title: king and lionheart
summary: The story of Prince James and his lionheart, Lily. All he's ever done is watch her back, watch her leave, watch her protect him because that's what a lionheart is supposed to do. James wonders why it can't go both ways.
notes: inspired by "king and lionheart" by of monsters and men and also "laughter lines" by bastille
i feel like i got a bit rusty on my writing but i hope you enjoy! :)
{king and lionheart}
Golden light filters through the leaves and the wind blows calmly. It's a beautiful day and the constant sunshine seems almost mocking. She thinks it should be raining, that it should rain forever, because Mommy and Daddy are both gone and no one will tell her when they are coming back, just that she has to stay with Tuney and be quiet. The little boy with messy, dark hair walks slowly towards the lonely, sad girl, her red hair golden against the sunlight, her tears glistening almost angelically. He unclasps the tiny crown his mother had clipped on to his hair and places it on her head. She looks up and glares. He just grins with childish glee, his next words echoing in the silence.
"I am the future king and you shall be my lionheart. Please don't be sad."
The people watch with bated breath because this is not how tradition works, but the King watches the scene with hazy, distant eyes and the Queen smiles sadly. This is exactly how tradition works, the Queen whispers to her chambermaids later that night, eyes twinkling as she surveys the empty bed before her. The King does not lay with her that night because he is not one to follow tradition.
The King and Queen smile as their little prince greets the two little girls warmly. One is small and soft and made of fire and the other is tall and sharp and made of ice. As the younger girl stomps on his son's foot the King wonders if history is always meant to repeat itself.
~.~.~.~.~
James sucks in the fresh air, gratefully, ecstatic that he's finally managed to ditch his tutor in that old, stuffy room. It's a midsummer evening and James can't help but bounce happily while he heads back down to the training grounds. He hasn't had fresh air in a long while and it's making him a bit giddy.
He spots Lily right away, her red hair like a shining beacon. She's wearing a thin blouse and a deep red skirt he remembers she said her sister had made for her. She's spinning fast and lunging like a snake, hitting the practice dummy with a type of agility that would be surprising to him if he hadn't already seen it a billion times before. Her body moves and twists in ways he doesn't think his own body could even contemplate moving. Her face is slick with sweat and the thin blouse is sticking to her. He can't help but stare at her waist and the tiny glimpses of tanned skin she reveals every time she stretches.
Lily fascinates him. She's a walking contradiction and it piques his curiosity more often than not. She usually looks so soft, yet when she's training she becomes so sharp and fluid. At times like this, James can truly believe that Lily and Petunia are sisters of blood. Lily has fascinated him since he was very little, he wouldn't have put up with her kicking him in the shins otherwise. He just can't pinpoint exactly why.
As James watches her twirl her sword impossibly fast, he becomes a little jealous that Lily was lucky enough to have such a natural ability in the job that was chosen for her.
He doesn't have time to dwell on that any longer, though, because she's walking towards him, her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion, "What are you doing here?"
He smirks, "Just checking up on my lionheart."
She sighs, pulling her hair back from her face. James tries not to focus on the way she bites her lips while she thinks. "Don't use me as an excuse for you ditching your tutors, James."
"I am not." He says, well aware that his tone is basically saying that he is.
She rolls her eyes, "I can always just take you there myself."
He smirks, suggestively, "You could take me anywhere."
Lily looks like she wants to punch him and he laughs before sighing, "It's exhausting, studying all day. I'm only fourteen."
He doesn't like the pity that flits across her face so he looks away.
"Fine." She says, after a moment. "I won't tell. Just don't get caught."
He smirks and sits down on the grass. She sighs a little before she goes back to the training grounds and picks up her sword. Not even five minutes in, a voice calls out to him.
"Prince James." James looks up and sees Remus walking towards him with a frown. "Why did you lock me in the library?"
James blinks, feigning innocence, "What are you talking about? That was Sirius."
Remus just rolls his eyes, "I'm not stupid, Prince James. I'm a tutor for a reason."
