his reign and his fall | larry stylinson

Chapter 1

His Reign and His Fall 

Chapter 1

"Es-tu prêt à perdre, Louis."

Louis Tomlinson chuckles in his seat, lifting his hand to move his queen chess pieces. He successfully captures his opponent's queen, the king surrounded with no other safety pieces to protect it.

"Look at that." He says to the man across the table, rubbing his scruff as he leans back in his seat. His opponent knocks the king chess piece on its side, slugging back into his own seat with an annoyed grunt.

"Tu te fous de moi? C'est tellement frustrant!"

"Did you win again, Louis?" Zayn, Louis' best friend and co-owner of the hotel, stands over his shoulder, biting at the temple tip of his sunglasses, grinning mischievously at the two men hunched over the game of chess. Louis sits across from the sophisticated Frenchman, Alexis Petit, both men in dark black suits, staring at the chessboard on the table.

"That I did. Come on now Monsieur Petit-" Louis says the name in an over pronounced French accent. "-How many times must a deputy of France lose a game of chess to a silly British hotel owner, to get it through his head that he is complete shit at the game?"

"Tais-toi, Mister Tomlinson." Petit lets out a chuckle. "I guess I must learn to lose." He says in a thick french accent and tilts his head, standing to his feet. Louis stands as well, wiping his palms over the front of his black suit before shaking the French official's hand.

"We'll play again next time you're here, what is this? The fifth time I've kicked your arse at chess." Louis smirks. Alexis Petit throws his head back in laughter.

"Absolument pas! I've learned my lesson, never again mister Tomlinson." He shakes his head. "Thanks for the experience here again, it's always lovely in London."

"How do you say, anytime, in French?" Louis asks.

"A toute heure." The man responds.

"Ah, well then, anytime Monsieur Petit." Louis grins, walking alongside Zayn to the front exit of the lobby, not even attempting the French language.

"Your accent is almost as bad as his chess playing." Zayn snickers. The man laughs, waving goodbye to Zayn and Louis before getting into a black SUV with two other men. Louis assumes they are some type of body guard or servant to the French official.

"That was interesting." Zayn grins once the car drives off and out of site, he spins his sunglasses in his hand. "It's always an experience to have him around."

"I agree." Louis puts simply, walking behind the counter of the lobby. "I'm actually really bad at chess. He's just worse." He admits.

Zayn cackles, looking at a computer screen behind the desk. Alexis Petit, or Monsieur Petit as the man himself would say, is quite a regular face at the Malison Grand Hotel, the hotel which Louis and Zayn co-own together. He usually shows up every four or five months, mainly for business meetings but Louis has grown quite fond of the chess game they always play before Petit returns back to France.

He always wins.

"Louis! Why didn't you tell me you've booked our best suite for the whole month of September for the Prince of Sweden?" Zayn gasps, tapping his index finger repeated on the computer screen.

Louis rushes over to the computer, color draining off his face. "Prince of Sweden? As in Prince Harry? You're joking." His words are met with silence.

"Zayn?" Louis turns his eyes from the screen that clearly states Prince Harry, Duke of Södermanland, has made plans to stay at their hotel for four weeks, to look at Zayn only to find him already meeting his eyes, frowning. "Tell me this is a joke," Louis pleads, panic seeping into his voice at the realization that his friend might indeed not be joking.