#princerry

You can see it in the way he hasn’t stirred, in how deeply he’s sleeping.

So you don’t wake him.

Instead, you slip out of bed carefully, moving as quietly as possible, and pull on your cloak before stepping outside.

The air is fresh, cool against your skin, carrying that early morning stillness that makes everything feel slower. For a moment, you just stand there, breathing it in, letting the quiet settle over you.

And then. You smile.

It’s small at first.

Then it grows.

Because despite everything…despite the soldiers, the posters, the risk, you feel… happy.

Giddy, almost.

There’s a lightness in your chest that doesn’t quite make sense given the circumstances, but it’s there anyway, impossible to ignore. You shake your head slightly at yourself, like you can’t quite believe it either.

Still smiling, you make your way down toward the lower part of the garden, near the bushes. Your hands move easily through the routine, c hecking leaves, adjusting stems, pulling away anything that shouldn’t be there.

At some point, you glance toward the berry bushes.

And the thought comes naturally.

Breakfast.

Something good. Something he doesn’t expect…

You move closer, brushing your fingers lightly over the ripe berries, selecting a few carefully, already thinking about what you can make.

For a few minutes, everything feels normal again.

Simple.

Quiet.

Safe.

Then.

You hear it.

At first, it’s distant.

A low, rhythmic sound that doesn’t belong to the morning.

Hooves.

Your head lifts slowly, your body going still as you listen.

More than one. A lot more. Your stomach drops. The sound grows louder, faster, unmistakable now as it climbs the hill toward you.

You turn.

And everything inside you goes cold.

Horses. Too many. Armor glinting under the morning light.

And the emblem…

You recognize it immediately.

Harry’s kingdom.

Everywhere.

Your breath catches.

For a split second, your mind scrambles, run, hide, scream, warn him, but before you can act, they’re already surrounding the lower part of the hill, cutting off every path.

You step back instinctively, your heart slamming against your ribs.

Think.

Think.

But there’s no time.

No space.

No escape.

A carriage rolls forward through the line of soldiers, wheels crunching softly against the dirt as it comes to a stop and the door opens.

And at first, you don’t understand what you’re seeing.

Because the figure that steps out…. It doesn’t make sense.

Not here. Not now.

Your breath leaves you in a sharp, broken inhale.

No….that’s….It can’t be.

But it is. Your sister.

Standing there, exactly as you remember and nothing like you expected, her presence hitting you harder than the soldiers, harder than the fear, harder than anything else.

Alive.

Here.

And before you can even process that, another figure steps out behind her.

The king.

Harry’s father.

The world tilts slightly.

Your thoughts scatter completely, replaced by something sharper, heavier, impossible to ignore.

Shock….pure, disorienting shock.

You don’t move. You can’t.

Your body feels rooted to the ground, your mind still trying to catch up to what your eyes are seeing. Your sister…your sister! She is suddenly right in front of you, closing the distance before you can even process it.

She rushes toward you and wraps her arms around you tightly.

“Oh my god… I’ve been so worried about you…” she breathes out, her voice rushed, almost trembling. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?”

Her grip is tight. Too tight.

And you don’t hug her back.

Your arms stay at your sides, stiff, your body not responding the way it should. This isn’t how you imagined it…not once, not ever. Not in the quiet nights when you wondered if she was alive, not in the moments you let yourself hope.

You thought it would feel… warm.

Relieving.

Instead, it feels wrong….

You slowly pull back, your eyes searching her face, trying to match this version of her with the one you’ve held onto all this time.

“You…” your voice falters slightly “How…?”

She’s still holding onto your arms, looking at you like she’s been reunited with something she lost.

“I saw you…” she says quickly. “In the flyers… they’ve been everywhere. I recognized you immediately and I… I had to come!”

The flyers.

Of course.

Your stomach twists.

You glance past her for a second, at the soldiers, at the carriage, at the king standing just behind them, watching everything unfold with a quiet, unreadable expression.

Then back at her.

Your brows knit together, confusion sharpening into something else.

“Why are you here?” you ask, more firmly now. “With them?”

She hesitates.

Just for a second.

But it’s enough.

“How did you even know where I was?” you continue, your voice tightening. “This place isn’t on any map, no one from the village would….”

You stop.

Because something clicks.

Not all at once.

But fast enough that it steals the air from your lungs.

Your eyes flicker back to her.

Then to the soldiers.

Then to the king.

Then back to her again.

And suddenly…It all makes sense.

A slow, sinking realization settles in your chest, heavy and cold.

“You knew,” you whisper.

She doesn’t answer.

Not immediately.

And that silence…. says everything.

Your expression changes.

The confusion fades, replaced by something sharper, something that hurts more than you expected. “You knew where I was this whole time,” you say, your voice steadier now, but colder. “All this time… you knew!!”

“Y/N, I…”

“And you only came now,” you cut in, your eyes not leaving hers. “When there’s a reward!”

Her face shifts, something defensive flickering across it.

“It’s not like that…”

“It is exactly like that!”

The words come out harsher than you intended, but you don’t take them back.

Because now you see it.

All of it.

The timing.The soldiers.The king. The flyers.

You take a step back.

“No” you shake your head, the realization settling deeper. “You didn’t find me.” Your voice drops. “You sold me”

Her expression tightens. “That’s not fair Y/n! ”

You don’t wait.

Instinct takes over.

You turn

Ready to run.

“Harry!”

But you don’t get the name out.

Hands grab you from behind, strong and immediate, yanking you back before you can take more than a step. Another hand clamps over your mouth, cutting off the sound before it can carry up the hill.

Your body thrashes instinctively, panic surging through you as you try to break free.

“No! mmph!!” Your voice is muffled, useless.

“Hold her,” one of the soldiers mutters.

You fight harder, your heart racing, your eyes darting toward the house…Toward him. But you’re already surrounded, already trapped.

Your sister stands there, watching, her expression unreadable now, caught somewhere between guilt and something you can’t quite place.

Your eyes burn as you look at her.

Waiting.

Hoping, still, somehow, that this isn’t what it looks like.

That she’ll say something. Do something.

Anything.

But instead…she exhales and smiles.

Not the shaky, worried smile from before.

Something else.

Something colder.

It’s subtle at first, just the way her lips curve slightly, the tension leaving her face as if she’s no longer pretending.

Then it settles fully.

A smirk.

Your chest tightens.

No.

Behind her, the king steps forward into clearer view, his presence commanding in a way that makes the soldiers around you straighten instinctively.

“Well done” he says, his voice smooth, measured. “I expected it might take longer….”

Your sister dips her head slightly, not out of respect, but acknowledgment.

“She wasn’t exactly hiding well…” she replies lightly.

The words hit harder than they should.

Like everything you built, your garden, your home, your small sense of safety, was nothing more than something temporary, something easy to break.

Your grip tightens uselessly against the soldier’s arm as you try to push free again, a muffled protest forcing its way past the hand over your mouth.

“Mmmph!”

Your sister finally looks at you again.

Really looks this time.

And whatever softness you once knew in her…It’s gone.

“You left me” she says.

The words cut through everything. Her expression hardens, something darker surfacing underneath.

“You ran” she continues, her voice sharper now, edged with something that has been building for a long time. “You got out. And you left me there!”

Your head shakes instinctively, trying to speak, to explain, but the pressure on your mouth only tightens.

“You don’t get to look at me like that!” she snaps when you struggle again. “Like I’m the one who betrayed you”

Your brows knit together, your eyes wide, desperate.

You try to pull free again, your voice muffled, useless “Mmph!”

“I had to stay” she continues, stepping closer now, her voice lowering but growing more intense. “I had to deal with them. With everything you ran from!”

Her jaw tightens.

“And you never came back”

The words land heavy.

Not entirely fair.

Not entirely wrong either.

Your eyes shake slightly, your head moving again as if you can force the words out, as if you can make her understand.

But you don’t get the chance.

She exhales sharply, like she’s done carrying it.

“Now” she says, her tone flattening again, “I get something out of it.”

The king steps closer, reaching into a small pouch at his side. The sound of coins shifting is quiet, but deafening in the silence between you.

He hands her a small weighty bag.

Your stomach drops.

She takes it.

Without hesitation.

Without even looking at you.

The sound of coins settling inside echoes louder than anything else.

She smiles.

A real one this time.

“Efficient” the king remarks. “I appreciate that.”

She nods slightly, already stepping back, already done.

Already finished with you.

Then he glances toward the cottage.

“Go on” he says calmly. “He’s probably still in there.”

Your entire body tenses.

No.

“I’ll send a carriage later” he adds, almost casually. “We can continue discussing the marriage arrangement.”

Marriage.

The word hits like a blow.

Your eyes widen instantly, panic surging back tenfold.

No.

NO.

Your entire body thrashes violently now, your muffled cries turning sharper, more frantic as you try to break free.

“MMPH!!!”

Harry.

He doesn’t know.

He’s still inside…

You try to scream his name, to make any sound that might reach him, but the soldier’s grip tightens, cutting off even the smallest chance.

“Take her” one of them orders.

And they do.

You’re dragged backward, your feet barely keeping up as they pull you away from the hill, away from the cottage, away from everything you built.

Your eyes lock onto it as long as you can…the door, the window, any sign of movement. Anything. But there’s nothing.

Your chest tightens painfully as you fight harder, your body twisting, your muffled cries growing weaker as distance replaces desperation.

Your sister doesn’t follow.

She stays where she is…. Watching.

And as they drag you further away, the only thing you can think is: He doesn’t know.

And by the time he does, It might already be too late.

The cottage still holds the quiet of early morning.

Inside, nothing has changed, at least not yet.

.

Harry stretches as he steps out from the bedroom, rolling his shoulders slightly, the lingering weight of sleep still clinging to him. For a brief second, there’s a softness in his expression, something almost content as he glances toward the doorway, half-expecting to see you moving about, maybe already in the kitchen, maybe smiling at him the way you had the night before.

But the house is empty.

Too empty.

He pauses.

Frowns.

“Y/N?” he calls lightly, his voice still rough from sleep.

No answer.

He steps further into the main space, eyes scanning quickly now, the table, the small kitchen, the door slightly ajar. Something about it feels… off.

Then.

The door creaks.

Harry turns sharply.

And freezes.

A woman steps inside like she belongs there.

For a split second, he just stares.

Confusion flickers across his face, his brows pulling together as his body instinctively straightens, alert now.

“Who are you?” he asks, his tone firm, guarded.

The woman doesn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she looks at him.

And then she smiles.

“Oh,” she says lightly, almost amused. “You must be him.”

Harry doesn’t move.

His gaze sharpens.

“…Him?” he repeats.

She waves a hand dismissively, stepping further inside as if the question doesn’t matter.

“I’m y/n’s sister! Grace” she says, her tone softening just enough to sound believable. 

That. That makes him hesitate.

Because now that he looks closer, there’s resemblance.

Not identical, but enough. The shape of her features, the way her eyes hold a certain familiarity.

Still…Something doesn’t sit right.

Harry doesn’t relax.

He watches her carefully as she moves through the space, too comfortable, too casual for someone who just arrived.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

She sighs softly, like the question is expected.

“It wasn’t easy…” she says, glancing around the cottage. “I’ve been looking for her for a while now. Word travels, you know… especially with everything that’s been going on.”

His jaw tightens slightly.

“What do you mean?”

She pauses just enough to make it feel intentional, then looks back at him with something that resembles concern.

“The flyers” she says. “The kingdom’s been searching. It’s hard to miss.”

Harry’s chest tightens.

But he doesn’t show it.

Not fully.

Instead, he takes a small step forward.

“Where is she?”

The question is immediate.

Direct.

Her smile doesn’t falter, but something behind it shifts.

“She left” she says.

The words land flat.

Wrong.

Harry’s expression hardens instantly.

“…Left…” he repeats.

“Yes,” she continues, her tone almost casual now. “She does that.”

Something in his posture shifts.

Dangerously quiet.

“What does that mean?”

She tilts her head slightly, studying him now, like she’s trying to decide how much to say.

“She runs,” she replies simply. “That’s what she does when things get complicated...”

Harry’s brows furrow deeper.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

She lets out a small, almost amused exhale.

“Doesn’t it?” she counters. “You don’t know her like I do.”

“I know her enough” he says, his voice sharper now.

“Do you?” she presses, stepping closer.

There’s something calculated in the way she moves, in the way her gaze lingers just a second too long.

“She left me once too…” she adds, softer now. “Didn’t even look back”

Harry doesn’t react immediately.

But his eyes don’t leave hers.

“She wouldn’t leave without saying anything…” he says finally.

There’s certainty in it.

Not doubt.

Not confusion.

Certainty.

And that

That irritates her.

She masks it quickly, though, letting out a quiet sigh as she crosses her arms.

“You’d be surprised what people are capable of…” she says.

Harry shakes his head once.

“No.” The answer is simple. Firm. “She wouldn’t.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then she shifts tactics.