"I know that." Then James sighs, eyeing Remus apologetically, "Sorry about that. And I thought I told you to stop calling me Prince."
"We're in public and you're being quite the little shit." Remus responds, casually.
James can't help but laugh. "I doubt you're allowed to say that."
Remus just eyes him with a withering look, "I doubt you're allowed to lock your tutor in the library and prance off so you can watch your lionheart practice."
"But she's more interesting then you." James replies, "Uh, no offense."
"None taken, my Prince." Remus mutters. "Now, come on. Before I'm obligated to tell the King about this."
James sighs, letting Remus take his wrist and drag him back to the library and studying and suffocating dust.
~.~.~.~.~
It's his fifteenth birthday when he starts to figure out why exactly he finds his lionheart so interesting. He likes her. He doesn't know if he's allowed to do that and he can't very well ask his father about it, so he takes to subtly asking her to dinner now and then. The problem is she always says yes. She always reminds him it's her duty as lionheart to listen to his every command. For once, he hates it. He hates it because he doesn't know if she likes him back, if it's her mind or her heart commanding her. Either way, they're stuck with each other. Because he is the future king and she is his lionheart.
~.~.~.~.~
He's drunk and it's technically illegal but since he's the future king no one can really tell him off for it without fear of getting their tongues cut off (or something along those lines). "Why the hell are you drunk?" Except for her.
He rolls his eyes at her, stumbling a little, "Because I want to and I can."
He feels gentle hands wind around his waist, steadying him, and his brain goes a little fuzzy at the contact. "I'm going to kill Sirius." She says, aggravated.
"It's Lord Sirius to you." James corrects, his words coming out much more jumbled then he had thought they would be.
"The Lord is exactly who Sirius will be talking to when I'm done with him." Lily mutters, directing James down a hall that looks vaguely familiar.
He giggles, too drunk to care that he sounds a bit like a smitten teenaged girl, "Oh, I'm a little jealous."
"If you make a sexual innuendo, Potter, I'll seriously kill you first."
"That sounds like treason to me."
Lily just makes a face, pulling her skirt out of the way so he doesn't step on it. He thinks she looks especially pretty right now, red hair loose and long red nightgown hanging loosely about her. Her eyes seem a bit droopy, like she's tired, and when she bites her lips, he kind of really wants to kiss her. He can't though. Not until he knows she likes him back, really likes him back.
She helps him out of his cape because when he tries to do it himself, he ends up tangled in it, wondering aloud if he'll ever escape. She laughs, rolling her eyes at him and he should be mad at her for mocking him, but he's not. She actually tucks him into bed, pulling off his glasses, and he doesn't want to admit how the last person to tuck him into bed had been his mother. And that had been nearly five years ago. He can't say it out loud. She hasn't had a mother for much longer than him. She gets up to leave and he tugs at her sleeve, pouting a little, "As my lionheart, you should stay. There might be enemies."
She makes a face, "What? Are there monsters under your bed?"
He copies her expression, "That's not funny. I really should have you flogged in public or something for mocking me, you know."
She just laughs, all tinkling and sweet, "Okay, Prince James. You do that."
"I will." He responds, yawning.
"Just sleep." She responds, softly, fingers brushing lightly against his arm, raising goose bumps.
~.~.~.~.~
It's her sixteenth birthday and he finds her lying in the courtyards, staring up at the clouds, a little dazed. He can hear Petunia grumbling, calling her awful names, despite the fact that Petunia's all the way down in the kitchens and he's in the great hall. James steps into the courtyards and dismisses the guards (whom his father had assigned to him, refusing to tell him why. But James knows why. He knows about the war brewing outside the castle walls, even if his father doesn't want him to). His lionheart will protect him.
James sits beside her, fixing his robes before waving a hand over her face. She blinks once, twice, three times, before she meets his gaze. Her fire red hair is fanned out beneath her, contrasting greatly against the green grass. "Petunia's kind of a bitch." He says, nonchalantly.
