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Chapter Text

 H

“I cannot begin to tell you how much I appreciate your hospitality.”

Harry’s aware that as he speaks, the woman’s eyes never make their way to him. He is also aware of what he’s doing and how it may affect her if it does not end well.

Her voice is cold when she speaks. “I would do anything for the children of Anne.”

Anne. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Harry tries to remember her smile every day — one so bathed in comfort to everyone around her — when he wakes up.  That smile in his mind is his motivation. “Thank you, Joan,” he murmurs, eyes turning soft. “I know that you do not support the rebellion, but I thank you for aiding us.”

“It’s not just a rebellion, Harry. It will be war.”

Scrambling for a way to distract Joan from the topic, to make her joyful again, Harry says the first thing that comes to mind. “I do hope I haven’t left any aches in you from the last time I was here.”

A huff leaves the woman, thin arms crossing over her chest. “It’ll teach you to control yourself while beating the life out of someone. An old woman could be right behind you and you’ll never know until too much time has come to pass.”

“So, I assume that your eye is healed by now?”

Yes, Harry had begun the process of learning to kill someone with just his bare hands only two years ago, the last time he visited Joan. And yes, he had elbowed Joan in the eye when throwing his arm back for momentum. He’s grown since then.

“Yes, it is healed. No thanks to you.”

Harry recognizes the teasing tone in her voice and allows himself a smile. “I told you it was an accident.”

He’s thankful for this woman; she practically raised him and his sister from the moment they showed up on her doorstep, penniless and scared.

“I still have not forgiven you.”

“Yes, you have,” Harry breathes, heaving two bags full of weaponry over his shoulders. “I must go now. The men and the prince await me.”

Joan eyes him carefully. “You’re lucky you made people love you when you were young. If you had to get people on your side now I imagine you wouldn’t have much luck.”

“Are you trying to tell me I’ve lost my charm?”

“I’m trying to tell you that you’ve lost your appeal.”

Harry scoffs, eyes wide with surprise. “ Joan,” he says. “You hit me where it hurts.”

The woman’s shoulders bounce as she laughs, shaking her head at Harry. No matter the situation, Joan is fond of Harry and she is fond of his sister. After all, she had raised them from such an early age.

That is before she got herself banished from the kingdom.

Harry can’t blame her for the reason. He would’ve done the same thing had he possessed the courage.

“You will bring my weapons back to me,” Joan says into the room. Harry stands just behind her, looking at the village and his men invading it through the window. “That is the only way I will know if you were killed or not. You will bring my weapons back to me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry dips his chin to his chest. “We’ll do our best to fight for justice.”

“I hope your best is better than the king’s.”

“Me too.”

It’s silent for a moment longer before Harry speaks again. 

“All the villagers will be taken to Wolverhampton. The prince’s men will be looking after you during your stay.”

Joan nods.

⚔

The soldiers escorting the villagers to Wolverhampton sit atop horses leading several wagons. Harry had thought, at the very beginning, that if he was going to be forcing so many people out of their homes, the least he could do was not order them to walk leagues upon leagues.

Still, some inevitably chose to walk out of spite, although most do sit in the wagons. Once all are settled and ready to begin moving, Harry looks up at the men dressed in purple, donning the herd. He gives them the signal to go and turns to walk away, ready to complete his own assignment. 

With the village empty save for Harry’s men and the prince’s soldiers, it’s much easier to seek out food and other items they may need.

The prince of Wolverhampton had managed to get his father, the king, on Harry’s side, which essentially means the king is condoning a war. And, although he had done that, the king did not want to send too many rations with the men, mindful that if he did, he would not be able to house all the incoming villagers his son and Harry send back. 

With only roughly three thousand men — including those Harry will find along the journey that would like the royal family dethroned — Harry worries about their chances.

Cheshire will have more than them, both in infantry and cavalry, with that there’s no doubt. His only hope is that Prince Liam and his soldiers were trained dutifully and can teach the stragglers they find along the way.

The men that remain in the village busy themselves with packing anything they can find that might be useful. As far as Harry knows, they have only one archer among them. One will not be enough if they plan to eradicate the initial guards before taking down Cheshire itself.

“Harry,” a deep voice interrupts. “Have all the villagers gone?”

Harry nods, hands clasping behind his back. “Yes. A few men volunteered to stay. They are with your captain.”

“Good men.”

Good men. 

Harry isn’t sure he would think of himself or what they are doing as ‘good.’ It is right , as far as he is concerned, but he would not call it good.

He hums in response. A hand clamps down on his shoulder, turning him. He looks into the prince’s brown eyes.  “It is a good cause, Harry.”

A smile threatens to overtake his lips. “Thank you for the support, Prince Liam.”

Liam pushes at Harry’s shoulder, a look of disgust passing over his features. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“It’s what you are,” Harry says.

The prince glares. “Not to you.”

Of course, Harry thinks. Liam’s always been very particular about who does and does not refer to him formally. He’s never let close friends call him as such and Harry nearly always calls him it just to push his buttons — after all, Liam’s buttons are very easy to push.

“You know I’m just messing with you, Li.”

“You’re lucky we met as boys. I would not be so inclined to be your friend if we had met recently.”

Harry pouts. “Because of my loss of charm or the loss of my appeal?”

“What are you on about?” Liam mutters, turning to walk away. Harry follows.

“Joan is a mean woman.”

The two continue their banter as they make their way towards Liam’s troops. Harry savors the moment and refuses to think of what’s to come. That is what the night is for.

For now, he will boast with Liam to their men about successfully avoiding any violence. 

In the end, their goal is not to harm villages on their way to Cheshire; they must only be passed through. The men, women, and children must be removed from their homes only for the reason that some may feel loyalty to Cheshire’s royal family, and Harry cannot risk them getting word of his eventual arrival.

It’s risky, what they’re doing. Neither Harry nor Liam know where the villagers’ loyalty lies and it’s dangerous to ask if they would revolt against the king. Besides this, some may be suspicious, thinking that they’re actually sent from the king of Cheshire to pick out the disloyal folk.

That is clearly not what they are trying to do. But Harry can understand why most don’t dare to go against the king.

If the man was willing to hurt his own family for the promise of staying in power, then who’s to say he wouldn’t hurt the people of his kingdom?

The people really have only his word, and when has a king’s word ever been one to trust? Harry knows that firsthand.

“Harry,” calls the only feminine voice within the troops. He looks up to see his sister Gemma standing by the captain, the new men from the village grouped close. “We’re getting ready to head out. We’ve got a few leagues to go before we make camp.”

And so, Harry mounts his horse and makes his way to Liam’s side, and the two heavy-hearted men lead the troops out of the village and onto the next.

⚔

The camp is never quiet, not really. There are always lookouts on duty who make conversation with anyone with their proximity, or two men that take to each other nicely and ultimately disappear into a tent for nothing less than two hours, leaving the other men that are meant to stay in that tent to mingle with others.

Harry has not heard the beauty of quiet since the moment he approached Liam about his stance. He was lucky to have done so without having to kneel on the ground in front of him. It would’ve been rather funny, Harry thinks after a moment. Liam would have a right fit if Harry knelt in front of him.

The absence of said quiet leaves Harry to his thoughts, and the ideation of the men around him, because the night is when people are most open. He hears one voice over the others, expressing his concern over whether they have any real chance of winning. 

And Harry is man enough to admit that he has the same worries. Joan was right when she said that this is not a simple rebellion. Bringing Liam and his men into it — a prince and his men from the neighboring kingdom — made it a war.

It’s not yet. But as soon as the king knows what’s coming for him, it will be. 

Harry lies on the ground, a small pallet of blankets underneath him. It doesn’t do much to keep him from feeling the earth beneath him, but he finds it a bit comforting. It makes him feel real because sometimes, he feels that he isn’t. What sort of person would put his best mate and their kingdom at risk? All for justice?

He can’t bring himself to feel too much regret. Liam had said yes before Harry could even get the full question out. Because both of them had known since they were sixteen, maybe fifteen, that this was the plan. Once they were bigger and stronger and more skilled. They would march to the kingdom of Cheshire and they would make King Aldrich regret all that he has done.

That’s still the plan, just as it always has been.

Harry brings himself to sit, drawing his knees up and resting his arms on top. They have yet to plan a set route for once they’ve gotten through the next village, Braedon, and it plays on Harry’s mind. They know in what order they will go through the villages, but Liam has not yet sat down with him to plan if they are to go through the woods or the open fields. 

With the map weighted down by two apples, a knife, and his knee, Harry begins looking over their options. He can’t be careless in this situation, especially not when they’ve just gotten started. 

Carelessness now will lead to negligence later. Harry refuses to let his men get murdered over him not doing his duties. He doesn’t care if Liam helps him with this part or not, Liam being here and supporting him is more than enough. Risking his kingdom and his troops means more to Harry than the other man knows.

Harry doesn’t sleep that night, just like he didn’t the night before.

Harry can’t remember the last time he slept for more than two hours. Can’t remember if it was even restful. 

Harry can’t remember more than his mother’s smile and the way it was taken from him. It’s all he needs to know.

⚔

   L

The sun shines as Louis enters the village neighboring his; so close that they may as well converge. Although that will not be happening as long as the old men who have a feud going live — just the thought of merging their villages would make both men shudder, Louis knows.

Nevermind that. Louis doesn’t really care if the villages come together because until they do, he doesn’t have to go more than ten minutes through a patch of woods to get there. 

He enters the village, an innocent look plastered on his face, mind already whirring at all his options.

Thievery should be considered an art form, in Louis’ opinion. The act itself takes a lot of skill, quick thinking, agility; a person has to be able to move in and out of spaces without being noticed, light on their feet to not cause a ruckus, and must not have shaky hands.

Shaky hands are detrimental to a thief, especially when getting up close and personal with their victim. Shaky hands lead to bumping the person’s side before your hand is out of their pocket. Which then leads to the rightful authorities being called and, inevitably, running from them for a long while.

Louis mastered the art years ago when he first went to a new village by himself. He would call himself a professional at this point. The best part of it all is that no one suspects him — his happy smile and warm nature make sure of that. No one thinks to blame him, even if they were to see him with the very item that is lost. Even then they think Louis couldn’t possibly do this.

He’s never been blamed unless he was seen. It’s happened just about as often as it hasn’t. Louis can be sly and swift when he wants or needs to be but sometimes the only thrill he feels is when he’s running from the merchants in another village. He’s lucky really that King Aldrich doesn’t care for the outer villages, otherwise there’d be a guard or two in each one, and Louis’ trade would be a lot harder.

The closest one that Louis can think of that has guards is Coombe, and that’s more than a day’s ride away—if you have a horse. Louis does not have a horse.

The thought of wanting one of his own crosses his mind when he gets closer to the centre of the town. There’s bound to be at least a few horses that are trained. He ponders for just a moment and decides that if he finds one he might risk taking it. It’d be nice to have a horse — a trusty steed, if you will — for when winter sets in. 

Louis doesn’t feel fond of the thought of running back and forth in the snow with his thin pair of shoes. Yes, a horse would do nicely. It’s settled then.

His eyes glance up from the ground, spotting other patrons. “Hi,” he smiles at a woman who’s walking towards him, eyeing the silver chain hanging out one of her pockets, “lovely day, isn’t it?”

The woman nods, her hair falling out from behind her ear. “Indeed. I feel as if the whole village is at peace today.”

“I agree completely”—Louis fakes a trip, stumbling lightly into the woman’s side—“oh my, I’m so sorry about that, I tend to be quite clumsy.” He rights himself, straightening his jacket, busying his hands.

“No worries, darling, we all have our moments.” She lets a kind hand soothe Louis’ arm before he slinks away with a shy smile. He almost feels bad for stealing the woman’s pocket watch but really, what was she thinking carrying it around in an area such as this one?

Louis is surely not the only thief of these villages. He knows for a fact that his best and only friend has made his way here on many occasions. 

Which is why Louis is here today instead. No one visits each other in these areas, so to see a face more than once in a short space of time unless they live there is more suspicious than seeing a new one out of the blue.

His fingers wrap briefly around the watch in his pocket to make sure the chain isn’t visible as he carries on through the village. The only items he planned to look for are bread, cheese, and maybe some sort of wine if he’s lucky. He doubts the village has it though, so he’s content with bread and cheese. And of course, his newly added want of a noble steed to call his own.

Zayn may find wine in the village he left for last night. He should return home before sunset if he doesn’t get lost along the way. Louis smiles at the thought; a nice dinner with a nice drink. It’s what he and Zayn deserve.

The booth full of bread, as it turns out, is empty of a vendor. Louis eyes a woman a few feet away, an apron around her waist, flour on her cheek, and her hair a complete mess. Louis would bet the watch in his pocket that she’s the baker. 

Which means she just made Louis’ job a whole lot easier. After looking around the area and deeming it safe, Louis reaches into the booth and grabs two full loaves of bread. He stuffs them quickly into his bag and turns around to make his way back to where farm animals may be — which most likely means a horse. 

He stops as soon as he turns around, startled by the presence of a small child standing only two feet away. He realizes they probably just saw what he did. Debating whether or not the child knows it’s a crime, Louis decides to get out of there as quickly as possible.

A finger drifts to his lips and he lets out a quiet, “Shh,” before he’s nearly running in the direction behind the child. All they do is stare at him with wide eyes, hair messy on their head with clothes that hang off their body.

Once he’s far enough away from the stare of the child, no longer feeling it on his back, Louis saunters his way over to where he sees a group of horses. He notes that only two have a saddle and reins and decides that he’ll be taking the smaller of the two. The other seems more fit for a large man, not one as small as Louis. Not that he’s small of course. Just smaller.

Louis scowls to himself, moving closer to the beautiful gray. Louis thinks it’s a he. The horse’s coat is bright white, as if recently washed. His mane is tangled and long and his eyes are dark. Louis has never wanted a horse more.

He steps close enough to bring his hand up to the horse’s nose. He doesn’t know how to gain the trust of a horse but he figures it can’t be much different than earning the trust of a dog or a cat, except the fact that he has to do this quickly because he doesn’t know the owner of this horse — or when they’ll be coming back.

After the horse nuzzles into his hand, letting Louis pet his muzzle quite easily, Louis slowly hooks his bag onto the side of the saddle, murmuring soft affirmations to the horse as he readies himself to mount him. Right as thought of that was easy creeps into his mind, and just as his left foot settles in the stirrup, there’s a shout and the sound of footsteps rushing towards him. 

With panic spreading through him, Louis uses his spare foot to tap the horse where he would if he were riding and it takes off while he’s just barely holding on. A shock of manic laughter erupts from him as he angles the horse to turn in the direction of his home, swinging himself up and on top of the saddle as he goes. 

The wind blowing through his hair and the rush in his veins is familiar. Because he’s used to this, even if it’s been years since he’s ridden. It’s hard to forget so many years of training. And it’s exhilarating to experience it again.

Zayn is going to be so jealous.

⚔

Riding into Braedon on horseback brings the stare of familiar faces. He’s used to their watchful eyes at this point, the people always look at him like that when he comes back after a day of being gone. But it’s different this time. Because he’s on a horse. 

Which means all the lovely people of Braedon that never rat him out are slowly picking up on the fact that he stole the horse from the village through the woods. And, well, stealing is bad. But it was much faster returning on horseback, Louis thinks, and now he has a handsome stallion. So who’s really winning here?

