one birthdays, the desire holds true. Yet, so does the feeling that it won't ever be granted. But today, an ordinary Tuesday in the scheme of his life brings him to a change. Because this morning, this otherwise typical morning, does not bring him a saturated sunrise atop a mountainous view. It brings him something different. Something new. A figure dressed in armor that contrasts the sight beyond the glass, as he walks starkly amongst the earth. And it isn't until the Knight falls to the ground and is taken in by guards, that the understanding of this morning sets in.
Because this morning there is a shift.
This morning, there is a boy.
**
"Your Highness, the King has summoned you," Prince Harry hears from his personal servant upon his entry into his quarters. The view of the stranger no longer is accessible, and while Harry is determined to find more about his whereabouts, his presence is being requested. And no one - no one - denies the King, especially his own son.
“Alright Niall, let us walk.” Following behind Niall as he leads Harry into the hall, the two silently stroll along to the King’s office.
When Harry had been younger, he and Niall were permitted to play with one another a few hours during the week. At the time, Niall was training to become his royal assistant and Harry was training to become a royal. As years led them into adolescence, the moments dedicated to their friendship were stripped away, replaced with numerous tutors and lessons for Harry to attend. It had been a critical step made by the King, removing all the things that could make Harry feel. His Father had always feared happiness, referred to it as a weakness that no man should bare, and thus, took it from the young Prince’s life as though it were easily disposed of in the trash.
Harry, however, did not have such an easy recovery from the loss of his childhood. Of his friend. Of his one salvation from his life and his family. To be truthful, he still notes the emptiness within his bones every time he and Niall are together, and cannot indulge in their once joyful demeanor. There is a massive void of guilt that can never be replaced.
As their footsteps come upon the marble floor of the office, Niall knocks to announce their appearance before going through the entry. Once Harry finds his way inside, the door is shut behind him, leaving the Prince alone with the King. His Father.
"Harold, it appears that this morning, a thief lurking amongst the grounds was uncovered," the King informs as he lifts up from the chair he had been situated in. His red silk blouse fits snugly on his round stomach, a clear sign of both his wealth and overindulgences. Most of the people see it as something to aspire, but Harry has never seen it as anything other than greed. The food he takes for himself but doesn't share with others. The help he requires for himself but doesn't offer for the less fortunate. The Prince never wants to be likened to his Father, and if the day should come for him to begrudgingly take over his reign, he will do everything in his power to be better than this man. This selfish, horrid man.
“And what do you propose we do with this alleged thief?” Harry questions, feigning nonchalance to the subject of conversation despite his interest being piqued tenfold.
A daunting smirk twists itself upon his Father’s face, “I think it is time, my son, for you to show your power as the future ruler of this land.”
“I am afraid I am not following.”
Power hungrily clouds over the King’s brown gaze, “I want you to decide this man’s fate.”
At the statement, Harry gulps. On the one hand, he is terrified of the consequences if he lets his Father down. Yet, on the other, he is also terrified of the fact that someone's life now lays upon his hands. Staring at his clean skin, an image flashes before the Prince of bloodstained palms, causing him to hurriedly wipe them away on his trousers though nothing is actually there. "This cannot be happening. This truly cannot be happening,” he thinks to himself. With little to do, he buys himself some time by coming up with an idea he prays that is accepted.
“I understand,” Harry does everything he can not to stutter out, “However, first…I would like to personally meet this wretched man.”
Interestingly enough, the idea surpasses the King, “I suppose I will allow it. Though I am sure you will have no difficulty in identifying the evil that lurks within, and condemning the thief swiftly and justly as is expected of you.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Oh, and Harold?”
“Hm?”
Tainted with devilish intentions, the King’s grin continues, “Let us not forget what punishment lies ahead should you fail to appease me.”
“Yes,” Harry nods as his heart falters within the cavity of his chest, “Of course.”
The door to the office is slammed behind as he exits, and with the rare opportunity of being alone in the hallway, the Prince leans against the nearest wall and cries. This is a predicament he never thought himself to be in, and there’s no winning for him. Either he kills another man or his Father nearly kills him. Where is the fairness for him?
