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If there is one thing Harry Styles knows to be true in his life, it’s that he loves Louis Tomlinson with every fiber of his being.
If there is a second truth, it’s that Louis loves him back.
Harry doesn’t know if Louis’ love for him is as great or as deep, but in the end that’s okay. Because love is about being able to pour out into someone else all the goodness and loving kindness that you have within yourself, and that Harry gets the opportunity to do that for Louis is more than enough, really.
Or, it was more than enough. Right up until yesterday morning when Harry was thrown into the deepest level of the jails beneath the palace.
—
“Harry Styles,” Louis had scolded him. “What if I had been indecent?”
Harry closed the door behind himself and walked over to where Louis was lying, stretched across the bed like a great lion sunning himself. “I would have had to avert my eyes,” he said, kneeling next to the bed so that they were at eye level. “Perhaps I would have resigned my post, having been so terribly untoward. I would never have been able to serve as your knight again.”
His serious frown broke when Louis laughed at him. “You’re ridiculous and utterly charming,” Louis said, turning on his side and arching his neck so that their faces were mere inches apart. “Kiss me, my knight. We have so little time left.”
Harry’s smile faltered at that, because it was true. Their time together was down to mere hours now. Hours until the ceremony that Louis would partake in that would reveal his future queen.
Harry loved Louis enough, though. Enough to let him go and be happy in the path laid out before him.
He leaned forward and connected their lips, tasting the honey crystals on Louis’ tongue. He tried, probably in vain, to capture the moment, to have a memory to gaze back on during lonely nights in the future.
“You’re not present,” Louis said, pulling away. “Be with me now, please.”
Taking the invitation for what Harry knew it was, he climbed up onto the bed, hoping he didn’t dirty the sheets too much with his uniform, and embraced his prince. Their legs tangled together, their fingers intertwined, and Harry laid his cheek against the fluff of Louis’ soft, feathery fringe. He let out a breath and inhaled the scent of Louis, and only Louis.
“No matter what happens,” Harry assured him, voice fragile. “I will stay by your side.”
—
Rarely has a promise so earnestly made been so quickly broken.
The ceremony took place that afternoon, in the King’s inner chambers. Few were allowed inside the inner rooms; a group made up of the King and Queen, the Prince, the Oracle, and the King’s most trusted guards. Harry was not numbered among them as his fealty was sworn solely to the Prince. He stood instead outside chambers until the end of the ceremony, in line with the other knights.
Every King of England has undergone the ceremony for as long as history has been recorded. It is meant to find the Heart’s Desire, as the new Queen is generally known. She is always of royal descent, and a king is thought to be an especially good one if his Heart’s Desire is a princess in her own right. Regardless, the wedding to follow happens as soon as the woman can make it to the palace, sometimes within the same week. The ceremony itself is a closely guarded secret, but the Oracle is the one who performs is, and an oracle is never wrong.
Except maybe this time.
Something was wrong this time, Harry could tell from the raised voices coming from within the chamber. Louis’ father’s booming voice and the Oracle’s scratchy, grating one. It had sounded like an argument but even the King should know better than to argue with the Oracle. Perhaps it was a part of the ceremony, but Harry doubted it greatly.
Then the next second, their voices only drawing louder, the doors to the inner chambers had burst open, and the King, a man with flaming red hair who’s face was, in that moment, just as scarlet, barged out of the room, the others following. Harry had tried not to look surprised (knights should never look caught off guard at anything), but then the King had swung around and pointed directly at him.
“Arrest him,” his voice had boomed, and Harry had not even a moment to react before every knight there turned to him. Even if he had a clue what had happened, he wouldn’t have had a chance against the best the kingdom had to offer. Eyes wide and struggling in confusion, Harry was dragged off so fast that he got only one look at the Prince, at his Louis, who had tears streaming down his face.
I will stay by your side, Harry had said only hours earlier. How was he to know he wouldn’t have the chance?
—
The dungeon Harry sits in is cold and damp, and he’s been delivered only one meal in the last day. He has no idea why he was thrown down here, and no one seems up to offer an explanation.
As a palace knight he knows the palace jails well, and he knows especially well that the dungeon at the lowest floor is only for those criminals that they can’t trust not to say something to the other criminals they share their space with. It’s an insult to have been thrown down here, especially because it means they must believe he knows what he’s done.
He stands and paces the length of his cell for hours, and then sits but in his restlessness that doesn’t last long. All he can think of is Louis’ face in that moment when he was grabbed. The tears and the shock outlined in his eyes. What happened in the inner chambers?
It’s hours later, although Harry has no idea really how long, that he hears someone running down the steps, sees the lantern light bouncing off the walls as whoever it is comes closer. Harry squints, his eyes adjusting after having been in near darkness for so long.
“Harry—” a breathless voice whispers with the pounding of footsteps, and oh—
“Louis!” Harry calls back, trying to keep his voice hushed but failing as soon as he opens his mouth. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”
Louis reaches the bars of the cell, his lantern swinging madly from his wrist. “I’m fine, I— Oh god, Harry, it’s horrible and I don’t know what can be done, the ceremony went horribly wrong.” He looks on the verge of tears. His hair is a mess and his face is blotchy from what Harry can see in the swinging of the lamplight.