He grins down at a woman he recognizes; the wife of the man who owns the building that he and Zayn reside in. The man doesn’t require any payment for it but does enjoy receiving gifts from their rendezvous’ out of town.

Taking a loaf of bread out of his bag and breaking it in two, Louis hands half to the woman. “Is Zayn back yet?”

She shakes her head at him. “Not that I’ve seen.”

“That’s alright,” Louis says, “he’s probably not returning on horse so I’ll give him a chance to catch up.”

The woman laughs. “Of course.”

“Have a lovely evening, Harleen.”

“You as well, Louis.”

Louis takes time to tie the horse’s lead to a post around the side of the building that he lives in. He takes the saddle off to hopefully give the horse some relief and retires into the small room he calls home. It’s hardly what Louis would prefer if he was given a choice, but it fits himself, Zayn, and the few belongings they own. 

If they are to use the bathroom, well, what others don’t know won’t hurt them.

He smiles to himself as he pulls out the items he got today. A pocket watch and a loaf and half of bread. The bread will last them at least two weeks before it’s eaten or gone rotten. Louis will have to travel to a village further north, towards the kingdom, to get anything in return for the pocket watch. He thanks his younger self for being smart enough to take with him the last of the clothes from the kingdom that he wore.

The clothing makes Louis wince when he looks at it, but it will come in handy when he has to look the part of someone who would own a pocket watch.

“Lou?” Zayn calls from outside. “Where the hell did this horse come from?”

Louis’ face brightens and he stumbles to his feet, following the sound of Zayn’s voice to where he’s staring at the horse. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he? The village next to us is so generous.”

Brown eyes nearly bulge out of Zayn’s head. “You stole a horse?” 

“What?” Louis frowns. “Like it’s hard?”

Considering Zayn’s flat look, Louis will have to guess that it is a task that others would consider hard, but it’s not his fault he’s so naturally talented and skilled. 

“What’d you get today? Other than the horse.”

They step inside their home and close the door behind them. 

“Two loaves of bread. Gave half of one to Harleen and her husband”—Louis waves the loaf and a half in the air before setting it on a cloth that’s draped over a shelf—“and I got a pocket watch. Have to go somewhere to trade it sometime soon.”

Zayn nods, throwing his bag down on the ground, shoving his shoes off as he goes. Louis wrinkles his nose at his bare feet. Not that he himself wears socks that often but when other people don’t, well, Louis could hurl.

“Sweet. Love me some bread,” Zayn comments. Louis notes that, once the other boy has sat down, his hair looks a bit mussed and he’s got streaks of dirt on his clothes. “I got a bag full of apples. They’re going out of season soon so that’s lucky.”

“Zayn,” Louis says slowly, a smile beginning to creep up on his lips. “Did you, I don’t know, almost get caught?”

The abrupt glare thrown his way is enough of an answer. The next several minutes are spent running from Zayn, carefree laughter escaping both of them. It’s never felt so good to be poor. Not since he met Zayn.

Louis doesn’t know what he’d do or where he’d be without his best mate. The two met by chance in a village they’ve not been to for a long time. Louis had been trying to steal from Zayn, not knowing he was also a thief, and the two almost got into a fistfight. 

Thankfully, they didn’t. Neither of them would bode well in a fight and Louis bruises quite easily.

That day was one of his luckiest.

Besides this one. Louis thinks the horse beats Zayn.

⚔

   H

The troops have been walking for roughly two leagues now. Roughly two leagues closer to Braedon and yet, still leagues away. They’ve walked further before—but Harry doesn’t like overworking the men, even if they were trained for it. 

“How’ve you found nearly a hundred men to join us?”

Liam is standing next to Harry, seemingly running his mouth as much as possible  

“It’s not hard to find people willing to rebel when the king is this revolting.”

All the men that have joined so far have their own reasons for wanting a new king; ranging from the king giving smaller rations to the outer villages and larger ones to the inner villages, to him executing someone they love — and every reason that comes in between.

“A king should not rule if his fragile ego will get in the way.”

“Of course,” Liam agrees. He pauses to think about it for a moment. “Are you talking about me as well?”

Harry laughs, pushing Liam until the man has nearly fallen over. “You don’t have a backbone. Even if your ego might get in the way, I trust that you’ll simply bend to everyone else’s will.”

“You act like me being accommodating is a bad thing,” Liam grumbles. 

The warm smile on Harry’s lips is one that only comes around when speaking to Liam or his sister. “You will be a good king, Liam. You’re good to your people.”

Liam beams at that. The man has always been such a harlot for approval. “Thank you, Harry. If all goes as planned, you will be, too.”

Yeah, Harry thinks, he will make a good king. Better than the one now, at least. At the beginning of his ruling, that’ll be all that matters. Gaining the trust of the people and proving he deserves it, helping them live better lives is the first step once he becomes king. If he becomes king. Harry doesn’t like thinking about what will happen if they don’t defeat Cheshire.

War will be brought to Wolverhampton, men will be killed in battle, and anyone caught after the fact will be executed. Harry can’t be defeated. There’s too much that depends on their victory.

“Have you ever been to Braedon?” Liam inquires a few minutes later.

Harry nods. “Once or twice, when we were younger. I think it was one of the first places we went to after Gemma and I escaped from the king.”

“Nice place?”

“Um, not really,” Harry admits. “A lot of people go there when they’re too poor or if they want to escape the eyes of the king. We probably won’t find many supplies there, but we might gain a few men.”

Braedon, when Harry passed through all those years ago, was home to several poor people and even more angry ones. It is as close as someone can get to the heart of Cheshire without anyone from the castle seeing them. Nobles don't travel this far unless visiting Wolverhampton.

The village itself is not an ideal place to settle. Surrounded by trees, there’s very little space for crops to grow or for animals to graze. Harry thinks they get most food from the village closest to them, ten minutes away through the woods. But, alas, he doesn’t really know much about the place, other than how poor they are. He hopes some men end up joining them, their anger would make them passionate soldiers. 

Harry knows, from his time living within the kingdom, that the king is ill-prepared for an incoming threat. King Aldrich’s ego is the size of Cheshire, maybe bigger. He would never dare to think that any of the other four kingdoms would harbor malevolent feelings towards him. 

King Geoffrey of Wolverhampton, though, has no qualms when it comes to waging a war against Cheshire. 

Aldrich has done so many people wrong that Harry is vaguely surprised that no one’s tried to kill him before.

He hears Gemma behind him, informing him that they’re coming up on Braedon. A pit of nerves settles in his stomach and he can’t shake the feeling. He knows it’s not likely that the village will cause an uproar or try to fight his men, but the chance is always there. It has happened only once; in a town called Nexxon, but that is enough to harbor a deep dread in Harry. 

The people there didn’t support the king but they didn’t support a rebellion either. Chaos had ensued, and a few men on both sides were killed. Harry would prefer it if that did not happen again.

Liam keeps talking, as he usually does when Harry is nervous. It doesn’t calm him completely but hearing the voice of his longest friend does do something to help his nerves. If Harry thinks more about it, it probably has something to do with the fact that Liam is a prince. The title alone causes people to listen to him.

Good on Harry for making friends in other kingdoms at the age of ten.

Once close enough that they can just narrowly see Braedon through the thick of the trees, Harry shushes Liam —  you can finish babbling later, Liam — before moving forward quickly, urging the other men with him. 

The announcement of their presence isn’t a grand one. Them walking into the village is enough to command attention; especially once the villagers begin to notice the symbol of Wolverhampton. Harry brings attention to himself immediately,  Liam having thought it would be useful for Harry to know how to speak to a crowd before he becomes king. 

Harry thinks he could throw up with all these eyes on him. One pair catches his for a moment, bright blue, before they turn away. He takes a deep breath before he starts making commands, telling the people where to go and to take any important belongings with them, for they will not be returning home anytime soon.

It is at the moment that the villagers begin making their way to the wagons when Harry thinks again of how much Liam does for him. Without the prince’s army and supplies, Harry would’ve been forced to have the people walk to Wolverhampton. 

“We will not listen to the likes of him,” a man yells, face red with anger. “We are people of Cheshire, we do not do what the prince of Wolverhampton tells us to!”

Harry can feel the nervous shift of the people around the hostile man. None of them besides said offender want a fight. “Liam,” Harry speaks quietly. “Captain Emil can take care of him, correct?”

“He can have him bound, yes.”

“Very well then. We can move on with helping the people move their things. Send anyone interested in joining to Gemma?”

“Of course.”

Liam nudges his horse in the side and sets off to speak with Gemma and tell Captain Emil to bind the outspoken man. He will be thankful for this day once Harry is king. 

Harry dismounts his horse, handing the reins to a soldier standing by, and begins walking through the village. He was right to remember it as a poor place; there’s not much for them to take supply-wise and very little for them to take as food.

“What exactly is it that you’re doing here?” A high voice interrupts Harry’s observation. He turns swiftly to look behind him, finding a man leaning against a sad-looking building. It’s the same man that he had seen just moments earlier, fleeting as it may have been, eyes as bright blue as his are unmistakable.

He is absolutely gorgeous. Light brown hair, thin lips, tan skin, and a tunic that’s open a little way down his chest. Harry’s never stared this hard at someone before. 

“Pardon?”

“Your goal. What are you doing after you leave here? What’s the goal?”

“Did I not explain what we were doing just fine before?”

Pink lips pull up into a smirk. “I’d hope there’s a reason for such drastic measures.”

Harry falters at that. None of the men that joined have ever asked for his reason. 

“I can imagine the king of Wolverhampton didn’t foresee himself waging war against Cheshire.”

A few moments pass before Harry speaks again. “Would you like to join us or are you going to leave with the other villagers?” He owes this stranger absolutely nothing. He feels a small, strange tug in his gut when the man begins to walk away. Before he can, though, someone intervenes.

“Louis,” another voice hisses. A dark-haired boy tugs the man, Louis, two feet away. “You can’t go around joining rebellions. It’s not safe to do this. They’re causing a war.”

“War is what King Aldrich deserves,” Louis answers back. “I will feel no remorse once he’s dethroned.”

The dark-haired boy stands in silence for a moment, mouth agape. “You’re really going with them?” He asks, astounded. 

Harry takes a few steps away, ready to head back to his men and speak to any newcomers. 

“After what they did to my family? To the girls?” Louis says. “You expect me not to join them after I watched what they did to them? How they threw me out after? Zayn, you can’t be serious.”

Harry watches Zayn as he stands across from Louis, mouth gaping as he attempts to speak multiple times, closing fully before he can get anything substantial out. Louis visually sighs and walks to the back of the building they were standing near, Zayn following close behind.

Considering the consistent amount of drama that is going to be in Harry’s life for the coming weeks, he doesn’t really fancy sticking around to hear these two…  lovers squabble over whether one of them can leave or not. The thought of listening to that argument is almost headache-inducing.

Harry mounts his horse just minutes later, Liam at his side. Gemma is off to the side of the group, talking to the newcomers about what exactly it is they’ll be doing and the consequences should they fail. She gives the same speech to every man that joins in case they decide this isn’t for them. If they do, they are to join the villagers that are heading to Wolverhampton. 

The man from before, Louis, is there with them. He’s sat upon a pure white horse with a white mane to match. Harry stares in admiration for mere seconds before he looks at the rest of the men and notes that Zayn will not be joining them.

There aren’t a lot of white horses in Cheshire. The majority are black and the rest are brown. That’s what he was admiring, of course. Nothing else. Just the horse. Definitely not the way Louis’ thighs look when sat with his legs spread like that.

It’s not long before each group sets off in their respective directions. The wagons head west back to Wolverhampton. The rest moving east towards Cheshire. They may very well be within the limits of Cheshire by now, and all the while King Aldrich has no idea. 

They’re in the clear for now. Harry hopes it stays like that.

⚔

The fire is warm where the men sit around it. There is multiple lit in the small clearing they found, just enough to accommodate the number of men needing warmth. Harry is sat between Liam and Gemma on the walnut-colored ground. This earth, while vaguely useful, is not comfortable. 

There are soldiers of Wolverhampton surrounding them; some relaxing, some standing guard. They seem comfortable in themselves but still incredibly aware of their prince’s presence. Harry wishes that all of them could feel his same ease towards Liam. 

But he guesses that a prince holds some authority. In another life, one where Harry hadn’t left the kingdom after the death of his parents, Harry would be considered an heir to the throne. Harry plans to achieve a higher status than that anyway. Heir to the throne be damned. Malcolm, the precious son of the king and queen of Cheshire, who is only eighteen, will never see the throne except in passing. 

Harry doesn’t say a word as he stands from the ground, wandering over to his tent. It’s not big by any means, definitely not large enough for him to stand up straight in. But it’s large enough for him to at least sit up straight. 

He stands at the edge of it, staring in the direction of the dark woods. They’ll be traveling through there tomorrow; all three thousand and something of them. The journey so far has been long, and the next half will be too. Harry can feel how close they are, though. Closer than they’ve ever been. 

“What are we looking at?” A voice comes from his right. Harry doesn’t startle. He had heard footsteps approaching.

“Just thinking.”

The man next to him shifts on his feet, arm brushing Harry’s. Louis says, “What about?”

“Top secret,” Harry answers, something he would usually say to Liam. Except Liam isn’t the one that sought him out tonight. Louis is.

“That’s a bummer. I was having some thoughts of my own but I can’t share them without anything in return.”

Harry turns his head to look at Louis, only to see that the man himself is staring in the same direction Harry had just been. Briefly, he lets himself look over a high cheekbone, thin lips, and a perfect nose. He slowly looks back to the woods. “Maybe another time we’ll both feel in more of a sharing mood.”

“I’m hoping so.” There’s a pause. “Am I supposed to call you Captain?”

“Your captain is Emil.”

“Then what am I supposed to call you?”

“Probably by my name.”

“And what is that?”

Harry’s lips quirk up on one side. “Ask around. I’m sure someone knows.”

⚔

   L

Harry. That’s the curly-haired man's name. Louis thinks it’s fitting. He also thinks that someone has to know his last name. Out of all the half a million (at least, that’s how many men it feels like) men, at least one of them has to know what his last name is. 

The prince probably knows, but Louis can’t imagine the likes of himself would be allowed to simply walk up to that man. Louis may be a man of Cheshire but he respects Prince Liam of Wolverhampton much more than he’ll ever respect Cheshire’s prince, Malcolm. All Malcolm seems capable of doing is sleeping his way through the kingdom.

It’s been roughly ten hours since Louis found out Harry’s name. Since the discovery, he’d mostly spent his time contemplating the man’s last name.  He also thought about Zayn.

They’d left off on a bad note and Louis can’t help but feel that it was his fault. Which, in retrospect, is completely irrational since Zayn is the one who thinks he’s in charge of Louis. The recollection wasn’t a pleasant one.

Louis stormed into the small home, picking and choosing a few valuable items to shove in his bag. He lifted the bread he’d stolen yesterday as Zayn came barging in after him. 

“You can’t seriously be thinking about going,” he nearly shouted. 

“Not thinking about it.”

Zayn let out a breath of relief but tensed all over again when Louis said, “I was done thinking about it the moment I heard what they’re doing. I’m going.”

“Louis, you are not built for war. You’ll be eaten alive as soon as you enter the capital.”

Louis stood to his full height, only an inch shorter than Zayn. “I would gladly die fighting against our pathetic excuse of a king.”

The words were filled with venom. Zayn hesitated only for a moment. “I can’t allow you to go, Louis. You must understand that.”

Louis halted his packing and his back stiffened. “You can’t allow me?” He asked, eyes wide. “You have to be kidding.”