She scowls at him, "Just because you're the prince doesn't mean you can talk shit about my sister." Then she looks up at him innocently, too innocently, "Especially when you're the biggest bitch in the kingdom."
He narrows his eyes at her, "Because it's your birthday, I'm going to let your rude comments slide."
"My Lord is so merciful." She mutters, sarcastically.
"I'm about to keep your birthday present for myself."
She sits up almost immediately, eyes widening, and he snickers. She holds out her hands, "Oooh, a present? I like presents."
He hands her a tiny red box and watches as she unwraps it. She breaks out into a pretty little grin and pulls out the golden pendant. "It's a lion." He says. "For my lionheart."
"Thank you." She whispers, wholeheartedly, and he watches as she puts it on, smiling all the while.
~.~.~.~.~
They're sitting atop a rickety wooden fence. It's late, entirely too late for him to be out, but the stars are shining so bright and the night feels so peaceful. When she looks over at him, emerald green eyes shining and a tiny, fond smile playing on her lips, he decides he needs to do it. He needs to kiss her.
So he leans forward and places a gentle kiss against her soft, soft lips, cupping her cheek gently. She seems surprised for a moment and he pauses, waiting for her to respond, giving her a chance to make a choice. His heart twists and his stomach flips when she kisses him back, her calloused hands trailing up and down his neck, fingers buried in his hair. She's so soft, so sweet, and he realizes that he loves kissing her. He loves how she tastes like berries and something he can't quite place. He loves how she feels like she's melting into his arms, how his lionheart isn't so lion-like anymore.
She pulls away (too soon) and she's breathless before him, moonlight casting dark shadows across her face. As the seconds pass, he sees her smile slowly disappear, only to be replaced by a tight frown. His heart drops to his stomach as she utters her next words, "We shouldn't do this, James. Don't do this."
He blinks, his voice sounding strangled. "Lily I…"
She shakes her head, furiously, and he watches as she climbs off the fence. She looks at him and he hates how guarded she looks. Then she bows her head (as the lionheart traditionally should) and he hates what it means. Then she looks at him, sounding so, so tired. "Please, James. Don't do this to me."
He nods, he can't do anything but nod. "I'm sorry."
She just turns on her heels and leaves.
~.~.~.~.~
She's dating other boys, kissing them behind closed doors, holding their hands. He knows this because he knows her. He wants her to be happy, but he's jealous. Jealous that he's not the one she's kissing, that he's not the one she's holding. But he's also worried, because the lionheart isn't allowed distractions no matter how peaceful the kingdom seems. Traditionally, he is the only one his lionheart is allowed to care for while he may care for whoever he pleases. But they had already broken tradition for Petunia (they had already broken tradition for her), perhaps his father will ignore this as well.
~.~.~.~.~
Everything is tense between them. She knows he's kissing people behind closed doors, he knows she's kissing people behind closed door. They both know she's not supposed to, as the king's lionheart. Instead, she avoids him as much as her duties will allow and he lets her, only because he hates seeing her and not holding her.
He thinks maybe he hates her too. Maybe he hates his lionheart, hates what she does to him.
~.~.~.~.~
His father is going to war. He isn't told about this until he's standing in front of his father, bidding him goodbye as he rides off to battle, somewhere at the edge of the kingdom. He knows that this could mean that his father won't ever return, Remus is already preparing him for that outcome. But James does not want to dwell on it. He can't. It hurts too much. He's escorted to his chambers, to change and prepare for extra lessons, lessons about ruling a kingdom, lessons he shouldn't have to take because, no, nonononono, his father will not die. His father will live, goddammit, his father will come back alive.
A warm hand grasps his, entangling their fingers in his and he can feel the rough callouses. He immediately knows who it is. He looks up anyways and she's not looking at him. She's staring straight ahead, sword hanging from her hips, long red hair pulled into a ponytail. She rubs tiny, soothing circles into the inside of his wrist, but she doesn't speak a single word. This is acknowledgement enough, however, because although they've been avoiding each other, she still knows how to keep him anchored (and he needs that, as the future king).