As the memories transcend, Harry recalls it well, when his punishments first began.
At fourteen, the Prince had his first kiss - with a boy. Harry was curious and confused in his youth, and though he knew he was destined to marry a woman, he could not disregard the humming of his heart every time this one, mesmerizing boy was around. They both had been flirty, crossed the line of platonic more times than they could count, and nothing seemed to stop them as months of their secret admirations grew.
The boy was the son of one of the maids, who would bring him along sometimes to work. Harry was never meant to know of him, never meant to see him there, but after one fateful day of hide and seek with Niall, and coming upon someone when he went to hide in the garden, things were never the same since.
Flashback:
“Are you there?” Harry calls out to the quiet of the library. They swore to meet today after lunch, and the boy has yet to break his promise. The room somehow though, seems too still, until a soft hand comes from behind and presses over Harry’s mouth. The young Prince panics, only to be tugged around to face a pair of fierce, blue eyes. It’s the boy - Louis.
Harry playfully slaps the other’s arm, “You scared me!”
"I apologize, love, but I couldn't miss the chance to see that look on your face," Louis chuckles, poking his finger into Harry's dimple like he does anytime he attempts to get the Prince to laugh. And as always, it works.
A tirade of giggles pour from Harry’s grin, which leads to him biting his bottom lip as he speaks, “I suppose I could forgive you for a kiss?”
They had been doing this for a while, pressing chaste pecks upon one another's cheeks. However, the glimmer of lust speckled into the other boy's eyes is the first sign to Harry that this won't be like all the rest.
“Love?” Louis says in a hushed question.
“Yes?” Harry inquires.
“Do you trust me?”
There's something wild burning around them, something untamed as it consumes them in this moment and in this feeling. Harry hasn't blinked, afraid to miss anything as he nods slowly in reply. His nerves make their presence known; however, they are soon calmed as foreign fingers find their way gently onto his face, soothing the Prince as they delicately rub over and over against his cheek. Harry leans into the touch, like a cat desperate to be pet, wanting the boy to never let go. To never let him go.
When it comes, it comes gradually. Carefully. Harry tilts his head up higher, inclining his body to capture every press of Louis’ soft lips upon his own. In every second it lasts, Louis takes him apart, piece by piece, until he’s captured every morsel of the Prince’s soul. Harry grips onto Louis’ hips, holding him there, making sure there’s no chance for him to run off. Though no words are whispered in this exchange, Louis squeezes back, a sign of reassurance that he is not going anywhere.
And in that room, with that boy, Harry had come to an unprecedented realization. After spending his whole life believing that love was a myth, love was suddenly all he could feel.
However, this moment – their moment – was ruined by unheard footsteps leading up to the door that barged inside with little care. Only after it was too late, did Harry realize what it all meant. What it entirely meant that his Father saw the kiss. For Harry, it was a lifetime of solitude inside his room, never allowed to be outside without permission. Never allowed to be around anyone without consent. In addition to countless physical lashes by his own Father, who truly believed it would make him a better man.
For the other. For his love, it meant banishment from the kingdom.
The King held Louis in his prison cell overnight to frighten him, but the following morning, Louis and his mother were exiled from their land. Harry had been watching from his window, watching the scene unfold of the two departing from the castle. And though Louis had never been in his room, nor had they ever discussed where Harry's chambers resided, he still turned around one final time and locked eyes with the trapped Prince through the glass.
Harry tried to break it open, tried to unlock the bolts set to keep him inside, but he could not get free. And so he watched with tears glistening his face, as the morning sun took away his love.
Every morning prior, Harry watched the world hoping to find a way out. Every morning since, Harry watched the world, hoping to find blue eyes staring back at him once more.
**
The underground cell for prisoners is damp and bleak, there is hardly any light to illuminate the dwelling. Guards stand along the walls, but at the Prince’s demand, they leave him be. There is only one person that is captured today, and Harry has no fears that he can handle this on his own.
