Warning for death (not explicit), blood, and violence.
A/N: Harry might seem a little OOC / I have no idea if this is a Medieval!AU or a Royalty!AU, perhaps both — but just bear with me on the terminology. / The Weasleys are not in this because involving them would've made things more complicated.
"One day," he whispers, "we'll be together. No rules. No crowns. Just you and me, facing the sunrise."
Harry isn't sure he believes him, but his heart swells anyway after seeing the earnestness on George's face. "Just you and me," he agrees.
When George hears the word attack, his mind immediately jumps to Harry. His stomach lurches and he has to bite his lip from expressing his fear for the young prince.
With fumbling fingers, he slips on his armor, picks up his sword, and races into the fray.
It doesn't take a genius to realize that the guards are being pushed back — back towards the royal chambers, the attackers' goal. George has a cut on his hand from a clumsy dodge, and it stings like hell, but he ignores it. Harry echoes in every beat of his heart, every time his sword connects with another.
"Getting tired yet, Freckles?" his opponent taunts him, swinging his sword. George doesn't answer, parrying it and twisting the hilt of his sword. The man's falls with a clatter.
"You tell me," he responds cheekily and the man glares, lunging for his sword but George is too quick — he stomps on the blade with his boot, pinning it under his heel.
"Surrender," George commands, but the man just spits at him. Then he's gone.
Picking up his new spoil, George sheathes the sword and turns, charging forward.
Harry can hear the fighting from between his parents; they're wedged in a small safe room just outside their chambers. His father's fingers are tapping against his knee and Harry is holding his mother's hand, trying to block out the sounds of clanging steel, of screaming and terror.
George George George is all he's thinking. George is out there — he's an excellent swordsman but the fighting sounds vicious.
"Are you all right?" Queen Lily gazes at her son, looking unnaturally pale — his mother is never afraid. Harry's fear increases tenfold. "You look peaky."
"I'm —" He wants to answer honestly but the words fail him. "I don't know," he says finally.
Lily looks like she wants to comfort him but a rapid series of knocks on the safe room's door causes her to freeze. She and James share a look of apprehension before James calls out, "Who is it?"
"It's Sirius!"
Harry relaxes a fraction and James hurries to unlock all of the locks and chains to let the captain in. He's got another guard with him and Harry tenses when he recognizes George.
(Well, George's face is covered with a helmet, but Harry just knows — knows the way he walks, the shape of his body, especially after spending night after night committing that body to memory.)
"The invaders are pushing us back," Sirius says grimly. "We need to get you out now. I have a plan to help you escape."
George wants to touch Harry's shoulder, kiss him, tell him that everything's going to be fine — anything to erase the expression of fear on his face, but in the presence of the king, queen, and captain of the Royal Guard he doesn't dare.
And then he hears shouting from behind and Harry's face whitens.
"How the—" Sirius curses, drawing his sword. "The three of you need to get behind me and Sir George. Run if you must. We'll hold them off."
And then they're overwhelmed.
George isn't consciously aware of his movements; he's only aware of the ringing in his ears and the beat of his heart until Sirius's shouts break through his concentration.
"Take them and go!" he cries. "I'll hold them off!"
"I can't —" George's sword slices through leather and his opponent stumbles back, a deep cut in his chest.
"You need to!" Sirius's eyes are blazing. "Go!"
George's heart sinks as he hears the desperation in his captain's voice. He deals one more blow to the invader and retreats. Training his eyes on the swarm, he shouts over his shoulder, "Run!"
The king and queen push Harry in front of them and they flee. Harry glances over his shoulder, his bright green eyes distraught, but he keeps running.
There's no way Sirius can stall all of them; he's a formidable fighter but no man is that good. But George trusts him. If he says he'll hold them back, he'll hold them back, even if it's just for a few minutes.
A few minutes is all George needs.
He's exhausted, but he forces himself to push forward, turning the corner and following the royal family. "Wait!" he calls frantically and it's Harry who hears him, Harry, who is attuned to his voice. He stops mid-step and his parents skid to a halt behind him.
"...Sir George," he hears Harry saying. A beat. George catches his breath and bows hastily.
"Your Majesty," he says, addressing the king, "I'm here to escort you and your family out of the castle."
"Of course," King James says, his face taut. "Take the lead."
"Shouldn't I watch your back?" George asks uncertainly.
"We'll do that." James reaches into his boot and reveals the handle of a dagger. Similarly, Lily lifts her skirt a bit and pulls out an identical dagger.
Harry is unarmed, so George unsheathes the sword he'd won earlier and hands to Harry, along with his belt that has a sheathe stitched into the leather. "Take this."
Harry has only seconds to gape before the shouting and footsteps reach George's ears; the invaders are close. "Quickly," he urges, as Harry's fingers fumble to tie the belt. Lily speeds up the process by tying the knot herself.
"Let's move." George sets off at a run and the others follow, their footsteps light. George intentionally falls back despite the king's assurances that they'll be fine.
"Through that tapestry," he directs and prince, at the head of the group, veers to the right — Harry already knows that this secret passage is here, through clandestine meetings with George at night (he has a particular memory here, of hands roaming, of hot lips pressed against his bare chest — ) but it's best to pretend as if he doesn't know.
"Wait, how did you know about this?" King James asks. "I wasn't aware that anyone besides me, my wife, and the captain knew about it."
George catches a glint of green, but he avoids looking at it. "I was an adventurous child," he answers evasively. The king looks at him, impressed, but the queen urges, "Hurry up, James, or did you forget that we're being chased?"