~.~.~.~.~
Remus insists he spend extra time studying and James ordinarily would have flat out refused, but less than twenty four hours ago, Sirius had told him how his brother, Regulus, had joined the other side. Death Eaters, the townspeople call them. Peter insists they relocate to a safe house, but James refuses. His father had always told him that there should always be one Potter in the castle and Maester Dumbledore seems to agree. James doesn't miss the sad look in Dumbledore's usually shining eyes, however. James doesn't want to know what that could possibly mean.
So James studies and counsels and barely sleeps at night.
He notices Lily practicing even harder than before, too, until she's dripping with sweat. He asks her to rest, one day, wondering aloud why she's even practicing so much and she just scoffs at him, "If you're going to work yourself to death, then so am I." Then she looks at him with eyes that seem thousands of years old, "If you die, I die, Prince James. That's how this works."
And he knows she's so, so right. It's the lionheart's job to follow the king and protect him. If the king is dead and gone then the lionheart must go as well, if only to protect the king wherever he is headed next. James fleetingly wonders why it can't go both ways.
~.~.~.~.~
Petunia is getting married to a merchant from town because she loves him and James usually wouldn't care, except that the merchant seems like a rude git and Lily is currently shouting expletives at both Petunia and her fiancé at an extremely loud decibel. He doesn't even find her voice sexy, like he usually does.
His guards eye Lily with suspicion and he just ignores them, pulling her by the arm as she continues to shout insult after insult, until they're in one of his hidden courtyards, away from prying eyes. He turns her around, gently (not because his lionheart is fragile, oh no, but because she's rough, so rough he thinks she needs someone to offset it). He cups both her cheeks with his hands, hyperaware of the fact that she's shaking with anger, her eyebrows coiled tight. He places a gentle thumb between her eyebrows, rubbing it soothingly, as he speaks, "I know you like to throw tantrums, but this has got to be your worst one yet."
She scowls at him for a long moment and he ruffles his hair, a little nervously. Angry Lily makes him a tad nervous. Finally she slumps, leaning against the tree behind her. "She didn't tell me she had a set wedding date and now she doesn't want me at her wedding."
James rolls his eyes, "She can't exactly do that. Especially when I'm invited."
"Vernon called me a…" She sighs, rubbing her eyes tiredly, "The lionheart isn't traditionally a woman, you know."
He nods, "I know. It's only happened two other times in history. My father's first lionheart was a woman."
Her eyes harden, slightly, "I hope you know that I'll haunt you for eternity if you replace me."
He smirks, "I'll die from shock just from hearing that someone managed to cut you down, honestly."
She giggles and he swears it's the cutest thing ever. Then she turns very solemn. "The townspeople talk about me. About us."
He rolls his eyes, "Of course they do. It's none of their business what we are."
She looks at him with wide eyes and for a moment he forgets that she's trained to kill someone in three seconds flat. "Are we. Are we something then?"
He looks at her thoughtfully and figures that it's about time he admits it. It's about time he lays everything out there. "Do you want to be something? Because I don't want you to do anything out of obligation. I want to respect your choice, Lily. You're already obligated to give me your life. I don't want you to feel obligated to give me your love, as well."
She just rolls her eyes and he makes a face because no one is allowed to roll their eyes at the future king like that. He's pretty sure there's a law somewhere that prohibits such behavior. "Do you really think I'd give you my love if I didn't want to? Prince or not, I'd still slice you into at least twenty six pieces."
He just scowls at her, "Very specific of you."
She nods, sagely, "Thank you."
"And very treasonous."
She just smirks and before he can tell her off, her lips are on his and he sighs against her mouth. Her kiss is soft and sweet and rough and wanting and so contradictory. His brain feels like mush. She pulls away, breathless, and places her forehead against his, emerald green eyes searching his, rough hands straightening his spectacles for him. "I've kind of always liked you."