Her expression softens again, her posture relaxing as she steps even closer, close enough now that the intention behind it is clearer.

“Welll…” she says lightly, “maybe she didn’t think she had a reason to stay….”

Harry doesn’t move.

Doesn’t respond.

His gaze flickers briefly to the open door.

Then back to her.

“You’re lying.” he says.

Her smile tightens slightly.

“I’m not—”

“You are” he cuts in, his voice steady, controlled. “You’re not worried. You’re not confused. You walked in here like you already knew she wouldn’t be here.”

That hits.

For a second, she doesn’t answer.

And that’s all he needs.

His chest tightens, something darker settling in.

“Where is she?” he asks again.

This time, there’s no softness in it.

No room for deflection.

She studies him for a moment longer.

Then.

She smiles again.

But this time, there’s nothing warm about it.

“You’re smarter than you look,” she says quietly.

Harry’s jaw clenches.

“What did you do?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, she lets her gaze travel over him slowly, deliberately, like she’s noticing him for the first time in a different way.

“I understand why she wanted to help…” she murmurs.

Harry’s expression hardens instantly.

“Don’t.”

She steps closer anyway.

“You’re not what I expected…” she continues, her voice softer now, almost coaxing. “But I suppose that makes things more interesting.”

“I said don’t” he repeats, sharper now.

She stops.

But she doesn’t back away.

“You don’t have to stay here,” she says, her tone shifting again, more deliberate now. “Not for someone who runs when things get difficult…”

Harry lets out a quiet, humorless breath.

“You don’t know anything” he says.

Her eyes narrow slightly.

“I know enough too”

“No” he replies, his voice low now. “You don’t.”

There’s a pause.

A shift.

Something in the air changes.

Because now

He’s sure…whatever she is, whatever she’s done. It has nothing to do with you leaving, and everything to do with something being taken.

His gaze flicks to the door again.

To the path outside.

Then back to her.

“If something happened to her….” he starts.

She interrupts him.

“Something did happen” she says simply.

His stomach drops.

But before he can move she adds, almost casually…

“You’re already too late.”

And that.

That’s the moment everything inside him shifts.

She doesn’t back away.

If anything, she leans into it.

That same smile, sharp, calculated, returns to her lips as she watches the realization settle over him, watches the shift in his expression from confusion to something far more dangerous.

“You don’t have to look at me like that Harry…” she says lightly, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve. “I’m not your enemy here”

Harry lets out a quiet, humorless breath.

“You walked into her home” he says, voice low, controlled. “You lied. And now she’s gone.”

“Gone?” she repeats, tilting her head. “Or did she just do what she always does?”

His jaw tightens.

“She didn’t leave!”

“You don’t know that!” she presses. “You’ve known her, what…a few days??”

“Enough”

“For you” she says. “Not for reality.”

She turns away from him then, stepping toward the open door like the conversation bores her now, like she’s already decided how this ends.

Harry watches her every movement.

Tense.

Waiting.

She steps outside, the morning light catching on her expression as she looks out over the garden.

Your garden.

And something in her face shifts again, something colder, more dismissive.

“This is what she chose?” she says, almost to herself. “A hill, a few plants, a life no one sees?”

Harry follows her to the doorway, his gaze hard.

“She built this.”

“She settled for this…” your sister corrects, stepping further into the rows of vegetables. “There’s a difference”

Her foot comes down carelessly.

Crushing a line of delicate greens beneath her heel.

Harry freezes.

Then something snaps.

“Stop!”

The word is sharp.

Immediate.

She glances back at him, unbothered.

“It’s just a garden…relax” she says.

His eyes flick to the broken plants, then back to her.

“It’s not yours”

She exhales, almost amused, and takes another step, careless again, deliberate this time.

Another plant bends under her weight.

“That’s exactly my point!” she says. “None of this matters.”

Harry moves forward quickly now, his restraint thinning.

“Get out of it!”

Her brows lift slightly at his tone.

“There’s more out there!” she continues, ignoring him. “More than this small life she trapped herself in. And you!” she turns to face him fully now, stepping closer “you don’t belong here either”

“I’m not staying just for the garden!” he says, his voice tight.

“No” she agrees softly. “You’re staying for her…but honey she’s gone.”

Silence.

Heavy.

“You don’t know that” he repeats.

“I do” she says simply.

Harry studies her.

Every word.

Every movement.

And the more she talks

The clearer it becomes.

This isn’t concern.

This isn’t truth.

It’s manipulation.

“She didn’t run…” he says, quieter now, but certain.

Your sister’s smile falters.

Just slightly.

“She always runs.”

“Not from me.”

That irritates her.

You can see it now, the crack in the act, the way her patience thins just a little.

“You’re naive!” she says flatly.

“And you’re lying!”

The words land harder this time.

For a second, neither of them moves.

Then she exhales sharply, dropping the softness completely.

“Fine,” she says. “Believe what you want….”

Harry doesn’t wait.

He turns.

Fast.

Heading straight for the side of the cottage, toward where Daisy is tethered.

His movements are quick, purposeful, no hesitation left now, no doubt.

He’s going after you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she calls after him.

He doesn’t answer.

Doesn’t slow down.

“Harry!” she tries again, her tone shifting, sharper now. “Think about this.”

He reaches Daisy, grabbing the reins, already moving to mount.

“I am!” he snaps. “And I’m done listening to you”

She steps forward, frustration flashing openly now.

“You don’t even know where to look”

“Oh I know exactly where….”

He swings himself onto the horse, gripping tightly, his focus already beyond her, beyond the cottage, beyond everything except one thing…Finding you.

And that’s when…the sound of wheels….another carriage. Harry’s head snaps toward the path and your sister’s expression changes instantly.

The frustration disappears.

Replaced by something far more satisfied.

The carriage rolls into view, larger, more ornate than the last. Guards flank it on either side, their presence unmistakable.

Harry’s grip tightens on the reins.

“No…”

He doesn’t say it loudly.

But it’s there.

Your sister steps closer again, slower this time, her smile returning, wider now, darker.

“You’re not going anywhere…not without me” she says.

Harry’s eyes flash.

“Move.”

She doesn’t.

Instead, she tilts her head, studying him like she already knows how this ends.

“We’re going back to the kingdom” she says calmly.

His stomach drops.

“And we’re getting married!”

The words hit like a strike.

Harry freezes.

Just for a second.

“No.”

It’s immediate.

She smiles wider.

“You don’t have a choice.”

He looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “I’m not marrying you!”

“You will” she replies simply. “Because that’s the agreement.”

“What agreement?” he demands.

She gestures lightly toward the carriage.

“The one your father made.”

Harry’s expression darkens completely now, every trace of softness gone.

“She’s with him, isn’t she?” he says.

Your sister doesn’t answer.

But she doesn’t need to.

That’s enough.

.

It happens fast…too fast.

One second, Daisy is surging beneath him, muscles coiled, ready to run. The next, a line of soldiers steps in from both sides of the path, cutting him off with practiced precision. More move in behind him, tightening the circle until there’s nowhere left to go.

Harry pulls hard on the reins, forcing Daisy to stop before she collides with them, her breath sharp and uneasy beneath him.

“Move” he snaps, his voice edged with something dangerous.

Your sister steps forward instead, completely unbothered by the tension tightening the air.

“This is pointless…” she says, almost bored. “You’re not fighting your way out of this.”

His eyes flash.

“Watch me”

He shifts slightly in the saddle, testing the space, calculating, looking for any gap, any weakness.

There isn’t one.

A soldier steps forward, grabbing the reins before Harry can react, another moving to his side, gripping his arm with firm, practiced force.

“Let go!” Harry growls, pulling against him.

The soldier doesn’t budge.

More hands reach in, steady, unyielding, forcing him down from the horse before he can make another move. His boots hit the ground hard, but he doesn’t stop, he twists, shoving one of them back, trying to break through

“Enough!” your sister says sharply.

The soldiers tighten their hold.

Harry’s chest rises and falls quickly, his gaze darting toward the road, toward the direction they took you…

Daisy is pulled away from him, her reins taken, her body guided back into the line as if she never belonged to him at all.

“No!” he starts, trying to move again, but two soldiers hold him firmly now.

“Get him in” one of them orders.

Harry struggles once more, anger flaring hotter now, sharper.

“Where is she?” he demands, his voice cutting through the movement around them.

No one answers.

They push him forward instead, toward the carriage.

Your sister watches the entire thing unfold without stepping in this time, her expression calm, almost satisfied.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” she says as he’s forced closer.

He stops just short of the carriage steps, planting his feet.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

She sighs.

“You already are.”

The soldiers don’t give him another chance.

They push him up and inside.

.

The carriage doors shut with a heavy, final sound.

For a moment, the only thing Harry can hear is his own breathing.

Sharp.

Uneven.

Controlled only by force.

He sits across from her, shoulders tense, hands clenched tightly at his sides as the carriage lurches forward, beginning its steady path back toward the kingdom.

Back toward everything he ran from.

She watches him quietly for a few seconds, studying him like she has all the time in the world.

Then she smiles.

“You’ll calm down eventually…” she says.

He doesn’t look at her.

“Where is she?” he asks again.

Her smile doesn’t falter.

“Safe”

His head snaps toward her.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.”

His jaw tightens, something dark settling behind his eyes.

“If he’s touched her…” he starts, his voice low, dangerous.

She lets out a soft laugh.

“You’re in no position to make threats.”

“I’m serious.” he cuts in, leaning forward slightly. “If my father lays a hand on her…if anything happens to her…”

“You’ll what?” she interrupts, amused.

He doesn’t hesitate.

“I’ll burn it down.”

The words land heavy in the small space.

Not dramatic.

Not exaggerated.

Certain.

For a second, she just looks at him.

Then she laughs again, louder this time.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” she says, shaking her head slightly. “That you have that kind of power.”

He doesn’t respond.

Doesn’t need to.

Because he does.

And something in his expression makes that very clear.

Her amusement fades just a little.

But not enough. “You’re not thinking clearly” she says, her tone shifting again, softer now, persuasive. “You’re emotional. Attached.”

He lets out a quiet, bitter breath.

“You should be grateful,” she continues. “I found you before someone else did. Before things got worse.”

His gaze hardens.

“You didn’t find me.”

She ignores that.

“You belong in the kingdom” she says. “Not in some forgotten corner of the world playing farmer.”

“I belong wherever I choose to be.”

“Not anymore.”

“You don’t see it yet, but I’m the better choice…” she says. “For you. For everything.”

He stares at her like she’s said something absurd.

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough” she replies. “Enough to know I can give you more than she ever could.”

That does it.

Harry’s expression turns cold.

“She gave me everything I needed,” he says.

Your sister’s smile tightens.

“Temporary things…” she dismisses. “A garden. A house. A quiet life no one remembers.”

“A real one,” he counters.

She exhales sharply, irritation breaking through again.

“You don’t get it.”

“No” he says. “I do.”

A beat.

Then, quieter “I just don’t want what you’re offering.”

The carriage continues moving, steady and unstoppable.

“You don’t have a choice,” she says.

Harry’s hands clench tighter.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

She tilts her head slightly, watching him carefully.

“By the time we get there,” she continues, “you’ll understand.”

He doesn’t answer.

Doesn’t argue.

Because right now, there’s only one thing in his mind.

Not her.

Not the kingdom.

Not the marriage.

Just you.

Where you are.

If you’re safe.

If you’re scared.

If you think he’s not coming.

And finally, he speaks again.

“Where is she?”

Your sister sighs, like she’s tired of the question.

“Alive…” she says. “For now.”

.

The carriage hasn’t even fully stopped before Harry is moving.

The door swings open sharply, and he steps out first, boots hitting the palace grounds with force. He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t look back. Doesn’t acknowledge the guards or the servants already gathering at a distance, whispering at the sight of the prince who wasn’t supposed to return like this.

He’s already walking.

Fast.

Purposeful.

Furious.

The palace rises around him, just as grand, just as suffocating as he remembers. Marble floors, towering columns, polished surfaces that reflect everything except the truth.

Nothing has changed.

And that only makes it worse.

“Harry!” Grace, your sister, calls from behind him, hurrying to keep up as he storms through the entrance.

He doesn’t slow.

Servants scatter out of his path, startled by the intensity of his presence. Guards hesitate, unsure whether to intervene or step aside.

They step aside.

Because one look at him is enough to know, This is not a moment to get in his way.

His strides echo down the corridors, sharp and relentless, his jaw set, his hands clenched at his sides. He knows exactly where he’s going. Every turn is instinctive, every step fueled by something hotter than anger.

Fear.

He reaches the double doors of his father’s study and doesn’t knock.

He slams them open.

The sound cracks through the room.

Inside, the king sits behind his desk, completely at ease, a thin trail of smoke curling lazily from the pipe in his hand. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t startle.

If anything, He smiles.

“Well” he says calmly, as if this is nothing more than a planned reunion. “There he is.”

Harry steps inside, the doors still swinging slightly behind him, his chest rising and falling hard.

