The Lioness Prince (A Larry Stylinson Fan-Fiction.)

Chapter 17 ~The Frightened Look~

-Author's Point of View-

Large black walls tower over the crazed lion that is determined to get to Louis.

"I will get to you, my Darling," he hoarsely whispers as he lifts his head.

"Who stands at the entrance of the gate!" A guard yells, and the slightly smiling and shaking lion sees the prowling guard, and he clears his voice.

"A friend of the Royals!" He replies back.

Lies.

"Alright," the guard says and then turns his head in the slightest way. "Open the gate!"

You lied. Mother will be disappointed.

"Mother is dead."

She lives in you.

"That's dog-shit, and you know it."

The large black walls slowly cut across the ground as the gate is being opened manually.

"Congratulate the Royals for me!" The guard yells down the wall towards the deranged lion that slowly prowls into enemy territory; he isn't being seen as a threat.

They will be sorely guilty whenever they get the news that the lion they let in has murdered the two Royal brothers and the child or children. The crazed man upon four legs laughs to himself as he continues to paw his way closer towards his targets.

The black gates close behind his whipping tail, and he glances up and nods. "I shall! Have a good rest of the day!" I condemn you the worst eternity in Hell imaginable. He thinks in a contradictory miindset.

"I'm coming for you, Louis. You don't have to scream anymore... I'll be there for you. I'll kill the bastards that have you trapped in their castle," he growls out and starts up a slow trot.

You're sadistic and mentally challenged. You cannot be helped.

~*~

Harry and Zayn are relaxing in the large "living room" of the castle, and Niall has just served them some celebratory champagne.

Harry sighs and leans back on his couch as he swirls his yellow tainted alcohol around in his small glass flute that is gold encrusted and jewel garnished. "I'm so glad that it's finally over," he confesses, and Zayn laughs and nods as he stretches out across his couch and let his feet rest upon the opposite arm-rest of the arm-rest that his head is settled upon.

"Do you have a name?" Zayn asks as he takes a sip from his own saphire embellished and gold encrusted flute.

Harry bites his bottom lip and shrugs with a guilty look upon his face. "No?" He answers with a higher-pitched voice, and Zayn turns his head towards his brother and raises a very confused and shocked eyebrow.

"Are you asking me?" He questions his younger brother, and the curly-haired Royal slightly whimpers with fear into his flute. The older of the two widen his golden-brown eyes and begins to stare at the emerald-eyed brother of his. "You're telling me, that your child has been born into this world, has breathed its first breath, has seen you for the first time, and you haven't thought of a name yet?" Zayn cries out, and Harry winces and smiles a guilty smile as he returns the stare. The royal brother with black hair groans and shakes his head with a sigh. "Brother... You have so much to learn..."

Zayn chokes on his flute full of champagne when he hears a heart-clenching cry coming from the spiraling staircase that leads upwards to all of the Royal rooms of the palace. Harry bolts upright and sets the glass flute down upon the "coffee table" between the two couches and races to the staircase before the older brother can mutter an incoherent word about the child's proneness to cry. Already.