"Right, sorry." James clambers through the hole, then Lily, and then it's just George and Harry. Glancing around furtively, Harry stands on his tiptoes and presses his lips to George's. "I love you," he breathes, his face reverent.
George feels like the air has been sucked out of his lungs from Harry's confession — it's not the first time he's said the words but here, at this moment, the words are so much more meaningful.
"I love you too," he replies simply before shoving him through the hole.
They make it out alive, somehow, but the battle still rages on. George wonders what had happened to the captain if he'd made it, but he doubts it — the invaders had been hot on their heels, meaning they had overwhelmed the captain, and George tried not to think about it.
They flee into the Forbidden Forest, a place where no one would dare to follow them — but there's a good reason for that. Monsters and creatures are rumored to lurk in the forest and no one who enters leaves alive.
The royal family and George are all armed, but most of the monsters travel in groups, and George knows they don't stand a chance if they encounter a pack of werewolves or a small army of Inferi. They don't have any fire or even any flint — only the clothes on their backs and the weapons in their hands.
Lily, out of sheer frustration, gives her long skirt a trim with her dagger — meaning she cuts off half of it, up to her knees, and wraps the sheared fabric around her waist like a sash.
"Nice thinking," James says approvingly and they hurry onward.
They find an abandoned mine just inside the forest — "Why do you think it's abandoned?" Harry asks nervously, and George replies, "It's probably because something chased off all the miners." — and take shelter there for the rest of the night, with each member of their party taking turns to keep watch. George takes the first shift, and after his parents fall asleep, Harry joins him.
"If they wake up, I'm here to relieve you," he whispers with a discreet nod towards the sleeping king and queen. "How are you?"
"Me?" I'm fine," George replies dryly. "Just fine. But what about you?"
Harry blinks at him; his glasses are smudged and dirty, and George wonders how he can still see out of them. "I'm okay," he says. "I'm just worried about the palace staff and knights — I hope they make out okay."
George decides not to tell him about what he'd witnessed. "Let's hope so," he says, and then changes the subject. "I wonder what will happen if we have to stay out here for...longer."
"We'll just keep doing what we're doing right now," Harry says. "Running, hiding, fighting — it's all we can do."
"You forgot that we have to eat," George reminds him. "And drink. As far as I know, there are only a few streams scattered throughout the forest, and I don't even know where we're going to find food."
"...Berries?" Harry suggests halfheartedly. "Fish in the streams?"
"That'll have to do," George sighs.
George is hesitant to leave the royal family, so they come with him as he ventures out of the forest. Where are the monsters? He hasn't seen any since they arrived — perhaps they're hiding too.
The battle must be over by now because the castle is silent, but smoke billows out of gaping holes in the walls. There are too many dead — Harry inhales sharply behind him, and the king and queen share dismayed looks over his head. Even they are rattled — but who wouldn't be.
"Sir George?" one of the knights calls weakly, stirring on the ground. He's got a nasty gash on the back of his head and he looks pitiful. "Is that y-you?"
"Sir Lockhart?" He rushes to the knight's side, kneeling next to him. "We need to get you help!"
"Alas, it is...too late...for me," Sir Lockhart moans, "Tell them...to remember me for my beauty...after I am —"
Gone, but Lockhart dies before he can finish his sentence.
George hangs his head, grief overcoming him, and he hears Harry come up next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says. In the barest of whispers, he adds, "My love." He sounds shaken, and George's first instinct is to comfort him.
"I-I'll be okay," he murmurs, getting his feet and gazing at Lockhart's prone form. "C'mon, let's go inside."
It pains him to walk past the bodies of his comrades, but Harry walks next to him, their shoulders brushing, but that's all Harry allows to happen.
Because it's forbidden to do more.
George feels a sudden surge of anger. His friends were dying, and he's worried about a little thing like a secret relationship. So what if the world knows? They would have to just put up with it.
So, without hesitation, his hand slips into Harry's. There's nothing discreet about it, just a shout to the world — hey! I'm in a relationship with the prince! — and to seal the deal, he takes advantage of Harry's confusion and kisses him.
Harry makes a muffled noise against his lips, but George coaxes his mouth open and Harry can't resist. He lets go of George's hand and his hands are suddenly like burning coals, cupping his cheeks and then winding his arms around his necks.
They're kissing and kissing and kissing and George is afraid that he's going to lose himself —
— and then someone clears their throat and cold air stings his lips as Harry pulls away.
"So that's why you refused to court Hermione," the king says wonderingly.
"Well, that's part of the reason," Harry admits. "Princess Hermione is in love with one of the men in the village."
"Ah," King James murmurs. "So you're gay! Congrats, son."
"'Congrats?'" Queen Lily smacks his arm and James lets out an undignified. "You don't congratulate someone if they're gay, you prat!"
"Well, what the hell else am I supposed to say? Do I have to write a bloody greeting card or something?"
(George, meanwhile, is marveling at this display — it had never occurred to him that the king and queen didn't act like a normal couple.)
"No!" Lily rolled her eyes. "You do this." And she strides over to Harry and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. She opens an arm and gives George a warm look that invites him into the hug. Feeling a wee bit nervous, George glances at the king and then steps into the embrace.
Being hugged by Lily Potter is...nice. Motherly. He closes his eyes. He hasn't been hugged this way in a long time.
James joins in too and then it just becomes awkward; a mess of tangled limbs and uncomfortable shuffling, until Lily says,
"Later, James! After I'm done!"
2263 words
Auction (17-3): George/Harry