“Where is she?” he demands.

No greeting.

No acknowledgment.

Just that.

The king exhales slowly, setting the pipe aside with deliberate ease.

“Welcome back, son” he replies, ignoring the question entirely.

Harry doesn’t move further into the room.

His gaze is locked on him, sharp and unyielding.

“Where is she?”

Grace slips in behind him, closing the door this time, her presence quieter but no less intrusive.

The king leans back slightly in his chair, studying Harry like he’s assessing something.

“You look… different” he notes. “Less polished. But I suppose that’s to be expected, given your… excursion…”

“I’m not asking again” Harry says, his voice dropping lower now, more dangerous. “Where is she?”

The king sighs, as if mildly inconvenienced.

“You return after disappearing without a word” he says, folding his hands on the desk, “and the first thing you do is demand answers.”

“Yes.”

The answer is immediate.

Cold.

The king watches him for a moment longer, then smiles faintly.

“She’s safe.”

Harry’s jaw tightens.

“That’s not enough.”

“It will have to be for now.”

Harry takes a step forward.

“Bring her here.”

The king’s expression shifts slightly, not anger, not yet. Something closer to amusement.

“You’re in no position to make demands.”

“I’m not asking.”

The room stills.

Grace watches the exchange carefully, her gaze flicking between them.

The king tilts his head slightly, regarding Harry with something almost curious.

“You’ve grown bold…” he says. “That’s new.”

Harry doesn’t respond.

Because this isn’t about him.

Not right now.

“You should be focusing on more important matters…” the king continues, gesturing lightly toward Grace. “Like your future.”

Harry doesn’t even look at her.

“I don’t have a future with her.”

Grace’s smile tightens, but she doesn’t interrupt.

The king, however, chuckles softly.

“That’s not how this works.”

“It is for me.”

Another step forward.

Now they’re closer.

Tension thick in the air.

“I want to see her,” Harry says, each word measured. “Now!”

The king’s expression finally cools slightly, the amusement fading just enough to reveal something firmer underneath.

“You’ll see her when I decide you will.”

Harry’s hands clench.

“If you’ve hurt her...!”

The king raises a hand, cutting him off.

“She is unharmed” he says, his tone sharpening just a fraction. “And she will remain that way… as long as you cooperate.”

Harry’s eyes don’t leave his father’s.

“You’re using her…” he says.

“Of course I am.”

No denial.

No hesitation.

“Everything has value” the king continues calmly. “You of all people should understand that by now”

Harry shakes his head slightly, something dark settling deeper in his chest.

“I’m not marrying her….”

Grace exhales sharply behind him.

“You don’t get to decide that!” she says.

Harry finally turns his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge her presence.

“Watch me.”

The king stands slowly this time, placing both hands on the desk as he leans forward just slightly.

“This isn’t a negotiation!!” he says. “You will marry Grace. The arrangements are already in motion.”

“I won’t.”

“You will” the king repeats, his voice firmer now. “Because if you don’t…”

He pauses.

Just long enough.

Harry doesn’t blink.

“…then the girl becomes a complication.”

The words land exactly how they’re meant to.

Harry goes still.

Completely still.

The king straightens, satisfied.

“I would hate for that to happen….” he adds lightly.

Silence stretches between them.

Harry’s breathing slows.

Not because he’s calm.

Because he’s thinking.

Calculating.

Choosing.

His gaze hardens.

“You said she’s safe” he says quietly.

“She is.”

“I want to see her.”

The king studies him for a moment.

Then nods slightly.

“In time.”

That’s not enough.

Not even close.

.

The air down there feelsthe layer of dust and moisture beneath you.

Time moves differently here.

Slower. heavy.

Thick with damp and stone and something older, something that lingers in places where light doesn’t reach. The walls are cold, uneven, carved deep beneath the palace like a secret no one wants to acknowledge exists.

You sit on the narrow bench inside the cell, your back against the rough wall, your fingers tracing absent patterns into 

Or maybe it just feels that way because you have nothing else to measure it with.

The only constant is the sound of the guard.

Boots shifting.

A quiet sigh.

The faint clink of metal as he adjusts his grip on the spear he leans against.

He’s been there for hours.

And he’s tired.

You can see it in the way his shoulders slump slightly, in how his head tilts back against the wall every so often, like he’s fighting sleep.

Which is exactly why you haven’t stopped talking.

“You know…” you say, your voice light, almost casual, like you’re not sitting behind iron bars, “you could at least tell me how long I’ve been here….”

He exhales sharply.

“I told you…” he mutters without opening his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. “Or you’re not allowed to say?”

His jaw tightens.

“I don’t know.”

You hum softly, like you believe him.

You don’t.

“That’s interesting…” you continue, shifting slightly on the bench. “You’d think someone guarding a prisoner would be given at least a little information.”

His eyes open now, narrowing slightly as he looks at you.

“You talk too much.”

You smile faintly.

“I’m bored.”

“Good.”

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on your knees.

“So what do they usually do down here?” you ask. “Keep people until they cooperate? Or until they disappear?”

He looks away. That’s all you need.

You catch it.

That tiny shift.

“Ah” you say softly. “Disappear, then.”

“Stop talking.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“I said stop.”

But there’s less force behind it now.

Less patience.

You tilt your head again, studying him.

He’s young. Too young to be this tired.

“How long have you been doing this?” you ask.

No answer.

You don’t stop. “Long enough to know this place isn’t right, I’m guessing.”

His grip tightens on the spear.

“Be quiet.”

“You don’t seem like you enjoy it,” you continue, softer now. Less teasing. More… curious. “Guarding cells. Watching people rot down here.”

He exhales again, longer this time, like your words are wearing him down even if he doesn’t want them to.

“It’s a job,” he mutters.

“Is it?”

You let the question sit.

Then add, quieter “Or is it something you tell yourself so you don’t think too much about it?”

His eyes flick back to you.

Sharp this time.

For a second, you think he’s going to snap.

Instead, he just… looks tired.

“You don’t know anything,” he says.

“Then tell me.”

Silence.

A long one.

You don’t push immediately this time.

You wait.

And eventually, He sighs. “They don’t keep people here long,” he says, almost under his breath.

Your attention sharpens instantly.

“No?”

“No.”

You lean forward slightly.

“What happens to them?”

He hesitates.

Then shrugs, like it doesn’t matter.

“They get moved. Or… dealt with.”

Dealt with.

You don’t react outwardly.

But your stomach tightens.

“And me?” you ask.

He glances at you.

“You’re different.”

“How?”

He huffs quietly.

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t important.”

That’s not comforting.

You sit back slightly, pretending to think about it, like the information doesn’t hit harder than it should.

“Important to who?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer.

You watch him for a second longer.

Then shift again.

“Is the prince back?” you ask casually.

That. That gets a reaction.

His eyes flick to you before he can stop himself.

Got it.

You smile faintly.

“He is” you say, more to yourself than to him.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to”

His jaw tightens.

“Stop trying to twist things.”

“I’m not twisting anything” you reply lightly. “You’re just tired.”

He looks away again.

You press just a little more.

“What’s he like?” you ask. “The prince.”

No answer.

“Do people like him?”

Silence.

“Or is he just like the rest of them?”

“That’s enough.”

His voice is sharper now.

But you can hear it…

The crack.

You lean forward again, lowering your voice slightly.

“They say this kingdom isn’t what it looks like” you murmur. “That people suffer more than they should. That things disappear quietly….”

He doesn’t move.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you?” you continue.

His grip tightens again.

“Enough,” he snaps, pushing himself off the wall. “I’m done talking.”

You sigh softly, leaning back again.

“You were doing so well.”

“Be quiet!”

You smile faintly.

“Or what?”

He steps closer to the bars now, his eyes sharper again, whatever moment of openness he had completely gone.

“Or I make sure you regret it.”

You hold his gaze for a second longer.

Then shrug lightly.

“Worth a try.”

He exhales sharply, turning away again, muttering something under his breath.

And just like that.

The silence returns.

.

Hours stretch and fold into each other until they lose their shape.

The dim light never changes, the air never shifts, and the silence settles into something almost suffocating. You try to keep track of time, counting breaths, steps, the rhythm of the guard’s movements…but eventually even that slips through your fingers.

Then. Voices.

Not close.

But not distant either.

Your head lifts slightly, your attention sharpening as the sound of footsteps echoes through the corridor. More than one. Several, maybe. Their armor clinks softly as they pass, their voices low but careless in the way people speak when they assume no one important is listening.

“…the wedding…”

The word hits instantly.

Your chest tightens.

You don’t move.

Don’t make a sound.

“…by the end of the week…”

“…the prince….”

Your breath falters.

Harry.

Your fingers curl slightly against the bench, your mind racing now, trying to piece it togetherwhat they’ve done, what they’re planning, how fast things are moving.

“…Grace…”

That.

That makes something inside you drop completely.

Grace.

Your jaw tightens.

You stay still until the voices fade, until the corridor returns to its dull, empty quiet.

But your mind doesn’t.

It spins faster now.

A wedding.

Soon.

Which means…they don’t intend to keep you here long.

Not unless you’re part of the leverage.

Not unless…

You need a plan.

Now.

Your eyes flick to the guard.

He hasn’t moved much, but you can see it…the same exhaustion, the same thinning patience.

Good.

You stand slowly.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

He doesn’t even look at you.

“No.”

You blink once.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You cross your arms.

“I’m not doing that here.”

He exhales sharply, already annoyed.

“Then that’s your problem.”

You stare at him.

Then glance deliberately toward the corner of the cell.

Then back at him.

“I’m not doing that there.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Everyone does.”

“I’m not everyone.”

“Congratulations.”

You don’t move.

Minutes pass.

You stay standing.

He notices.

“Sit down.”

“No.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything,” you say, voice calm but firm. “I just need to use the bathroom.”

“You’ll survive.”

You tilt your head slightly.

“Maybe I won’t.”

He scoffs.

“Dramatic.”

You shrug lightly.

“Or maybe I just have dignity.”

“That won’t help you here.”

“Neither will a mess you’ll have to clean up later….” you counter.

That gets his attention.

He looks at you now.

Really looks.

Weighing.

Calculating how much of a problem you’re about to become.

You hold his gaze and then…

He groans.

“Fine,” he mutters, pushing himself off the wall. “But you try anything…anything!...I swear”

“I won’t” you say quickly, almost too quickly.

He narrows his eyes.

“I mean it.”

“I believe you.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

But he unlocks the cell anyway.

The sound of metal scraping echoes louder than it should.

Your heart picks up slightly.

Stay calm.

Stay normal.

He grabs your arm, not rough, but firm enough to remind you this isn’t freedom.

“Move.”

You step out, resisting the urge to look around too much, to take in every detail too obviously.

But you notice things anyway.

The turns.

The distance.

The guards at the far end of the corridor.

The direction of the stairs.

Everything.

He keeps a tight hold on you as he leads you down the hall, his grip never loosening.

“I’m serious,” he says again. “Don’t try anything.”

“I said I won’t.”

But your mind is already working.

Already shifting.

Already searching for something—anything—you can use.

You reach the small, dimly lit washroom at the end of the corridor. It’s barely more than a stone room with a basin and a crude setup, but it’s not the cell.

That’s enough.

He stops at the doorway, still holding your arm.

“You have a minute” he says. “Door stays open.”

You glance at him.

Then at the room.

Then back at him.

“Privacy?”

“No.”

You sigh.

“Charming.”

“Minute” he repeats.

You step inside.

Slowly.

Your mind racing now, sharper than it’s been all day.

Because this might be the only chance you get.

You take your time.

Not too much, just enough to make it believable.

You move around the small washroom, keeping your expression neutral, your breathing steady, as if this is exactly what you asked for and nothing more. You even splash a bit of water, let it drip from your fingers, buy yourself a few extra seconds to think.

The guard watches you the entire time.

Tired.

Impatient.

Expecting nothing.

Good.

You turn back toward him with a small, almost polite smile, brushing your hands together lightly.

“See?” you say. “That wasn’t so hard…”

He rolls his eyes, already shifting his grip on your arm to lead you back.

“Move.”

You take one step forward.

Then…

You move.

Fast.

Your knee drives upward with everything you have.

The impact hurts, sharp and immediate, pain shooting through your leg as it collides with the hard edge of his armor…but you aimed right.

Right where the metal doesn’t fully protect.

He chokes on the reaction, his grip faltering just enough.

That’s all you need.

You shove him hard, pushing him off balance as he doubles slightly, and you run.

You don’t look back.

You don’t think.

You just run.

The corridor stretches endlessly in front of you, your footsteps echoing against the stone as your breath comes fast and uneven. Doors blur past you, cells lined on both sides…and you catch glimpses as you go.

NEXT PART HERE!

What had her truly gasping for breath were the specific flowers that she had shown Harry in their walk decorating the royal table, the bouquet specially made for her at her spot clear next to him. The first time she would be at a royal event… as a future royal. Her hands were a bit sweaty as she followed the Queen dutifully, listening to her comments as she made small adjustments for the headmistress to go over with staff.

