The Sovereign and The Sorcerer (Larry Stylinson - L.S.)

Chapter 22

Louis held Harry's hand as he made to leave when the handmaidens arrived, whispering him to stay and the Prince did.

They bowed to Harry when they walked in, updating him on the Queen's condition. She was almost back to walking around her rooms, and apparently asked after Louis constantly.

He smiled fondly, of course she did.

"Sit," he motioned to the chairs by the window, turning his head to them, "Tell me, how are you two?"

"Good," they replied simultaneously, assuring with a smile.

"Now, how did you treat my wounds?"

Miriam hesitated for a moment before nodding, "I stopped the bleeding in your arms, applied disinfectant, and stitched the tissue that didn't pull upon approximation. I couldn't use grafts and Nadia was not conscious then, so I filled them with wet sterilised gauze. Nadia did the tissue grafts when she woke up and had her injuries checked."

"For your leg, we used the needle to eject the poison. It was contained to the area, non-spreading. Applied salve and then bandaged it," Nadia finished for her.

"Excellent," he smiled, "You both worked perfectly, I'm proud of you."

"You're really testing our skills when you barely survived," Nadia laughed and then stopped abruptly, snapping her eyes down as she realised who else was present, "Forgive me, Sorcerer."

"It's alright," he couldn't tell her to not be apologetic. Harry was the Prince, heir to the throne, there was a certain decorum to how one should behave in his presence. Louis being the exception did not apply to who he associated with as an extension.

He ran his thumb along the Prince's hand as he felt him stiffen at her words.

"Thank you, ladies. Please keep me updated of the Queen's progress."

They stood up and bowed their heads, Miriam taking a step forward. "You had this in your pocket, Sorcerer, I thought it must be important."

His gypsophila.

"Oh," he breathed, holding his hand out even as it hurt, curling his fingers around the dried flower. "Thank you."

"Your Royal Highness, Sorcerer," they bowed again and left.

Louis couldn't tear his eyes away from the crumbled flower, the withered petals flaking into his grasp. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. His gypsophila. He couldn't preserve it in a scent as he had done to the others.

The memories hit him all at once, their confession, the promise this flower had held. All broken in a single day.

Arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a warm chest as he cried, murmuring apologies full of sorrow and love, regret and guilt, of self-loathing. Harry held him as long as he cried and held him as he lay silent on his chest, clutching at his shirt.

"Eternal love, bonding? Did you mean it?" He asked, holding the gypsophila close to himself.

"Yes. I might be a fool, but I'm not a liar."

Silence settled between them. Louis knew it to be true, Harry's love for him. The Prince cared for him, achingly so, but Louis couldn't overlook this mistake.

"I want something from you," he decided.

"Tell me."

"I want my freedom."

Harry pulled away, hurt, "You aren't my captive."

"I think I've always been, Harry," he murmured, "You should have asked me to help the Queen instead of bringing me here as a captive. You should have heard me, if you trusted me you should have given me a chance to defend myself, no matter what someone was whispering in your ear. And this," he motioned to his arms, "I can't forgive this. You put me in a cell, chains or not, it was made of iron. You left me there."

"What do you want me to do?" Harry asked, head hung in shame. 

"I want it in written that I've been granted my freedom," he swallowed back his tears, "That I won't be forced to stay in the Palace, that were anything alike to occur again, I will get every right to a fair trial. That I can live as a free citizen."

"Will you leave me? Is this our end?" Harry didn't hold back his tears, his armour shattered into a million pieces.

"I don't know yet, I need time to think," he moved back into the Prince's warmth, unable to let go despite how hurt he was, "I will stay until the Queen gets better. I made a promise afterall. I will tell you my decision after that."

"Okay," Harry nodded over his head, kissing his hair as he held him impossibly close, "I will wait."

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Heartbreak weather  🥺🥺