Harry stands and runs to him, to give him at least some comfort through the bars, but as soon as he gets close, there is a feeling like fire in his hands and Louis stumbles backward with a sharp cry. “What-?” Harry stutters.
“It was-” Louis takes a step forward again and the stops. “The Oracle. Father demanded that she put a curse on us. We cannot come within a foot of one another.”
“But why?” Harry exclaims. “This all makes no sense, I’ve done nothing!”
“It’s-” Louis inhales a shaky breath. “No, you didn’t, but I- I’m afraid I’ve doomed you, Harry. The ceremony went wrong because my heart has already been skewed and the Oracle, she- she could only see you. The ceremony chose you for my Heart’s Desire.”
“Oh no,” Harry whispers, taking a step back. “My prince I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I-”
“There is nothing to forgive!” Louis all but yells. “I love you, Harry! I have loved you since the day you pledged your fealty to me, and I will continue to do so until long after the woman my father has demanded I marry has grown old and withered.” Tears have formed in his eyes, and he takes another step forward, putting his hands to the bars. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I never wanted this for you, you have to understand, I didn’t know this would happen.”
“Louis,” Harry says, moving forward until he can feel something like fire pricking at his skin. “My Love, you have to know the feel the same, I—”
“Stop,” Louis grits out. “Please. I can’t bear it.” He takes from his breastpocket a silver key and tosses it through the bars to Harry. “Please, make your escape tonight. Wait an hour or two and you will have the cover of darkness. I’m sure Father means to kill you before the wedding tomorrow.”
“The wedding?” Harry gasps. “To whom?”
“She is of royal descent,” Louis says, looking downward. “I know not her name, just that she will be, as far as anyone else is aware, my Heart’s Desire.”
“No!” Harry argues. “You can’t! If she’s not your true Heart’s Desire then it will never work, you’ll never be happy!”
“Well my true Heart’s Desire is to die because of me!” Louis shouts, stepping backward and turning toward the stairs. “Leave tonight Harry, please, before it’s too late.”
He runs, leaving Harry alone in the darkness.
—
Harry does as Louis tells him to.
It’s not what he wants. Dear god has he never wanted anything less. But in the short time he spends pacing the length of his cell after Louis leaves, the one conclusion he comes to is that he’ll do for Louis whatever will make him happiest. Even though Harry’s certainly no longer a knight, he wants to be able to keep him safe. And getting far away from him right now seems like it’s what would keep Louis safest.
So Harry leaves.
Harry had a life before the palace.
It took place in a small cottage in the woods on the outskirts of a small village. He grew up there with his mum and his sister, and there was never surplus but there was usually enough.
He had made the trip to the palace when he turned thirteen, hoping to get a job and send money home to his family. He had immediately fallen head over heels with the Prince, and good fortune favoured him there, as he was lucky enough to gain a position of knight, something many guards would only dream of.
Once every fortnight or so he would get the chance to make the day’s journey home to his mum, and now he’s thankful that no one in the palace ever learned of his history. Under cover of night he leaves now, taking his horse from the palace stable, and in the morning light he arrives at the steps of the cottage that looked a little smaller every time he returns.
Now, with his sister having married a few years earlier, Harry takes to spending his days helping around the cottage as his mum makes garments to sell at the market. He says nothing to his mum about what’s happened except that she should tell no one he’s there.
It’s not a life that he’s satisfied with, but it’s what Louis instructed him to do, so he’s willing.
Every night he dreams of Louis.
For months, he hears little of the palace, except that the wedding ceremony took place the day after he escaped. He sincerely hopes Louis is happy. His tear-streaked form visits Harry in his dreams, giving apologies but telling him it had to happen, and on those nights Harry finds himself up early in the morning and wandering through the forest for something to distract himself.
It is well into the winter months, well after Harry has begun to feel stir crazy in the small cottage as snowstorms whip outside, when he is woken from an especially vivid dream, and something tugs at his heart. It feels real, like something has gotten embedded into his sternum and is pulling, insistently. He stumbles out of bed and dons his boots, heading out into the cold outdoors to mount his horse. The tugging continues, and it’s always in the same direction. Groggy with sleep, he follows it.
Out in the woods as the wind whips up flurries of snow around him, Harry feels that something tugging, pressing him onward. He follows the feeling, urging his horse forward and moving deeper into the forest. The further he goes, the stronger the tugging inside of him feels. He travels for a long while, until he knows he’s probably hopelessly lost, and is almost convinced he’s gone insane.
That is, until the trees part in front of him and he finds himself in a clearing.
If he’d been paying more attention he could have stopped before leaving the cover of the woods, but the pull on his heart is so strong at this point that he’s failed to be on his guard, and so he ends up leading his horse into the open, finding himself in a sort of campsite.
A large tent takes up the majority of the open space, with a number of horses saddled with packs are tied to the tent’s stakes. There are two men, burly and close to Harry’s own age, who had clearly been tending to the horses and are now staring at Harry with obvious hostility.
“My apologies,” Harry calls to them. “I’ve gotten a bit lost. Can you tell me where I am?”
