Hello Again, My Honeys!
I apologize that it took so LONG to get this chapter out but I've been a bit overworked lately. I do hope that you enjoy this one, it is a bit darker and sadder than the previous chapters but a necessary chapter I'm afraid.
Please enjoy, though. And if you're lucky enough to spot a grammatical or spelling error, please keep calm and carry on. The Author will eventually get it to when editing again in the next few days. :)
Chapter 2: Circumboreal Climax
It was raining, large mid-morning rivulets dancing indolently across dense bulletproof windows as the looming presence of Buckingham Palace seemed far gloomier and darker than the last time Eggsy had set foot on the grounds with the Duke of York. A vast five story structure was piercing violently through low hanging heavens, the early winter fog flowing like bitter ocean waves across usually lush emerald green gardens as curious eyes took in the line of fifteen Yeoman of the Guard dressed in full Tudor uniform before the Royal family's private western façade entrance.
Since the two blissful weeks that Excalibur had been formally appointed as His Royal Highness' personal Knight, almost every day he accompanied the future Monarch on his duties to and from parliament and the royal residences; the castle always seemed bereft of any of the usual ceremonial pomp and circumstance one would expect with the arrival of a soon to be King.
Yet today, with the normally amiable Prince stiffening visibly in his seat the moment contemplative whisky-brown orbs caught sight of a barely visible standard fluttering wildly atop the castle flagpole, Eggsy was uncertain of what he had to do to bring Harry back to himself.
The fifty-three-year-old Lepidopterist seemed to have instantly withdrawn into his quieter and more unsure personality, dropping his forehead into the cradle of an elegantly leather gloved palm as an array of struggling breaths only served to highlight the fine tremor running through unexpectedly tensed shoulders. Instinctively reaching out to comfort Harry the best way he knew how, a navy pinstriped thigh pressed comfortingly against its dark grey companion as he curled gentle but grounding fingertips around a painfully tensed forearm.
"Y' alright there, guv?" He questioned quietly, a restless left-hand dipping down towards the curved handle of a black Rainmaker, resting against his thigh, just to make sure he was still fully armed before lifting a bare knuckle to trace the King's ashen pale cheek. He didn't know exactly what was going on at the moment, nor did he like one bit where this was going. But Eggsy could only wait patiently for Harry to respond to him. He couldn't force the older man to talk, nor urge him towards his private suite for an early night. All he could sense was that whatever caused this reaction, it was something neither one of them had the means to escape.
"Tell me what y' need, 'Arry." Before he could remove a hand to open a line to Merlin in the hopes that the Scotsman could shine more light on the current situation, a deep grounding inhalation drew the twenty-five-year-old's attention back to Harry as the Lepidopterist used the lilt of his Knight's voice as a catalyst to resituate the icy veneer Eggsy had gotten to know intimately over the past few weeks whenever the older gentleman was deliberately cornered in political meetings.
Only this time, all the usual mischief and playfulness hidden behind thick-rimmed tortoise-shell glasses had dulled to a more lifeless earthy brown. It was definitely not a comforting sight.
"'Arry? What the fuck—."
"Sorry, Eggsy." The older gentleman interrupted apologetically. "Would you mind?" At Harry's small wave towards the handle of the car door, Eggsy drew in a sharp, steadying, breath as he quietly nodded his assent. The falling raindrops outside the Bentley's artificially heated interior was like brittle needles, a casual snap of his umbrella deploying the smooth black fabric against the weeping heavens above as he crossed the back of the car after a precursory sweep of his surroundings.
There was no obvious danger present around them, assured fingertips popping open the future Monarch's door for him as he moved close enough that the older gentleman was instantly shielded from the dripping water deluge. The early morning fog, darkening the palace's suddenly intimidating stature as black gloved fingertips pressed a soothing touch against the dip of younger agent's spine in comforting gesture.