Y/N admired his gracious she was. Saying please and thank you to staff was not something most nobility did, but she did. She wanted to be just like her. Friendly and kind. Not a feared woman- unless she was crossed. Respected. That was her goal, above all else.

As soon as they had a moment alone, she turned to her. “How are you truly doing, my dear?” Her soft hand landed on Y/N’s forearm, true compassion on her face. She could see her bristling nerves grating on her even though most couldn’t. “You are good at hiding your emotions. The reason I can see it is because I was in your shoes once.” She soothed. “Having good control of when you show them is important. But you’ve proven yourself thus far.” Her kind smile made Y/N relax a little bit.

“Thank you.” She replied. “I am… I’m good. I think it is a bit overwhelming but I remind myself this is the first one. I will get used to it. It’s to celebrate our love and union, too, so I should not be worried.” Y/N refused to let jealous and bitter women ruin the beautiful thing that Harry and her had created. Had been thrust into; his arms welcoming her like a warm bath. The Queen nodded at her statement, the pair walking slowly as they observed the royal table. “He remembered.” Her whisper was caught by the Queen, watching her fingers brush one of the flowers with a smile.

“He is a good man. I am happy with how he’s grown.” The Queen loved her son dearly. She wasn’t fond of the way most royals before her had reared their children, handing them off to nanny’s and other staff dedicated to the job. She wanted to be hands on. To raise him to be a good man, to make changes she had already started to implement. He would not be arrogant and rude. That was a fear, knowing the power could get to his head as it did to many, but she did it herself. She was spoiled with ladies maids who would tend to him at night as a wee babe, but she did everything else. The bond between parent and child was gravely important. “Though I will say… the change I’ve seen in him since he has met you has made me ecstatic.”

Y/N turned to her with curious eyes. “How so, may ask?” She was treading lightly, still wanting to be respectful but dying to know. Any bit of information about him from a reliable source made her giddy. Filing it away in her favorite folder in her memories, she wanted to soak it all in.

“He seemed more… excited about ruling. He learns with vigor. Speaks up. He wants to know the intricacies more and more. Before… he was unmotivated in some ways.” There was a pause as she exhaled. “I suppose that was partially our fault. We wanted him to remain as carefree as he could, to form his own personality without it being directly tied to a title. He learned a lot during his childhood but he had been seemingly nervous as he grew. Now he seems far more settled in it.” It was most definitely because of Y/N. “Having a reliable, trustworthy and level headed ruling partner is one of the most important and undervalued assets a King can have. They do say, "What is a King without his Queen.” She gave a slight smile as Y/N followed her words closely.

“You have those qualities, from what I can tell. Keeping a level head and still being able to defend yourself and the person you love is a beautiful thing to have as a ruler. It isn’t easy. People will disagree simply because you spoke, you rule. I can understand why, to a degree. Taking into account the stress of being a King, I think that you will be able to elevate him. I believe him the same as you. The King may seem to be the one who holds all the power… but know that it isn’t true. I’ve helped come to all of the most important decisions in our kingdom’s history. It isn’t a job to take lightly.” The Queen could see it on her face, how she was agreeing but still spooked. This wasn’t necessarily a test, but it was a reality she needed to face. She couldn’t just play royal. It was a job.

“That is why I was so worried about who Harry would end up with. Many women.. they think that being a Queen is being lavished with diamonds and pearls, being fed delicacies by hand and never lifting a finger. They think it’s the custom dresses and crowns, the balls and the galas, the travels. But it is so much more than that.” She squeezed her hand, giving her another smile. “I was terrified that my son would follow a man’s intuition and just go for whoever appealed to his physical senses without taking a woman’s brain and intentions into account. He was incredibly lucky to stumble across you.”

It was abundantly clear that Y/N loved her son- and if not fully there yet, close to it. She never indulged when she was at the palace, was polite, thanked workers and never threw fits. The girl was respectable, well read and could hold a conversation. It was more than a lot of the other women on the court could say when they were vying for Harry’s hand in marriage.

“Do you truly think I’ll make a good Queen?” Y/N asked quietly, looking her in the eye despite wanting to look at her skirts. This was an intimidating conversation but she needed to hear it. None of it was enough to make her leave. It was a lot more than she had ever expected to take on as a wife- if she had ever married at all- but Harry’s tender heart and gentle touch was well worth the challenges. She hopes.

“I do. I think you’ll be one of the best we have seen. Continue to be fearless, to speak your mind to your husband, to be honest and open with him, rule with a fair hand and you will do amazing. The council will try to intimidate you. Do not let them.” The word of warning was clear. Y/N’s tummy turned at the serious tone. “They will try and sway you. The reason for it, as you know, is to have the people given more of a say. But do not let individual agendas influence your decisions. Make them as your heart and mind see fit. Harry will be behind you.”

That, she didn’t doubt. The man had been continuously proving his devotion to her every single day. She had read in her books; the romance novels that had her flustered and fanning herself at times, about love and men. About how she could be treated. Harry far exceeded any expectation.

“I understand. I will do my best, and I will trust my husband. I know he and I have had some conversations about it. I don’t know if he told you of some of the other encounters I’ve had with some of the women, but I already know the way people will treat me. How they will manipulate and how I will need to be careful. But as long as I have Harry, I have my family? I am strong.”

“You will be wonderful.” The Queen replied. “You are wise beyond your years. I’ve heard whispers of what people have been saying, what they’ve been doing. I am not one to abuse power but if you wish to have anyone removed from this party? That is your right.” She wouldn’t want anything to ruin this. It was a step in the new direction of the kingdom, her first real taste. She needed it to be good for her.

“Thank you, my Queen. I will.” Y/N nodded, looking back towards the bouquet. For him? She would do anything. For herself? She would prove that she wasn’t someone to stand on.

—————

Harry watched as she walked down the hall, alone at last. She was stunning, his intended. So beautiful and strong, her head held high as she walked the corridor as if she knew where she was going. She didn’t. All she knew was that Harry had requested her in the library.

“Hello.”

“My goodness!” Y/N yelped, hand over her heart as it raced like a hummingbird inside of her chest. “Harry! You musn't scare me like that.” She still walked towards him, entering the library as she tried to shake off her bout of fright.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Harry peeked down the hall to see it empty, closing the door behind them. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Approaching her, his hands reached for her waist to pull her into his embrace. Smooth. Always so smooth and warm to the touch, making his fingers flex into the dress. Her corset hid the squish of her flesh, something he was dying to feel under his hands, but he thanked the world that she let him handle her this way. The light blue of the dress did wonders to compliment her eyes, ruffled at the bottom in a way he usually dislike- but again, his sweet Y/N had a knack for making him enjoy things he rarely did in the past. She made any dress she wore look like gold. It was impossible for her to dull her glow, a beacon of light that his eyes always wanted to follow.

“That is a lie, my prince.” She laughed under her breath. His grin made sure to tell her he enjoyed making her jump. “Luckily for you, you’re handsome and far too charming to hold a grudge, so I forgive you for it.” Her head tilted back, taking in his content features. Alone. Truly alone with one another in the Palace’s library. It was quite big, shelves upon shelves of books in every color imaginable. A top floor with a balcony overlooking the rest, dark wooden ladders to reach the tall shelves at the bottom, a large reading area in front of the fireplace and a padded bench in front of the window to make for a nook to hide away in. The large arched window let in beams of light, streaking across the room and illuminating the front of it effortlessly.

“I fear that I’ll spend every free moment here.” She returned her gaze to him after looking around. It wasn’t her first time in here, but she was still amazed at the quantity of books in one room. The palace was much larger than she had ever anticipated. “I don’t think I could read every book in here, even if I read every moment in my lifetime. You’ll have to read with me.”

Y/N had expressed a want for that. To find a book to read before bed, just for them. A tradition.

“Of course. I’ll read with you every night if it’s possible.” He released her waist, taking hold of her hand and letting her lead him into the darker aisles of the library. It was relatively quiet in the room, the sound of their steps clicking over the wood floors being the loudest thing they could hear. “What are you looking to read?” His question was soft spoken, aware of how little space there was in these aisles. They were meant for one person to explore, but he truly didn’t mind. Being close to Y/N was a blessing.

“I’m partial to romance. I love all books- I love learning about my flowers and history, I love fairy tales… but I particularly enjoy romance. Happy endings, mostly. All of them, though…they can be quite eye opening. You’d never guess it. People love to diminish the literature because men do not usually enjoy them- at least publicly. Some of the most breathtaking quotes I’ve ever heard of were in such books.” She ran her fingers along the spines of the cloth bound books, grazing the embossed titles. “You learn a lot about people in them. How betrayal can affect a soul, how love can heal. Above all else, loving is a choice. An action.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, unsure of what she meant. “I don’t think I had a choice. I think.. my heart was yours the moment I laid my eyes on you. I’ve never questioned it.”

“There’s different types of loving. Having your heart belong to someone… It is a different sort of love. A soul deep love. But to be in love actively, you choose it. You choose to show the person your feelings, to express them. You do the acts of love by stroking my hand, by choosing the flowers for our table.” A coy look was shot his way. “It won’t always be easy. You’ll have to choose love above all else, even if it’s harder than another solution.” She turned to him, placing a hand on the side of his neck, the dim light doing nothing to hide his beauty.

“I feel the same. I feel as though you plucked my heart out of my chest like harp strings and held it in your hands. There wasn’t much of a choice in that. But the act of loving? It is a choice. Being loved and in love are two different things. We just happen to have both.” And god, did she love him already. It was soul deep, like she said.

“I see…” he rolled his lips in for a moment before pouting ever so slightly. “I can understand that. I haven’t thought of that before but… I suppose it’s because I haven’t read as many romance novels as you. Or, perhaps you’re just a smarter being than me.” He had to chuckle because sometimes he believed it to be true. Y/N’s thoughts were vast, complex, something he wanted to dissect over time. He loved hearing what she thought about policies so far, what she thought of their system. Even just her thoughts on books and flowers. She thought about things he never would have imagined- and it’s part of why he loved her. The creature challenged him in ways no one else ever would, kept him on his toes all while providing a comfort in her presence many would die to have.

“No. You’re just as smart, but in a different way. It’s refreshing. We both have qualities the other needs. It’s one of my favorite parts about us.” She slightly scolded him for that. No self deprivation on her watch.

“Yeah? What are your other favorite parts?” He murmured, feeling the tightness of the space but not wanting to back up. Instead, he got closer. “For example… I love your brain. I love how you speak, how your lips curl around words. I love how I feel like I was submerged in the warmest bath with all of the sweet smelling oils when I’m around you.” His fingers rose to brush her cheek. “But… I hate that I am not able to touch you how I wish.” Speaking of love always got to him. His reminder of how much adoration festered in his heart, how much impatience he had towards expressing it to her in a physical way.

Y/N’s mouth dried as she felt the man close in on her. If her heart was beating fast before? It was ready to fly out of her chest now. Breathing quickening as she leaned into his touch, she found her words on the tip of her tongue, hands settling on his forearms. Against her better judgment, she allowed herself to speak. “How do you wish to touch me?”

The voice was much softer than she would have hoped, showing how she was weak kneed just from this simple touch. Back against the shelf, she peered at him through her lashes, anticipating the next words out of his berry hued mouth. Oh, how she wanted that mouth.

“I wish to touch you without these corsets. I want to feel your skin underneath my fingertips, the softness of your flesh dipping as I hold you.” He paused, inhaling shakily. “ I want to bury my fingers in your hair and tug your head back so I can kiss you. God, I want to kiss you so, so badly. It aches in my soul. I crave nothing more than your affections. You know that?” He looked pained as he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. This was a dangerous situation, both of them in a state that they didn’t know how to handle. There were lines they could not cross, things he could not say, but he was feeling them all.

“You do?” She peeped, eyes round at his blunt words. He had expressed some of these things in a letter before but… hearing in person was a whole other experience. The low rasp of his voice as he kept it down, keeping their secrets between their ears and the pages of the books.

“I do. Words can not express how much I look forward to our wedding day.” When they would become man and wife, when he could take her the way they both wanted. “When I never have to worry, I can kiss you freely, in front of whoever I wish. I hate that there are barriers for us. I understand tradition, I respect it… but I can’t help but wish to break it.” He wouldn’t, but he had to hold his breath as he felt her nose brush against his own. The walls of rigid rules were so irritating for him, he wanted to make them crumble to rubble on the ground.

“I know. I crave it just as much, Harry.” She replied shakily, breath felt against his lips. “I want your touch on every part. But we have to respect the traditions. Don’t we?” She asked, feeling as though she could fall over as she felt their lips brush for a single second before his own rested over her cheek.