“Louis, it’s entirely too dangerous for you to go with them,” Zayn said. “You’re staying.”

Louis spun around, bag flying with the movement and landing with a thump against his back. He looked incredulously at Zayn. “Do you forget who I was before I met you? I’m pretty sure I told you the stories.”

Zayn didn’t speak for a moment and Louis took that as a good time to leave. “I’ll see you when I’m done with this.”

Louis wishes Zayn had been more understanding. He wishes that he himself had been more understanding of Zayn’s worry. He wishes Zayn had come with him.

But that would never happen, even in a different life. Zayn may be brave in every other aspect but he doesn’t have it in him to stand up to authority. Louis believes that quality would stick with Zayn in any life. 

There’s nothing Louis can do about it now. The only actual answer would be to leave the army of men and ride to Wolverhampton. That will not be happening. He and Miso will be continuing their slow trot with the rest of the men. Miso being his horse. 

He feels a bit powerful sitting atop Miso; more than half of the other men are walking.  Being one of the few men that has a horse feels like an advantage of some sort even if Louis doesn’t know exactly why. Harry’s on a horse too. Louis wonders if Harry has named it.

“You don’t look like the type for war, do ‘ya?” An Irish accent cuts through Louis’ thoughts, his blue eyes flitting to the left. A brunette is walking next to Miso.

“‘Scuse me?” Louis’ brows scrunch. He doesn’t know where these people learned their manners but it’s certainly not polite to insinuate that someone is not fit for war. Especially when said person has already joined the troops.

Irish smiles up at Louis, eyes squinting through the sun. “Just meant ‘cause you’re a bit small, yeah? I’m sure you could kick my arse, though.”

Louis knows he could kick this man’s arse. But he admitted it so Louis thinks he may be able to talk to this man more in the future without actually acting on this arse-kicking. “What’s your name?”

“Niall,” he answers brightly. “I would like to say Captain Niall, but Emil has that title.”

“Hm,” Louis hums in thought. “I’m Louis.”

Within the next half hour, Louis thinks it’s safe to say that he’s made his first friend. He doesn’t think he could count Harry as a friend since the man wouldn’t tell him his name, but Louis will get there eventually. What’s the point of joining a war if you don’t know the true motive? Fighting for enjoyment isn’t exactly Louis’ style. 

Louis finds, over that half hour, that Niall has a lot to say. Nothing of importance, really. It sounds like he talks so much because no one ever lets him on other days. So, Louis lets him talk as much as he wants and he answers when appropriate. And when it’s Louis’ turn to talk after an hour, he only has one question.

“Do we know what we’re going to war for?” His head is tilted to the side, eyes gazing down upon Niall. Niall has taken to holding part of the saddle Louis is on in order to stay in pace with him and Miso.

Niall shrugs, bright smile dimming only slightly. “I may have known Prince Liam since we were just kids, but he told me he can’t share the reasoning unless he gets direct clearance.” He grunts when a person moving faster than him bumps into him on their way by, “I know Prince Liam wouldn’t put his county at risk unless for good reason.”

With confusion painted across his face, Louis asks, “Who holds the authority to allow him to share the reason?”

“Well, Harry,” Niall says as if it’s obvious. “Harry is Prince Liam’s oldest friend. Most of the reason we’re doing this is for him.”

And that. Well. It’s not exactly what Louis expected when he first asked his question. He had assumed that the Prince and Harry knew each other somehow, but being each other’s oldest friends didn’t cross Louis’ mind for a second. 

Maybe that’s because he doesn’t see Harry as a superior figure, though he supposes it makes sense. He commands the troops almost as often as Prince Liam does, but Louis doesn’t see anyone special when he looks at Harry. 

⚔

Louis thinks he’s proven right a short time later when he sees the man himself get knocked off his horse. Watching him fall to the dirt is quite a sight and he can’t help but let his lips quirk up. Prince Liam, who’s been riding next to Harry for the duration of the trip, is laughing so hard he might as well fall off his horse too. 

“Fucking arsehole,” he hears Harry mutter. “Worst prince ever.”

The words, while clearly a joke between two friends, make the soldiers around Louis tense slightly. 

Louis rolls his eyes at the exchange. He’s been around for less than twenty-four hours and he can already tell what kind of friendship these two have. These soldiers must be beyond dense if they can’t understand after having been here the entire time.

“Oh, don’t be bitter, H,” Liam smiles. “You hadn’t spoken in hours, had to get your attention somehow.”

“And just tapping my shoulder wouldn’t have been sufficient?”

Unable to help himself, Louis sighs under his breath, “Evidently not.” And he happens to be close enough for both men to hear him. Or maybe they have incredible eardrums.

Harry scowls at Louis, getting back up on his horse as he does so. “You would’ve fallen off your horse from a tap,” he mutters. “Fucking three pounds, probably.”

Again with my size, Louis thinks. A frown forms on his face. He knows he’s small. It would be hard not to after being made fun of throughout his entire youth. “At least I’m not an oaf,” he retorts, glaring at Harry. Nothing more is said after. Between Harry and Louis, at least. More is said between Harry and the others surrounding them but Louis chooses not to participate in the banter. 

Being in his early twenties should’ve made him less sensitive towards this kind of thing. Being small isn’t a bad thing, he knows that. He’s used it to his advantage many times in multiple different ways. You can make it far in the thieving world based on skill alone, but having good looks, a small unintimidating frame, and shy smiles to back it up makes the job even easier. 

Louis absently pets Miso’s mane, staring at the back of Prince Liam’s head. 

Prince Liam. Louis’ been waiting for someone to take a stand against King Aldrich, but he never would’ve guessed that Prince Liam would be the one leading those men. Though, it makes sense the more Louis thinks about it. King Aldrich stood by and watched as Prince Liam’s mother died during battle all those years ago. Louis just hadn’t thought that the man had any sense of rage, considering his track record of “All I want is peace.”

Harry most likely has something against the king too, if he’s Liam’s partner in all this. Louis just can’t figure out what it could be. It’d be easier to find out if the man would share his last name. Names are often the bane of one's existence.

The heart of the kingdom is dull compared to the rest of it. Stone buildings, gates, and sunken-faced people; despondent from living in such close quarters to King Aldrich. Out here, where they’re traveling through the middle of the woods, holds much more beauty. Louis hadn’t gotten to admire it much when he was running in between villages, but he’s glad he has the chance now.

He can hear the chatter of the men around him, but beyond that, he can hear the insects in the trees, the rustle of a small animal in the grass, the stray whinny of a horse every once in a while. The breeze on his face makes him feel calm.

Calmer than he’s felt in a long time. Like he has nowhere to rush to. Nothing to look for. No need to plan where his and Zayn’s next meal will come from.

He feels the same a few hours later when they stop for the night. 

Louis jumps to the ground and winces at the ache running down his legs,  his thighs and arse screaming from sitting on Miso all day. He reaches down to rub his arse, turning to try and look at it — it feels as though it might be flatter from sitting so long and Louis is worried okay? — but instead, he catches the last few seconds of Harry’s lingering gaze. 

The other man’s eyes snap up to Louis’ almost instantly and for some reason — a reason Louis can’t be bothered to think about right now — he can’t bring himself to look away.

There’s a tug in his gut that he hardly notices. Or perhaps he’s simply ignoring it. Either way, his hands slow until they’re mostly just resting near the top of his arse and his body is still twisted to be looking at Harry.

Harry stares back at Louis while he continues to speak to Liam, and there is something so attractive about it that Louis doesn’t know how to comprehend it. Louis feels frozen in his spot until he hears Niall calling for him a few feet away. 

Slow blinks bring him out of his reverie and he turns in the direction of Niall, leaving Harry’s gaze to fall elsewhere. 

“Need something?” He asks once he’s standing by Niall.

Niall shrugs, setting his stuff on the ground near the growing fire. “Felt like you and the big man would’ve stood there for much longer than needed if someone didn’t get you to move.”

A blush rises to Louis’ cheeks and he opens his mouth to speak. Unfortunately, nothing comes out.

“It’s not like you were being discreet,” Niall laughs, patting Louis’ cheek. “You gonna stay by me tonight?”

Louis’ thankful for the topic change and nods his head, dipping his chin towards his chest.

He’d rather not speak of what just happened, seeing as he’s not even sure what exactly it was. It could’ve just been a few seconds of staring. Harry could’ve just been zoned out on the spot Louis was standing in. Or maybe—

He shakes his head minutely. It’s not even been two full days since he’s joined and he’s not entirely sure if he’s that fond of the other man. Sexual attraction will have to be ignored for now, which will be easy if he keeps Niall by his side. Not to be rude, of course. But Louis definitely does not find the way Niall just shoved his hand in his trousers attractive.

“You could do that when no one else is looking, mate,” Louis comments, setting his bag on the ground beside Niall’s.

Niall scrunches his brows. “Gotta adjust myself, Louis,” he answers. “If you hate it so much then don’t look. Otherwise, I’ll think you fancy me.” There’s a cheeky smile and a wink thrown Louis’ way before the brunette goes to join the others in gathering wood.

Louis’ll just stay here, then.

The quiet voices of the men surrounding him cause Louis to sink into his mind. He’s not sure how this entire thing is going to pan out. He may have been trained for this sort of thing at one point, but it’s been so long. All the skills are still there, in the back of his mind, but what if he’s not what he used to be? Is him being here just going to cause more trouble when the battle dawns?

When Louis had heard Harry explaining what’s going to happen back in the village, it had seemed like a no-brainer. Aldrich does not deserve to be king, not after harming so many people during his reign. Even before that, as a prince. His brother would’ve been the better candidate. That’s why Louis decided to join them.

Going to hide in Wolverhampton while there’s an army taking down the man that took everything from him didn’t even cross his mind. 

⚔

   H

The moon is high in the sky as Harry finds himself sat in the middle of the men instead of at the edge of camp. He had been hoping that sneaking off would be an option tonight, to — perhaps selfishly — see if someone would seek him out again or not.

Not Louis, of course. It could’ve been anyone else and Harry would have been just as satisfied. Besides, Louis’ a bit cocky and Harry doesn’t particularly like people who let their hubris define them.

Alas, he’s stuck between Liam and Gemma, sitting in a circle around one of the fires.

The stars are out too. They’re visible throughout the kingdom but there’s something different about seeing them candid; unsullied by torchlight, delightfully indifferent.  

“Harry, mate, you listenin’?” Liam nudges him in the shoulder and Harry removes his eyes from the sky. He raises his brow in a question. “The boys are asking what’ll happen after the battle.”

Harry feels nerves rise in his throat. “And you wanted to pass the question onto me?” He asks incredulously. None of these people know his agenda, and for good reason. To know his agenda they would have to know who he is and Harry would rather deal with that at a later point.

Liam shrugs, leaning closer to whisper, “You know I don’t lie well.”

Turning to the men staring at him expectantly, Harry grins. “I doubt any of us want to see Malcolm”—he swallows, the name tasting bitter on his tongue—“on the throne. We’ll see who the best fit will be. I’m sure all of us just want the best man to be the king of Cheshire.”

As far as lies Harry has told go, this one could be better. But everyone nods and agrees, boisterously discussing who they think the best man would be, so Harry counts it as a win for the night.

Not telling the whole truth seems like the best course of action to Harry. He’s not foolish enough to think any of these men respect him because of anything he’s done. They only respect him because Liam does, and they’re always doing everything possible to get in the good graces of their prince. Not that it’s hard. Liam’s much more laidback than people think.

Which is what Harry’s feedback is for. An easy-going prince gets taken advantage of. By consulting Harry in certain situations, Liam keeps up a perfect image that makes people both respect and trust him. 

Really, all Harry wants is for Liam to be a king that everyone loves, even if he can’t have that for himself.

“I’m gonna try to sleep, I think,” Harry whispers into Liam’s ear. He turns to Gemma and says the same thing, realizing silently that he hasn’t spoken much to her in the past few days. 

For no reason in particular, really. The past few days have been hard for Harry. They passed their halfway point only two leagues after they left Braedon. They’re the closest they’ve ever been to the objective of their plan. 

Harry’s thoughts have been revolving around that for days and he can’t seem to get it out of his head. As he wanders away from the crowd, his mind once again turns to the impending battle as he nears his tent. He can’t help but worry that this will all end horribly — knowing he could lose the people dearest to him terrifies him to his core. Furthermore, if they don’t win the battle that first night and are forced to retreat, the king could retaliate when they’re least prepared.  

Cheshire will surely outnumber them. King Aldrich has never cared to train his men as much as the king of Wolverhampton has, though. What they lack in numbers they make up for in tenacity.  

“Deep thoughts again?”

The corner of his lips quirk up at the sound of that high, sweet voice. Harry doesn’t plan on fraternizing with any of the men he leads but there’s nothing stopping him from inwardly acknowledging beauty. “I’m thinking that it’s the moon that causes it. What’s your opinion?”

Louis settles down next to where Harry had sat down just minutes before; the edge of the camp, right behind his tent. “The moon most definitely plays a part in it. But I think the stars are part of it too.”

Harry looks to Louis, taking in his side profile. “The stars?”

“May just be something from when I was young. My mother used to tell me that all my relatives that have passed become the stars and they’re watching over me”—Louis pauses for a moment, swaying back and forth in tandem with the light breeze—“only the noble ones, of course. Mother would never tell me that my dreadful Uncle Finn was watching over me.”

A laugh is drawn out of Harry. “Dreadful Uncle Finn?”

Harry watches as a small smile lifts the corners of Louis’ lips. “Uncle Finn was the biggest mess I’ve ever known. Never knew where he was going. Truly. He couldn’t remember where anything was, he just walked around until he found it.”

“Ah, he doesn’t sound too bad,” Harry lightly defends. He quite likes talking to Louis like this. About idle things that somehow manage to feel substantial. About things that don’t have deadlines. Overthrowing King Aldrich doesn’t necessarily have a deadline either, but a weight will be lifted off of countless shoulders if they succeed in dethroning him. Should they fail, their own grisly deadline won’t be far off.

“He could’ve been worse,” Louis says. “He could’ve been as dreadful as the king,” he jokes. 

Harry feels his fists start to clench. He moves them down from his knees to grip the grass. Harry doesn’t much like any mention of the king, even if it is an unavoidable topic, considering the circumstances. He makes a small hum of agreement, keeping himself from looking over to Louis again.

He can see the man’s soft hair in his peripheral vision and it almost hurts his neck to not turn his head.

To think of King Aldrich when he could be talking about a million other substantially idle things with this beautiful man makes his stomach churn. Something with so much negative energy shouldn’t be Louis’ curse to bear.

“So,” Harry speaks up after a few moments, “why’d you join us?”

Louis shrugs, shoulder brushing against Harry’s. “Same reason others did, I guess. I think the people here deserve a better ruler. They could still be horrible, for all I care, as long as they don’t kill people for challenging their son to a duel.” The disgust in Louis’ voice is almost tangible and Harry grimaces when he thinks of that particular occurrence. 

Prince Malcolm is much too sensitive to be the next king. 

“You should get some rest,” Harry says. “Early tomorrow. The day after that too.”

Louis tilts his head toward Harry and Harry can’t help but let his eyes drift and momentarily sink into blue ones. “I’m gonna bet that all my mornings are going to be early from now on.”

