Chapter Text
PART TWO
March 1493, Windsor Castle, England
It was all fine until it wasn't. Not quite.
Philippa and Cassian were healthy, growing so fast Harry was slowly forgetting the time when they were babies and most importantly, England was peaceful. After that unfortunate bit with Edric and his puny 'rebellion', Harry and Zayn had no enemies left in their kingdom. At least those that hated them enough to take active action. The people loved them, the country was prospering and they slept well at night, knowing that the risk they took by running away and getting married all those years ago when they were young and foolish paid off in the long run.
All they ever wanted was to end the war. And they did. Peace was all that England had known for five years until a threat arose. Not in their kingdom but across the channel.
Most things start off easy, simple. They trickle in bit by bit so you almost don't even notice until they start to drown you. England is still enjoying peace but her Kings know that now they're knee-deep in bitter water.
"Mathieu has joined Pierre's court." That was the once sentence that started it all. The unease that hangs around them like a storm about to break. Not knowing what will happen, what steps to take to prevent unnecessary bloodshed.
Not long after Cassian's birth, Harry and Zayn fixed the line of succession that Mariota must have tempered with. Harry felt the shock from learning about it the first time once the documents were right in front of them. That chill that went down his spine in Bordeaux all those years ago when Zayn told him that Mathieu could end up on the throne if they die without heirs. Then when he continued and told Harry that Melisende was certain about Mariota, her very own sister sleeping with the King during the war and changing it herself. How can they have any idea what she was plotting?
Nevertheless, they corrected the mishap from nearly two decades earlier and moved on with their lives and reign.
Mariota and Mathieu learned about it upon their visit months after Harry and Zayn had removed any chance of Mathieu ever getting on the throne. With the decree, they issued before Cassian was born, even if they hadn't changed the line of succession, if Mariota's schemes had worked, Agnes, Mathieu's older sister would've gotten the throne.
It was clear at the moment that Mariota had been seething but she couldn't do anything. Not without exposing her little secret that wasn't hidden to Melisende at all.
They all thought that was it. Until the news of Mathieu's arrival at the King of France's court came. Melisende's spies and friends from the French court all claimed that Mathieu and Pierre made fast friends and Mathieu was now in the King's closest circle. Two men that held a grudge against Harry and Zayn were now working together. And that's never a good thing. No matter how innocent it looks.
Deep down, they knew it would all only get worse. And did it get fucking dismal.
xxx
"I am incredibly sorry for my tardiness," Harry breathes out when he walks into the small council chamber. "Philippa's teacher wanted a word and I got held up."
He stops walking when he sees that they're not meeting with the whole privy council. "Why was I under the impression we are meeting everyone today?"
"We are not," Melisende replies, get face a blank slate. "Please, take a seat, Harry."
It's only him, Melisende, Zayn, Helen, Frederick and Raphael in the room. No guards in the room and Harry did notice that there was just one guard at the door instead of the usual two. Nevertheless, Harry takes a seat next to Zayn behind the round circular table. There are documents on it, what seems like a map and a couple of letters.
"Now that Harry is here, I believe we may start. I got word from France," Melisende announces and reaches for a few letters on the table, gathering them in her hand. "A couple of words. More than any sane person would have liked. From my Mother, my Sister, my Niece, my unfortunate Nephew, some from my spies and some from very good friends of mine. All of them are saying the same thing."
Melisende stops her speech. Harry isn't sure if it's just for dramatic effect but he looks at her expectantly. She looks especially grim which isn't a thing with his Mother-in-law. Not to mention Zayn doesn't look particularly cheery either.
"So what did they say?" Harry nudges her. "What could have possibly happened in France that everyone is rushing to write to you about it? Did the King die?"
"No," Melisende answers plainly. "Mathieu decided that he will govern the land our family has owned for generations as an independent province in the King's name. Pierre's name."
Harry scoffs. "What? By doing that he will essentially start a new kingdom. It will only take a couple of years until he crowns himself King and tries to expand. How did anyone let him do this?"
"No one let him do anything," Zayn says to Harry's left, speaking for the first time in the meeting. "The land isn't his."
Harry blinks at his husband in confusion. "I know Melisende owns some parts but wasn't your Aunt the person in possession of them since she stayed in France?"