“We do.” He mumbled against the smooth skin. “But… I can kiss here.” His lips puckered ever so slightly on her cheek, dangerously close to her mouth. “I can kiss here… and it’s not breaking any rules. My ring is on your finger… I tend to claim you in the ways the world allows, to follow those rules.. but you are mine.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to arch into him. A little gasp left her as she felt a firmer kiss placed to her cheek again, letting their lips feather together before he placed one to the opposite side. “My bride. My queen. My heart. I will never be as proud of anything… as I am to have been chosen by you.”

Y/N let out a whimper, pulling him close and returning the gesture. Dangerously close kisses, right in the same places. Temptation. She should have pulled away, but she couldn’t. Her body pulsed, a heartbeat felt between her legs as he let out a quiet groan.

“My sweet…” he rasped. “My self control is so little. It’s merely hanging by a fraying thread. I respect you more than to take you in a library aisle…” he paused. “At least before we are married.” The thought flooded her brain, her skirts lifted up and his firm palm holding her mouth to keep her quiet. Taking her deep and slow against the shelves, filling her to the brim. Her leg hitched over his waist while fingers clawed at him- he didn’t know how he was able to wait.

“Harry…” she gasped, feeling his lips press to her jaw. “You’re making it so hard for me to behave. I need to be…” she lost her train of thought as her eyes closed, head falling back against the wood. His kisses were feather light, brushing over her jaw and making her fingers dig into his arms. If she was in this much pleasure just from this? What would it be like without all of the barriers? Would his fingers make her tingle as much on bare flesh? Would his kiss her all over?

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled against her skin. “I’m sorry…” teeth grazed her ear, making her whine. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I will stop.” He had to drag himself away from her body, tempted to nibble on her smooth neck and leave marks all over. He couldn’t. But he wanted to.

Y/N wanted to gasp at his looks. His dark gaze, eyes glinting in a darkness she had never seen before. Lust. True lust, his cheeks flushed and lips slightly swollen. It would look like they did more than look for books if they were caught, but Y/N committed it to memory. She wanted this very look painted in a portrait. Her Prince’s desire for her. Nothing had ever felt more real. “My beautiful prince…” she sighed, hands prying away from his arms to hold his hands. “We must leave or we will get carried away. You’ll never forgive yourself.” She knew that much. Harry was very proud of doing this properly. Of keeping himself a gentleman.

Rory told the King’s Advisor that the Queen was feeling slightly under the weather. She didn’t want him to call the doctor or anything, but just enough of an excuse to explain why Y/n wasn’t coming down to eat with everyone and why she wasn’t going into the garden to paint or read or lie in the grass like he’d gotten used to her doing.

Rory brought the food up to her and Harry rather than having anyone else on staff do it. It would only work for so long, the cover. But it was good enough for the first few days.

Harry’s appetite had completely returned. Not just for food, but for sex. And the Queen was not going to complain. They were free to love, touch, and talk to their heart's content. Their sweet little bubble was bliss and happiness. The Queen didn’t need to leave the confounds of her room when she had her Prince with her. She didn’t want to.

And Harry was out of his mind with delight. They both felt like it was a beautiful dream. This was how life was meant to be. Sweet. Exciting. Fulfilling.

But after three days the Queen knew she needed to start showing her face again. She needed to go back to doing normal things or else the advisor would start to ask questions. And the following week she would have another appointment with a doctor that Edgar selected, followed up with a massage from a therapist on the royal staff. Harry would need to hide elsewhere. So they had some things to talk about. They needed to make realistic plans. They couldn’t just hide in their sweet bubble for all eternity, as wonderful as that sounded.

“This afternoon I’ll be joining the house for dinner. I think it’s best I start getting back to my normal routine,” Y/n spoke as she kissed Harry’s back. He was lying on his stomach nude while the Queen did her morning stretches on the bed next to him. She kneed up to him and hugged his body to her as she let her lips cover the expanse of his back.

Harry put a hand behind himself to grab at her hip and he groaned in protest, “Want you here with me, though. I can’t bear to be away from you my Queen…” Harry teased as he twisted himself around to look at Y/n.

She smiled at him and pushed her fingers into his hair as he rolled to his back so he could see her better.

“Aww… you poor thing. It’ll only be for an hour today. Then tomorrow I need to also go into the garden for a while to do some reading. If I stay cooped up in here with you everyone will begin to wonder what’s going on with me,” she reached to push at his pouting lip and laughed.

Harry stuck his lip out in exaggerated sadness, “Baby… I need you all the time. What will I do without you for an hour?” Harry pulled her down to his chest and sighed.

Harry was mostly joking. He knew this needed to happen. The Queen was right. But he really would have preferred to never leave her presence.

“Well you can read, or take a nap… or sit in the sauna in the bathroom,” Y/n said as she caressed Harry’s cheek with the back of her hand.

Harry turned his face and kissed her palm, “So today already? You can’t wait one more day?”

The Queen pushed herself up closer to Harry so she could kiss his cheek as she shook her head, “Today’s the day, my love.”

And it was the day. Things needed to remain as normal as possible. The Queen wanted to keep Harry around for as long as she could. She knew it couldn’t last forever. This was temporary. The Queen would only be pregnant for so much longer. But for now, this would last as long as she could make it. She would keep him safe and then figure out a way to be with him for good. She couldn’t imagine it any longer to be away from him.

“Harry?” She asked, keeping herself draped over him.

Harry raised his brows, “Mhmm?”

“What do you want after I have her? Do you have a plan? For us?” They had lightly discussed the idea of running off together. But not the details, nor the fallout that would ensue. Harry might not ever see his other children again. Or at least until they were old enough to seek him out themselves later on. Would he be willing to risk that?

Harry sighed and kept his palm on Y/n’s low back, “I don’t have a plan. But I want to be with you. My current arrangement would kill me. I’m only allowed to see the kids once a month. With Gertrude present. For only a few hours. That’s all I get. She said she might allow more one day but…” Harry closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he considered his words, “I don’t know, my love. I can’t bear to never see them again. But I couldn’t bear to never see you… or her,” he said as he moved his hand toward the side of the Queen’s belly.

 Y/n kept her fingers in his shaggy hair and ran her thumb over his forehead, “Would you want to make a plan? With me?”

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the Queen. He felt so lucky that she wanted him. That she’d finally decided she needed him as much as he needed her. But there was the matter of his other children. It wasn’t an easy choice.

Just as Harry was about to speak Y/n gasped with a big grin and sat up, taking Harry’s palm and placing it at the bottom of her bump, “Feel! She’s moving about!”

Their little growing bean was becoming bigger and stronger. Her foot was kicking and Harry could feel the small movements.

Harry smiled and laughed, “Wow! A dancer!”

When Y/n returned to her room after dinner she was determined to talk to him about coming up with a plan. Figuring out what they could do to stay together. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she’d give it all up for him. Harry was undoubtedly the love of her life. And she was carrying his child and knew she could give him more children.

Sitting down together near the window she began to speak, not knowing where the conversation would go but just feeling that it all needed to be said.

“I want to be with you. Me, you, the baby. More babies even down the road. But I don’t want this life anymore. I want to walk away from the kingdom and everything. I know you're hesitant about not seeing your children with Gertr-“

Harry dragged her into his arms and kissed her mouth. He knew it would be hard and he hadn’t thought of how to make it work but it was all he wanted. He wanted to be with her despite any consequences. He’d find a way to see his kids if he had to but having Y/n as his without the secrecy and sneaking was a dream come true.

She clutched his shirt as he brushed his tongue over her lips and her tongue and he put a hand on her belly, the other going to the back of her neck.

“I want you,” he spoke in panted words between kisses, “with my whole being,” he pulled her into his lap, making her straddle his thighs, “We’ll find a way, my love.”

Y/n knew they could. Her family would be disappointed. She’d been training for the possibility her whole life and now that she was Queen her family was royalty by proxy. They were already well-to-do and had many contacts in high places but having a daughter married to the King had them set for life. Had generations set for life. But she’d give it all away for Harry. And her family would still love her in the end. It wouldn’t be easy but she only wanted him.

When Harry slowed his kisses and his dick was hard under her thigh she moved back and looked at him, “I’m serious. I meant for this to be a real conversation. To get the ball rolling. We only have so much time, Harry.”

He rubbed his palms over her back and bumped his nose to hers, “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just hearing you say that you want all that with me, more babies?” He moved his face back to look at her and take her face in, her lips, the curve of her nose and her eyebrows, the wispy hairs at her forehead, her pretty eyes that he’d been dreaming of for a long time now looking back at him, “I want you. We’ll make this work no matter what. And I know we need to think about how we are gonna make that happen but I don’t know if there’s any great solution other than to just leave together after you have the baby. Me and you. We’ll just walk out hand in hand and drive off to another place until everyone gets used to the idea that it’s us. No matter what we do, if we have a flawless plan or not, this won’t be easy and there will be a lot of neigh-sayers.”

She knew he was right. No matter how perfectly they planned it all out, it would never be a perfect scenario.

“Just walk out hand-in-hand? You’re crazy you know that? Can you imagine? Me carrying the baby and you with your arms full of baby stuff as we just traipse out of here together and get into a car and drive off into the sunset,” she giggled. That certainly sounded nice. It probably wouldn’t go down like that but what could anyone do? It’s not like they could stop either of them. These weren’t the old days when the Queen could be hung for her insolence. The fallout would be political and personal but they wouldn’t be able to be stopped.

“I’m crazy for you. Let me make love to you. I haven’t had enough of you yet, my Queen. My angel,” he spoke before pressing his mouth over hers once again.

So, there was no real plan in place but the Queen knew it could work, knew it could be done however they wanted to make it happen. No one could stop them and that was the prevailing thought. Even the most perfect plan would still never be a perfect plan.

It had been three blissful days since Harry’s arrival and she could barely keep her hands to herself so she let him make love to her. This time they didn’t even move from the couch by the window. Harry pulled his pants down and the Queen lifted her dress and they moved together slowly with lips attached and gasps of I love you and I need you were whispered into the air.

There was nothing like being fucked by her Prince. They allowed themselves hours to fuck. Long strokes and pauses to stare into each other’s eyes. Harry would come inside of her and then he’d fuck her again when he was hard. He’d finger her and eat her out and she’d lay with her head on his lap and lick his cock, savoring the taste of him, of her on him. It was true bliss. The one she dreamed of now in her arms, in her bed. The father of her baby making love to her slowly and sensually until they fell asleep together, wiped out from sex, from emotion, from happiness.

A bath was in order the following morning. They were messy and smelly after their long session the night before. But it was a quick one as they woke up late because they’d gone to bed sometime in the early morning hours and Y/n’s body needed a little more sleep these days. But despite the bath being quick it was sweet with Harry helping her clean herself and his lips kissing her belly and her arms. Her hormones made her exceptionally horny but the happiness she felt with Harry near her was doing things to her libido as well. Things she’d never expected. She couldn’t get him off her mind. At breakfast and then after in the garden she had a hard time reading her book. She could only think of her strong man back in her room with his green eyes that gazed into her soul and his scruffy unshaven face, his hair a little shaggy, growing longer as he hadn’t had a cut. And even with the bit of hair on his face his dimples still showed when he smiled at her.

“Y/n, you’re feeling better today! It’s nice to see you out in the garden again,” Rory winked and sat down next to her.

Closing her book she sighed and leaned back onto her palms in the grass as she looked up at the blue sky, “I’m feeling fabulous today. But I am getting a little tired. Perhaps I’ll go back in soon,” she looked back at her friend with a knowing grin.

It was nice to have Rory on her side. Her best friend and someone she trusted completely.

“Tomorrow is my day off. Do you need me to stay around here? I know it’ll be a little tricky without my help,” Rory whispered. It was true. Without Rory around getting food to Harry would be a little more difficult but her friend deserved her days off like normal. Especially with how much she had helped them.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. You’ve been more than generous with all of your help.”

It had been a whole week. The Queen's doctor's appointment and massage were scheduled so Harry knew he’d be hidden in the linen closet for quite some time that day.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” he kissed her forehead as Rory stood by the door ready to lead Harry to his hiding spot until the coast was clear. The appointments would take place in her room as all of them had before. Plus It was more private.

“I know. I just feel bad that we need to do this,” she spoke as she rubbed her knuckles along his scruffy jaw.

Harry put his hands over hers and kissed her lips, “Worth it.”

Her morning was busy. A quick breakfast and then ushering Harry off into hiding before meeting with her doctor for a check-up followed up by a much-needed massage.

But before her massage was even finished the Queen heard a familiar voice that had her sitting up and with her hand held out to the masseuse, “Hold on…”

She listened closely and heard his voice in the hallway coming closer. Grasping the sheet close to her body she held her breath as the door opened and there he was. Edgar. The King of Manon. Her husband. Whom she hadn’t seen in nearly two months.

“My wife! There she is!” Edgar spoke loudly as he drew closer with Rory and another woman following behind closely.

Y/N dropped her mouth open, not quite sure how to respond. He hadn’t given her any heads up that he was coming. He hadn’t told anyone.