Harry smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

He watches Louis stand up and dust the dirt off his trousers. It’s hard to not let his eyes linger on the asset Louis possesses, but he keeps his eyes on Louis’ face. “Goodnight, Louis.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry doesn’t bother stopping himself from watching Louis go, but he forces himself to keep his eyes above the man’s waist. He sees Louis sit down next to a brunette near the fire. The feeling of envy in his chest is nothing new.

He longs to sit by the fire with Liam and Gemma and even Louis. Wishes he could call these people his friends without the words feeling heavy, without knowing some of them will die in battle. Because there’s no way out of that. 

Waging war against King Aldrich, even if they have the element of surprise, will result in many casualties. Who is Harry to let himself grow attached to these men and then lose them within the month? Despite appearances, Harry doesn’t think he would handle it all that well.

So, he sticks with Liam and Gemma, but only because he would feel far worse if he didn’t. Because Liam has been his best friend since he was a boy and Gemma is his sister. 

Harry’s not even sure if he’ll come out of the battle alive. The chances of survival aren’t outstanding, even if the big picture features Harry on the throne. Though it doesn’t really matter if it’s him, and if he dies and his last sight is someone, anyone, other than Aldrich wearing the crown, Harry thinks that’s quite alright.

It will be worth it, Harry tells himself, squeezing his eyes shut. It’ll all be worth it.  

⚔

Waking up by sunrise may be something Harry is used to at this point, but that doesn’t make him any less grumpy about it.

He grumbles to himself the whole time he packs up his tent and the entire time he spends shoving his things in his bag, and then he grumbles some more when he goes to get his horse from where the steeds are tied to sturdy trees.  

“Someone didn’t sleep well, so I take it.” Harry hears someone speak and turns to see who. It’s the brunette Louis stayed with the entire night. He watches as Louis giggles in response before promptly turning away.

Liam comes up beside him in the meantime, tying his bag to the side of his horse’s saddle. “Are we still heading towards Northon?” he asks.

Nodding, Harry grabs a ribbon out of his trousers pocket to tie his hair back. He bites down on the pick in his mouth — which is really just a shard from something that used to be a utensil — and speaks around it. “Should be there by tomorrow, I’m thinkin’. As long as we don’t take too many breaks along the way.”

There’s a pause for a moment before Liam speaks up again. “You know… the closer we get to the capital the harder it will be to hide our approach.”

Harry’s thought of that. A lot. Their win majorly depends on whether the king is taken by surprise, but Harry knows that not everything will go his way once they get closer. He’s not a fool, after all. Just hopeful that things will work out.

“I’m aware of that, Liam.”

“Okay, I just wasn’t sure if you’d thought of that or not.”

Harry turns to the other man with a glare. “I’m not stupid . I know that they have lookout towers, much like your own kingdom. I know that if they’re paying even half of the attention they should be, they’ll be able to see us when we’re still a day and a half away. I know.”   

The prince shrinks back a little at his harsh tone. “Don’t be a prat, Harry,” he says, hurt evident in his tone. Harry hates how it almost sounds like guilt. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

A smack to the back of his head startles him, causing him to forget what he was going to say next. When he turns to see who it is, he finds Gemma. Liam’s long gone by the time he turns back to the prince. 

“What was that for?” Harry hisses, rubbing the back of his head.

“What was that for?” Gemma mocks him, tone harsh. “You’re being a total arsehole to the man that’s putting his entire kingdom on the line for you. He doesn’t have to do that, you know. He could’ve told you to fuck off like I would’ve if I were in his position.”

Harry doesn’t say anything to that, just ceases all movement and heaves a big sigh, looking up at the clouds through the trees. He closes his eyes.

Gemma’s hand lands on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. “I know you’re stressed about all of this, H. Believe me, I know. It’s different for Liam, though,” she tries to explain. “You only have two people you care about enough to look out for; me and him. He has his entire troops.”

A beat goes by before Harry opens his eyes again, looking at his sister with scrunched brows and a small frown. “I know,” is all he can bring himself to say, and now he sounds like the guilty one. Rightfully so, he supposes.

Liam’s doing more for him than anyone else ever has. Harry’s not too great at expressing how thankful he is, though. Not when he can’t even get his thoughts straight. He used to be much better at it, but it seems that with every passing day his mind gets more and more twisted.

It’ll be okay once King Aldrich is dethroned. It’ll be okay once they win, once Harry becomes king. His mind will be straight once again and he’ll be able to tell Liam how thankful he is for everything; he’ll even be able to show him since he’ll have access to greater things then. He hears himself mumbling as he thinks all of these things but can’t bring himself to stop.

Gemma walks away when Harry doesn’t add anything else, so the man continues to pack his things. Just as he’s tying the back to his horse’s saddle, Louis walks up to him. Of course.

“Does he have a name?” It’s the only thing the smaller man asks in way of an introduction and Harry can’t help but stare at him for a moment as he parses the question.

When Louis raises a brow at him, Harry stumbles for an answer. “Oh, um, no, he doesn’t have a name. He’s just one of Liam’s horses.”

Louis hums, petting the horse's dark mane. “He looks like an Archie.”

“Um, okay,” Harry says. “That’s nice.”

“My horse’s name is Miso.”

Harry looks over to where the aforementioned brunette is, holding the reins of a completely white horse. “Where’d you get him?”

“Stole him,” Louis bluntly states. “Was in the village next to mine just a day or two before you all showed up. No one was on him and I’m nothing if not a slave to chance.”

With scrunched brows and a small frown, Harry looks away from the horse and back to Louis. “You’re a thief?”

Louis shoots him a look that almost says ‘duh.’

“Did you think I was some rich bloke that decided to live in some shitty village? Of course I’m a thief.”

Harry wants to say how that’s not right, how Louis shouldn’t feel like he’s allowed to take from other people. He shouldn’t, considering their current situation. After all, Harry did just trample through multiple villages, sending all of the inhabitants back to Wolverhampton, and taking all things of any value to his cause from their villages.

Apparently, Harry’s brain doesn’t get to his mouth quick enough because, before he knows it, he’s saying, “Stealing is wrong, you know. You shouldn’t take from innocent people.”

If Harry wasn’t the one to cause it, he would almost think it’s comical how quickly Louis’ demeanor changes. Alas, Louis’ cold look is directed towards him as he says exactly what Harry’s already thinking. “Says the man going through villages and taking things that don’t belong to him.”

Harry feels an instant regret, and it bubbles up in his chest but he doesn’t get a chance to voice his remorse. 

“You don’t have to do something huge to tell the prince you’re thankful, by the way,” Louis spits. “Just quit being a pussy and tell him.”

Louis stomps off then, leaving Harry feeling like a shamed child. So. Louis must’ve heard him talking to himself a minute ago.

He doesn’t stop to think about what exactly Louis heard or what exactly he’s going to think of it. He’s wasted enough time mingling this morning; they need to start moving if they want to reach Northon as well as get halfway to Sharpton after that.

The walk to Northon is almost an entire day away, nearly an eight-hour walk. They’ll lose time while speaking to the villagers and gathering supplies before they can head to Sharpton.

So, yeah. Harry doesn’t have much time to do anything except start walking.

⚔

With the sun setting, Harry tries to set his tent up as quickly as possible. Liam has a habit of either spending an overabundant amount of time with his soldiers or retiring to bed as soon as they set up camp. 

Harry knows he was a dick to Liam this morning. In fact, Liam had barely spoken to him throughout the day. He’s feeling pretty shitty about it at the moment, if he’s being honest. And he didn’t mean to be so rude to Liam, honestly. 

He walks over to where Liam is moving his things around. “Hey,” Harry mumbles. All he gets in response is a brief glance. “I just, um, I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Raising a brow, Liam straightens his back and stares expectantly. 

“I was a dick to you this morning for no reason. I shouldn’t have been like that towards you when you’re doing so much for me. I’m sorry.”

Liam sighs. “You know that I don’t care how much I’m doing for you, right? I’m doing this because I care about you and it’s what Aldrich deserves.”

“I know, I know,” Harry shuffles his feet. He’s never been good at apologizing. “I just know that I probably hurt you this morning and it’s been killing me all day.”

Sitting down with a heavy thump, Liam pats the grass next to him. Harry takes the invitation gratefully, settling by his side. 

“I am a prince, you know,” Liam says, a bit too snobbily. Harry holds back a smile. “I take criticism every day. I can handle you being a bit rude to me sometimes.”

Harry scoffs. “You might be a prince, but you’re the biggest softie I know.” Liam laughs at that but says nothing else. “I really am sorry, though. Not that it’s an excuse, but I’ve just been a bit stressed lately. More so than usual.”

“Well,” Liam says. “We are potentially starting a very drawn-out war. But that’s only if we’re unlucky. If we’re lucky, there won’t be enough of his men left after this battle to start a war.”

Turning to face him, Harry scrunches his face up. “Oddly enough, that was not comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” Liam shoves his shoulder. “There’s no comforting to do when this is the life you’re living, H. We’re either lucky or we aren’t. We both know the consequences if we aren’t, and that’s just something we have to live with.”

Harry closes his eyes and tilts his head back. “You’re such a wise prince.”

“I was born to rule. Might as well start throwing around wisdom as soon as I can. It’ll build my reputation.”

And just like that, the two friends are back to normal, sharing laughter and understanding smiles under the early night sky.

⚔

   L

Louis’ legs have never burned more than they do at this very moment. Continuous exercise is not something he’s ever been fond of, especially in his more recent years. Once his life became running from guards in other villages, he always seemed to need an extra shot of adrenaline. This could definitely be worse, Louis’ sure. 

At the moment, he can’t think of how.

Consistent and boring leagues of walking is not what he’s good at. Maybe if something exciting happened and he got that same rush he’d be able to walk a bit further without feeling like he’s about to collapse.

He knows he could hop up on Miso for the rest of the day, but the horse is probably tired too. He can’t imagine the man in the village next to his was doing this much with the horse. The most activity the poor thing got was probably just walking to neighboring villages occasionally. 

This is a far cry from that, and Louis just wants to do what will make the animal most comfortable.

His feet beg him for a break but he refuses to voice any of his pain aloud. Niall would probably poke fun at him, but he would also probably yell something to the prince. Louis cannot be the one to cause over three thousand men to take a break. Yes, three thousand. That’s just Liam’s troops, Niall told him. The stragglers from different villages that have joined aren’t counted in that. 

Niall guesses there are around one hundred of them.

So, yeah. Louis will keep his mouth shut until his feet start bleeding; which he really hopes doesn’t happen, but what does he know? Just like Miso, Louis has never traveled this far. As far as he knows, anything is possible. Including bleeding feet.

Louis takes a deep breath and tries to revel in the silence that’s been bestowed upon him. Niall has been talking to a few other soldiers a few feet back for the past ten minutes and Louis has not been properly enjoying his time away.

Not that he doesn’t like Niall. The lad is nice to have around when Louis doesn’t want to get stuck in his head. He’s like a beacon of light for every gloomy person that’s present. So, Louis is glad that Niall chooses to stick with him most of the time.

But sometimes it’s nice to be alone with your thoughts. Especially after hearing what Harry had been mumbling about that morning. Of course, that was before Harry had gone and ruined the moment by opening his mouth.

Once he’s king. That’s what they’re all doing this for. So Harry can be king. It makes sense if Louis thinks about it. Why else would a man with no noble blood who’s not part of this kingdom be leading troops into a war?

Well. Okay. Louis takes that back. He doesn’t know where Harry is from; he could very well be from Cheshire or any of the small villages in the kingdom. Louis thinks, for some reason, that that’s highly unlikely.

He hears the men Niall is with behind him, their deep voices interrupting his thoughts.

“Ever since Aldrich’s sister died, that’s when he went to shit. She died and her children disappeared and then the next morning her husband turned up dead.”

Niall sounds shocked when he says, “That’s horrible. The whole family all within two days? I can’t imagine what that’s like.” He pauses. “I’d be destroyed.”

The second man snorts. “It seems like he is destroyed. That’s why we’re doing this.”

Louis remembers the king’s nephew and niece but only barely and not by name. He only remembers seeing them around the castle and on the grounds while he was training. He shudders when he remembers those days.

It’s been weeks since Louis last thought of what training was like and what happened after Princess Anne passed away. The entire kingdom never found out the cause for her or her husband’s death but they mourned all the same.

Princess Anne was the hope everyone was looking for during a time of disease and famine; she lent the court physician to all villages who needed him without hesitation and did her best to feed those who were hungry. 

If her death is truly what caused King Aldrich to become so... horrible, then Louis can kind of understand that. Not a chance in hell will he let the bastard continue to be king, but he can understand it.

Louis keeps his head straight and eyes forward as he continues to listen, not sure if this is something that those men would want him eavesdropping on. Ahead of him, he sees the tense back muscles of Harry—which is sort of insane considering Louis can see them through the tunic the man is wearing. 

Briefly, he wonders what Harry looks like without the tunic.

King Aldrich’s cruelty finds a way back into his mind when he hears Niall say his name again. 

That man doesn’t care about anything other than reputation and looks. It does not matter even if someone is noble; if they don’t fit the image, they don’t get to be a knight.

Because there’s a difference, Louis remembers. A soldier can be anyone from anywhere. A knight, someone who serves closest to the king, has to be of noble blood. Unfortunately, that didn’t get Louis anywhere other than stuck in Braedon. 

Louis distracts himself by counting all the crunchy leaves on the ground for the rest of their hike. They take one break to let everyone go to the bathroom and it’s then that Louis lets himself get on Miso again. The break was long enough for the horse to eat some grass and drink from nearby puddles, so Louis hopes he isn’t too tired to carry his extra weight.

He doesn’t pay attention once they get to Northon. He can assume everything that happens is pretty similar to what happened in his own village. Louis’ thankful that the two men — and woman, he guesses — leading the troops are kind-hearted.  

The men of Cheshire would be much less accommodating. 

Louis only brightens up again when Niall comes back over to him. They’ve started their hike towards Sharpton at this point but Louis isn’t sure how much longer they’ll be moving.

“Hey,” Niall chirps. “You hear what them lads were telling me a while back?”

“A little bit of it,” Louis admits. 

Niall doesn’t seem bothered that Louis had been listening and continues talking. “Well, as you know, then, Anne’s two kids just disappeared, right?” Louis nods. “The guys think that maybe—”

Before he can finish what he was saying, Prince Liam calls out an order loud enough to make everyone come to a halt.

“We’ll be camping here tonight!” He shouts. “Get the word to the back for me, soldiers. Thank you!”

Niall gets ushered away with a few other soldiers to gather wood for the few fires they set up each night. 

All around him, men break into chatter and smiles, happy to finally relax after such a long day. Louis watches them in envy, wishing he had Zayn by his side so he could feel less lonely.

Zayn. Louis hasn’t let himself think of his best friend since the day he joined Harry. They haven’t been away from each other for longer than a day (two at the very most if one of them got lost on an adventure ) since the day they met. Louis’ long past feeling the loss. Zayn may have yelled at Louis and tried to act like his mother, but Louis wouldn’t trade him for anything.

He’s doing what he believes is right and he knows Zayn will forgive him once they reunite. That is, as long as Louis doesn’t die. Zayn would definitely not forgive him for that.

Louis goes to sleep that night with the fire so close that he feels like he’s burning, his mind as restless as the wind surrounding them. 

He doesn’t get his new wake up call the next morning—the sun, that is. Instead, he’s awakened by shouts for help and the sounds of bodies landing on the ground near him. He sits up with a start, eyes darting around to see that the entire group is being attacked.