"No," Zayn shakes his head softly, avoiding Harry's gaze. "It's all hers."
Harry slowly turns his head to look at Melisende. Unlike her son, she faces him with the same blank expression from earlier. Harry doesn't know if his head is ridden with confusion or betrayal or a heart-wrenching concoction of both.
"Raphael, could you, please?" Melisende waves her hand at the table.
Promptly, Raphael gets up from his seat and unfurls the map. It shows both France and the southernmost parts of England, ending just a little above London. France is painted in red and blue. Harry stands up too, leaning against the table, his palms on the edge of the polished dark wood. As they all look over the map, Harry very quickly understands what it shows.
"I had this map drawn up by a friend of mine that helps with my journeys after Queen Mother kindly requested a more recent map but modelled after the one that showed her land in France," Raphael explains. "The red shows Her Highness' lands and the blue is what belongs to the French King. If Mathieu were to take over all that land, he would rule a space as big as half of England."
Harry's head starts spinning. If he wasn't already leaning against the table, he's certain he would've fallen over. The wheels in his mind keep turning because he can see what this is. The memories of standing in a room much like this in Warwick Castle, the map of England in front of him and a brood of people discussing strategies around him. It never ends well. Never.
"I shall give the land to you two," Melisende says, making Harry lift his head so fast he sees black for a split second. "You will proclaim it English territory and appoint a governor for it. There is no other way to stop Mathieu."
"You can't do that," Harry breathes out, his pulse quickening. "It will mean war. We will find ourselves at war within days of doing it. If the French cross the channel we are doomed."
"There is no other way, Harry," Melisende says, her voice low. If Harry tries hard enough, he sees a touch of remorse in her eyes. "I wrecked my brain for days trying to find a different solution but there is none. Only this will stop him. He could not do it either way because the land is not his but if we do not take any action, he and Pierre will find a way around it with enough time. We must act before he does."
Harry scoffs, pulling away from the table sharply. "Do you think they care about documents? Will they respect that it is now English land just because you had the Kings of England sign some silly papers? They do not care about that! If we want that land, we will need to fight for it with blood and iron. There is no other way around it."
The room is eerily silent. Harry looks around the table. At Raphael who is trying to act like he isn't even there and that the map on the table didn't come from his hands. At Helen, who is sitting down and shielding her eyes with her hand. At Frederick, who's downing wine like it's water, just to avoid the conversation.
Then Harry turns his sight to his husband. "Did you know about this, Zayn?"
When Zayn takes a deep breath before he goes to speak and looks at Harry with an already apologetic look in his eyes, Harry knows.
"I did, yes," Zayn says eventually. "I'm sorry, I did not want to worry you before we knew what was going on for certain."
"I am your husband and King!" Harry exclaims, turning his body to fully face Zayn. "How can you keep something like that from me? Your Mother owns half the France and I had no clue! I look like a complete imbecile. You are lucky we are not meeting the whole privy council today because I never would have spoken to you again after embarrassing me like that. I can't believe you."
"Harry, I apologise, it was not my intention," Zayn huffs and tries to grab Harry's hand but Harry snatches it away. "Please, love, I knew for only two days or so."
"You should have told me the second you knew," Harry cuts in. "And this cannot happen, I am not supporting a war when we ended one just eight years ago if I can even count that many years considering everything that happened with Lord Warwick and Edric. I cannot let us go to war with France."
"It is already happening," Melisende says, her tone unmoving. "I am giving the land over to you and Zayn no matter what. And what you two do with it is your decision but I have no doubts that not a single Lord or Lady in England will let you do nothing with it. Sometimes war is the only way. I am saying that as someone who has lead a war and was misguided sometimes. I will own up to my mistakes. And I would never give my only son, and you too Harry, bad advice. I could never live with myself if I brought misfortune to the two of you."
"And what if we both die in battle?" Harry challenges her. "What then? What will happen to our children, our kingdom?"
"You won't," Melisende replies plainly. "You two are the greatest warriors England has ever seen. I would not encourage you if I was not certain you would win the war."
"Melisende, you cannot know that for sure," Harry sighs. "Anything can happen. Anything. Something you may have not even dreamed of in your worst nightmares."