"Thank you." Harry whispered graciously, dipping Eggsy's head forward in polite nod as he kept the umbrella carefully poised above them. He was careful to remain less than half a step behind his charge, hooking a comforting finger through one of the Prince's belt loops in a bespoke, thigh-length, grey winter coat. He didn't want Harry to feel the loss of his silent support yet, especially when he slowed his steps just enough that Eggsy got the idea he was avoiding the CO currently standing at the top of the stairs.
"Sire," Their isolation, it seemed, couldn't hold out for long. Several sharp eyes snapped in their direction the instant they transversed the first stair towards the top, greeted with a more subdued salute that Harry acknowledged only briefly with an overwhelming sorrow dancing in the depths of his eyes. The Commanding Officer had stepped forward to offer a carefully folded flag to the Prince, having sunk to one knee in silent supplication as trembling fingertips relieved him of his duty.
"Thank you, Captain." Harry began quietly, trembling fingertips curling tightly around his new burden as his breath shortened briefly at the implications. "I leave Buckingham's colours in your capable hands. U-until the mourning period is complete." He breathed with hitched breath, carefully polished black Oxfords heading through the tellingly silent Palace threshold with Eggsy only a faithful half-step behind him.
Abruptly snapping the umbrella shut when they entered the lavish foyer, viridian green eyes glared at the first servant that stepped forward in an attempt to relieve him of his coat and weapon as his mind reeled internally at what Harry had just said.
Mourning period.
Did that mean the Queen was dead?
Fuck! It certainly seemed like it, the fifty-three-year-old Monarch was deathly silent beside him, merely following the lush carpeted hallways and extravagant stairs towards the Queen's Royal Apartments as he had yet to acknowledge Eggsy's almost far-too-close presence. The Queen's personal servant and physician were waiting for them by the closed doors, the young agent having met them once since having accompanied Harry to the palace when Her Majesty was too ill to receive visitors.
That wasn't what he himself had learnt from the data packet Merlin forwarded him of the staff in employ. He was intimately aware of every head of staff, close relative, outside employee, assistant and advisor that could possibly pose a threat to Harry's safety. And neither of these men ever registered as one, they had been with the family for over thirty years now and had never triggered an alert in the former Excalibur's constant and thorough surveillance inquiries.
"I'm sorry, Harry. We—."
"When? What happened?" Startling at the raw pain barely concealed in a cracking baritone, Eggsy knew instinctively that the older man was a few seconds away from losing the edge over his insurmountable self-control as he stepped forward to place a calming hand upon a trembling shoulder. The release of tension at his proximity was only slight, a shuddering breath spilling passed painfully thinned lips as green eyes caught the edge of telling saline trickling across dulled brown depths.
"I apologize, Young Master." Jennings, the head butler, said. "I did not wish for you to find out this way. Her Majesty ordered us not to contact you the night before when she had a relapse, believing it was not yet your burden to bear. Nor that it would be her last."
"She passed this morning at 4:23 A.M, barely three hours before you were expected back at the Palace. We knew there was no other choice, with no Royal in residence the flag had to be brought down and swapped as tradition dictates. I myself did not expect the Earl of Courtown to initiate the formal handover ceremony without consulting me or yourself first." Nodding numbly at the matter-of-fact explanation, Harry briefly turned his attention to the Royal Physician for a more official explanation as he listened silently through the solemn but similar account of the night before.
The Queen had died of a broken heart, too frail to have withstood having lost not only her Beloved husband but most of her children and grandchildren in the space of a single day. With Harry as the only one left to take over her duties, it seemed she felt content enough to let go and allow her youngest to rise from her ashes. The physicians words were a painful analogy for Harry to swallow, Eggsy could see. He wasn't really paying attention to his surrounding, listening only half-heartedly to Jennings as he noted the arrangements for the press had already been made and that the announcement of his succession and coronation had been brought forward two weeks.