Thankfully, Louis is near the front, closer to where Harry and the prince are, and the attackers are still making their way through the back of the group. 

From where Louis is he can only see bodies dropping from either side of the fight; men dressed in uniforms the color of purple, others dressed in a fabric that might as well be rags. Not the king’s men, Louis notes, rushing to stand. He swipes the knife he carries from his boot and brandishes it for the first time. 

He’s never been in a situation where he actually needed to use it but he always kept it just in case. It seems that just in case is happening right now.

Looking around for Niall, he finds that the man is already up and moving towards the fight. Louis hesitates, unsure of what to do. He knows he should defend the people he’s been marching with the past few days, but he’s never been in a situation like this.

He was trained for this goddammit. He can do this. I can do this. 

But he doesn’t get much further before someone comes out from the treeline and runs into him so hard Louis almost falls to the ground. He catches his footing before that happens and rams his elbow up and to the side when the man comes at him again. 

He hits the man in the nose and turns swiftly, slashing his knife across the man's cheek. Not enough to hurt him horribly, but enough to stun him for just the right amount of time. Louis brings the hilt of his knife down on the man’s head, successfully knocking him out. 

He hears a loud whoop! seconds after and turns to see Niall grinning at him. “Who knew you could fight?!” He shouts, dodging and punching in the crowd.

Louis smiles before he drops to the ground and spins, foot swiping a man’s legs out from underneath him. He strikes a solid punch to his face before moving on. Ouch. He shakes out his hand as he runs. 

He doesn’t have to focus after that, the tricks and maneuvers he was taught so long ago coming back to him easily. He thought he forgot it all, thought he would never really remember his time there again. In reality, all it took was someone trying to kill him.

It’s not until he sees a guy going for Harry — or the prince, Louis doesn’t have a clear enough view to be sure — that things go downhill. Louis yells, trying to bring attention to the approaching man. He’s not even sure whose attention he’s trying to attract, just that he can reach neither Harry nor the prince, and they’re in trouble. 

Lifting his hand just behind his head, he throws his knife with all the force he can muster. When it hits the target directly in the back and the body slumps to the ground in what seems like slow-motion, Louis inhales sharply. 

He just killed a man. He stands in place, body frozen and feet stuck to the ground beneath him. He just took another man’s life. 

Exhaling shakily, Louis vaguely has the heart to thank whatever gods there are that the fight seems to be over. When he brings himself to look away from the body, he looks directly into familiar green eyes. Harry’s staring at him with something similar to awe, but Louis can’t shake the feeling that’s overtaken him.

He feels dirty. He feels like he should be spit on. He feels like one of the king’s knights. He feels the way he was trained not to feel.

Taking one more deep breath, Louis forces himself to walk to the man on the ground and pull his knife out of his back. He doesn’t say anything to anyone and neither Harry nor Niall attempt to speak to him, for which he’s grateful.

⚔

   H

Harry doesn’t get to speak to Louis until they set up camp later that day. He and Liam agreed that they wouldn’t do the full distance planned today so that the men could rest and recover from what happened this morning.

When he was awoken that morning by the sound of the men he leads fighting, he knew only to rush to their sides. He didn’t think of anything else other than save your men. And he did. Liam stuck by his side and Gemma went off to the very back of the group, rushing to aid the already wounded.

The thing about recruiting men as  Harry and Liam pass through their villages is that Harry never spared a thought to how they’ll actually feel about killing someone else once they have to do it. 

Today, he saw what it can do to a man that wasn’t raised to fight like that. He saw the light drain from Louis’ eyes and the dread that crossed his face. He saw shaky hands pull a dagger out of a dead man’s back and he saw the straight back of a man who was raised to be strong walk away.

Harry doesn’t know whether the man that was taken down was coming for him or Liam, but either way, Louis saved one of their lives even at the cost of his own conscience. 

Harry had spent the entirety of his day thinking of what he could say to Louis that would make him feel better, but sitting here now, hours later, he has still yet to come up with anything.

The sun is setting by the time Harry finds the other man. Harry’s been making his rounds with the rest of the men all evening, checking on each of them even though it’s not technically his job considering the fact that Liam is their prince. 

They had all expressed their thanks to him, even if some had looked surprised to see him asking how they were doing.

So, by the time Harry finds Louis, the sun is setting. He can see the orange glow on Louis’ face and is stunned all over again by how beautiful this man is.

Harry guesses that the two of them have a sort of routine now. One where they rarely speak throughout the day but then they always sit at the edge of camp together once they settle for the night.

Not trying to be quiet, Harry stumbles his way over there, feet tired beneath him. He lands on the ground heavily and lays back on the grass, able to see the outline of Louis’ form but not many details due to the sun.

It’s quiet for a few moments and Harry wishes he had thought of what he should say.

Eventually, he opens his mouth and lets words fall out without thinking about it.

“I used to watch the knights train, you know. My first home was in the capital of the kingdom I’m from and I got to watch the knights train every day.” There’s a pause before Harry says, “You reminded me of one of them today.”

Louis’ body language gives away nothing, but the other man asks, “How?” a few moments later.

“He wasn’t as big as the rest of them— which isn’t a bad thing,” he adds hastily when Louis turns his head to glare at him. “But he wasn’t. The other knights were born big and strong. But this one had to work harder than them just because he was smaller. He was better than them, though. Without a doubt. He was faster than them, smarter than them. He always knew exactly what move they would pull when they were dueling.” 

Harry stops to think of those moments; the moments where he would sit near the outside of the castle and watch the knights. He was only two years junior to the youngest knight, but that still meant he wasn’t allowed to join yet.

“I never saw him lose.”

Something in Louis’ back goes tense when he says that and Harry can’t think of any reason why.

Harry goes quiet, letting Louis absorb what he just told him. He watches the sky as it turns from orange to purple to dark blue. He watches as the stars start to become visible, all while waiting for Louis to say something.

“So,” Louis finally says. “You’re saying you think I’m small?”

A snort comes out of Harry before he can help it and he looks away from the sky to see Louis smiling down at him. 

“I’m saying that I think you were incredibly brave for what you did this morning,” Harry says softly. “And thank you. For whoever’s life you ended up saving, mine or Liam’s, thank you.”

Louis nods, chin dipping down to his chest. He lays down next to Harry. “Did you ever want to be a knight?”

Harry ponders the question for a moment, unsure of if he should tell the truth or not. Half-truth, he decides. 

“I was gonna be one.”

The way Louis whips his head to the side to look at Harry is almost comical. “Yeah?” He says with a little smirk. “You were gonna be Sir Harry?”

Harry brings an arm up to rest behind his head. “I would’ve been cool as hell, don’t make fun.”

“Not making fun,” Louis murmurs, nudging Harry’s elbow with his head. “I think Sir Harry suits you.”

Harry has half a mind to not say I would quite like you calling me sir. He’s sure Louis wouldn’t appreciate the comment, nor would he appreciate the stiffy Harry’s got going on from the thought.

“Maybe I’ll get Liam to start addressing me that way.”

Louis’ laugh is bright, Harry thinks. He hears the sound after making that comment and he feels as though his chest is warm. “I’d love to see the prince of Wolverhampton call you sir.”

“You don’t think I could get him to?” Harry quirks a brow, turning his head to the side to look into Louis’ eyes. So blue. 

With a raised brow, Louis smirks. “Not a chance.”

Harry hums, contemplating the possibility of Liam calling him sir. “I’ll bet you on that,” Harry says, lifting his hand towards Louis.

The other man takes Harry’s hands and Harry feels his breath catch in his throat. “If I win, you tell me the real reason we’re doing all of this.”

Harry feels his heart skip a beat at those words. He’s not shared that part of himself with anyone. At least, not willingly. Gemma was there for all of it and Liam was their place of refuge at a later point. Not much of a choice in those situations. Slowly, he nods.

Louis smiles in satisfaction, continuing with, “And if you win, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise and he lifts himself up onto his elbows. “Whatever I want?” He asks, his voice resembling that of a prepubescent boy.

Louis’ eyes widen, a cautious look on his face. “Within reason, of course.” A small smile blooms on his lips.

“Of course.”

Harry knows exactly what he wants. And, knowing Liam, he will most definitely be getting it.

⚔

Of course, Harry doesn’t get the chance to gloat until the next day. He and Louis spent the rest of last night just… talking. And it was the best talk Harry’s ever had with another person. He’s never felt as content with anyone else.

He’s not totally sure what it means but he is totally sure that hearing the man laugh with that dumb brunette that he’s always with is very distracting.

“Liam,” Harry says through gritted teeth. “Who is that soldier of yours? The one with Louis?”

Harry takes a second to be thankful for the fact that he’d previously spoken to Liam about Louis. He’s sure Liam wouldn’t have known who he was talking about otherwise. 

Liam glances behind them, hands not moving so his horse stays moving in a straight line. “Oh!” He says brightly. “He’s everyone’s favorite. That’s Niall.”

Harry can see that he’s everyone’s favorite. He can see very clearly when Louis lets him put his arm around his shoulders. In a way that is not childlike in any way whatsoever, Harry huffs.

Not speaking seems to be a bad decision when Liam starts talking again. “Harry,” he says dramatically. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Sitting up straighter on his horse, Harry looks back to Louis for only a moment to ensure he can’t hear them before he’s glaring at Liam. “Don’t patronize me, asshole.” Really. As if he even has the time to be jealous, what with his upcoming war and all.

Liam cackles, his grin wider than Harry’s ever seen it. “You are so jealous. I can’t believe it.”

Harry’s mind goes back to his conversation with Louis from last night. Get Liam to call him Sir Harry. A slight shiver goes down his spine, once again wishing that Louis was the one to be calling him that.

“Hey, Liam,” he nearly shouts, throwing a look at Louis to make sure he can hear them. Harry doesn’t know how the man walks so close to him and the prince — he must’ve won over Liam’s guards or something — but alas, nothing about him really makes sense. “You know how I used to wanna be a knight?”

Giggling like a young boy, Liam nods. “Imagine that. I would’ve had to say proper things to you.”

Sitting up straighter, as a knight would, Harry tries to keep a straight face when Liam laughs at him. “It’s good to see you, Prince Liam,” Harry says in a serious voice, enjoying this without even having to think about his bet with Louis. It’s been a while since he and Liam just laughed with each other.

“And good to see you, Sir Harry.”

They dissolve into laughter, even as Harry hears Louis call him a ‘pompous arse’ behind them. Harry would give anything to be inside of that man’s petulant mind. Harry had tried to tell the smaller man that it would be easy, but he just wouldn’t hear it, and that’s not on him. 

He’ll just have to wait until tonight to get his reward from Louis. Meaning this is going to be a long day.

And it is. 

As soon as Harry was able to look forward to something, time seemed to move slower. If it’s even real. That’s another thing. Harry’s gotten so bored that he’s begun to question basic concepts, voicing most of them to Liam.

He wishes Gemma was upfront with them, knows she would either agree with him completely or think he’s stupid. Gemma stays at the back of the group most of the time, though. It’s really only so that she can keep them at a steady pace. Any slackers get berated so intensely that they don’t dare to slow again.

Aside from all that, his eyes and ears are more alert ever since the attack from yesterday.

They (Gemma, Liam, and himself) will have to talk about that tonight, probably. An attack could only mean that someone’s been spreading the information of their upcoming battle. Which is not good. If someone is able to get to Cheshire before them and warn the king… Harry refuses to think about it.

Whatever happens can’t be that bad if it’s what’s meant to be.

Being more alert, while a good thing when it comes to looking out for the other men, also means he’s more aware of Louis than usual. Maybe it’s just because he’s thinking about himself winning the bet, but all he can focus on is the sound of that man’s voice.

The slight rasp to it, the way it sounds so sweet wrapped around his words, his endearing giggle. Harry can almost hear nothing but Louis.

Which, in Harry’s opinion, is not good. Just nights ago he was telling himself that he couldn’t grow attached to any more people. It’s the smartest move due to his position in all of this and he knows that ceasing all contact with Louis would be beneficial but— he just can’t make himself do that.

Not right now, at least. He wants to learn everything there is to know about the man and this might be the only chance he has.

Once they’re closer to their end goal, he’ll stop speaking to him. By then, he’ll have to plan more with Gemma and Liam anyway so it won’t be like he’s actively going to ignore Louis. Except that he will be.

Oh, god, Harry thinks tiredly. Meeting Louis at any other moment in time would’ve been so much easier. Would’ve worked out. If there’s anything there, of course. Harry could just be obsessed with him because all the other men here aren’t as pretty.

Maybe when he sees a prettier boy, he’ll be obsessed with that one instead. 

Harry ignores the dose of deception he just told himself, shaking the thought from his head and urging himself to focus on other things.

Things like how to plan for another potential attack. When or if he should ever tell the troops the real reason they’re doing this. Whether or not it’s a good idea to ask Louis where he learned to fight like that. He thinks of all the possibilities, all the answers he may get once he’s gone through with any of those things, and can’t help but scare himself with the thought of everyone hating him.

With the thought of Louis hating him. God. And he’s only known this man for a few days. Granted, Harry’s not spoken to any of the other men as much as he’s spoken to Louis, and they’ve been traveling for nearly a month now.

By the time the sun starts setting, tents are already being pitched and a few fires are being sparked. Anticipating the moment he finally gets to talk with Louis again, Harry signals for Gemma and Liam to follow him. They have to talk, to plan, before anything else tonight.

And they do. For hours. Harry took into consideration what Liam had said the other day, about the lookouts being able to see them when they’re still a day’s worth of travel away, so they decided to try to meet the king’s soldiers in the middle. 

There’s a clearing — a field, really — just after they pass through Barnemouth. If they meet the king’s men in that clearing, they’ll have a better chance than if they kept going and tried to meet them in the middle of the woods. 

It’s a plan that Harry feels good about if he’s honest. He feels confident. Gemma and Liam seem to as well because they both smile a little brighter on their way out of Harry’s tent. 

Liam lingers back once Gemma takes off to the nearest fire, hands shoved in his pockets. Harry sidles up next to him, rocking on his heels.

“How’re you doing?” He asks the prince. Usually, the two of them check in with each other nightly, or at least every other night. Harry hasn’t been around though, for obvious Louis reasons, so they haven’t really talked for the past few days.

Shrugging, Liam answers solemnly. “Sort of like the end of an era is coming up.” At the sight of Harry’s brow raising, he rushes to add, “And not just because there will be someone new,” he nudges Harry, “ruling Cheshire.”

“Why, then?” Harry asks, curious.

“For the past, like, seven years of our lives, this is what we’ve been focused on. It’s what we’ve talked about every day, what we’ve planned for since the day that… that happened. And it’s going to be coming to an end by next week, hopefully.” It’s quiet for a few moments as if Liam is letting Harry absorb what he just said. “What are we even going to talk about?”

Smirking, Harry shoves Liam to the side. “I’ll be king if everything goes to plan. I’ll be able to advise you on how to rule once you step up.”

Liam looks affronted, eyes wide. “As if you know as much as I do about ruling an entire kingdom.”

Harry smiles softly. “We’ll be able to talk about all the ways I can improve, Liam, if that’s what you’re worried about. Imagine us not having anything to talk about! There’ll be plenty.”

A sigh of relief seems to come out of Liam then, his body becoming less tense than before. “Alright,” he murmurs. “I’ll let you get to your boy; Louis, yeah? I know you talk to him every night, so he’s probably been waiting.”

