𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 ✓

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓮𝓷

PUBLISHED ONLY ON WATTPAD

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"Louis!" Harry whisper yells as he closes the dungeon door. He had snuck past the sleeping guards. It is already evening and Harry finally got the chance to get to Louis.

"I'm here," he hears from one of the cells and follows the sound. "What're you doing here?"

"You did not think I would not come to say goodbye? I also want to talk about something."

"I'm listening," Harry is still walking in the direction of the cells he hears Louis speaking.

"Let's escape. I will bring the key and get someone to bring the horses —"

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean no. You have too many people counting on you to correct your father's mistakes."

"But… I can…"

"You care about them, your subjects, don't you?"

"I do, of course, but I care about you too," Harry argues, finally seeing Louis in a cell. He stands in front of it, watching as Louis rises from the place he was sitting, while talking.

"Then you stay here and let me due."

"I do not want you to die!" Harry yells as Louis stands in front of him, bars separating them. "You will figure something out. We will—"

"I don't think I can figure something out this time," Louis says sadly, tears streaming down his face. "And I told you you have to stay for your people," he places his hands on Harry's cheeks, arms out as much as they can be through the bars. They lean in a kiss, soft and gentle. Their tongues do not explore their mouths, lips not moving. It is a genuine love kiss, like a peck on the lips but much longer. They finally separate, putting their foreheads together.

"I will try to talk him out of it," Harry whispers, scared if he talks louder it would make the situation more real.

"No need. I made peace with death. And he won't let someone who planned to kill him go. Not even for you, you know he only cares about his royal dick that is so small you'd need a magnifying glass," Louis chuckles.

"How can you joke in a time like this?" Harry asked, laughing through his tears. He sniffs, putting one hand over his mouth as to not let sounds. He did sneak in after all.

"It'll be over soon. You must go, they'll come to get me. Promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Don't be like your father. And name a kid after me," Louis chuckles. "And of course, marry a woman that understands, I suggest princess Olivia."

"Of course," he says. He can not even think about marrying someone other than Louis.

"Don't let them change you, please Harry," Louis sobs.

"I won't, I promise.

"Hey! You used an abbreviation!"

"I did? I don't remember," Harry smiles, eyes red from crying, nose running. "I love you," he admits, looking into Louis' eyes.

"I love you too, your royal dickness."

"Why are you doing this?" Harry snorts. "Dickness ?"

"Well, you were a dick you have one and you're like… huge and royal," Harry shakes his head. He really does love this man in front of him.

"If only we met at the other time."

"You know what they say: right person, wrong time."

In the evening, the execution is held. Harry sits on the balcony with the king. He wants to go stop the executioner, wants to scream at them to stop, but he can not. He is powerless in a world of the powerful. The guards are on both of his sides, ready to stop him if he tries to escape, small daggers in their hands ready to stab him — at the king's request.

He watches as Louis is being escorted to the podium where the executioner is sharpening his tool. The guards throw Louis on the floor, dragging him to the wooden stump and placing his head on it. Louis looks up at Harry, tears in both of their eyes, both not letting them fall.

"We gathered here today to witness the death of our enemy. This is Louis Tomlinson, leader of the rebel group called Dead Crows. The same group who killed your lovely queen and left the prince to grow up without a mother. He is accused of treason, kidnapping, rape and the rest of things on a very long list," Harry and Louis frown through their tears. Desmond wants to frame Louis for something that he did not do — for example, rape — and surely the indictment has written on it things that Desmond did. Like killing Harry's mother, something that Harry will never forgive him for. Harry wants to shout that these are lies but who would believe him instead of the king? "Let him be an example of what happens if you do not follow me. You may proceed," Desmond finishes his speech and waves his hand as a sign to begin.

Harry stands, ready to do something but the guards grab him and Louis shakes his head at him. The pair are looking at each other the whole time. 'I love you,' Louis managed to mouth to Harry as the executioner brought his weapon down, the metal going through Louis' neck, slicing the skin and bones. Harry is numb, he can not even scream as Louis' head rolls in the bag that is placed in front of the stump.

"Maybe we should have burnt him and let him suffer," Desmond says. "Oh, well, does not matter. He is dead, there are not any treats now. I expect you to be in the meeting tomorrow, we are discussing your future wife," Desmond monotonously says and stands. He leaves Harry who was still being held by the guards on the balcony, watching as they clean the podium and carry Louis' body somewhere. Tears slide down his cheeks, the crowd looking at their prince in shock — the prince is crying? But it would be a lie to say there are not people crying in the crowd, those who know Louis and those who presume their king is a liar.

And the bad thing: no one could do anything to him. Not even Harry.

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THE END