Coming to the man in the corner of the furthest cell, Harry clears his throat to acquire the other's attention. It works well enough, as the head that had been bent down into crossed arms is lifted up to Harry. At first, he is sure that the man could be quite handsome had his skin had a proper wash, but the recognition on the other's face at Harry's arrival, takes him away from assessing his appearance further.
“It’s you.”
The rasp that calls to him is light and airy, and Harry can admit at least to himself that his heart finds interest in the sound. Though the words invoke confusion, that the Prince is quick to address, “Yes? I am Prince Harold of Cheshire.”
“No,” Unexpectedly, the man stands up and inches as close to Harry as he can, regardless of the bars in place to keep them apart. At this proximity, he whispers out, “How is it possible that you’re even more breathtaking than I remember?”
“Excuse me?”
"I had hoped I would see you again, and while this had obviously been my true intention, I wasn't sure I'd be given a chance."
Harry tilts his head to the side, "You are not making any sense. What are you going on about?"
“It’s me. Don’t you remember?”
Raising his brow in suspicion, Harry inspects the man in front of him. While the dirt dusting his peach skin makes it hard to see certain features, there’s one thing unclouded or unblemished in Harry’s sight. Blue eyes. Familiar – blue eyes.
“I do not believe you,” the Prince comments in fear of being wrong, protecting his heart in case of lies.
“I can prove it. Ask me anything!”
He leans his head impossibly close, staring into the man’s soul as he asks firmly, “Okay. If you are who you claim you are, then what happened the last time we saw one another?”
Despite his guise of authority, the slight grin that breaks upon the man's mouth sends Harry's defenses crumbling to the ground. The expression is fond, sweet, and overwhelmingly nostalgic as he says, "I kissed you. I kissed you, and fell completely in love."
Love? He loved him?
Through the bars, Harry reaches out his timid fingers, running them unsurely into the matted brown hair, leading them down to pale pink lips, until he settles them upon the other's face, wiping away some of the mud from his skin. After a second, his fingers are grasped within the man's hands as he lays kisses across the Prince's knuckles. Harry watches as he speaks into his clasped hands, "If I'm completely honest, the last time I truly saw you was when my mother and I were sent away. I turned around and saw you through the window, and vowed to myself that one day, I would come back and rescue you from here, and show you the love you were always meant to have." Lifting from the sight of his hands to his face, the man bears himself to Harry with a sheepish grin and a broken laugh, "I fear I might have failed a bit, however, love. It would seem the rescuer needs rescuing."
Harry’s guard entirely shatters. It’s him. It’s actually him. Through streams of tears, he seeks for confirmation, “Lou? Can it really be?”
Louis smiles with glossy eyes, as he nods his head at his name, "Yes, it's me!"
“I cannot believe it,” the Prince confesses, completely shocked. “It is you, it is truly you.” Touching his face again, he adds, “I have missed you more than any word can define. And I am sorry, so sincerely sorry for what my Father did to you all those years ago.”
Louis grips onto the hand aside his cheek, “Do not apologize for something out of your control. I knew the risk I was taking by falling for you. And I would do it over again, even if it meant that next time he’d kill me.”
"Please do not say such things," Harry pleads, "My soul cannot bear the thought. I refuse to go through the turmoil of losing you again."
"You don't have to lose me if you don't want to."
The comment causes him to ask further, “How do you mean?”
"There is a set of keys hanging around one of your guard's belt, that unlock this cell. You could release me, and then we could run away together."
“Where would we go?”
“Wherever you want.”
Harry wonders aloud, “You would give up everything for me?”
“Darling,” Louis proudly claims, “I already have.”
Wheels turn throughout Harry's head as thoughts have been set into motion. Louis is here. Louis is actually here and wants to take Harry away from this place. How could he ever say no? But, it does seem a bit far-fetched, they were only fourteen at the time, and while Harry and Louis had spent every possible second that they could, together, it's been years since. Why would he try now?
Wanting an answer to his worries, he says, “Why? Why me? Why now?”