Flushing slightly, Harry doesn’t bother replying, just swiftly turns on his heel to walk behind his tent. He’s hoping Louis’ already there by now.

And he is, Harry finds. He’s laying down on the grass as if he’s been there for hours, picking at the blades beneath him and then stripping each of them down. Harry settles on the ground next to him, bringing an arm up to rest his head on.

“Been here the whole time?” He feels Louis nod where his elbow is slightly pressed against his head. “You hear the plan, then? About trying to meet them in the field near Barnemouth?”

Louis’ quiet for so long that Harry fears he may not speak up at all. “It’s a good plan. Better than us trying to push past that and meeting them somewhere where we have less of an advantage.”

Harry smiles proudly, Louis’ praise settling deeply in his bones.

“What do you want your prize to be?” Louis says next. “I did promise anything.”

The question should be an easy one to answer. He had been so sure that he wanted to learn more about Louis, learn the whole truth of his past. But now, the word anything is bouncing around in his head and he can’t help but think of the way Louis looks when he’s flushed from a day of walking or riding. 

It’s as if he gets like that from even just a little amount of exertion but can still keep going for an indefinite amount of time. An image of Louis bouncing on—

Shaking his head as if to get rid of those thoughts, Harry sticks with his previous answer.

“Just wanna know you,” Harry says quietly. “About your past and stuff. Everything. If you’re comfortable sharing.” Thinking that he should explain a bit more, he adds, “It’s just that I noticed you were a bit tense when I was talking about the knight I used to watch yesterday. I’m only curious.”

Turning his head to look at Louis, Harry waits. He sees him open his mouth and close it a few times before he says anything. And, if Harry’s honest, it’s not what he expected at all.

“I was the knight you never saw lose.”

⚔

   L

“You were what?” Harry asks, eyes wide with shock. 

A small smile quirks Louis’ lips. “My parents were the Duke and Duchess of Doncaster at the time. Not much happened there, though, so they sent me and my sisters here, to Cheshire.” Louis remembers the day they traveled to Cheshire; all three of them sitting in a wagon pulled by two horses. Him, Charlotte, and Félicité. “First thing I did when we got here, since we’re nobility, was start training to be a knight. My sisters weren’t sure what to do at first, but they eventually started making dresses. Like, the type that they would wear; nice ones. And made them really cheap so that the folk could afford them.”

One thing he’s always been proud of, about himself and his family, was how selfless they were compared to other nobility. 

“What happened?” Harry’s voice, deep and curious, brings him back to the present. It’s a bit surreal talking about it, Louis thinks. He’s never even told the full story to Zayn.

“King Aldrich likes his knights to be of a certain stature. Big, strong, fierce. I was neither big nor strong, so you can probably imagine the disdain he had for me. I was good, though. Good enough to apparently get you to notice me,” he teases. “But the king took the first chance he got to get rid of me.

“My father, only two years after my sisters and I moved here, had fallen ill and passed away a month later. My mother, her name is Johannah, gave away all the land we owned after that; sold it to other Duke’s and all that, and then moved here with us.” 

Taking a deep breath, Louis prepares himself for what he has to say next. He’s sure Harry wouldn’t make him say it, but for some reason, he wants to. He wants to share this part of himself. “She tried to talk to the king and ask for a nicer place for us to stay since my father wasn’t there to support us anymore. He did not take kindly to someone trying to ‘use him for his power,’ as he said.”

Louis blinks, staring up at the stars. He’s sure his father is among them. “The king did take us in, only because I was already training as a knight, but I guess he was just tricking us into letting him have power over us. It was only a week later that he sold my mother and sisters to the king of Manchester for his private brothel.”

He feels Harry’s hand grasp his own, fingers twining together. “We’ll make him sorry for that, Lou. I wish I could do something to make it better.”

Louis can’t help but let out a wet laugh. “Thank you, Harry. Anyway, you can imagine that the king didn’t keep me either. Threatened me and said that if I didn’t leave the capital and keep quiet about what happened then he’d have me executed.”

“That’s how you ended up in Braedon?”

Humming in response, Louis closes his eyes again. He could do with a nap after thinking of those memories again. His family was everything to him, even as a child. Losing them was like losing a part of himself. 

“Got a new family now, though,” he adds, trying to sound chipper. “Got Zayn. If Niall doesn’t get himself killed in the battle then I have him as well.”

He wants, so badly, to be able to say he has Harry. Alas, they’ve only known each other for nearly a week. That week may have been spent talking every night and looking at the stars, or getting into small tiffs, or making fun of each other, but it’s not like they’re close.

It’s not like Harry will want to keep Louis once he becomes king. 

And Louis feels like he should probably ask him about that, ask why he thinks he should be the king of Cheshire, but he can’t bring himself to at the moment. They can have another moment like this later on. When Louis isn’t still thinking about if his family is even still alive or not.

Logically, he knows that not all royal brothels treat women horribly, but he’s never heard enough about the one in Manchester to be able to make a deduction. 

Maybe, if Harry does indeed become king, he can find a way to see if they’re still there. 

“You know,” comes Harry’s voice, “I thought you and Zayn were, like, together when I first saw you with each other.”

Louis’ face pulls into something unpleasant and he makes a sound like he’s retching. “I cannot believe you just said that to me.”

“What!” Harry exclaims. He pushes himself up on an elbow but doesn’t let go of Louis’ hand. “He treated you like you were together, did he not?”

“God, no. We’re just very protective of each other!”

Harry snorts, laying back down. He’s closer now, their shoulders pressed tightly to one another. “Well, it can be very misleading if a person that’s interested in you sees you and Zayn together.”

Louis flushes at what Harry’s just unknowingly implied. Or maybe he implied it on purpose. Either way, his cheeks are not usually this red. “Maybe people need to just not assume things.”

“Maybe,” Harry sighs, and Louis can hear the smile in his voice.

⚔

Louis’ feeling a bit rattled the next morning, and not only because he practically vomited his entire past out last night.

No, this has something more to do with the way Harry said goodnight to him. 

He can still feel calloused fingers rubbing his cheekbone, a firm grip on his jaw. A breeze floats through the air and he’s reminded of the way Harry was so close that he could feel his breath hitting his cheeks. He had thought Harry was going to kiss him. On the mouth, on the cheek, on the forehead. 

The entire moment felt like a kiss was going to happen. In the end, Harry had just closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Louis’, holding his face with both hands the entire time.

“Goodnight, Lou,” he had murmured. 

And then Louis was standing there, winded from just the thought of Harry kissing him.

Maybe it’s because it’s been months since he was with another man, but he really can’t help when his thoughts drift to what else Harry’s mouth could do. Because somehow he just knows that kissing Harry would be all-encompassing. 

Thoughts of Harry’s tongue doing absolutely sinful things knock around his brain and he feels himself begin to sweat.

“Everything okay, mate?” Niall asks. He’s looking up at Louis today since he decided he was going to ride Miso. Louis likes being taller than Niall.

He nods, tense, and glances down briefly. “All good. Why d’you ask?”

Niall smirks, nodding his head towards Louis’ groin. “You just seem to be thinking about a particular thing is all.”

Eyes wide, Louis looks down at himself and immediately covers himself with his hand. “You are such a dick,” he hisses. 

It’s not as if Louis has a huge cock (it’s actually rather small compared to most) but he certainly doesn’t need anyone, including Niall, seeing that he’s got a boner. 

What he really doesn’t need is for Harry to turn around and look at him just as his entire face and chest flush a deep red.

It turns out that Louis can’t have anything go his way.

Harry only turns around to smile at Louis at first, but he then lets his eyes catch on the way his chest is red, and, eventually, his eyes drift to where Louis is practically holding his cock. Louis watches as his smile goes away and his jaw tenses, sees as he looks at Niall—who’s laughing much too hard—and doesn’t try to say anything as Harry turns back to face ahead of him.

This moment could not be more embarrassing. Scrambling, Louis reaches out to a tree to knock on wood. He definitely doesn’t need to jinx himself right now. 

It’s still a few minutes later that he finally is able to will his situation away. Once it’s gone, he reaches to his left and slaps the back of Niall’s head. “Never comment on that again.”

“Who were you thinking about?” Niall teases, ignoring Louis’ request. “I bet I can make a guess.”

“Sure,” Louis mutters, hoping this conversation will end soon.

“Won’t say his name,” Niall chirps, “but I see you come back from behind his tent every night. Good for you, Lou. At least one of us is getting some.”

Louis gasps and does not look at the way Harry’s shoulders have begun to shake in front of him. “I am most certainly not getting anything, you heathen. I can’t believe you just said that out loud.”

Groaning, Niall lightly shoves Louis’ leg where it’s resting against Miso’s side. Louis reaches down to pet his mane. “Oh, loosen up with me, Louis. C’mon.”

“I’m loose enough with you.”

“I disagree.”

“I’m loose enough to the point where I actually care about if you die or not, is that not enough?”

A hand flies to Niall’s chest and he smiles brightly up at Louis. “You care if I die?”

“Yes, and feel lucky because there’s not many I actually care about here,” he grumbles.

“Who else do you care about here?”

If Louis looked, he’s pretty sure he’d see an actual twinkle in Niall’s eyes. Instead, he looks ahead and sees Harry’s still shaking shoulders. “The jackass in front of us,” he says.

A honk of a laugh comes from Harry at that and Louis can’t help it.

It’s the biggest he’s smiled in years.

Later, Louis and Niall lay down next to the fire like they usually do. Louis decided not to wait for Harry tonight, only because he overheard that he, Gemma, and Prince Liam will be talking for a while in his tent.

“You’re cute, you know,” Niall murmurs next to him. He’s quiet enough so that no one else can hear him. “With Harry, I mean. It’s nice to see you both smiling.”

Louis scrunches his face. “Did Harry not smile much before?”

Shaking his head, Niall says, “No. And it didn’t look like you did either if the wrinkles on your forehead say anything about it.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis scoffs. “I smiled plenty before I joined you guys.”

“I’d very much like to take the credit for that smile earlier actually; it’s rather charming after all, but I meant that Harry’s the one making you so happy.”

Louis’ quiet then, unsure of what to say. He knows that he feels good around Harry but he also knows that there’s never been a king that married a man. 

“So,” Louis starts. “You hear about the next village we’re passing?”

Niall doesn’t comment on the subject change, which Louis is thankful for. “Just a few are going through, yeah? To get more food and stuff like that.”

Louis nods. “We’re getting closer every day. We’ll be at that village by tomorrow and after that, it’s a two-day ride to get to the place where we'll be fighting them.”

“You think we’ll win?”

A smile crosses Louis’ face. “Yeah,” he says confidently. “Oddly enough, I do.”

⚔

Only a few hours into the next day, they happen upon a river. A calm one, Louis notes, thankful for it. It’s been too long since he was last able to bathe himself and he can quite literally feel the dirt and grime with every move he makes. 

Harry’s the one to call out the order that they’ll be taking a break so everyone can bathe or do anything else they need to do. 

As soon as he hears the call, Louis hops off Miso, ties his small bag to the saddle, ties the reins to a branch low enough for him to reach, and then promptly strips himself of his clothing. He’s only brought two other outfits with him, so he guesses it’s good that they haven’t been bathing too often. 

“Goddamn, Lou, have no shame, why don’t ya?” Niall comments. The brunette seems shyer while undressing than Louis would’ve expected. 

“No point in being shameful in front of this lot,” Louis says. “We’ve all gotta see each other nude; might as well get the first few seconds over with.”

Niall grumbles, shoving his trousers down. “Easy for you to say when you have the curves of a woman.”

“Lucky for me too, innit? Since I’ve got my eyes set on a particular fellow.”

Making their way closer to the river, Louis sees Niall looking shocked. “Yeah? You officially after him?”

Shrugging, Louis steps gingerly into the cool water. “I don’t go telling my past to just anyone, Niall.”

“Yeah, you won’t even tell me,” the other man scowls. Louis giggles when he thinks of the other night, how Niall was nearly begging to know more about Louis and all he would share was that his parents aren’t around anymore. 

Half-truth, but Niall’s exasperated look clearly meant he wanted to know more. 

“I’m sure I’ll tell you eventually, Nialler. Had to tell him now, though, didn’t I? Might not see him after this if he doesn’t know my intentions.”

With that, Louis steps further into the water, bending at the waist to splash some higher up on his legs, hoping to get used to it faster. He knows he’s being a bit sensual about it, what with the way he’s arching his back and all. 

And he knows he has eyes on him, just can’t tell whose. 

“Mate, I think you’ve got his attention.”

Well. There’s his answer.

“You think so?” Louis stands straight again, running his wet hands over his lower back and down to his arse. “Or should I maybe try to tease him a bit more?”

Louis sees Harry out of the corner of his eye when he turns to look more at Niall. And the man is not being conspicuous in the slightest. His eyes are set on Louis, not straying for a second, and his mouth is just barely hanging open.

Teasing seems a bit trivial now that Louis’ seen that look. He’d much rather Harry walk over here to drag him out of sight. Not to be dramatic, but Louis would do anything that man asked him to do. He knows that now, for sure, after the way Harry was so kind last night. 

Louis hadn’t expected him to be rude once he found out Louis’ past, it’s just that most men he’s known have always said he looks so weak. 

He is not weak. 

“Nialler.”

Niall makes an unintelligible sound in response, most likely preoccupied with cleaning his dick. 

“You think I can get him to fuck me before we go to battle in two days?”

He hears Niall snort. “I think you can get him to fuck you tonight.”

Louis perks up at that, letting his posture go more relaxed and loose; Zayn would call him dainty when he’s like this. 

“You’ve just made my day, Niall.”

Niall doesn’t get to say anything before Louis hears his name being called. He turns to see Harry gesturing for him to go over to him. 

Louis arches a brow, stepping deeper into the water so that it goes past his waist. If Harry wants to talk, he can come over here. He watches as Harry huffs and begins to trudge through the water to get closer. 

“Are you doing that on purpose?” is the first thing he says, voice more gruff than usual.

Coyly, Louis tilts his head. “Doing what?” He pushes a piece of hair off his face after, letting his hand run down the side of his neck and down to his chest. Harry’s attention diverts to his pert, pink nipple. 

“You are,” Harry breathes. “Why are you doing this to me?”

A smile—genuine this time—blooms on Louis’ lips. He reaches forward, resting his hand on the center of Harry’s chest. “Just thought you’d like a nice view. My way of saying thank you for being a gentleman last night.”

“No ulterior motive? Just showing yourself off to me?”

Harry’s hair looks a bit silly when it’s wet. It’s out of its usual bun and the curls aren’t very noticeable now. Louis almost pouts at that. 

“There might be an ulterior motive,” Louis says quietly, “but I think it would benefit both of us quite nicely.”

His hand drifts further down, just the tips of his fingers on Harry’s skin. Harry grabs his hand just as he’s gotten to the trail of hair down below. “Can’t do this in front of the men I help lead, Louis.”

And. That makes Louis think about what the others are seeing when they look over at them. Harry towering over him, strands of hair falling forward; Louis looking up at him with wide eyes and a wet mouth. 

They probably look like they’re two seconds away from fucking. 

“Do you have any oil on you, Harry? In your bag?”

Harry nods shallowly. 

“You’ll have less after tonight. Does that sound like a plan to you?”

Again, Harry nods.

“Good. Know you’ll take care of me,” Louis murmurs, soothing a hand up and down Harry’s arm. “Now go back over to the prince and let me clean myself.”

Inevitably, Harry nods, and then slowly backs away.