"You have found a place in my heart over the years, Harry," Melisende says, her voice suddenly stern. "But do not try to test me. I am giving the land over to you two this week no matter what. Frogs can start falling from the sky and I would still do it. And then, no matter what you do, you will face war. It is your decision on which side of the channel you fight. If you do nothing, the French King will kindly knock on your door right here in Windsor and fight you without mercy. If you do the right thing, you will have the advantage. You will fight away from your home, from your children and keep them safe by doing so. It is all up to you."
With the ominous last words, Melisende simply walks out of the room, leaving everyone stunned.
"Harry," Zayn says right when the door is shut after Melisende. "We have to act. You do not agree but we have a bigger responsibility than to simply avoid war. We are not peacekeepers, we are Kings."
Harry doesn't reply to him, he only stares ahead at the people who are supposed to be his closest friends but are not acting like they are mere flies on the wall. "What do all of you think we should do? Isn't the point of the council to provide council to the sovereign?"
A few looks of discomfort are exchanged before Helen musters up the courage to speak first. "I believe you should try and get this under control as quickly as you can. Even at the cost of using the army. If Mathieu does what he intends to do, it will cause way more than just one war."
"Helen is right," Frederick sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "This will not end with whatever Mathieu says he wants right now. He will always want a bit more and more and more until he wakes up one day and he will realise he wants the whole of Europe. You have the chance to stop it."
Raphael adds his bit on last. "Mathieu can be a dormant Nero and no one wants to see Rome burn again."
No sound is in the room for a long while before Harry finally sits down and says, "Leave us."
Once the council chamber is empty, just him and Zayn sitting next to each other but not acknowledging one another's presence, the tension is even worse than before.
"Were you planning on telling me we had to wage a war the day before the first battle or what?" Harry breaks the silence, turning in his chair to look at Zayn. "Is this what we promised each other twice in the eyes of God? Do you not love me anymore?"
"Of course, I love you," Zayn scoffs. "I was only being foolishly hopeful that this situation will not turn out to be what it is. I did not want you to think we were to go to war if we did not end up going. We still don't have to."
Harry's eyebrows nearly disappear in his hairline. "Are you mad? Your Mother basically has the battle plans ready and the letter to Pierre declaring war drawn up already. How can this not turn to war?"
"If we are careful, we could potentially avoid it," Zayn explains, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We will try to bribe Mathieu with a position that sounds better and he will feel like he has power even if we would be pulling the strings behind. Or if that does not work, we will try to negotiate some peace."
"You are stupider than I thought," Harry nods once, fury rummaging through his body. "We are already at war, even if it has not been officially said so. We know it, Pierre knows it, Mathieu knows it, the fucking owls in the Carpathian mountains know it."
Zayn lets out a frustrated breath. "Do you think I want to go to war?"
"It sure as hell fucking seems like!" Harry hollers. "Not once did you oppose to war today. Not a word from you against it. So what else am I supposed to think?!"
"I would never go to war if it was not for the good of our Kingdom in the long run," Zayn says, his eyes proverbially throwing daggers at Harry. "And I do not care if you disagree. I do not care if you hate me. I will always do what is right for the people of England."
"Even if they lose their lives on a battlefield?" Harry tests him. "Even if you could lose everything? Including me?"
"Harry," Zayn lets out a breath. "I have risked everything for you. But I will not risk Pierre and my fucking cousin marching on Windsor and killing us all. Not when it is a very real possibility."
"You talk just like your Mother," Harry scoffs, shaking his head. "You do remember our coronation, right? We both have an equal say in the decisions that are made."
"I remember it very well," Zayn snaps. "But do you remember that if we cannot reach a decision together it will be made by the privy council? And not one person on the privy council will be against this war because they are not blinded by the relentless fight for peace. They know that peace is sometimes achieved through war."
Harry stands up, pushing the chair away furiously. "Is that what you truly believe?!"
"Yes!" Zayn screams back, standing up as well. "I told you moments ago that we could try to avoid war and you called me stupid, without any pretence. That was only my attempt at trying to reach a compromise with you but I know now that I cannot. We will have to go to war, Harry and sooner you accept it the better it is for England because we will get to make the decisions and not the privy council."