“Dismount,” one of the men says, drawing a bow and arrow. “Immediately.”
Harry does so, knowing how close he is that he’d be quite the easy target.
“This way,” the other one says, motioning toward the tent. “The Lady will want to know how you’ve gotten here.”
“I do not know where here is,” Harry points out, but shuts his mouth when he feels the prodding of a dagger in his back from one of the men. He’s led into the tent, and then finds the breath knocked out of him as he is confronted with the scene.
There’s a table and chairs at which a woman sits in fine jewelry and linen, with two more men accompanying her in high society dress.
It’s not them whom Harry’s eyes land on, though, but the man sitting at the back of the tent, on his knees and tied to one of the stakes that holds the tent in place, is the Prince.
Louis.
“Who are you?” asks the woman, keen eyes boring into him. Harry barely has the wherewithal to respond, though, too focused on the man he’s been dreaming about. Why is he here?
“I am Harry,” he says, glancing at the woman. He points at Louis, who locks eyes with him, a shocked expression on his face. “I’m here for him.”
“Kill him,” says the woman, motioning to the guards around her as if it’s the simplest of commands.
It probably would be, if Harry had not been serving among the palace knights for so long.
He hurdles forward, not even beginning to think of a proper plan, only knowing that he needs to get to Louis, to make sure Louis is safe. It’s at the last second, as the woman screeches for the guards to go after him and the men move forward with daggers and swords, that Harry remembers the curse. He cannot be within a foot of Louis. He’ll hurt him.
He says a prayer to the heavens that Louis will be okay, that this will be just long enough to get him free and safe, just as he reaches Louis and lays hands on his bonds.
And as soon as he breaches that last foot, fire erupts.
Maybe what the Oracle gave him was not a curse after all.
It ignites between them and burns away the ropes holding Louis down, and balloons outward, around them, until the other five people in the tent are gone from their view. Harry can feel the pinpricks of fire at the edge of his fingers as he reaches for Louis, but it doesn’t hurt the way it had the first time, down in the dungeon. Instead he feels the soft glow on his fingertips and on Louis’ skin as he hoists him up, an arm under his knees and under his shoulders.
Louis grabs onto him, eyes wide. “You came,” he said. “I dreamed about you, but I did not think you would return.”
“I dreamed about you as well,” Harry says. He wants to gaze upon Louis’ face but he also needs to find an exit to this burning tent. It comes almost as he thinks it, as the fire rips a hole in the fabric nearest him. Harry runs through it and finds the snowy world outside a relief after the smoke billowing through the tent. “We have to go,” Harry says. “We can speak later.”
He hefts Louis onto his horse, and climbs on behind him, snaking his hands around Louis’ waist to keep him from falling. Louis seems fine, as far as Harry can tell from just looking him over, but still he worries. Knows nothing about what’s happened in the time he’s been gone.
“My mother’s cottage is near here,” Harry says as he urges his horse onward (and hopes his horse remember the way back). “We can go there first. Do you need anything? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Louis says, tilting his head back so that his hair brushes Harry’s chin. “I am shaken, but I will be fine.”
“It won’t be long,” Harry assures him. “I will fix whatever’s happened, I promise.”
Louis’ hand finds his where Harry’s placed it on his stomach. Harry’s heart feels warm. He feels complete.
—
When they reach the cottage, Harry’s mum is already out, probably on the way to the marketplace for the day. Harry ushers Louis inside and offers him cheese, bread, jam, anything else he can find. Louis continues to decline him on everything except water, a slight smile on his face.
“I would like to sleep,” Louis says. “It has been a long time since I’ve been in a bed. Will you join me, like you used to?”
“Of course I will,” Harry says. He prays his sheets are fresh enough for the Prince as he leads him to the back room where his bed is. Louis makes no comment except to sigh in happiness when Harry settles in behind him.
They’re silent for a time but Harry knows Louis is nowhere near sleep. Eventually he can’t keep silent any longer. “I cannot go back with you, your father will—”
“He’s dead, Harry,” Louis says. “My father died near a fortnight ago, at the hands of the woman I was forced to marry.”
“Oh Louis,” Harry says, cradling the man to himself. “I’m so sorry.”
“I am as well,” Louis says. “And I will mourn, but now is not the time for that. I need to get home and ensure the crown is safe. Please,” and he looks up at Harry with those blue, blue eyes. “I ask too much of you, but please come with me.”
Harry smiles, softly. “Nothing has changed for me,” he says. “I have pledged loyalty to you and I’ve done it out of love. I will follow you wherever you ask, my Prince, just please never send me away again.”
“My Harry,” Louis chokes out, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders. “You have always and will always be my Heart’s Desire. The Oracle only confirmed what I already knew, and the strength of our bond is clear. I should never have sent you away. Please stay by my side from this day forward, I beg you.”
Harry hugs him tight. “As you wish, my Prince,” he says. Leaning down, he seeks out Louis’ lips for a bruising kiss that says more than words ever could.
So much of the time to come is uncertain, but one thing Harry knows to be true; he loves Louis with every fiber of his being, and will follow him to the ends of the earth.