This will be a good night, Louis thinks. Very good.

⚔

   H

Harry’s only been able to think of one thing since The Incident. He had wanted to try to talk to Liam more today, just for the sake of speaking to his best friend. 

Alas, Louis has invaded his mind ever since they stopped to bathe earlier in the day. The lingering voice of him saying “do you have any oil on you” playing on repeat in his mind. He had sounded so sweet, Harry remembers thinking. So delicate. 

And it’s all he can make himself think about now. Liam seems to notice as well because he stopped trying to talk to Harry and just keeps looking at him with little smirks instead. 

Harry can’t bring himself to be annoyed with the prince, not when they’re so close to setting up camp for the night. It should only be an hour or so more before the sun starts setting and Liam gives the order to settle.

He hears Liam start talking again and finally rolls his eyes. “Liam, please stop talking.”

“What are you so busy thinking about?” Liam asks with a snicker. He knows very well what Harry is thinking about. 

“Fuck you.”

“Could it be Louis? Is that who you’re thinking about?”

Abruptly, Harry reaches out to smack the prince on the shoulder. “He is right behind us, you know.” 

“That is exactly why I’m speaking so loudly, Harry,” Liam says. “It’s only fair that he knows how much time you spend with him on your mind.”

“ Or, I could just tell him tonight how much I think of him.”

“Well,” Liam says brightly, “now you don’t have to, because he can definitely hear us judging by the way he’s blushing.”

Harry turns, slower than he wants to, to see Niall nudging and laughing at a red-faced Louis. Harry feels his chest grow warm.

 ⚔

Harry’s sitting in his tent, anxious. He has his tin of oil clutched tightly in his hand and an unprompted hard-on in his trousers. It seems that just the knowledge that he’ll soon be inside Louis is enough to get him going.

Except, Harry doesn’t know when Louis will be coming to meet him. Or if the smaller man wanted to do it behind the tent since that’s where they usually sit or if he would want to be inside the tent for more privacy.

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t end up having to make a decision, because Louis steps through the open flap, ties it shut, then begins to remove his clothing. 

“I’d like you to get naked right now, please. The foreplay will be much more fun if I can feel your skin.”

Hurriedly, Harry slips his tunic off and then slides his trousers down his legs. He almost feels embarrassed that he’s already so hard, but with the sight of Louis’ not soft cock, he feels a bit better. Louis stands there for a moment, staring down at Harry, both of them naked. 

“How do you want me?” Louis mumbles, folding his hands together in front of him. 

Harry thinks about it, considers his cross-legged position on the floor, then says, “On my lap.” Louis does as he asks immediately, moving his legs apart so he’s straddling him, and holds on to Harry’s neck. “Good boy, thank you.”

The silence is almost definitely for the few seconds neither of them says anything. 

“I don’t do this often, by the way,” Louis says. “So, like, don’t think of me as a harlot, or, like, a—”

Louis isn’t able to finish that sentence, cut off by Harry’s wide, wet mouth covering his. Harry licks in, immediately reveling in the taste of this man. He moves his hands to settle on Louis’ hips, gripping the skin so tight he may end up leaving bruises. 

“You’re so hot, you know that?” Harry mumbles against Louis’ lips. “So beautiful.”

Louis smiles into the next few kisses and begins to rock his hips against Harry’s. 

Feeling the strain in his back muscles, Harry tells Louis that he’s gonna lay back, and they slowly lower to the ground, lips attached the whole time. 

They move slowly together, languid. Like they have all the time in the world when they most definitely do not. It feels like heaven when Harry detaches his lips from Louis’ and moves on to his neck; Harry is sure that Louis’ moans are that of an angel’s. 

Harry feels a churn in his gut when he finally slides an oiled finger into Louis, swallowing the man’s gasps to keep the others from hearing him. 

As if that feeling wasn’t overwhelming enough, he feels like his heart may actually be burning when he positions the head of his cock at Louis’ hole, and Louis whispers, with his blue eyes nearly black with desire, “Take me as you please, Harry. I’m yours as long as you’ll have me.”

The feeling of Louis is like nothing he’s ever felt before. Warm, tight, and clenching every time Harry hits that special spot inside of him. He feels hot with the way Louis is panting into his ear as Harry talks about all the things he would do to Louis if they had more time, if they were somewhere else. 

“I would make you mine in every way possible.”

And it’s that that pushes them both over the edge. With the remnants of the promise weighing over both of the men and the words hanging hot and tangible in the air, Louis comes with a breathy sigh on both of their chests, and Harry follows by pulling out just in time to cover Louis’ arse.

They lay there, taking deep breaths, for a long while. 

“You don’t happen to have something to wipe us off with, do ya?” Louis breaks the bubble they had, a small smile on his lips. 

Harry lets out a breathy laugh. “I do, yeah. It’s just to the right of me.”

After cleaning themselves off and slipping just their trousers back on, Louis lies cuddled into Harry’s side, head resting on his chest. 

Harry’s quiet as Louis starts rambling, something about what Niall was saying earlier in the day. He thinks he wants to share the reason for all of this with Louis. The whole reason. He imagines Louis’ figured out that Harry wants to be the king after all this, but he should know why. 

“Hey, Lou?”

Louis, though he’s just been interrupted, calmly says, “Yes, Harry?”

“I, um, I think I’d like to share the reason we’re doing all this. Like, going to war with Cheshire.”

“Alright, love. I’m listening.” Louis starts rubbing a hand over Harry’s chest, right above his heart, like he knows Harry will need the comfort. 

It’s hard finding the right place to start. He can’t just say, “My mother was Princess Anne of Cheshire.”

Oh. Well, he can do exactly that apparently, considering he just did. 

“Which, obviously, means Desmond was my father. And, contrary to what you might’ve heard, my father did not kill my mother. Or, maybe you haven’t heard that. I just know that some of the soldiers think that’s what happened.

“Anyway, what actually happened is much worse. Aldrich never liked that my mother was so giving towards the people. Even before she was gone, he was greedy and stubborn. So, he did the only thing he could think of, I guess. I heard him discussing it with one of his councilmen one night; the only way to gain true control and power over the kingdom is to get rid of Anne.”

Pausing to inhale a shaky breath, Harry tries to focus on Louis’ soft breaths and the hand on his chest. He reaches up, twining his fingers with Louis’. 

“So, he poisoned her food one night. A night in which my father was cooking for her because it was their anniversary. If the food being poisoned was what killed the princess, then who else could it have been other than my father, right?” Harry scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s what Aldrich said the next day in the council room.

“And, killing someone, especially killing someone of royal blood, can only result in execution. That very day, in the dungeon of the castle, so that the people wouldn’t know, they killed my father. And I knew they would kill me and Gemma too. So we left. While the entire castle was distracted with coming up with a plausible story to tell the people, we packed our bags and fled.”

He takes a moment to breathe. “We went to a woman that our mother knew, Joan. We knew her when she lived in the capital, but she was banished just a year before everything happened because she started a riot against the king. He had just executed her son for something he didn’t do. Anyway, she practically raised us for the few years we stayed with her. We’d talked to Liam through letters during that time. He always said we could go stay with him if we wanted, so after three years or so, we did.”

Louis’ holding Harry’s hand a little tighter by the time he finishes. “He won’t be king by the time we’re done with him.”

Harry feels a small smile creep upon him. “Yeah?”

Humming, Louis nuzzles into Harry’s neck. “He’ll be lucky if he still has his legs.”

And that makes Harry let out a loud burst of laughter, only because he knows how unrealistic that is. Besides, he already has plans for the king and his family. “Gonna go all out just for me?”

“Of course. As I said, I don’t let just anyone get up in my arse”—Louis presses a kiss to his neck—“I’ll do anything you need me to do.”

Harry squeezes the man closer. “An angel,” he murmurs. 

“Wait,” Louis says suddenly. “You were that curly boy that always watched me train, then. You always sat right up against the outside of the castle.”

“I’m not admitting to anything.” Harry throws an arm over his face to block Louis from seeing the flush that’s rising. 

Louis giggles. “Oh, darling, it’s okay to say you were obsessed with me even when we didn’t know each other.”

Harry guesses he was a bit obsessed with Louis when he was still training to be a knight. After all, he did take time out of his day to see the boy beat the other knights. It’s like he was born to fight, even though it was evident he didn’t want to actually kill his opponents. Which was proven during the attack the other day.

His brows scrunch in concern when he thinks of that. 

“Lou, you know we’ll be at our place of battle in just two days, maybe less, right? We’ll get there late in the evening.”

“Hm, yes, I know that.”

“And the king’s men will, hopefully, be there the next day.”

Louis throws one of his legs over one of Harry’s. “Yes, Harry, I am aware.”

Trying to approach the topic delicately, Harry softly says, “My love, there is a chance you may end up killing someone, whether you mean to or not.”

He feels Louis smile against his neck. “Doesn’t sound so bad when you call me your love in the same sentence.”

“Louis,” Harry says sternly.

With a sigh, Louis leans up on an elbow so that he’s looking down at Harry. “I know. I know I may end up killing someone. I know someone may end up killing you. I know someone may end up killing me. People have to die for one side to win. I know that. I’m ready for that.”

“If you say so, Lou. I just remember how you were the first time it happened.”

Louis pouts. “You can’t expect everyone to be naturally okay with killing people. Especially not if it was the first time they’ve ever done it.”

Harry smiles. “Alright, I believe you. Just wanted to check in with you. Everyone has the option to back out no matter how close to battle we are. In the middle of battle, if they so wish. This is mostly for me.”

“I don’t think anyone will be backing out. They all seem to hate King Aldrich. And the majority also assume you’ll be the new king if you live through the battle, and they all seem mostly okay with it.”

“Mostly?”

Louis gives him a bored look. “They hardly know what type of leader you’ll be. You’ll get their approval once you become a good king.”

Harry lets himself just look at Louis for a couple of seconds, one of the few times he’s actually looked into Louis’ eyes. “Where do you think you’ll end up after this?”

“Definitely not in Braedon,” Louis jokes. “Though Zayn may have some problems with that.”

“Lou,” Harry nudges Louis’ nose with his own. “Seriously.”

Sighing with a smile still present on his lips, Louis closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Harry’s. “If not by your side, Harry, then somewhere in the capital where you can easily find me.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

“You gonna tell the prince about me?” Louis asks. 

Harry’s face scrunches up. “Call him Liam. I’ve already told him about you, and I’m pretty sure you know that.”

Louis smiles, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. Moving on, he says, “You’ll have to let me be a knight again, once you’re king.”

Ignoring him, Harry rolls them both so that Louis is on his back and Harry is half on top of him. This way, he knows Louis won’t leave in the middle of the night. At least, not without Harry knowing. 

“Will you?” Louis asks. 

Harry nods. “Of course. Now sleep.”

“Whatever,” Louis huffs, squirming a little more before he settles.

⚔

   L

Louis should’ve waited until a better time to let Harry put his cock in his arse. It would’ve been fine, really, if Harry hadn’t been the size of a third leg. And no, that is not an overstatement. Louis stands by the fact that Harry’s dick is at least a foot long.

Harry says otherwise, and maybe he would know better, but Louis thinks his arse disagrees.

Nothing is comfortable. Riding Miso isn’t comfortable, walking isn’t comfortable, standing isn’t comfortable. Louis hates Harry. 

“I hate him.”

Niall snorts next to him. Louis decided minutes ago that walking feels better than riding Miso. Absently, he pats the horse’s side. 

“No, you don’t. You hate yourself for letting him put it in.”

“Wrong. I quite enjoyed the act itself. I’m not much of a fan of the aftermath, though.”

Shrugging, Niall says, “Can’t win it all, mate. Just feel lucky that it didn’t happen the night before the battle.”

Louis grumbles to himself about how maybe Harry should just have a smaller cock. 

As if Harry can hear his thoughts, the man turns to look back at Louis and chuckles at his scowling face. 

“His fucking fault and he’s fucking laughing. Such a dick.”

Niall rolls his eyes and moves to talk to other people. Which, while understandable since Louis is consistently talking about his own arse, is quite offensive.

Whatever. As if he needs Niall to walk with him. He’s entertained enough with Miso, thank you very much.

It’s hardly an hour later when Louis has concluded that Miso is not entertaining him as much as Niall does. In fact, he doesn’t even laugh at Louis’ jokes. All this has resulted in is Louis delving too deep into his own thoughts. 

Louis does plan on moving back to Cheshire once Harry is king — really, even if Harry doesn’t make it and someone else ends up as king — but he knows Zayn is attached to Braedon. It honestly hurts just to think of the argument they’ll have about it when they finally see each other again. 

And the argument they’ll have about Harry might be just as big. In the end, Louis knows what he wants out of life, and, while he’d rather Zayn be with him for it, he’ll do it without him if he has to. He can’t go back to Braedon after this—it’s not who he’s meant to be. 

The only reason he hasn’t been living in Cheshire this entire time is because of what the king did to his family and what he would’ve done to Louis.

He hopes that Zayn will join him or at least support him. 

Louis can be a knight, though. A fair and just one, unlike the usual cruel men that the king trains. 

⚔

Later that day, when a few men go through the town they’re passing to gather more supplies, Louis sneaks in with them. He’s small enough to not be noticed and Harry’s distracted with other things.

It’s not like he’s planning to steal a bunch of things; he doesn’t even need anything other than the food Harry is probably buying right now. 

All he wants is to get Harry a small gift, something that will maybe portray how he feels about the bigger man. Something that Harry will know that it means something more as soon as he sees it. Something… bold, or bright. Something just like that, Louis thinks, spotting a beautiful ring at someone’s booth.

He walks over, not bothering to try to hide since he knows he’ll have enough money for it. It’s beautiful, is the thing. It reminds him of Harry. Nothing too exciting, but perfect.

He hands over the amount and grabs the ring without another thought. 

Even if the ring doesn’t fit Harry, Louis hopes the man will keep it with him.

⚔

“It’s been much too long since I’ve trained. I feel like I’m about to fall apart and it’s mostly your fault.”

Louis’ been grumbling about how much he aches ever since he settled down in the grass behind Harry’s tent not long ago. Harry, being the gentleman that he is, had covered Louis with a jacket since there’s a light breeze in the air. 

“Don’t think I’ll take that blame, considering you were the one who proposed we have sex in the first place.”

Glaring, Louis says, “You could’ve denied me.”

Above him, Harry smiles. The man is laid back, propped up on his elbows, and Louis is nuzzled into his side. Louis feels Harry’s hand comb through his hair. “Now, why would I have done that?” He murmurs. 

“Because you don’t want me to die during battle due to a sore arse,” Louis snaps. 

He’s not actually mad, just playing it up in order to get more affection out of Harry. And he sort of likes the way the man gets protective over him. “I wouldn’t let you die while you’re limping around the field.”

“Good to know.”

Louis feels Harry stop moving from where he’s laying, as if the man stops breathing for a moment. “Do you think we’ll win?”

“Yes,” Louis answers without hesitation.

“Do you think all of us will win?”

Sighing, Louis realizes what he actually means. “It wouldn’t be a battle if no one died, Harry.”

Louis knows that’s not entirely true. Even if no one on both sides died, it would still be a battle. But, considering the ruthlessness of King Aldrich and his soldiers, there’s no point in hoping for the best. There will be deaths, on both sides, and it won’t be only a few. 

Prince Liam will likely have to recruit more soldiers, maybe even knights if any of them die too. 

“You don’t have to worry about all the men, love. Prince Liam will handle it when the battle is over.”

