Chapter Text
The year was 2040, and Alex continued to serve his country with unwavering dedication. He completed his second term as President, leaving behind a legacy of progress and reform. Yet, despite his accomplishments, a lingering restlessness persisted. He had given everything to his country, but in the process, he had lost a piece of himself. The memories of Henry refused to fade. Alex recalled their last encounter vividly. It was a rainy night in London, the skies weeping as if in sympathy with his breaking heart.
Now, as he sat in his office, those memories came rushing back with a vengeance. And the Oval Office had never felt so empty. Alex sat at his desk, staring at the ornate wedding invitation in his hand. The elegant calligraphy announced the marriage of Prince Henry of Wales to Lady Catherine, Duchess of Somerset. The news had hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest, unearthing emotions he had long buried beneath layers of duty and time.
As the first son of a former U.S. President turned leader of the free world himself, Alex had faced countless challenges. He had navigated international crises, reformed healthcare, and championed civil rights. Yet, nothing had prepared him for this moment. The name “Henry” still had the power to unsettle him, bringing back a flood of memories from a life he had tried to leave behind. It had been over twenty years since their last encounter—a stormy night at Buckingham Palace that marked the end of their relationship. Alex had flown to London in a fit of desperation, hoping to salvage what was left of their love. Instead, he had left with a broken heart, shattered by the cold reality of their irreconcilable differences. The world had moved on, and so had Alex, at least on the surface.
Memories of his time with Henry came flooding back—stolen kisses, secret rendezvous, whispered promises. They had loved each other fiercely, but their love had been star-crossed from the start. Alex remembered the countless nights he had spent lying awake, thinking about Henry. Even now, the pain of their separation was as fresh as it had been all those years ago. The world had changed, but his feelings for Henry had not. He had tried to move on, tried to forget, but it was impossible. Henry was a part of him, a piece of his soul that he could never reclaim. The memories of Henry refused to fade. Alex recalled their last encounter vividly. It was a rainy night in London, the skies weeping as if in sympathy with his breaking heart.
He had stormed into Buckingham Palace, drenched and desperate, hoping to make Henry see reason. They had fought bitterly, their words cutting deeper than any blade. Alex had begged Henry to defy his family, to choose love over duty, but Henry had stood firm, the weight of centuries of tradition pressing down on him.
"Don't you bloody see? I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless. I don't have a family who will support me. I don't go about shoving who I am in everyone's faces and dreaming about a career in fucking politics, so I can be more scrutinized and picked apart by the entire godforsaken world. I can love you and want you and still not want that life. I'm allowed, all right, and it doesn't make me a liar; it makes me a man with some infinitesimal shred of self-preservation, unlike you, and you don't get to come here and call me a coward for it."
Alex takes a breath. "I never said you were a coward."
"I." Henry blinks. "Well. The point stands."
"You think I want your life? You think I want Martha's? Gilded fucking cage? Barely allowed to speak in public, or have a goddamn opinion-"
"Then what are we even doing here? Why are we fighting, then, if the lives we have to lead are so incompatible?"
"Because you don't want that either!" Alex insists. "You don't want any of this bullshit. You hate it."
"Don't tell me what I want," Henry says. "You haven't a clue how it feels." Henry stares at him silently, and Alex can see the scales balancing in his head.
Alex turns away from him, falling back on his heels like he's been slapped. "Fine," he finally says. "You know what? Fucking fine. I'll leave."
"Good."
"I'll leave," he says, and he turns back and leans in, "as soon as you tell me to leave."
"Then please leave Alex." One sentence coming out of Henry's mouth makes Alex startled and filled with disbelief. He never imagined in his life that his love story would end tragically like this. Without waiting any longer, he walked out of the room without looking back at Henry, without noticing that Henry was crying as he watched him disappear behind the door. He had risen through the political ranks, eventually taking the highest office in the land. Publicly, he was a figure of resilience and progress. Privately, the specter of Henry haunted him, a constant reminder of what could have been. Alex sighed and set the invitation aside. He had never been one to dwell on the past, but the prospect of seeing Henry again stirred something deep within him. He needed closure, even if it came at the cost of reopening old wounds. He stood and walked over to the window, looking out at the sprawling lawns of the White House. The setting sun cast long shadows across the grass, mirroring the shadows in his heart.
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One night, unable to sleep, Alex found himself browsing through old photos on his tablet. He came across pictures of him and Henry, moments frozen in time that told the story of their love. There was one of them at a private party, laughing and carefree, oblivious to the world around them. Another showed them walking hand in hand through a secluded garden, the light in their eyes brighter than the sun. Each image was a painful reminder of what they had lost. The decision to attend Henry's wedding had not been an easy one. It was a political necessity, a gesture of goodwill between nations, but for Alex, it was so much more. It was a chance to see Henry one last time, to say goodbye to the dreams they had once shared. He knew it would hurt, but he needed to face the past, to confront the ghost that had haunted him for so long.
The days leading up to the trip to the UK were a whirlwind of preparations and distractions. Alex threw himself into his work, trying to drown out the gnawing ache in his heart. But as the day of the wedding drew closer, the knot in his stomach tightened. He knew that seeing Henry again would reopen old wounds, but he had no choice. He had to face the past, even if it broke him. When the day finally arrived, he boarded Air Force One with a sense of inevitability. As the plane crossed the Atlantic, he gazed out of the window, lost in thought. He wondered what Henry would look like after all these years. Would he have changed? Would he still have that same captivating smile, the one that had stolen Alex’s heart all those years ago?
London greeted him with its familiar drizzle and overcast skies. The city had changed over the years, yet it remained timeless in its glory. The streets were abuzz with excitement, the royal wedding dominating the headlines. Alex’s presence had been kept discreet, his arrival known only to a select few. He arrived at Westminster Abbey, the iconic venue steeped in history. The grandeur of the occasion was palpable, the air filled with anticipation. Alex took his seat among dignitaries and royalty, his heart pounding as the ceremony began. When Henry finally appeared, resplendent in his military uniform, Alex felt a pang of longing. Time had been kind to him, enhancing his regal bearing with an air of maturity.
As the vows were exchanged, Alex’s mind drifted back to their time together. He remembered the stolen moments of joy, the shared dreams, and the crushing weight of their responsibilities. He had loved Henry with a passion that defied reason, and despite the years, that love had never truly faded. The ceremony concluded, and the guests moved to the reception. Alex found himself face-to-face with Henry, the moment he had both dreaded and desired.
“Congratulations, Your Highness,” he said, forcing a smile.
“I wish you all the happiness in the world.”Henry’s eyes met his, and for a fleeting moment, Alex saw a flicker of the boy he had once known.
“Thank you, Alex. It means a lot to me that you came.”They exchanged polite pleasantries, the conversation strained by the weight of unspoken words. When they parted ways, Alex felt a hollowness inside, a sense of finality that was both liberating and devastating. He had done his duty, both as a statesman and as a former lover. Now, all that was left was to move forward.
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