"I will never accept that!" Harry yells. "Not as long as there is a peaceful way. We can perhaps try to avoid the war as long as we can by keeping a close eye on the French court and seeing if we can somehow avoid an outright war. Either way, we are not ready for war. We need to stall in order to prepare."
"When is one ever ready for war?" Zayn lets out a pitiful laugh. "War does not fucking care if you're ready."
"No, it does not but we can at least try," Harry says, calmer now. "I will agree to the war as long as we do not rush it. How close is Mathieu to executing his plans?"
"We have some time, theoretically," Zayn sighs and walks to the window. "Maybe a year. Pierre has not given him the absolute yes he needs yet. The letters said that Mathieu still needs to accompany him to a visit to Sweden."
Harry nods. He knocks one of his rings against the rim of the table a few times. "We will find a plan. Anything but war. And that is all I have to say about this."
He turns around and quickly gets to the door, opening it himself since there is no guard inside the room. Harry leaves Zayn there and he departs the room with a strange feeling of emptiness. The uncertainty will start eating away at him soon but until then, Harry will live his life as if nothing happened. He will deal with domestic business as usual, raise his children. He will never let war dictate his life again.
xxx
Things never go according to plan and his years as the King of England should have already taught Harry this. He counted with Melisende giving the French land over to him and Zayn but nothing more. Not quite.
But the word got out about it very quickly. The document was an official one and such a thing could not have been kept private for longer than a few hours. Everyone in Windsor knew by the next morning and the word only spread as the hours went by. As one day turned to another and another and another, the privy council had a thing or twenty to say.
One thing Harry has learned in his time as the King of England, is that you have to listen to your privy council and do what they say from time to time, even if you don't agree with it in order to gain and keep their trust and most importantly, loyalty. And that is why he and Zayn have to agree with officially declaring the land an English territory. Harry surely vehemently protests but everyone, everyone argues that now that the information isn't a secret and pretty much the whole of Europe knows that the English Kings legally own half of France, there is not much else they can do.
It is almost an act of war. If you look at it from a theoretical standpoint, nothing about it is illicit or in disagreement with the law. Melisende gave her land to her only child and his husband, something that would have happened upon her death no matter what. Then said child, who happens to be a King, simply added it to the land he already owns. If only he wasn't a King...
As they address the court and guests in the throne room of Windsor Castle, their crowns and ceremonial cloaks on, Harry thinks about the fragile belief of a peaceful life from when he stood right in that room with the love of his love by his side, promising that their reign may be peaceful until they take their last breaths.
Now they are nearly declaring war.
Even if they will try to deter it from happening and save the lives of their people that would have been lost on a battlefield, it will only work for some time. It might be a year, it might be five. Harry knows they cannot run from it. No matter how fast they would be.
Eventually, they appoint Zayn's other cousin Agnes as the governor of their new territory. It has always baffled Harry, how she can be Mathieu's sister when she is so intelligent and kind. Perhaps she listened more to Claricia, her Grandmother, than her scheming, conniving Mother. Despite her connection to the two people that have been trying to make Harry and Zayn's reign miserable, they trust her. They knew that they needed someone who has lived in France their whole life, someone who is fully French and has not stepped a foot out of France in years. Agnes will know the people better, she will know the Lords and Ladies who will help her with her duties as her own sort of a privy council. They are planning to send someone from England there, perhaps Raphael or someone else they trust, but for now, she is their best bet at keeping the land safely away from Mathieu's slimy fingers.
Harry and Zayn will have to visit Bordeaux soon, to present themselves to the people as their protectors and not their oppressors. Zayn is half-French for God's sake, how much can the people really hate them? Pierre was not the most loved King in the history of France.
Surely enough, Harry is unhappy with the outcome. He hasn't been really speaking to Melisende, which is depressing because he found a good friend and confidante in her ever since he was forced to carry a child that first time. To add on to that, he has been mostly sleeping in his own quarters that he hasn't used since the night Cassian was born. He can't let just keep acting like nothing happened, like his trust wasn't betrayed.
With a war somewhere in the future, even breathing his harder. Sometimes, Harry feels like he can already hear the deafening clangs of swords in his ears. The floor is often ground muddy with blood and guts. Death lingers in the air. Isn't that precisely it? The decorum of warfare? Death and blood and iron. No mercy. No hope, not this time.