"Excuse me," Eggsy interrupted suddenly, employing a smooth upper-class accent to not stand out as he curled a more assured grip around Harry's elbow to keep him steady. Holding up a hand to halt the far too one-sided conversation taking place, Eggsy didn't much like where this was going. Harry. Just Harry – the mild-mannered Lepidopterist - seemed far too withdrawn and shaky to be making any significant decisions right now. Added to the pressures of taking up the throne weeks earlier, when he often confessed he did not feel ready yet, was a little too-much-too-soon for the Kingsman's well-trained eye.
"I believe that a two-hour reprieve for his Highness is quite justified at this time." He continued. "The Duke of York has only just found out that his mother has died, the press can wait a few hours for their formal announcement."
"It will do no good, political or otherwise, if he himself is in a vulnerable state." Tapping his umbrella on the plush carpet with absentminded finality, Eggsy didn't slow for the gracious 'of course, Master Excalibur'. He merely allowed his feet to lead them down the complex hallways towards the Prince's private suite.
Pushing open the white and gold accented doors, an untouched silver tea tray had already been brought up before their arrival as he guided the older gentleman towards a plush armchair situated in the rarely used lounge area. The lavish Royal apartments were unusually dark for such an open cream and light-blue room, only the warm fire dancing orange-bright in the marble hearth, providing the faintest touch of natural warmth as flashes of lightning ignited the skies for miles on end on the other side of a carefully structured window.
A sensual curl of steam was rising indolently from the cup of tea Eggsy fixed with well-practised movements, the Duke of York yet to utter a single word in his presence as elegantly gloved fingertips dragged an irritable stripe through wayward curls escaping perfectly coiffed silver-threaded chocolate locks. The fifty-three-year-old seemed more unsettled that Eggsy had ever seen him, mournful topaz eyes staring unblinkingly at the crying heavens outside as the younger agent knelt concernedly in front of his charge.
"Here, I put some extra sugar in for you. Brown, not white. Just the way you like it." Not caring one-whit about the wrinkles the action would crease in his bespoke pinstripe suit, Eggsy placed a calming hand on Harry's knee as it suddenly became vitally important to establish physical contact. He could remember how difficult he had found his own father's death, even when he was still so young and unable to understand what was happening.
He could just image how much worse it was for Harry, he wouldn't be given much chance to mourn in private after this. He had an entire country to appease along with his own ascension to the throne, to rule a fractured nation still reeling from the political and social blowback of an insane megalomaniac who almost succeeded in ruining humanity.
"Thank you, Eggsy." Smiling reassuringly at the quietly spoken but sincere gratitude, the twenty-five-year-old did not retract his grounding touch as he sat back on his heels and silently observed the roiling clouds rumbling outside. If Harry truly did not want him here, he had more than enough strength to ask Excalibur to leave without consequence. But Eggsy was of the firm belief that a kind hand and soothing presence in leu of judgmental and unfriendly company, was a necessary need after enduring the shock of such painful news.
Grief shared was grief halved, as the saying goes. And just because Eggsy did not know the Queen personally did not mean that he couldn't sense her son's encompassing sorrow. The last living member of the Royal family was sipping absently at his tea, merely seeming to go through the motions of formality rather than anything else as he didn't even bother ridding himself of his leather gloves.
It was bitterly cold inside the Duke of York's apartments, a perfect reflection of the Lepidopterist's wavering emotions as he spent the small reprieve he had been given sorting through his reeling thoughts and rebuilding the outward control the rest of England would be expecting of him. With Eggsy a constant presence beside him, never quite saying anything except staying within touching distance; it became a little easier to breathe as he set aside now empty cup of tea and marvelled at the young agent that already had his preference for tea memorised and just how much he could and could not take when faced with the rest of the world.
When he rested his palm on a beautifully bespoke pinstripe clad shoulder in silent gratitude, the tender smile he got in return was astonishing enough to steal the breath from his lungs and very briefly made him forget the aching loss sitting painfully tight in the depths of his chest.
With Excalibur by his side, Harry knew instinctively that things would be alright…in time.
. . .