“What are you doing here? I hadn’t expected you,” Y/N spoke as Edgar gave her a friendly side hug before patting her sheet-covered bump.

“I wanted to come and see how things were going. Figured a night away from Manon would be nice. It’s so beautiful out here. And… oh! This is Lulu, my new assistant,” the King waved toward the woman who was standing to his left.

Y/n smiled at the girl who was near her own age, but far less pregnant, or rather, not pregnant at all, “Nice to meet you, Lulu.”

Looking toward Rory, Y/n realized there was something Rory wanted to say. She’d ask her later.

“Oh! Nice to meet you, Queen!”

A nice girl.

Y/n looked at Edgar once again and nodded toward the door, “Do you mind? I’d like to put on some clothes and then we can take tea in the sunroom.”

The Queen got herself dressed as Rory helped her with her buttons, “Lulu seems like a little more than an assistant. I mean, I can’t be sure but I’ve got a pretty good read on people, Y/n.”

Y/n remained silent as she listened. It wouldn’t surprise her if Edgar did decide to take a mistress. It was unusual in the modern kingdom, and if exposed would be a scandal, but it’s not like she could complain. And she wouldn’t anyway. Besides, she was sure the King knew about how she felt about Harry – he was looking the other way so as to keep up appearances with the kingdom and he knew she would as well.

Rory was sent to let Harry know of the situation at the Queen’s request after walking her to the sunroom.

Tea was served shortly after the Queen sat down on the chaise across from the King and Lulu.

“So you’re our new assistant?” Y/n broke the silence in the room as she eyed the pretty girl.

“Yes! Well, Edgar’s assistant,” Lulu turned her head to look at Edgar, “I didn’t know… Am I also to be her assistant as well?”

Edgar chuckled and patted her knee, “Yes, dear. Once she has the baby you’ll be answering to us both. But for now, you’re of more use to me. She’s got Rory at her aid now.”

Y/n nodded at his response. She wasn’t dumb. The girl was looking at Edgar like he was her whole world. The Queen had never even looked at him that way.

It was a relief that Y/n wasn’t asked too many questions. Edgar was clearly distracted by his new plaything. And even though there was not an ounce of jealousy in her bones, the obvious insult was not overlooked. It was likely this was a show on purpose. To see how far he could push it. Edgar was upset about the whole thing, Y/n realized. And he liked having the upper hand. This was his way of subtly showing to the Queen that he was still in charge. That he could do what he wanted if her heart was no longer his. Her heart had never really belonged to the King to begin with.

“Will you be sleeping with me this evening? I can have Rory bring in extra pillows…”

“No. That’s not necessary. I’ll sleep down here in the large suite that overlooks the garden. You need all the space you can get right now,” Edgar gestured to her belly and then looked over at Lulu who appeared to be needing some kind of reassurance.

Y/n pulled her lips into her mouth. So he brought his mistress to the estate and had planned on them sleeping together in the same house as his wife. She was insulted. But she would keep quiet and Edgar knew she would. Her immediate concern was Harry. Having the King here at the same time as Harry was very risky, though luckily Edgar was rather preoccupied with Lulu.

“Splendid. I’ll have a room set for Lulu then. The nice one that looks out the front toward the orchard. No one is staying in that wing.” Y/n was being cheeky. She wanted to see the look on Lulu’s face. She was aware of what was going on but would play dumb if that was what Edgar wanted.

The Queen wasn’t actually concerned about where Lulu stayed. She could go and stay with the King and they could fuck and make a racket for all she cared. She only wanted to get a rise from the girl. See what her response would be to staying in the lonely wing away from Edgar.

“Oh! But, I’m Edgar’s assistant. I should be staying close by. You know… just in case-” she stopped speaking when the king put his hand at her knee to indicate as much.

“What on earth would he need you for while he’s sleeping? I’m sure you don’t need to be on call all night, my dear. Besides, there isn’t another room nearby Edgar’s that’s unoccupied.”

Lulu looked at the King as she worried her lip between her teeth. Y/n was ready to burst out in laughter.

Edgar gave Y/n a sharp look and then spoke, “Lulu will love any room she’s set up in.”

The Queen nodded and smiled and looked down over her belly as she changed the subject, “The doctor has said I’m very healthy. The baby is as well. Everything is going very smoothly. I’m thankful for my health.”

“Good to hear. You look very well. This place seems to have been very good for you. You’re simply glowing.”

Y/n smiled, knowing she was extra relaxed and content lately. But that was mostly due to having Harry with her and the many many orgasms she’d been given since his arrival. Perhaps that was the glow he was talking about.

Rory entered the room and leaned over Y/n speaking quietly, “Harry is back in your room. We’ll have dinner ready in an hour. I’ll bring a tray up to him but if you want to go now to get yourself ready…”

The Queen stood up and looked at the King and Lulu, “Well, I must go and get ready for dinner. I was in the middle of my massage when you two arrived and I haven’t had a chance to freshen up. I’ll see you in an hour. If you’ll excuse me.”

Harry was seated by the window when the Queen entered her room.

“I heard he’s here.”

Y/n nodded and crossed the room to her handsome man, “Yes. With a young woman in tow.”

Harry stood up and pulled her into his arms, “A young woman?”

“Yes. Her name is Lulu. He’ll be preoccupied with her so don’t worry too much. But right now I need a bath.”

Harry drew a bath for her, putting bubbles in the tub, and helping her out of her dress. He took his own clothes off and climbed into the tub behind her.

She leaned into his chest, lying her head back onto his shoulder as they spoke quietly. Hespoke into her ear, his deep slow drawl soothing and sexy all at once.

Harry’s hands roamed over her shoulders and down her arms and around to her belly, “Love that you’re pregnant with my baby and that you’re taking such good care of her. I love you, Y/n.”

She sighed and smiled, placing her hands over Harry’s, “I love it too. Love that this baby is ours.”

Harry kissed her lobe and brushed his hands up over her tits, thumbing at her nipple, and then lowered his mouth to her neck.

She could feel his thick cock behind her, already full, and engorged. Ready for some action. Which seemed to be pretty constant since he’d arrived the week before.

“Harry… we can’t. I need to be downstairs in one piece in twenty minutes.”

He groaned and continued kissing her neck softly. He knew she was right. When they had sex they liked to take their time nowadays. Never wanting to repeat their quick sessions again if they could help it.

Chuckling, Y/n turned her face to capture his lips and lowered her hand behind her back, and began to stroke him slowly, “Wanna come before I go downstairs? I bet I can make you come and I’ll still have time to get dressed and make it to dinner before anyone notices a thing.

“Heeeyy…” Harry protested, “What’s that supposed to mean?” He put his hands at her ribs and poked his fingers in warning.

“It just means you always come so easily for me. Such a good boy, aren’t you?” She was teasing him but she was also pretty sure she could make him come quickly. Turning on her knees and facing him, she sat back onto her haunches and kept stroking him. She brought one of his hands up to her tits to encourage him to play with them.

Harry spread his thighs and leaned back as he used both hands to squeeze and massage at her breasts, “I should be insulted but you feel so good and you’re so fucking hot, Y/n… of course you make me come so easy. M’like a teenager around you,” Harry spoke as he gritted his teeth while Y/n pumped him, the water sloshing around the movement.

Y/n reached behind her and unhooked the tub stop so the water slowly began to drain. She intended on having him come in her mouth. Wanted the pleasure of going down to dinner in front of the King and his mistress, not only carrying Harry’s baby but having his come in her tummy.

Harry gripped the edge of the tub and leaned his head back when he felt himself get close, “Gonna fuck you so good when you get back from dinner,” Harry was panting his words as precome began to pool over his tip.

“I can’t wait,” Y/n grinned at him and then lowered her free hand to his scrotum like she knew he liked and gently massaged.

Harry’s deep moan came out a little too loud, “Shh… my love. Keep quiet.”

Harry clenched his jaw and licked his lips as he looked at his Queen. The water had drained from the tub and he knew that having her on her knees must hurt so he put his hand over hers, “Here,” he said, standing up and helping her along with him to the bed.

She was thankful that he was so thoughtful. Her knees were fine but she was sure another a few minutes and they’d have been sore and bruised.

Harry lay on the bed and Y/n settled between his legs. But this time, the soft surface under her knees made it easier to bend down and take him into her mouth.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he watched the Queen give him head and keep her eyes on his. She was always so good.

And of course, with his balls being stroked gently and his cock being sucked and swallowed around Harry came down her throat. He threw his arm over his mouth and bit into the skin to keep himself quiet. They’d both gotten pretty good at being very quiet.

Harry jerked his hips up and his cock slid deeper down her throat causing her to gag and pull back a little as she swallowed his salty come down.

Harry quickly put his fingers into her hair and helped lift her off, “Sorry, Y/n. Didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled as she laughed and shook her head.

Dinner was roasted vegetables and seared salmon. The King and Lulu drank red wine and Y/n had sparkling mineral water with lemon. The baby was jumping around at the meal and the drink in her belly to which she placed her hand over the movement and smiled to herself. She was close to saying something to Edgar about it but decided she didn’t want to share the lovely moment with him. These things were only for Harry and her good friend Rory nowadays. The King wouldn’t get the privilege.

“Are you feeling better?” Lulu asked as she happily sipped her wine.

Y/n furrowed her brow in confusion, “What do you mean? I’ve felt just wonderful lately.”

“Oh. You were so bright red and flushed when you got here for dinner. I thought you might have overworked yourself. “

Y/n raised her eyebrows and rubbed over her bump as she nodded. She was flushed when she arrived at dinner because she’d just finished off her lover in her mouth and was turned on quite a lot, “Oh. Yes. Sometimes I struggle to put on my clothes. And I’d just had a warm bath so that could be why. But I’m just fine. Thank you so much for your concern.”

“Tomorrow I was thinking of taking Lulu to the Pasteur with the horses that’s up the road. Have you visited since you’ve been here?”

Shaking her head no she spoke, “Of course not. I’m not allowed to leave the estate. Those were your rules.”

Lulu paused her motion as she was about to take a bite and looked from the Queen to Edgar but kept quiet. Yes, that’s right, Lulu. The King has forbidden his pregnant wife from outside contact. That is the kind of man you’re dealing with. Y/n thought to herself smugly.

The dessert was lemon chiffon pie. A request from the Queen. She’d done it on purpose. She knew Edgar despised it.

Another bottle of wine was served for the King and his mistress while Y/n sipped tea and enjoyed the dessert.

“I hope you do find the accommodations to your liking. I’ve never actually slept in the bed you’ll be in, Edgar, but the view of the garden is lovely. I’m sure Lulu will love the view as well. Undoubtedly you already have plans to show her the room anyway before leaving tomorrow.”

The King stared at Y/n and if looks could kill…

“But, anyway… I’m exhausted. The baby would like some rest and I’ve had a long day,” the Queen spoke as she stood up and looked at Lulu, “It was so lovely to meet you. What a wonderful thing you’re doing taking care of Edgar while I’m away. I’m sure he’s as happy as a clam, he sure seems very pleased.” She shifted her sight to Edgar and dropped her smile before turning to head back to her room.

Opening the door to her prince charming was always such a welcoming sight. The man could do no wrong. No matter what he was doing when she walked in. And this time he was doing pushups with his hair pulled back in one of her silk scrunchies. His shirt was off and he was already beginning to sweat. She wondered if he’d done it on purpose, just for her.

He sat back onto his knees with a grin as she strolled over to him and put her hands down to cup his face, tilting his head to look up at her, “Getting a workout in?”

Harry wrapped his strong arms around the back of her thighs, those dimples she adored cutting into his cheeks, pink lips curving up, “Well what does it look like I’m doing? Haven’t really been working out much lately. In fact, no real workouts since I left Manon. Figured I needed to keep up with you a little. You’ll get tired of me otherwise. M’getting’ soft.”

Snorting a laugh as Harry stood up she shook her head, “You? Soft? And I can’t tell that you haven’t worked out. You’re just naturally fit I guess. Good genes and all,” she raised her brows and put her hands on her tummy.

Harry put his hands over hers, “Yeah. Good genes.”

Y/n slid her hands up his chest, feeling his warm skin and muscled pecs on her way up, “So… you promised me a little something earlier,” she raised a brow.

“Oh did I? Hmm… And what was that?”

Y/n pursed her lips and hummed, “I believe your words were something along the lines of you were going to fuck me so good after I get back from dinner.”

Harry laughed and pushed his mouth to hers in a quick smack before pulling away, “Sounds delicious. Let me just take a quick shower-“

“Oh no you don’t. I want you just like this,” she said bringing her hands back over his slightly damp pecs.

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and walked her backward to the bed as he kept his eyes on hers, “Then take your dress off my Queen. Let me see those big tits.”

His smirk was playful as he pulled his shorts down and started stroking himself. He watched her remove her clothes and his cock plumped up quickly at the sight of his pregnant Queen. When her breasts were freed from her bra he moaned and hastened his hand to pump himself to his tip. She was gorgeous. He’d never grow tired of looking at her, pregnant or not.