Louis doesn't shy away as he boldly replies, "For the last seven years I have been getting my life together. I returned home and began my training to become a knight so that when it was time, I could fight my way to you. Once my work began to pay well enough, I bought a place we could live if needed, but I saved up enough so that we could buy land anywhere else you wanted, too. With my knighthood, I also can continue to work, so that I can afford to give you nearly anything you could possibly desire. Because for the last seven years, you and only you, Harry, have continued to occupy my heart, and I never want to know what it feels like without you. You are the only one I want, the only one I have ever wanted, and I can only hope that you'll do me the honor of becoming mine. And of bestowing me with your love to cherish for the rest of my life."
A million butterflies flutter recklessly in his stomach, worsening their assault as Harry balks, “You really did all of that for me?”
“I would do anything for you.”
The butterflies spread until their tingling under his skin, demanding him to reclaim what once was his. Demanding him to trust in the one thing he was taught to fear. Demanding him to trust in the one thing he was told to forget. As he comes upon his conclusion, there are no uncertainties left inside Harry’s mind when he says, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Louis repeats for affirmation.
"Okay." Harry passionately conveys, "Louis…I must admit that I have not stopped thinking of you, as well. In all these years you have done nothing but become a constant in my heart. I believed of love as a fantasy, a dream I could never attain, and when we were younger, I constantly questioned my feelings. But here you are once more, and it is not my imagination. You are real, and this is real, and what I felt for you - what I feel for you, is the only real thing I fear I have ever known.”
“Harold -”
“Harry…I want you to call me Harry.”
“Your Father hates Harry.”
The Prince coyly smirks, “I know.”
There’s a silence for a moment as memories flood between them, until Louis exhales, “Harry, my stunning, lovely Harry. In case this doesn’t go well, I want you to hear me say it so that you know it undoubtedly. I love you.”
“Louis,” Harry sighs, tugging at the short strands of his hair, nervous for some unknown reason, “I want you to know that I love you too, undoubtedly.”
Louis extends his fingers through the bars, clutching onto the Prince in any way he can, while Harry wishes with everything that he could kiss him again, but there will be another chance for that. “Lou?”
“Yes?”
“Do you trust me?”
Louis nods his head with a knowing smirk, “More than I trust myself.”
Harry’s smile is blooming. “Give me one hour. That is all I ask, and then I will get you out of here. Think you can wait that long?”
“For you love, I can wait a lifetime.”
“Okay,” the Prince preens, squeezing his hands just a little bit more to express his emotions to Louis, before he begins to depart, “I promise I will return to you, my handsome Knight.”
Upon his arrival to the main castle, Harry runs as fast as his legs can take him back to his room. He needs to pack a bag. Clothes, money, food, supplies, and anything that might be important for a long journey ahead. As he quickly gathers his belongings, an unexpected knock comes to his door, which leads to Niall entering inside.
"Your Highness, your - uh…I apologize for my forwardness, but what are you doing?”
“Niall?”
The servant’s eyes widen at the Prince’s chaotic manner, “Yes?”
“Come with me,” Harry begs.
“What!?”
“Leave here with me," Harry emphasizes, placing his hands firmly on Niall's shoulders, procuring the brunette to listen to his plea. "I have one hour, and I want you to come with me, away from this prison of a palace my Father has built.”
Niall’s confusion remains, though he doesn’t seem fully deterred from the idea, “Where do you plan on going?”
“Anywhere but here.”
Glancing inquisitively, the servant asks, “Are you…are you truly serious?”
Harry holds no trepidation as he answers, “Yes, I dare say I am.”
“Wow. Okay,” Niall stalls, searching around the room unsurely. However, after peering into Harry’s determined green eyes, he must come to realize that there is no game or trick. That this is actuality. Harry wants him to go.
“Alright. I...I’ll go with you. I’ll come.”
“Really? You will?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Niall jokes, “What else do I have to lose?”
“I could not agree more. Oh, and Niall?”
“Yes?”
“Us leaving does not mean you are to continue as my servant. Once we are beyond these castle walls, you are to call me Harry and nothing else. Well, except maybe a friend.”