Violently jerking awake at a rhythmic knock sounding near deafeningly on his private bedroom door, viridian green eyes barely had a moment's notice to adjust to the pitch-black darkness filtering through the gaps between heavy brocade curtains as a familiar duel-barrel weight settled expertly in the palm of his hand. Forcing himself to blink away the heavy sleep still clinging to long black lashes, the twenty-four-year-old Excalibur stumbled restlessly to his feet as a stray hand brushing back the fall of messy copper locks across his forehead.
"Master Excalibur, Sir." Jennings' familiar voice beseeched. "We have a bit of situation—."
"Right, I'm up." He slurred in reply, knowing instinctively this was no courtesy call. It was rare for anyone to seek out the Prince's private guard after the man himself had turned in for the night, pure instinct guiding black Kingsman glasses across the bridge of his nose as several successive blinks prompted the HUD to flicker to life right before his eyes.
"I apologize for waking you, sir." Jennings' continued after an unsteady grip opened the door with a little too much force. The twenty-four-year-old smoothly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, patiently crossing his arms over a bare chest regardless of being dressed only in light blue pyjama bottoms. The castle's efficient internal heating was genuinely effective enough that sleeping half-naked below soft eiderdown duvets and cotton sheets, had the ability to chase away the bitterest of British winters.
"What happened?" He queried concernedly, taking in the rare sight of the obviously dishevelled white-haired butler. The old man always seemed so put together, even more than Harry regardless of the time of day or duty entrusted to him. "I'm sorry, sir. We cannot seem to locate His Majesty currently; his rooms are empty and an urgent call from—." Holding up his hand in an indication for a moment, Eggsy tilted his head to the side as he pulled up Harry's vitals and location beacon with carefully roving pupils.
"According to his vitals however, he is neither in distress nor activated any protocols. I think he may just have retired to his private study for the night or went to visit the library like he wished."
"Thank you, Master Excalibur." Nodding absently at the words, Eggsy blindly reached behind him to close the bedroom door with a quiet click as he stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. "I'll go find him for you." And with that, a newly focused intent bled through previously bleary green orbs as knowing footsteps led the twenty-four-year-old towards the flickering tracker without second thought.
Considering it was the Queen's funeral in just six hours' time, Eggsy wasn't really surprised that the Duke of York was not following his usual routine. Harry had a tendency to hole himself away when things got too much, either by wandering the vast gardens in search of butterflies or locking himself away in the Palace's large Lepidoptery collection room.
It had become the unusual location of the future King's private study over the past few months he had been told, a means for the older gentleman to surround himself with something familiar rather than dark wood bookcases and dry furniture.
Eggsy thought it suited Harry, the man was elegant and gentle and sweet and vastly different from the image he presented to the public. He could only smile to himself in remembrance as he recalled the first time the Lepidopterist had enthusiastically shown him his personal butterfly collection. The older gentleman's smile had contained enough genuine joy to light up even the darkest of recesses within Buckingham Palace.
But that wasn't what his mind should be dwelling on, he scolded himself. He should be focused solely on finding the wayward Prince. Even if it didn't take long for the location tracker to lead steady feet exactly where he thought it would, the closed doors of the Palace Collection Room.
"Y' in there, 'Arry?" He called out with a cursory knock, a quiet sigh flowing steadily passed petal pink lips as the twenty-four-year-old noted the dim orange light illuminating a small gap between the door frame and plush cream carpet. It was definitely occupied; the stale scent of dust, preservation chemicals, rich alcohol and the soothing bergamot of Harry's cologne dancing hauntingly upon the air the moment twin handles inched open beneath his palm.
Restless green eyes instantly scanned the extensive two-story, five-room deep, space. Countless carefully crafted mahogany collection drawers, curio cabinets and four large record-keeping bookshelves, artfully surrounding the massive antique cherry desk standing imposingly before the third-story balcony French doors. His standard pistol felt unusually heavy in the palm of his hand, dragging uncertainly at the edge of his conscience as he cautiously made his way passed the previously forbidden threshold.