She was laid back into the bed gently as Harry moved over her body, his lips on her nipples and her bump and cunt.

“Already soaked, sweet girl,” Harry said running his fingers through her labia.

She nodded quickly, “Yes. Just fuck me, Harry. God, I need your cock or I’m gonna burst.”

Harry chuckled and tilted his head to look down at her, “Well, would hate for the Queen burst. Better give her what she wants.”

Harry laid down on his back and pulled her over him so she could sit and grind herself down on him. She loved hanging onto his pecs as she rode him gently, swaying her hips up and down, rocking her pelvis into his so her clit was being stimulated the whole time.

Harry squeezed her breasts in his hand as she rolled her hips and moaned. It was a delight to have him filling her and touching her. Having him every day for a week was doing wonders for her mental health, and probably her physical health too.

“Fuck, look at you, Y/n. Carrying my baby and riding my cock. You’re mine aren’t you?”

Y/n moaned and bit her lip as she nodded. She had to keep her volume down but Harry always felt so good and the way he talked to her in bed always made her toes curl. She sucked in a sharp breath when he bucked up into her, rocking his hips softly, “Yes. I love you. I’m yours, Harry.”

A small whimper fell from Harry’s mouth as he continued thrusting up into her. She was so wet and gripping his big cock just how he liked. But even with her pussy gripping him like it was, the sound was sloppy as they moved together.

“God I love you. Wanna get you pregnant again right after you have my first baby. Just keep knocking you up, fuck my come into you every night…” his words were strained as he spoke as quietly as possible.

“Yes! God… Fuck, Harry…” She widened her eyes and covered her mouth with one hand, looking at Harry who was chuckling, “shit that was loud.”

“If you want, we can do it like we did yesterday morning when the housekeeper was just in the hallway outside of the room.”

She grinned and lowered her hand from her mouth, “Actually, that sounds fantastic.”

Carefully, she pulled herself up and moved off of Harry, lying on her side as Harry moved in behind to spoon her. He lifted Y/n’s thigh, holding at the soft flesh underneath as he slid his cock back into position. He spoke quietly into her ear as he pushed himself inside of her, “There we go. Gonna fuck you like this, m’love. Make you cream all over my cock again. Ooh, fuck squeezing me so good baby. Just like that…” Harry closed his eyes as he bottomed out and positioned them so he could bring his hand to her mouth to keep her quiet just like they did the day before.

Y/n had been extra needy and she couldn’t wait til evening to have him. So she begged him and promised she’d be quiet even though the housekeeper was cleaning the hallway and the bathroom just feet from where she and Harry were. So he fucked her nice and slow and kept his hand over her mouth so the only noise coming from the room had been the subtle creaking of the bed.

When his palm covered her mouth she moved her own hand down to rub at her clit slowly as Harry plunged into her and pulled out to his tip, rolling his hips just right to get nice and deep.

Harry’s deep voice kept whispering into her ear, “You feel so good. Love how wet you get for me and how you’re so desperate for my cock. Love getting filled up with me don’t you?” His lips brushed against the back of her ear and she was already so far gone and moaning into his hand with abandon. Her noises were muffled as Harry panted and grunted quietly.

Her thighs were soaked. She’d made such a mess of herself once again and the sound of Harry’s cock plunging into her wet pussy was erotic and dirty.

He could feel her fingers brushing against his cock and then his balls as he pushed in further the way her fingers were rubbing at her clit. He knew her hand had to be wet with how everything between them was sticky with her arousal.

“Gonna come on my cock, love? Can feel your pussy clenching around me, your thighs are shaking. Let me feel you, Y/n.”

She was already coming before he finished speaking, her body tensing and her thighs beginning to close but Harry moved his leg between hers to keep her spread apart as he continued fucking into her.

Harry felt his balls tighten with his own orgasm. Her walls were pulsing around him and she was so wet and warm, “I’m gonna fill you up, Y/n. Fffuck, baby…”

Harry jerked his hips, reaching himself as far as his cock could go, and gasped as he moved his hand off the Queen’s mouth and held her thigh so he could use his thighs to continue working himself in and out as her cunt squeezed around him and milked his cock of every last drop of his come.

Moving her hand off her clit she reached around behind her to hold onto his forearm as he slowed his movements and let her leg fall down. Bringing his arm over her moved his hand over her breast and kissed her shoulder, “I love you. Love being with you. Would stay trapped inside this one room for the rest of my life if it meant being with you.”

Y/n laughed and turned her head, moving her body just enough that she could look over her shoulder at him, “Luckily you won’t have to do that. One day soon we’ll be able to be together without having to be trapped in a bedroom. Isn’t it funny that it’s been us in a bedroom alone together since the beginning? Only now we have more time. Can fall asleep next to one another, brush each other’s hair, make love all day long, watch movies, have long conversations… Actually, now that I think about it… being trapped in a room with you is pretty amazing.”

Harry squeezed her hip and pulled her in, lifting his head to kiss her. It was amazing. From the moment he first saw her again a week ago he knew this time would be different. There would be no going back from this. He would do everything he could to make sure that they ended up together.

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You can’t.

Shouts rise behind you now, low, controlled, urgent.

“They don’t want to alarm the king…” your mind registers distantly.

Good.

That gives you seconds.

Maybe minutes.

You turn sharply at the next corner, nearly slipping on the damp floor, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might give you away on its own.

Think.

Think.

Another hallway.

Another row of doors.

Then…an open one.

You don’t hesitate.

You slip inside, closing it just enough to hide yourself without making a sound.

Silence.

Your chest heaves as you press yourself against the wall, forcing your breathing to quiet, to slow, even though every instinct is screaming at you to keep moving.

Footsteps pass outside.

Voices.

Closer now.

“She went this way!!”

“No, check the lower cells!!”

You close your eyes briefly, steadying yourself.

Think.

There has to be a way out.

There has to be….

The door jerks open.

Hard.

You flinch instantly, your body tensing, your breath catching as you brace for hands, for soldiers, for… “Y/N!”

Your eyes snap open.

And everything stops.

Harry.

For a second, neither of you moves.

Then he’s crossing the room in two quick steps, pulling you into him so tightly it almost knocks the air out of you.

“Fuck! I thought…” his voice breaks slightly, breath uneven against your hair as his arms tighten around you. “I thought I was too late…are you hurt? Did they….did they touch you? Did they…”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands moving quickly over your arms, your shoulders, your face like he needs to see it for himself.

“Oh thank god,” he exhales, the words shaky, relief crashing through him so hard it almost sounds like pain. “Oh thank god.”

You stare at him for a second, still catching up, still trying to process that he’s here, that he’s real, that this isn’t something your mind made up to survive…

Then you grab onto him just as tightly.

“I’m okay!” you say quickly, your voice softer but just as unsteady. “I’m okay!...I’m fine!”

Your fingers clutch at his shirt, grounding yourself.

“My sister!…” you add, the words catching slightly.

His expression shifts instantly.

“I know” he says.

There’s no hesitation in it.

No confusion.

Just certainty.

“I know everything.”

You pull back slightly, searching his face.

“She, she brought them here, she…”

“I know,” he repeats, softer now, his hands still holding onto you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. “She made a deal with my father”

Your stomach twists.

“The wedding?” you say

His jaw tightens. “It’s real,” he says. “They’re forcing it. Using you to make sure I don’t refuse.”

Your chest tightens again, but this time there’s something else mixed into it.

Anger.

Sharp.

Burning.

You shake your head quickly.

“No! we’re not staying here” you say, your voice gaining strength again. “We need to get out.”

“I know.”

His hands slide down to yours, gripping them firmly.

“I was trying to find you before they moved you somewhere worse…” he says. “We don’t have much time.”

Voices echo again in the distance.

Closer now.

“They’re searching every room…”

“Stick with me.”

His grip tightens slightly as he pulls you toward the door, pausing just enough to listen, to calculate.

.

There’s no space for hesitation, no room for second guesses. Harry moves fast, pulling you with him, his hand tight around yours as he guides you through corridors that twist and turn like a maze. He doesn’t even need to think about it, his body remembers, his instincts sharper than ever now.

“This way” he murmurs, barely slowing as he cuts through a narrow passage, one you wouldn’t have noticed on your own.

Your breath comes quick, uneven, your mind racing just as fast as your feet. Every sound feels louder, the echo of your steps, the distant shouts, the pounding of your own heart in your ears.

“Left” he says, and you follow instantly.

You don’t question him.

You trust him.

Another turn.

Another corridor.

Light starts to shift ahead, brighter, warmer.

An exit.

You feel it before you see it.

Hope rises too quickly in your chest.

And then—Clapping.

Slow.

Measured.

Deliberate.

You both stop.

The sound echoes through the hall like a mockery.

You turn.

And there they are.

The king stands at the center, calm as ever, hands coming together in a final, quiet clap. Grace stands slightly behind him, her expression unreadable at first, but there’s something sharp in her eyes.

Something satisfied.

“Well” the king says, voice smooth, almost impressed. “That was… unexpected.”

Harry steps in front of you immediately.

Instinct.

Protective.

His body a barrier between you and them.

“Don’t” he snaps, his voice low and furious.

The king’s gaze flicks to him, amused.

“Still defiant…” he notes.

Then, without looking away

“Take her.”

The order lands like a strike.

Soldiers move instantly.

Harry doesn’t hesitate.

He steps forward, blocking them completely, his stance firm, unyielding.

“No!”

The word cuts through the space.

Sharp.

Final.

The soldiers hesitate, glancing toward the king for confirmation.

Grace steps forward then, her voice softer but cutting through just the same.

“This is unnecessary!” she says. “We don’t need to do this here and…”

“Enough.”

The king doesn’t raise his voice.

But it lands heavier than anything else.

Grace stills immediately, her lips pressing together, frustration flickering across her face before she forces it down.

The king’s attention returns to Harry.

“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be Harry…” he says calmly.

Harry lets out a short, disbelieving breath.

“You locked her in a cell.”

“She’s alive…” the king replies. “That’s more than most in her position would be.”

That, that makes something in Harry snap further.

“You don’t get to say that like it’s a kindness.”

The king tilts his head slightly, studying him.

“You’ve changed.”

Harry doesn’t answer.

Because that’s obvious.

Because this…this is exactly why.

“Move aside” the king continues, more firmly now. “You need to forget about her.”

“No.”

Behind him, you step forward slightly, your voice cutting in before the tension can snap completely.

“No, he doesn’t!”

The king’s gaze shifts to you.

Evaluating.

You don’t back down.

“You think this works forever?” you say, your voice steady despite everything. “You think people don’t notice?”

Silence falls.

Even the soldiers seem to still.

“You have people down there” you continue, your words gaining strength now. “In cells. Starving. Hurt. Forgotten.”

Grace shifts slightly, but says nothing.

The king’s expression doesn’t change.

Not yet.

“You think their families just stopped looking?” you press. “You think the villages don’t talk?”

Harry glances back at you briefly.

There’s something in his eyes.

Something like pride.

Something like agreement.

You step forward just enough to stand beside him now.

“The whole kingdom will know…” you say. “And when they do…they won’t hesitate.”

Your voice sharpens.

“They’ll come here. They’ll tear this place apart looking for them.”

A beat.

“And they’ll find everything….”

The words echo.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

The king watches you closely now.

Really watches.

Something shifts behind his eyes.

Not fear.

But awareness.

“You’re bold” he says quietly.

You hold his gaze.

“So are people when they have nothing left to lose.”

Harry steps slightly closer to you, his presence solid at your side.

“We’re leaving” he says.

Not a request.

Not a negotiation.

A statement.

The king exhales slowly.

“No ” he says.

And the soldiers move again.

“We are…” you say, your voice steady despite the chaos pressing in around you, “or we start talking.”

The words cut clean through the tension.

For a moment, no one moves.

Not the soldiers.

Not Grace.

Not even Harry.

The king’s gaze locks onto you, sharp and assessing, the weight of your threat settling into the space between you all. He doesn’t react immediately…but you see it.

The hesitation.

“You wouldn’t make it past the borders” he says finally, his tone quieter now, less certain than before.

You don’t look away.

“Maybe not,” you reply. “But we’d make enough noise before we go.”

A pause.

Then, softer…but sharpe r

“And you know it won’t stop with us.”

Silence stretches.

The king’s jaw tightens slightly, his fingers tapping once against his arm as his mind works through it, consequences, risks, reputation.

Grace steps forward, desperate to regain control of something slipping through her hands.

“This is ridiculous,” she says quickly, turning toward Harry. “You’re throwing everything away for her! for someone who—”

“Stop.”

The king’s voice cuts her off instantly.

This time, there’s no patience in it.

No tolerance.

Grace stiffens, her frustration flashing openly now, but she doesn’t speak again.

The king exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face for a brief second before looking back at Harry.

There’s something different in his expression now.

Not softness.

