My fav Larry Stylinson stories

Robin Hood

Harry breathed in the fresh scent of grass and sea air as he fell to his knees on the sands of Dover beach. He grasped the wet sand in his hands and thanked God that he had made it home. He heard a chuckle from beside him, he looked up to find Zayn who had rescued him from the Sarasin camp in the Holy Land; the boy's dark skin would surely attract a lot of attention amongst the pale pallor of the English people.

"You are a strange one, Christian." Zayn chuckled as Harry rose and they both began the long walk to Holmes Chapel.

"It's just good to be home." Smiled Harry as he laid eyes upon the sprawling green fields he remembered so well.

"Will we be making the trip north to see your beloved?" Said Zayn nudging Harry as he grinned in response.

"I have not seen him in five years, he might belong to another." Harry admitted mournfully, he truly wished that his beloved had waited for him but he could not deny that many seeked his love's hand in marriage and he feared that he will have accepted one.

"If he is half as devoted to you as you are to him then he shall remain yours," Zayn soothed remembering how in the Holy Land when other men would seek the comfort of the beautiful local women and boys, Harry would retreat to his tent and re-read the few letters that had made it to him from England; tracing over the tear-stained paper that only weeks before been held by delicate hands that he longed to touch once again.

Harry and Zayn walked for nearly four days before Holmes Chapel finally came into sight; Harry caught sight of the looming shadow of his home and began to run towards it. As he got closer, Harry realised something was not right. There were no windows in the frames, there was very little left of the roof and the once grand entrance was now a blackened hole in the wall. Harry let out a shocked gasp as he entered his home to find it ransacked and burnt, fear shot through his body as he found no sign of his family.

Zayn, who had followed him in, had his eyes fixed on something atop the battlements; Harry sobbed as he realised who the figure hanging was.

"My father..." He sobbed as he was pulled into Zayn's arms; he let the coloured boy hold him as he cried for the loss of the only family he had left.

Harry and Zayn spent the night in the ruins of Harry's home as it had begun to get dark and Zayn had said there was a storm coming; Harry always wondered how the boy knew such things as soon as darkness fell completely thunder rumbled in the sky above them.

The village of Holmes Chapel had once been a bustling hive of activity but now as Harry and Zayn walked in, its residents hid in their homes as if they were afraid of what would happen if they left the safety of their doorways. They made their way towards the market square where a few people lingered and Harry recognised one of the older vendors who had been there for as long as he could remember.

"Mrs Low? Mrs Low, it's me Harry; do you remember me?" Asked Harry as he neared the old woman's stall.

"Harry? The only Harry I know, boy, is the one from Styles manor and he's fighting in the Holy Land, ya know." She said squinting her eyes at the boy...no, man, that stood before her.

"Mrs Low, that's me. It's Harry Styles, I'm home." Reaching out and touching the old women on the shoulder.

"Harry? Is that really you?" she said disbelievingly as Harry nodded, "oh, my boy, everyone will be so glad you're home. That awful man came and destroyed your beautiful home, he slaughtered your father, oh it was horrible. He took your betrothed as well, Harry."

Harry's rage soared as he heard that last sentence, Zayn placed a hand on his shoulder to placate him but Harry shook it off.

"Where did he take him?" Harry asked, the rage that consumed him evident in his voice was restrained so as not to scare the old woman.