"'Arry—?" It felt like he was stepping into a sacred space, a place only intended for a King to tread.
"Over here, Eggsy." Lowering the Kingsman issue weapon with a visibly relieved sigh, Eggsy tentatively followed the sound of Harry's distinctive baritone to where the fifty-three-year-old was sat nonchalantly on the floor, half-hidden by an eight-drawer Butterfly curio piece and his grandfather's mahogany bureau. His naturally tall frame was reclining artfully against polished black wood, highlighting the natural curve of his spine and the dark green throw shielding his shoulders and back from the swirling midnight chill.
An elaborate crystal glass was clasped assuredly in the palm of a trembling right hand, sleep mussed silver-threaded brown curls falling attractively across a pale forehead as the lines the man's body cast in flowing grey-silk pyjamas had no right looking so damnattractive on someone in their mid-fifties. His leg was absently drawn up for a stray elbow and drink to balance upon, rich whisky-brown irises glancing down at the spread of available space next to him before patting the ground for Excalibur to join him.
"Jennings woke me in a panic, said y' weren't in y'r room, 'Arry. An urgent—." Before the twenty-four-year-old agent could finish the rest of his sentence, he was abruptly silenced by a violent shake of the Duke of York's head. Restless fingertips had tightened considerably around the fine crystal tumbler in his hand, creaking glass radiating spiderweb cracks across the extravagantly worked surface before the Prince regretfully reigned back his igniting temper with simultaneously drooping shoulders.
"If this has anything to do with the Crown, Eggsy. I don't want to know. They can have the fucking decency to wait until Mother is buried." Nodding wholeheartedly at that declaration, Eggsy reached forward to relieve Harry of his drink before the older gentleman decided it was okay to consume the last dregs of glass along with fiery amber scotch.
Crossing his legs to make himself a little more comfortable on the floor, a considerably tensed frame jerked slightly in surprise when a dark-green throw was held shyly in his direction. A subtle pink flush had crept across his Arthur's pale cheeks, whisky-brown eyes absolutely refusing to look down where—.
Oh Fuck, Eggsy cursed internally. He had completely forgotten that he was still half naked, shivering slightly at the stale cold on this side of the Palace as a subtle but noticeable attraction blossomed brightly within alcohol dilated brown eyes. A sheepish but sincere 'thanks' was slipping passed thinned lips, the younger agent taking the next few minutes to silently look over his charge for any obvious signs of distress before the older man unconsciously leaned a little closer to his guard's side. After a seemingly long and fierce internal debate, the quiet Lepidopterist laid his temple upon a newly green fabric-clad shoulder in obvious relief…almost as if Harry could finally let go of the painful emotions that waged such open war within heaving breast.
There was no way the fifty-three-year-old wasn't a little drunk considering his actions, Eggsy mused. The Prince's usual impeccable veneer was so often in control that the generous touch of pink dusting the apples of pale cheeks and fully dilated black pupils, seemed more than a little out of character. His Royal Highness would never cross so many propriety lines within a single night, especially not if he hadn't consulted Eggsy first or decided to throw caution to the wind and draw action from the innate but buried rebelliousness of his youth.
"Y' alright there, 'Arry?" Eggsy asked concernedly, picking up the faintest of tremors running down his side as he unconsciously raised a right hand to card through soft curly brown locks. He kept his touch gentle and kind, not entirely sure exactly what was expected of him or was appropriate in this sort of situation as a possessive sort of triumph flooded through his veins the moment the future Monarch seemed to relax more fully.
The rich aroma of cologne and expensive soap was drifting a heady miasma across his senses, sending something entirely inappropriately squirming wildly within the depths of his stomach as the young Kingsman cursed the tapestry of complex emotion always weaving together so profoundly within their every interaction.
Why could he never seem to control himself around the older gentleman? What was it that always made him seek out a blissfully soft gaze or overly fond expression? If Excalibur's perception wavered whenever praise or gentle words passed the Prince's lips, did it mean he was a lovesick puppy awaiting—.