But something closer to… reluctant acknowledgment.

“You’re certain?” he asks.

The question is direct.

Heavy.

Final.

Harry doesn’t hesitate.

Not even for a second.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

His hand tightens around yours as he says it, grounding, certain, unshakable.

The king watches the two of you for a long moment.

Then exhales again.

Longer this time.

He lifts a hand.

A small gesture.

But it changes everything.

The soldiers stop.

Completely.

“Let them go” he says.

Grace’s head snaps toward him.

“What?!” she breathes, disbelief flooding her voice. “You can’t be serious!! after everything!! after the deal!!”

“I said enough” the king replies, already turning away from her, his tone final.

She takes a step forward, her composure cracking.

“You promised!!”

“And I’m changing my mind.”

The words are cold.

Decisive.

Grace stands frozen, her expression twisting between anger and something darker, but the king doesn’t look back at her again. He’s already walking away.

The soldiers hesitate, unsure for a fraction of a second…then step back.

Opening a path.

Harry doesn’t waste it.

“Come on” he says quickly, pulling you with him before anything can shift again, before anyone can change their mind.

You move fast together, your hand still locked in his as you rush through the corridors, past stunned guards and silent servants who don’t dare interfere.

The palace feels different now.

Not like a trap.

Like something you’re finally escaping.

You burst through the main doors and into the open air, the light hitting you almost too brightly after the darkness below.

Daisy is still there.

Waiting.

Harry doesn’t slow.

He leads you straight to her, his movements quick and efficient, adrenaline still driving every step.

“Up!” he says, helping you onto the saddle first.

You climb quickly, your hands gripping tightly as you settle in.

He’s right behind you a second later, swinging up with practiced ease, his arms coming around you as he takes the reins.

Daisy surges forward.

Fast.

The palace gates loom ahead, guards standing at attention…but they don’t move.

They can’t.

Harry’s grip tightens slightly around you, steady, protective, certain.

At first, neither of you slows down, Daisy’s hooves striking the ground in a steady rhythm, the palace still too close in your minds, the threat too fresh to risk stopping. The wind rushes past, carrying away the tension in fragments, but not entirely.

Not yet.

It isn’t until the landscape begins to soften….until the stone roads give way to open land, until the air feels cleaner, lighter, and arry finally eases the reins.

“There” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

A small lake comes into view, tucked between low hills and scattered trees. The water is still, reflecting the late afternoon light in soft ripples. Quiet. Isolated. Safe enough.

For now.

Daisy slows to a stop near the edge, her breathing heavy but steady.

Harry is off the horse almost immediately.

“Careful…” he says, his hands already reaching up to you as you shift, helping you down with a gentleness that feels almost out of place after everything that just happened.

The moment your feet touch the ground, he doesn’t step away.

He stays close.

Too close.

His hands move quickly, your arms, your shoulders, your face, checking, searching, his expression tight with something that hasn’t settled yet.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, the words coming out fast, overlapping slightly. “Did they…did anyone…did you hit your head? Your arms?”

“I’m okay…” you start, but he’s already crouching slightly, his gaze dropping.

Your knee.

The bruise is already forming, dark beneath the skin.

His jaw tightens instantly.

“That! how did…”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly. “I just…”

“You’re limping” he cuts in, his voice sharper than he means it to be, worry bleeding through every word. “That’s not nothing…”

“Harry…”

He stills.

Just for a second.

Then he looks up at you.

Really looks.

And everything shifts, your expression breaks before you can hold it together.

The tension.

The fear.

The relief.

It all hits at once.

Your breath catches, and then.

You’re crying.

You don’t even try to stop it.

You step forward, your hands gripping onto him tightly, like if you don’t, he might disappear again.

“I thought I lost you…” you say, your voice shaking, barely steady enough to get the words out. “I thought I was never going to see you again….”

Harry doesn’t hesitate.

He pulls you into him instantly, his arms wrapping around you firmly, holding you like he felt the same thing, like he still does.

“Hey… hey…” he murmurs softly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, pressing you gently into his shoulder. “I’m here.”

His voice lowers, steadier now.

“I told you…” he adds, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, lingering there for a second. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You hold onto him tighter.

Like you’re anchoring yourself.

Like you need to feel him there, solid and real.

He stays like that, letting you breathe, letting you cry it out, his hand moving slowly along your back in quiet, grounding motions.

Until your breathing starts to even out.

Until the tightness in your chest loosens just enough.

There’s a pause.

A softer one this time.

And then.

His voice again.

Lower.

Almost lost in the space between you.

“I love you…”

It’s quiet.

Barely there.

But it lands heavier than anything else.

“I thought I lost you too,” he continues, his arms tightening slightly around you. “And I was either going to die trying to find you… or kill him.”

The words are raw.

Unfiltered.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands still holding onto his shirt.

His expression hasn’t softened completely.

There’s still something burning underneath.

But his eyes. They’re on you. Only you.

He chose you.

You stay close to him for a while, your hands still gripping lightly at his shirt, like some part of you isn’t fully convinced this is real yet, that if you let go too soon, everything might unravel again.

The lake is quiet around you. Too quiet.

Your breathing steadies, but your mind doesn’t.

“What if they come after us?” you ask softly, your voice still a little fragile as you pull back just enough to look at him. “Your father… Grace… what if they don’t just let us go?”

Harry doesn’t hesitate.

“They won’t.”

The certainty in his voice makes you pause.

You search his face, trying to find doubt—anything—but there’s none.

“They won’t risk it,” he adds, calmer now, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, wiping away the last trace of tears. “Not after what you said. Not with everything they’re hiding.”

You swallow.

“But what if they do?”

“Then we deal with it,” he says simply.

There’s no arrogance in it.

No empty promise.

Just quiet confidence.

Then his expression softens slightly, like he can see the tension still sitting in your chest, refusing to fully leave.

“…But we won’t stay nearby,” he continues, shifting just a little closer to you again. “We’ll go somewhere else. Further. Somewhere bigger.”

You blink slightly.

“Bigger?”

He nods, a small smile finally tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he says, glancing briefly toward the horizon, like he can already see it. “A place with more land. More space to grow things.”

Your lips part slightly, listening.

“A bigger garden,” he continues, his tone lighter now, almost teasing as he looks back at you. “Not just a few rows and bushes.”

You huff softly, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through.

“Hey! my garden was perfect”

“It was,” he agrees quickly, amused. “But imagine more. Fruit trees, maybe. Rows of vegetables that don’t end after ten steps.”

You tilt your head, watching him now.

He’s different.

Lighter.

Still tired. Still carrying everything that just happened.

But hopeful.

“And animals!” he adds suddenly, like the thought just hit him. “Not just Daisy. Chickens, maybe. A goat. Cows!”

You raise an eyebrow.

“A goat?”

“Yeah,” he says, completely serious. “Why not?”

You let out a small laugh.

“You don’t even know how to take care of a chicken...”

“I can learn,” he replies immediately.

“That’s what you said about harvesting…” you remind him.

“And I got better.”

“After ruining half my plants.”

He smiles wider now.

“Details.”

You shake your head slightly, but the tension in your body loosens more with every word, every small, ridiculous idea he throws out like it’s something real.

“Okay,” you say, playing along now. “And what exactly are you going to do while I run this massive garden?”

His smile turns a little more playful.

“I’ll bake.”

You stare at him.

“Absolutely not.”

“Hey!”

“Your bread is terrible.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It is.”

He narrows his eyes slightly, mock offended.

“You still ate it.”

“I lied” you admit, shrugging lightly. “To spare your feelings.”

He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s cruel.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Barely.”

There’s a pause.

A softer one.

The kind that doesn’t feel heavy anymore.

Just… warm.

“And you’d still eat it?” he asks, quieter now, his gaze holding yours.

You meet his eyes.

“Of course” you say. “Even if it’s terrible.”

Something shifts in his expression again.

Deeper this time.

His hand comes up slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“And we’d just… stay there?” you ask, softer now. “Like that?”

He nods slightly.

“Yeah” he murmurs. “We’d stay.”

His hand slides gently to your jaw, tilting your face just enough.

“Together.”

The word settles between you.

Not rushed.

Not uncertain.

Chosen.

You barely have time to respond before he leans in, closing the distance, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s anything but hesitant.

It’s not rushed, but it’s not careful either.

It’s certain.

Like everything he just said.

Like everything he means.

Your hands find him instinctively, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens, as the world around you fades into something distant and unimportant.

He kisses you like he almost lost you.

Like he knows exactly what it means that he didn’t.

And when he pulls back, just barely, just enough to breathe, he doesn’t go far.

His forehead rests against yours, his voice low.

“I’m not letting you go again.”

Then he kisses you again but then you pull back from the kiss just enough to look at him, your breath still uneven, your hands still resting against his chest like you’re making sure he’s real.

“…Okay” you say, a small, skeptical smile forming despite everything. “And how exactly are we going to do that?”

He tilts his head slightly.

“Do what?”

“Find a bigger place,” you clarify. “Start over somewhere new, build all of that… gardens, animals, bread disasters….” you add, glancing at him pointedly. “That takes money.”

His lips twitch.

“You’re not wrong.”

“And we don’t exactly have… anything,” you continue, softer now. “Not anymore.”

For a second, he just looks at you.

Then. He smiles.

Not worried.

Not uncertain.

Almost… amused.

“Come here” he says, taking your hand gently and guiding you back toward Daisy.

You follow, curious now, watching him as he reaches for one of the small pouches hanging from the saddle.

He unties it slowly, like he’s savoring the moment.

Then turns it slightly—

Just enough for you to see inside.

Gold.

Not a little.

A lot.

Your eyes widen instantly.

“…Harry”

He grins.

“I think” he says, like this is the most normal thing in the world, “we might have to exchange some more gold.”

You stare at him.

Then at the pouch.

Then back at him.

“You…” you let out a soft gasp, half shocked, half impressed. “You stole more?”

He shrugs lightly, completely unbothered.

“Just enough.”

“Just enough?” you repeat, almost laughing now. “That’s…Harry, that’s not just enough, that’s….”

“Future goat money,” he interrupts.

You can’t help it.

You laugh.

Really laugh this time.

And before you can even think about it, you step forward and kiss him again, quick but full, your hands curling into his shirt as if sealing the promise of everything he just said.

He laughs softly against your lips.

And for the first time. It all feels possible.

.

One year later.

.

The sound of the rooster cuts through the quiet morning.

Loud.

Persistent.

Familiar.

You stir slowly, still wrapped in warmth, your body reluctant to leave the comfort of sleep. The light filtering through the window is soft, golden, stretching gently across the room.

Your room.

Bigger.

Brighter.

Yours.

You shift slightly, your hand instinctively reaching across the bed…

Empty.

You frown a little, eyes still half-closed as you blink awake.

“Harry…?” you murmur softly.

No answer.

But then, you smell it.

Tea. Warm bread.

Something cooking.

And beneath it, the faint sound of movement.

A quiet clatter.

A muffled curse.

You smile instantly.

Before you can even sit up, the door opens.

And there he is.

Hair slightly messy, sleeves rolled up, a tray in his hands, and a look of careful concentration on his face like he’s trying very hard not to spill anything.

The room feels fuller the second he steps in.

“Good morning” he says, his voice warm, a smile already forming as he looks at you.

He sets the tray down gently beside you, tea, fresh bread, eggs cooked perfectly this time, and then looks back at you with something soft in his eyes.

“How’s my two favorite girls?” he asks.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“I’m sleepy” you say, your voice still thick with morning as you yawn slightly.

He chuckles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“And the little one?” he asks, his hand already resting against your stomach.

Your hand follows his instinctively, covering his, holding it there.

“Very awake”  you say with a small laugh, glancing down at the gentle curve of your belly.

Not small anymore.

Not something you can ignore.

Real.

Growing.

His expression softens immediately, something deeper settling into his features as he keeps his hand there, thumb brushing lightly over the fabric like he can already feel more than he actually can.

“Already causing trouble…” he murmurs.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Just like her father...”

“Hey” he protests softly, though there’s no real defense in it.

You smile, watching him.

Really watching him.

There’s flour on his sleeve.

A small burn mark on his hand.

And somehow—

The bread looks perfect.

You glance at it.

Then back at him.

“…Did you actually make that?” you ask, suspicious.

He straightens slightly.

“I did!”

He sits beside you then, closer, his arm slipping naturally around you, pulling you gently against him as if this is something he’ll never get used to, but also never question.

“I love you” he adds.

You lean into him, resting your head lightly against his shoulder.

“We love you too.”

There’s a pause.

A quiet one.

Peaceful.

Outside, you can hear the faint sounds of the life you built, the animals, the wind moving through the fields, the world continuing gently around you.

Inside…It’s warm. Safe.

His hand drifts back to your stomach, resting there like it belongs.

Because it does.

Because all of this does.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple.

And for once.

There’s nothing chasing you.

Nothing waiting.

Just this.

And everything you chose to build together.