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To most they were the thing of dreams: crowns. They belonged to the world of make believe and dressing up, made of tawdry plastic and shining jewels held on by glue. For Henry they had never been a fantasy, but the representation of a life far too real.
A crown was one of the most widely recognised symbols of royalty. His grandmother donning one in every stamp, note, and coin in the land. She possessed so many head pieces, be it crowns or tiaras, that op-eds were written about the meaning of them, about the point of all this ostentatious(like the ostentatiousness itself wasn’t the entire point).
‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown’ they said. When Henry was little, he thought it was a literal meaning. His mum had let him try on one of his grandfather’s coronets while she held it carefully in place, and it had been weighty upon his small blonde head.
It wasn’t long before Henry realised it wasn’t the physical weight that the saying referenced, no it was the responsibility, that it meant. The need to be a shining example of the institution, the highest epitome of the British people, the tip of the iceberg, the jewel of the crown.
Like so many things when it came to his life before, Henry hadn’t realised how heavy the weight was until it was lifted.
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Henry sits in the bay window of their brownstone, watching the world below. The sun is shining, reflecting off people’s hair as they stroll past. It’s a cold December day, but Henry doesn’t mind. He’s never minded the cold, getting to curl up with a cup of tea, a blanket, and a good book. And well now, there was the added benefit of…
‘Baby’ Alex drawls as he walks across the room to him.
Henry turns his gaze from the window, from the sunshine and the shuffling shoes of those walking by, to his boyfriend. Alex is so beautiful. Henry reckons he thinks that about a hundred times a day, but it never stops being true. His tousled hair, his ridiculous eyelashes, the glint in his eye, and the grin stretched wide across his face. He’s so beautiful, Henry can still hardly believe that he gets to think that every day for the rest of their lives, that he gets to witness it right in front of him.
Alex is wearing dark grey joggers, fluffy green socks, and a navy Oxford sweater, cuffed at the sleeves. He’s got pink highlighter all down the side of his thumb and a dot of blue on his nose. In his arms, he’s holding a pile of tinsel.
‘Yes, my love?’ Henry smiles at him as he sits cross-legged across from Henry.
That doesn’t last long however, Alex is in his lap in seconds, the tinsel crinkling between them. Henry isn’t sure crinkle is the right word, it feels too abrasive for the soft shift of streams of silver. But his mind hasn’t time to think of other descriptors, when his beautiful boyfriend wearing his sweater is kissing him.
Henry sighs into it. God, he loves kissing Alex. He loves it so much, could easily do this for hours. They easily have done this for hours, hours incredibly well spent, Henry might add.
‘Do you want to put the Christmas decorations up?’ Alex asks, when they eventually come up for air, lifting up the tinsel to demonstrate said decorations.
‘Do you need a study break?’
‘Yeah,’ Alex says, unknotting the tinsel in his lap ‘corporations is kicking my ass, H.’
‘I’m proud of you’ Henry smiles, tucking a stray curl behind Alex’s ear.
‘Why?’
‘For knowing you need a break, and for actually taking one.’
‘Go me, I’m not burning myself to the ground’ Alex holds up his fists in mock celebration.
‘You shush’ Henry says, kissing him ‘you deserve to feel proud of yourself.’
‘Well,’ Alex says as he winds a strand of tinsel upon Henry’s head, a rainbow coloured one, a glittering bright crown; it shines in the light, casting colours all around them ‘I’m proud of you, too.’
‘Why?’
‘For being you, for getting out, for being an awesome boyfriend.’
‘Ok’ Henry says quietly, grinning all the while ‘I’ll allow it.’
‘Too right you will’ Alex says, leaning in for one more kiss, maybe two, three perhaps…
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‘Daddy, Daddy, daisies!’
‘Yes, my darling, they are daisies. Aren’t they pretty?’
‘Pretty!’ Eleanor declares, plonking herself down on the ground and smiling as she fingers the petals.
Eleanor gasps as she sees a bee and hums to herself happily as she watches it pollinate some nearby lavender. Henry had always wanted a proper garden when they had got this house: a big lawn, lots of flowers and trees, nothing too manicured.
Sometimes he thinks Eleanor had been shouting from the future, to ensure the bugs all had a nice place to live. Henry adores how happy their back garden makes their daughter, how easily she found joy in flowers and bugs; how easily she finds magic in their wonderful, quiet life.
Henry leans over and kisses the top of her head. Alex had done it in a braid crown for perhaps the two hundredth time, her very favourite. Eleanor had always liked her hair done in styles that kept it out of the way, that kept it steady during play. It didn’t weigh her down at all, it helped her fly.
‘Hey, little love’ Henry says ‘can I show you how to make a daisy chain?’
‘Yeah, Daddy’ she grins.
‘So,’ he says, plucking a daisy ‘you make a little hole here, with your nail, I can help you, darling girl. And then you thread the next daisy, and you can keep going as long as you like.’
The two of them get to work, making daisy chains of various lengths, with occasional breaks to watch the bees, or one time, a butterfly. Eleanor chases after it, her arms waving with excitement, as Henry beams and captures the moment on his phone.
‘Daddyyyyyyy, Elllll’
Henry looks up to see Victoria running pell-mell down the garden towards them.
‘Hey, my love. How was the grocery store?’
‘Fun’ Victoria grins as she sits beside Eleanor and hugs her—Eleanor hugging her back tightly—before she stands up and kisses the tip of Henry’s nose.
Henry smiles at Victoria, and kisses her forehead, before she sits back down beside her sister.
‘We got your favourite cookies, Daddy.’
‘Why, thank you, V.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘We’re making daisy chains, darling. Here I’ll show you.’
By the time Henry has shown Victoria how to make the chains, Alex is loping his way down the lawn like Darcy across the vast grounds of Pemberly.
‘All the groceries are put away’ Alex says as he sits beside Henry ‘there was a special on paper towels, so I got us extra. I was trying to find space for them all.’
‘Ah, yes, in our tiny, tiny house.’
Alex rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss him, repeating quietly ‘yes, in our tiny, tiny house.’
‘We’re making daisy chains, Papa’ Eleanor tells him.
‘You are?’ Alex grins at her ‘that sounds like fun.’
Eleanor lines her latest one beside the rest, and picks one up, laying it carefully in a circle on the grass, before she lets out a delighted gasp.
‘A flower crown! Daddies! How do I do it?’
Henry leans over, and carefully shows her how to make the crown. Eleanor grins triumphant and lifts it in the air.
‘Flower crown for you, Daddy!’ she grins and Henry bends his head to let her put it on.
‘So pretty, Daddy’ she beams, clasping her hands together in delight, before she looks around at the rest of her family.
‘We can all have one’ Henry smiles at her, lifting his own creation and placing it on Eleanor’s head ‘pretty flower crowns for everyone.’
Once all four of them have delicately placed flower crowns on their heads, Henry pulls out his phone, and takes selfies of all four of them, before taking a few of just the girls.
The flower crowns manage to stay on all their heads as they have lunch, Victoria’s quite haphazard by the time she’s throwing a ball for David afterwards. Henry, lifts his onto the glass ball model of a solar system that lives on the shelf above his desk, determined to keep it for as long as time will allow.
Later, Alex shows him a picture he had taken, of Henry with Eleanor: Eleanor sitting in Henry’s lap, her head tilted back, as Henry looks down at her. Both are of them are beaming, petals all amongst their golden strands, shining so brightly in the sun.