"I'm tired, darling boy." Harry answered hesitantly, briefly drawing Eggsy's thoughts back into himself as he unconsciously pressed a soothing kiss atop downy brown locks. There was so much pain and despair weighing down those words, instantly reminding the youth that his King wasn't really alright in that moment…he had just lost his mother for fuck's sake! And here Eggsy was taking advantage of his need for comfort and—.
"Don't." A hoarse baritone suddenly interjected, halting the young agent's uncertain movements to separate himself to a more respectable distance. "Please don't! I don't think—." A rattling breath hitched painfully at the pained admission. "I-I don't think I can do this, Eggsy. I wasn't born for this, I can't—." With long fingertips digging desperately into the green throw curled around his shoulders, Eggsy knew exactly what was causing Harry such obvious distress as he abruptly turned his body into the older gentleman's and leant forward to bring their foreheads together in an intimate caress.
"Yes, y' can." He breathed soothingly, pure conviction sparking brilliant blue within peacock green irises as their breaths mingled together in a shivery fusion before a stray thumb lifted to brush away the telling brightness clinging to long black lashes. Brown eyes were wide with internal doubt, uncharacteristically shrinking away from the vast internal courage and strength Eggsy knew intimately Harry possessed.
This was nothing but sorrow and alcohol talking, he knew. It was a dangerous combination he himself was far too familiar with.
"No Harry," He said gently. "You know that isn't true, you're one of the most honourable men I have ever met. The fact that Her Majesty chose you, out of the few surviving grandchildren of her direct line, means she knew your strength better than yourself."
"Harry Hart will be a fair King, an honest King and a perfectly virtuous gentleman. Someone the country is in desperate need of. As His Majesty, you are the only person I would serve for an eternity." There was not a doubt within Eggsy's mind, Harry was the type of man he would be honoured to serve and protect regardless of his station. There was none of the previous classist views clinging to the Monarchy, nor any of the power-hungry ambition and dangerous greed he had come across too many times in his line of work.
That, in the young agent's mind, was the mark of a compassionate leader.
The Palace Collection Room settled back into a contemplative silence for several long moments after that, the young agent only absently alerting the previously distressed butler that he had found His Majesty. Only, Harry was in no sober condition to take any calls. The Lepidopterist said nothing more beside him, probably having quietly retreated back into himself as he brought a temple back to Eggsy's shoulder and a surprising warm wetness flowed down the side of his neck.
"Hush now, luv." Excalibur cooed unconsciously, recalling all the sleepless nights he had soothed his little sister's own distress before calming an unnaturally tense frame and stroking restful fingers through messy curls. It was getting far too late for either of them to be up, especially considering the terribly emotional day awaiting them in a few hours' time.
"Think it's time we went te bed, guv." He urged quietly, Eggsy himself pushing the boundaries after several long days of very little sleep and constant vigilance. He could only image what the Prince himself was feeling. And at Harry's subtle but consenting nod, smooth fingertips shifted slipping black frame glasses up the bridge of his nose before fluidly guiding himself back to his feet.
"Up y' get, back te bed." He teased with a cheeky wink, his palm a comforting weight in Harry's hand as a brief hiss of surprise spilled passed pink lips the moment stumbling steps crashed their chests far too close together and the King's taller frame loomed several imposing inches above him. Shit! Eggsy cursed internally, his heart racing a painful tattoo against his chest as a low, sensual, heat hooded long black lashes and vivid green irises stared imploringly at slightly parted lips.
A long-fingered hand had come up of its own accord to rest upon the side of his cheek, unconsciously tipping the guard's head back so that bright whisky-smooth irises could lock intently with viridian green. The sensation of a contented sigh whispering petal soft across the plush of his lips, so distracting that an answering exhale hitched painfully in the back of his throat.
Fuckin' hell! It happened so fast and unexpectedly that Eggsy couldn't keep reign of his strict self-control, moaning in unrestrained delight as sinfully soft lips moulded intimately across his own and the heady taste of Glendronach flooded the recesses of his mouth. A slick tongue had taken full advantage of his apparent surprise, dipping in-between the seam of parted lips as strong arms wound their bodies even closer together than strictly natural.