Harry hums. “Told you that you can call him Liam.”

“He’s the prince of Wolverhampton, Harry.”

“And if I become King of Cheshire. Will you call me King Harry?’

Louis scowls into Harry’s side. “That’s different.”

“How so?”

“Haven’t had his dick up my arse, have I?”

He peeks up at Harry then and sees the man with a frown on his face. “I’d hope not.”

Louis giggles, shoving his face back into Harry’s side. He’s absolutely enamored with this man and he can’t even bring himself to feel annoyed by how quickly it happened. Who was he to resist the kindness of Harry? His natural charm, his curly hair, his enchanting eyes? 

Really, if Louis had thought more about it in the beginning, he was helpless the whole time.

“You’re cute,” he says, voice muffled. 

“I quite like you, you know,” Harry says. “You’ll come visit me at the castle, yes? If you aren’t living there?”

“‘Course I’ll visit. But… why would I be living there?” 

After all, there have never been two kings of one kingdom before. Who says Harry wants to be the first to change that?

“I can think of a few reasons why,” Harry smirks and Louis nudges him, looking up with wide eyes that say like what? “I’ll tell you after the battle tomorrow, my love. Nothing for you to worry about until then.”

Louis pouts silently. Whatever. Niall would tell him anything. Which. Oh. Does Harry expect him to go back to Niall to sleep tonight?

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“Where do you think I’ll be sleeping tonight?”

Shuffling down and off of his elbows, Harry pulls Louis so that he’s laying completely on top of him. Louis smiles down at him.

“I’d like to think you’d be sleeping just like this, but we’d be in my tent instead. Why do you ask?”

Feeling a blush rise to his cheeks, Louis ducks down into Harry’s neck. It’s hard not to get red when Harry stares like that. “Was just wondering.” There’s a moment of silence before Louis remembers the ring that’s sitting in his pocket. “Oh. I got you something today.”

Harry’s mouth drops open as he watches Louis dig around in his pocket for a moment. “You... you got me something?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods, pulling the ring out. “Here. It reminded me of you.”

Louis avoids looking at the man as Harry takes the ring from him, slipping it onto his ring finger on his right hand. The silence is thick, at least to Louis, and he feels like he could crawl out of his skin any second now. 

“Lou…” Harry murmurs. He grabs Louis’ chin, tilting his head up to look at him. “A rose ring made you think of me?”

Shyly, Louis nods. He’s aware that most everyone associates roses with love and romance. It’s exactly what he intended, he just isn’t too fond of being called out on it. 

“You’re so lovely,” Harry says, diving in for a deep kiss. 

Louis’ cheeks stay pink after that. 

They make their way into Harry’s tent a bit later, cuddled close under the minimal amount of blankets Harry has.

Louis falls asleep with a warm heart and a worried mind.

The night may have been wonderful and sweet, but they’re still sleeping next to the field that will be covered in blood by the end of the next day.

⚔

   H

The sun is barely rising by the time Harry wakes up to clangs of metal and heavy footsteps. Lots of heavy footsteps. They don’t sound incredibly close, but they are much too close for comfort. 

He rushes to get up, grabbing his sword from beside him before he’s scrambling out of the tent. He knows Louis’ probably disoriented and confused right now, but the small man will figure out what’s happening sooner rather than later. 

King Aldrich’s men have arrived earlier than expected. 

Liam’s already up, chainmail on and sword resting heavily against his hip, waiting to be drawn. 

Walking up next to him, Harry grabs the second set of armor that Liam had the canny mind to bring with him to his spot. He knew that Liam was carrying extra for him, but it hadn’t really crossed his mind how much he’ll need it when the time comes.

“Volunteers don’t have armor,” Liam says, voice quiet but steady. “You look out for them, for Louis. Don’t worry about me or Gemma. Niall will be looking out for Louis as well, I know he will.” There’s a pause before, “Just stay alive.”

Right. Louis won’t have armor. Or a sword. All he’ll have is the dagger that he brought with him. And, while Harry strongly believes that Louis could win almost any fight, this is a much bigger battle than he’s ever experienced. Training doesn’t prepare someone for when multiple people try to attack them at once.

He’ll look out for Louis then. No problem. He probably wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off of him anyway. 

“Gemma waking everyone up?” Harry asks.

Liam nods. “Some woke up to the sound of them, it’s mostly just the men further back.”

A warm body sidles up next to Harry and, without looking, he reaches down to grab Louis’ hand. 

“I think we’ve got this,” Niall says from the other side of Louis. His Irish accent is always refreshing, even if Harry was a bit jealous of him at first.

“We’ve definitely got this,” Louis agrees. “It’s either we win or we suffer lifelong embarrassment.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Liam says.

Now, Harry doesn’t mean to be emotional, he really doesn’t, but he’s got his best friend, the man that he will probably end up falling in love with, and one of that man’s best friends next to him and even with the knowledge that they are all facing death, he couldn’t be happier with who he’s doing it with.

He tries to ignore Louis looking up at him with curious eyes. “Are you crying, Harry?”

Pursing his lips, Harry says, “Pretty sure it’s raining.”

It’s not even close to raining. 

Soon enough, the four men, plus Gemma now that she’s made her way to them, are standing somewhere near the middle of the field with a legion of men behind them. 

All it takes to start the battle is a hidden archer shooting someone in the chest.

⚔

Swords are clanging together, shields being brought up to block blows, and Harry has never felt more alive. This moment is the one he’s been waiting for since he was fourteen years old. 

Behind him, Louis is doing his best to severely injure but not kill anyone. 

Harry has a grin on his face. 

He’s seen a few men of Liam’s go down, but not enough to predict who will end up winning and definitely not enough to get his spirits down. He can feel the overall upbeat energy radiating from nearly all his men that surround him. 

Bringing the arm that’s holding his sword to the opposite side of his body, Harry swings it out full force, leaving deep gashes in the torso of any man in front of him. He grabs the chainmail of one of the men, hauling him closer to use as a shield. 

What he fails to notice is that a man is coming for him on his defenseless side. He winces away out of instinct, ready to feel some pain, but sees Louis step in between them, holding his dagger like it’s mightier than the sword the soldier is holding. 

Harry watches only long enough to see that the soldier laughs a bit at Louis, but then he’s forced to continue fighting the men that Louis left unoccupied when he stepped in to save Harry. 

It feels like the battle lasts forever, the sun rising steadily overhead. Harry’s beginning to sweat more now that heat is a factor and he wishes he was able to take a drink of water. 

He fights without thought, paying only enough attention to his men and Louis to know where they are. Taking each blow lightly, it’s easy for him to kick out a leg to make his opponent stumble; the perfect moment of weakness.

Thrusting his sword forward every time a soldier evades his first strike proves to be one of the most useful things he learned all those years ago.

Anyone that comes at him goes down with three strikes or less — kudos to Liam’s training, Harry thinks — before he’s moving on to the next one. It’s only when, for a brief moment, Harry gets distracted by Liam crying out in pain that he isn’t on guard. 

He feels a sword sink into his gut and his head snaps to look at who’s done it. It’s not anyone Harry knows, obviously, but he can see a glint of pride in the man’s eyes. 

“Harry!” Louis screams. 

It’s hard to see, his vision fading out every few seconds, but Harry watches in awe as Louis takes down every soldier around him with ease in an effort to get closer to Harry — to protect Harry. 

Holding his stomach, Harry tries to keep pressure on his wound. Keep pressure or you’ll bleed out. It was one of the first things Liam taught him when he got injured during a duel. Keep pressure or you’ll bleed out.

“Gemma!” Louis shouts, “Cover Liam!” 

Keep pressure or you’ll bleed out. He repeats the phrase to himself over and over, the grounding vice to a wounded soldier. It feels like just a few minutes later when Harry can finally hear the sound of birds chirping in the trees, but he knows it must’ve been closer to an hour. He can also hear Louis cursing to himself, cutting off an entire pant leg to wrap around Harry’s middle, trying to lessen the amount of blood coming out. 

Louis’ mumbling to himself now, something about can’t believe you let Liam distract you, and he lets himself smile. 

Before he can say something overly sappy, Niall comes bounding over. “I can help; I’ve got stuff to stitch him up with.”

“You’re the one who takes care of the wounded?” Louis sounds baffled. 

“I prefer the term physician.”

Harry closes his eyes, lets himself feel Louis as the smaller man helps him lay back in the grass. He knows there must be bodies all around him, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. 

“Won’t it hurt him to stick a needle in him while he’s awake?”

“Haven’t got any numbing stuff, mate. Best knock him out if you don’t want him to feel pain.”

There’s a moment of silence, one where Harry assumes Louis is contemplating the idea before he feels the hilt of a sword come down on his head. 

By the time he wakes up again, men are walking all around him. He leans up onto his elbows, observing the area. There are bodies all over, some just unconscious due to getting stitched, and some not. One discerning factor is that most of them are wearing red. 

Liam’s men wear purple.

They won. 

“We won.”

“Of course we won,” a snappy voice comes from behind him. “You’d do well not to get stabbed next time.”

Harry tilts his head back, looking at Louis upside down. He grins. Louis is covered in dirt and dried blood; his hair messy and missing an entire pant leg. He’s perfect.  

“You look so beautiful after you’ve just helped me win what could’ve been war.”

Louis glares. “I did plenty more helping while you were sitting there, helpless, with a wound almost as small as me.”

“Come here,” Harry murmurs. Louis sounds mad but doesn’t look it. Once he’s sat down next to Harry, he continues speaking. “Are you mad at me?”

Huffing, Louis folds his arms across his legs. “No. Was only worried about you. And for some reason, your men decided to listen to me instead of Gemma, so I had to throw around a bunch of orders like I knew what I was doing.”

“I’m sure you did great.” Harry holds his hand out for Louis to take and breathes a sigh of relief when his fingers slip through Harry’s larger ones. 

“Not great. But I got things done.”

⚔

Harry’s holding the tip of his sword to the king’s neck. It had been easy enough to find him hiding in the council room. The defenses were dwindling, probably due to the battle. Knowing King Aldrich, he sent nearly all of his men to that battle, thinking they had a better chance of winning if more were there. Now, most of them will not be returning. 

Both Liam and Gemma had offered to confront the king with him but he declined both of them. Gemma didn’t take it personally, knowing that this is more Harry’s problem to deal with than hers. She may have experienced it all the same, but she got over it much sooner than Harry ever will.

Louis didn’t even offer to go in, which Harry is thankful for. He only leaned against the wall opposite the council room and demanded that someone find him a new pair of trousers sometime soon. 

So here Harry is, alone and glowering down at Aldrich. “Do you recognize me?” He looks pathetic, the king, trembling on his knees with fear smeared across his face.

He nods. 

“Do you remember what you did to my parents?”

He nods again. “Harry, I’m so sorry. Please— please don’t do anything. Don’t hurt me, you’re not thinking right.”

“I’m not thinking right?!” Harry yells. “Were you thinking right when you poisoned my mother and executed my father for your crime?” Aldrich opens his mouth to say something, but Harry continues. “You deserve far worse than what you did to them.” Harry’s barely-contained anger flushes off of him in waves, his grip on his sword tightening, the tip digging into the king’s throat.

“You can’t do anything to me, I’m the king. You’ll be hanged for harming me,” the king seethes. 

Harry smirks. “I won’t be touching you. Nor will I be touching your family.” Releasing his sword from his neck to point it towards him instead, Harry begins to walk around the king in circles. “You, Beverley, and Malcolm will go elsewhere.”

He can see the question in Aldrich’s eyes. Where?  

“You’ll be going back to Wolverhampton, with Prince Liam. You will be chained to the walls in the dungeon for the crimes you’ve committed and the entire kingdom will know of it.”

“You expect us to go with him?”

“I expect you to not be able to move much once we tie you up and throw you in a wagon.” Harry leans close to Aldrich’s face. “You will rot in that dungeon as you deserve.” Not letting Aldrich say anything else, Harry slams his fist down on the table to signal for Liam and the few soldiers that accompanied them to come in. “Have your way with him, Liam. The queen and their son are most likely hiding in the queen’s chambers.”

Walking out of the room with his head held high, Harry can’t help but feel like years of stress and anger have just been removed from his shoulders. He feels like he can finally breathe again. 

Stepping in front of Louis and Gemma where they’re standing together, Harry says, “We’ll tell the people what’s happening tomorrow. I’m hoping most of them will be open to the change.”

Gemma smiles at him. “Feeling good? You’ve finally reached the goal.”

“Yeah, ‘m feeling good,” Harry answers, but his eyes are set on Louis. He wants to talk to the other man about where they go from here. About what everything between them means.

Whatever Louis wants will be okay with Harry. Besides, Harry’s not at all opposed to being the first kingdom to have two kings. Just because it’s not common doesn’t mean it can’t become common. Harry would very much like to break the traditions. 

“Lou?” Harry says. “Wanna go talk somewhere?”

Louis looks up at him with wide eyes, nodding. 

Dipping his chin close to his chest, Harry turns on his heel and walks in the direction of where he knows there will be guest chambers. Upon getting there, he lays heavily on the bed and winces as the movement pulls on his stitches. He probably shouldn’t be on the bed at all, should bathe first, but he can’t bring himself to do anything more than this. 

He feels Louis lay down next to him. 

Without thinking about it, Harry says, “I could let you stay in here, you know.”

There’s a moment of confused silence before Louis says, “Huh?”

“If you were to let me court you, see if things would work between us. I could let you stay in this room if you wanted.”

Louis hums, seemingly thinking about it. “You could. But wouldn’t it be more fun to come and bring flowers to my house in the lower village every day? To court me publicly? I’d quite like it if you did that.”

Harry smiles. “Okay. We can do it that way.” He thinks about it for a second, continuing after. “Will Zayn be staying with you? I know how attached you both are to each other.”

And, while Harry can be an overly jealous individual, he would like it if Zayn stayed with Louis. Zayn seems like a good protector, so when Harry goes to sleep at night he would know his love is safe. 

Beside him, Louis sighs. “I’d like him to, but Braedon is his home. I’ll just have to see how it goes when I travel back there this coming week. I’ve gotta grab all my stuff and bring it here and all that.”

Everything about this moment feels right. Laying with Louis, eyes closed, fingers brushing against the others between them, talking about anything that comes to mind. 

Harry had never really thought or worried about his love life before. With his mind consumed by thoughts of overthrowing the king and taking his place, he didn’t really have time to think about it. Even now, there’s still so much to do. Gain the trust of the councilmen or find new ones. Start training the knights and soldiers to be less cruel. Tell the people what’s happening.

But none of it is enough to get thoughts of Louis out of his head. Thoughts of warmth and happiness and home. Nothing can overpower his thoughts of falling in love with him. These are the types of thoughts Liam would be happy to hear about it. Thoughts of Harry moving on with his life and being happy.

Idly, he fiddles with the rose ring Louis gave him. 

He’s never going to take it off. 

“Liam will be happy.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“You,” Harry says. “He’ll be happy that I’ve got something other than being king to think about.”

Louis giggles, moving so that he’s laying on his side. “Gonna be thinking about me often, then? I’ll be consuming your thoughts; you won’t even have time to think about being king.” Harry turns his head just enough to look into Louis’ eyes. He’s quiet for long enough that Louis speaks up again. “Which you’ll be great at, by the way. Being king, that is. You’re going to be amazing.”

Closing his eyes, Harry closes his hand around Louis’. “With you by my side, how could I not be?”