There's a beaming grin upon Niall's face, and while Harry can't wait to renew his friendship with the other, time is only ticking forward, and he does not have much left to spare. Grabbing a few last things, the two head out into the hallway and make their rushed retreat back into the dungeon. Sadly, before they are officially onto the stairs, the King calls out to his son.
“Harold? Have you come to your decision?”
The Prince aligns his back, while Niall stands, shaking next to him. "I am afraid not, Father. I was actually on my way down to see him. The man had been asleep before, and I had not cared enough to wake him. I do apologize, but I will be right back after I am done with him."
“Good,” the King grins. “Really show him what you are capable of, my son.”
"Oh, believe me, I plan to do exactly that."
His Father nods in approval just prior to making his ascent to his office. Harry watches until he completely disappears, not wanting to risk any chance of being caught disobeying him, once again. No, this time Harry will get the love he’s always wanted. This time Harry will get the happily ever after he always knew he deserved.
“You ready, Harry?” Niall asks beside him.
Not sure what could possibly convey his emotions right now, “Yes,” is all the Prince can muster.
They make their way down the stairs and come upon the guards. This time around, Harry explains that there's been another trespasser on the east side of the forest, but that they need to leave their keys for Harry, due to the fact that the King would like a word with their current prisoner. With being a Royal, no one dares to question his story or demands, as the guards race for the forest in search of someone who doesn’t exist.
“Hurry Niall, use the key," Harry tells his friend, who does just that. When the latch unlocks, he barrels his body inside, colliding against Louis and hugging him with no intentions of letting him go.
“Darling, I’ve missed you as well, but I fear we are pressed for time,” Louis reminds him as he pets at the satin curls atop Harry’s head. “Let’s save this reunion for later, once we’ve gotten to safety.”
“You are quite right. Sorry. Oh, and Louis, this is Niall, my best friend. Niall, this is Louis, my love.”
Niall stares at Louis for a second before commenting, “Wait. I remember you! Johanna’s son, yeah?”
“Yes!” Louis smiles, “I thought you looked familiar.”
“Well, it’s great to see you again,” Niall reaches out his hand to shake in a friendly gesture, which Louis meets as he responds, “Likewise.”
Teasing, Harry quips, “I thought we were doing reunions later?”
“You’re absolutely correct,” Louis admits. “Let’s go!”
The three venture out through the second set of stairs that lead to the north side of the castle, bringing them into an open field for only a minute until the woods take over the terrain. As they run, hoping to go unseen along the grass, Harry turns his head around for one lasting second. As Louis had done all those years ago, Harry finds the window to his room, no longer staring like a hostage from within. No, Harry has finally, finally escaped his own prison cell.
He is free. He is totally, infinitely, free.
It takes two hours of walking until they come upon a tavern with vacant rooms above the bar. Niall insists on taking his own, saying that Louis and Harry need a chance to catch up. While it wasn't necessary, it was utterly appreciated, and the two didn't let the opportunity go to waste. Louis spoke of his lonely nights becoming a Knight, and Harry spoke of his lonely nights becoming a Prince. Yet, while they had been miles and miles from together, they never stopped wishing to no longer be apart.
After tired minds lead to few words exchanged, they continued to reacquaint themselves instead with every touch. Louis’ fingers danced vows across Harry’s skin with unspoken promises that only they could understand. Unspoken affections that only they could feel with their hands. And they kissed, kissed away the pain, kissed away the sorrows of all of their yesterdays.
Sleep inevitably whisked them away, but when morning comes again, bleeding through the window as it bathes its hues upon Louis’ glowing skin, Harry for once, smiles at the view. Because for the first time in his entire life, he doesn’t wake up desperately yearning to feel the warmth of the sun on his face. He doesn’t wake up desperately seeking refuge from a home that is not his. No.
He wakes up free, in his lover’s arms, basked in something warmer than the sun could ever provide. And he’s happy.
Astonishingly happy.
We can meet again somewhere
Somewhere far away from here