It was arousing as fuck, sending bolts of sheer sensation dancing wildly across honey-gold skin as alcohol, sorrow and sleep deprivation levelled their internal inhibitions into nothingness. Eggsy no longer gave a single fuck about propriety or the wrongness of the situation, basking blissfully in the sensual entanglement of slick tongues until it became far too difficult to breathe and a sharp nip of affection stung the surface of his bottom lip.
"Fuck!" He moaned in apparent surprise, momentarily closing his eyes against the lingering fondness swelling in his gut as Harry brought their foreheads together again. He could see the similar surprise and heated arousal shimmering deep within brown eyes, a quietly fond smile drifting across pale lips just for him as Eggsy returned the tender expression and boldly captured a drop of Harry's saliva with the tip of his tongue.
"Bed luv," Eggsy whispered sternly, a flicker of regret shadowing sharp green eyes at the reminder that the Prince was in a vulnerable state right now and didn't need the complicated emotional rollercoaster of bedding his Excalibur without any true want. No, neither of them could indulge in whatever it was that always drew them into orbit around each other…not now.
"If y' still want this when sober, 'Arry." A quiet tenor said carefully. "We can try again. But I don't want y' te regret this in the mornin' or merely indulge me for a single night." And with that, steady fingertips curled around Harry's left hand and brought it up to his lips for a kiss of fidelity.
"Long live mine King." He murmured reverently, bright adoration flickering within lust darkened irises as an old grandfather clock struck 3 A.M in the morning. Whether Harry would believe this was all an alcohol fuelled dream or a single moment of clarity by morning, only time would tell.
. . .
A waft of humid steam was dancing restlessly upon the air, the soothing phantasia of an extravagant rainfall shower echoing melodiously against dark bathroom tiles as dazed whisky brown orbs scarcely paid attention the surrounding room around him. Fleeting images of dreams and hazy memories were flashing hauntingly behind partially closed eyelids, the startlingly vivid sensation of Eggsy's lips moulding to his own still lingering vibrantly in the forefront of his mind as it carved a quietly satisfied moan from the deepest depths of his throat.
Shit! Harry had never expected to lose so much control over of his inhibitions after only a few glasses of scotch and too much stress. But he couldn't quite seem to find any regret inside himself. He had shamefully wanted to lay claim to Excalibur's luscious mouth ever since he had first encountered the young man a little over four years ago, having only intermittent success these days in concealing his inherent attraction to the boy.
And Eggsy, Eggsy had responded so beautifully to him…giving himself over to the eroticism of their brief but sweet entanglement with unrestrained abandon and sensually fluttering lashes. The darling had wanted him just as much as he wanted him, making it near impossible for Harry to hold himself back much longer…not after he had heard the honest conviction concealed in the young man's encouraging words.
It had turned him into a mess of sensation and need and desperation, still skittering unfulfilled across the edge of his senses as a familiar, rhythmic, throb thickened and hardened the length of his cock. Pressing a calming forehead against the expanse of cool tile in front of him, it seemed like a near impossible uphill battle to contain the lust burning fever-bright just inside the cusp of his awareness.
Could he afford to lose control of himself, he asked himself. Only he would know he had been unable to resist the rising rapture, yes, but it was also his mother's funeral in a few hours. It took an unbelievable amount of self-control and freezing water temperatures to calm the ardour just enough to finish his shower and seal away the desperate need blooming so indulgently inside him.
Today was a day of mourning and sorrow, he reminded himself. Not indulgent and sweet, not yet. Harry's precious Excalibur hadn't rejected him last night, had merely said that they could wait to take their relationship further. And as bare feet stepped outside the shower to complete the rest of his morning routine, he was very careful to lock away the more inappropriate thoughts and rebuild the stoic British veneer the rest of the world would be watching for today.
