Separated By Status

-Chapter 2-

-Chapter 2- 

Harry's P.O.V

After the men had left their colony last night, Zayn was a tad disappointed. Harry didn't understand why at first but then he remembered that he had not had the chance to go out with Zayn to celebrate his birthday, which made Harry want to kick himself in the face, because how could he forget something so important? So, he had ran to their neighbours and traded them a baked potato for some strawberries and plucked a straw into it and lit it with two rocks. 

Being a serf meant that you never had birthday cakes like the royalty, you had to accommodate for that and come up with your own bright ideas and solutions. Since Gemma's seventh birthday, it had always been a tradition to cut slices of potato and eat them with freshly made cheese, which they borrowed from the neighbours. Zayn had never received a potato cake for his birthday since him and Harry always ended up going out to find some alcohol and dirty dance with girls and guys, but he knew Zayn would be super happy to see that Harry had included him in an old family tradition. 

And he was, the moment he had entered their small mudhouse with a small potato and goat cheese, Zayn's face had lit up by a thousand volts, and he smiled so wide that Harry was afraid his face would rip in half as he blew out the small flame on top. His mother had kissed his cheek and he could tell that Zayn felt so, incredibly loved, and he deserved that. Zayn had been through many miseries in his life, he deserved love at the most. 

Considering the two boys hadn't eaten all day, they had voraciously scarfed down the food-which was not very much- and went to bed with half-full stomachs, falling asleep on the hay and a small blanket pulled over them. Harry's mother had packed their bags- full of a couple shirts for the two and warm blankets and jackets made of sheep's wool. It was bound to keep them warm enough on their journey- it would have to. They didn't have anything else to keep them warm, but it would have to be sufficient. 

So here they were, standing in front of the tall, looming castle with their earmuffs and ratty gloves on, breathing onto their early departure breakfast- a slice of bread and cheese on top. 

"Fucking hell," Zayn mutters, wrapping his sandwich and pocketing it, probably to eat it later, "they couldn't get more royal- being thirty minutes late." 

Harry sighs and stares at his half eaten slice of bread- which was something that was hard for their family to afford in the first place. His mother had insisted that they both leave with a hearty breakfast. "Yeah," he says, wiping his nose on the back of his glove. The small groups of chatter around him made him want to throw up, he inspected the crowd, narrowing his eyes and thinking. The majority of them were men who seemed to be in their mid thirties- which was an age that was odd for Harry to see around Lancaster. 

The cold was biting at him in the early morning, it was easily in the -15's and the insides of his nose froze up when he breathed in. The small whisps of wind bit at his exposed skin that wasn't covered up by the cheap, scratchy wool. 

Zayn whines beside him and breathes against his gloves, bouncing up and down on the spot. At the exact moment, the large, elegantly curved iron gates spring open and the crowd begans to cheer, for what purpose, Harry wasn't sure. Zayn leans in and whispers against Harry's cheek, "Either they're cheering for the fuckin' lazy asses to finally arrive, or they're just downright insane." Harry breathes out a laugh into his mitten, scrunching his eyes up and opening them to find a pair of blue eyes watching him from a distance. 

Short was the first thing Harry deciphered when he saw the Prince for the very first time; short and pretty. His bright blue eyes were watching him and Harry instantly stopped his laughter, slowly lowering his hand and adjusting his earmuffs so they were secure and warm against him. He was wearing a coat on top of his royal attire and Harry watched the way the snow clung to the dark purple cloth, proving that it was immensely warm.