He leans forward a little, stealing a short kiss, before murmuring against her lips, "I've kind of always liked you, too."
She nods, "Oh, I know. Sirius likes to make fun of you."
"Fucking Sirius. I should get him banished or something." James mutters. She just laughs, all soft and tinkly, and he decides he loves it a lot. He wants her to laugh more often.
~.~.~.~.~
Exactly two weeks later he gets the news about his father. It's a beautiful day and he thinks the universe must be confused. The skies should be weeping. The funeral, the crowning ceremony, the speech, it all turns into a big blur and suddenly he's thrust into paperwork up to his neck and no time to grieve. He's been expecting it for a while, he'll admit, but it still hurt. He's barely eighteen, barely an adult, yet he's expected to carry a whole kingdom on his shoulders. Sometimes he doesn't think he can do it and when that crosses his mind, a tiny, calloused hand wraps around his, beneath tables, beneath a flurry of robes and cloaks, and he decides that maybe he really can do it.
~.~.~.~.~
He likes the way she falls into incoherent little gasps whenever he touches her. He likes the way she arches her back whenever he traces his fingers along her bare hips, up her bare thighs. He thinks he could stay like this forever, he thinks he could listen to her gasp his name forever. She becomes alive beneath him and he likes how he's the one who can make her become so completely undone with just a simple touch and a carefully placed kiss, how she makes his lips tingle and his heart flutter uncontrollably.
As he brushes her fire red hair off her sweaty forehead with gentle fingers, he thinks that maybe he loves her.
~.~.~.~.~
He sitting in the throne room when the door slams open. He glances up and finds Lily stomping into the room, eyes wild and breathing heavily. He furrows his eyebrows, confused. "What's wrong?"
"We need to stop this." She whispers, hurriedly. "We need to stop what we're doing. It's getting dangerous. I'm not supposed to. You're not supposed to. Fuck."
"Leave us." He tells his guards and they hesitate for a half a second before they leave the throne room, the heavy doors slamming shut with a dull thud. He walks up to her, taking her shaking hands in his and sighs. "Hey. Lily. Lionheart. Shhh. Calm down."
"We need to stop. We're not supposed to do this." Lily says, breathlessly, looking at him like she doesn't want to do what she's saying.
James narrows his eyes at her, "Did Vermin say something to you?"
She bites her lip and he can tell she's holding back a smile, "No, he didn't and you really shouldn't be so mean. You're a king now."
"Oh." He mutters, "Now you acknowledge my status."
She chews on her bottom lip thoughtfully and he runs soothing hands up and down her arms. She slowly untangles herself from him and pulls back, "I think we should stop." She says, still sounding unsure of herself.
"Why?" He asks, curiously, sighing when she takes another step back as soon as he steps towards her.
"Because. Because I'm your lionheart. I'm not supposed to lo—like you. Not like this." Lily replies, a little shakily.
"Do you want to stop?" James asks, his heart sinking a little.
"I. Yes. Yes, I do." Lily whispers, her voice sounding frail.
He nods, "I wish you didn't, but. Okay. We'll stop." He tries to sound calm but he never knew his heart could still hurt so much.
She turns on her heels and leaves and he's watches her back, realizing that that's all he's ever done. Watch her back, watch her leave, watch her protect him.
~.~.~.~.~
They avoid each other for days. And days turn into weeks which turn into months. He misses her, her rough hands, her soft lips, her tinkling laughter, her sharp words, he misses her so much. But he needs to respect her wishes, so he delves into his duties until he's thoroughly distracted. He even finds other women, other lips to take her place. It doesn't work. The hole in his heart only gets bigger.
~.~.~.~.~
"I can't do it anymore." She says suddenly.
He looks up at her, from where he's sitting on the bench in his courtyard, reading a few reports about the Death Eaters. "Do what?" He asks, indifferently. He's figured out how to look at her indifferently a long time ago. Her emerald green eyes bore into his hazel ones and he can see the hint of anger and regret in them. He doesn't want to care. But he does.
Then she scowls at him in an all too familiar way (his heart twists in his chest but he's used to it). He doesn't expect her to clutch him by the neckline of his robes and pull him into a standing position, his reports scattering everywhere. He doesn't expect her to crash his lips into hers, angrily, desperately. He gives in almost too quickly but he doesn't care. He doesn't care when her rough hands are tracing constellations against his exposed skin, when she bites his lip, when she's back in his arms after months and months and months.
"I can't stop loving you." She gasps against his lips and he can't help but smirk.
"Well neither can I, my lionheart." He replies, pulling her lips in for another kiss because he's selfish. She makes a face.
"Stop smirking. Ugh." She mutters before stealing a quick kiss, too.
"I love you so much." He clarifies and he feels her smiling into the kiss.
~.~.~.~.~
He wakes to the sounds of screaming and banging and shouting. His door immediately swings open and he reaches for something, anything, to throw at the intruder until he recognizes the loose red hair and soft green eyes. He looks at her questioningly and she presses a finger to her lips, expression solemn. She holds out her hand for him and he takes it, winding his fingers through hers, telling himself to breathe.
It's chaos in the castle. There's distant screaming, people dying, and he wants to help but he can't. Lily's dressed in a simple gold dress, battle armor thrown hastily over it. Her hair is hanging loosely from her shoulders and her sword, the one his mother had made her forge herself, is in her hands. "It's the Death Eaters." She murmurs, softly. He nods, in understanding.
She peeks along corners and they travel through the hidden parts of the castle, as quietly as they can. Until they run into Peter. He turns on his heels, sword in hand, and smiles at them. "Peter, come with us." James says, softy. Peter chubby cheeks bunch up into a sweet smile and there's a flash of regret in his eyes.
"I can't." Peter says.
Lily's quicker to catch on then James is. Lily tugs at his hand and James lets her pull him away. He still asks the question anyway, calls it over his shoulder. "Why?"
Peter sounds so, so tired and so, so apologetic. "I'm sorry. James. Lily. I'm so sorry."
James doesn't understand. He doesn't understand until he's standing in the middle of his courtyard, ankle deep in dead bodies and blood. Before him stands the leader of the Death Eaters. Before him stands Lord Voldemort and he's just as horrible looking as he's rumored to be.
Lord Voldemort slowly breaks out into a venomous smile, "I was looking for you, my dear King James."
Lily steps in front of him, hair as red as the blood around him, and steadies her sword. "If you want him, you have to go through me first."
Voldemort's voice is so cold it sends shivers up and down James's spine. "If it isn't the kingdom's precious lionheart. The great king needs to hide behind the skirts of a woman, does he?"
James is staring at her back and he realizes that he doesn't want to do it anymore. He steps up beside her, pulling out her spare knife from the pouch at her side, and scowls at the cold, snake-eyed man before him. "I'm not hiding. If you touch a hair on her body, I'll kill you myself." He thinks that he's just saying big words right now, but he truly means it.
She glances at him for a moment, "What are you doing?"
"I'll protect you too."
"Traditionally—"
"We were never traditional, Lily. I'll hold him off." James replies. He doesn't miss the tiny smirk she gives him.
"Not if I hold him off first." She whispers back.
~.~.~.~.~
"Foolish girl." Voldemort hisses, holding his chest, gasping a little.
He can't breathe, he really can't. But she's slumped beside him, holding his hands, breathing shallowly. Neither of them will make it, he knows this. His vision is swimming and he's so, so tired.
"I love you." He thinks he hears, something soft pressing against his eyelids, his forehead, his lips.
"And I love you." He tries to say.
But he doesn't think anything comes out. Everything just goes black and he's plunged into numbing darkness.
a/n: Did you like it? I tried to put a little spin on canon.
Thank you for reading!
reviews are me giving you all the kisses because i love you all more than boybands and that's a lot.
xoxo