The formal contours of a black, red and gold Major General of the Royal Marines uniform, falling perfectly tailored from broad shoulders and a formally straightened back as careful fingertips checked the state of several service medals and the swaying tassels of a gold and red belt. The braided lapels and stiff collar, briefly drawing whisky brown eyes towards the perfect symmetry upon his form as he resituated the hem of black and red trousers across the polished surface of black Oxfords.
He forewent the formal sword, knowing intimately it would only get in the way today as one last look resettled a stray brown curl having tumbled out of its precious pomade mould and slid tortoise-shell glasses across the bridge of his nose. The hands of his watch already indicated the time as mid-to-late morning, taking one last steadying breath to settle his lingering nerves before he opened the suite doors.
Excalibur was already waiting for the King's arrival, looking devilishly handsome in a perfectly tailored black Kingsman suit and formal Royal Marine tie. The flicker of black red and gold placed him in perfect compliment to the Duke of York, a shaft of natural sunlight shimmering iridescent copper off of parted and partially slicked black burnished russet locks. He was offering the quiet Lepidopterist the shyest and most lovingly hopeful smiles he ever had the pleasure to witness.
He couldn't quite stop himself from reaching for the younger man's right hand, bringing bruised knuckles from an overenthusiastic spar with one of the Yeoman a few days ago, to his lips as he delighted in the delicate blush it chased across pale cheeks. The boy was utterly stunning in that moment, enough to nearly break the heavy chain he had locked around his heart earlier that morning as pale lips whispered reverently across the gold signet ring matching the one on his right pinkie.
"Thank you, Eggsy." He said sincerely, a thousand unspoken words of gratitude, hope, desire, fondness, love and hesitation lingering in the air between them as he straightened himself for the reply he had been unable to give the night before.
"Entering into a relationship with me isn't going to be easy, darling boy." Brushing stray knuckles across a flushed cheek, Harry was quick to calm the regret he could already see forming within bright viridian green irises. "But do not doubt that I want this very much, more than should ever be allowed. We'll face opposition and ridicule at many turns, I do not wish to hide you away like some dirty secret so all I ask is some time more, please."
"A little more time to—."
"Yes, Harry." A forefinger had come to rest across his lips in an indication of silence, shimmering green eyes locking fondly with whisky-brown as the younger man stepped onto the tips of his toes to press a gentle kiss against the centre of the future Monarch's forehead. "I'll wait for you however long it takes."
"Now come, we're going to be late. I'll always be a half-step behind you, luv." Harry appreciated the sentiment more than any words could describe, a tentative smile ticking up the corner of pale lips as he allowed the young Kingsman to lead him through the complex Palace hallways towards a familiar idling Bentley. The entire palace was a flurry of activity and noise around them, the head servants and staff preparing for the small party of dignitaries and remaining family members returning for lunch as they followed the protocols the Queen laid in place for her London Bridge initiative.
Now that the stay of her body in Westminster Hall had reached its three-day vigil, she could finally be laid to rest in St George's Chapel beside her Prince Consort. The gun carriage procession back to Windsor was any royal guard's personal nightmare however, leading their charge so out in the open with only minimal time to scan the pressing crowds for any viable threat.
But Harry had the utmost faith in his darling Excalibur, Eggsy had yet to disappoint him in anything. And with the knowledge that Merlin and several of the other Kingsman agents were stationed along the route for extra protection, he could breathe a little easier and allow the smallest amount of tension to bleed from his shoulders.
Playful green eyes offered him a brief wink as his Knight opened the sleek black door for him, ushering him into the interior of the bulletproof car with a formal bow before they could draw too much attention from their surroundings. The silence inside the vehicle was heavy with emotion and conflicted duty, for Harry especially. But he employed whatever method he could to force himself through the damnedable day, for Mother and Father he reminded himself - whom they had also buried like this four days after V-Day.
The pain and expectation from then would never quite leave him, he could still recall his mother's sorrowful voice that same night as she told him she was handing over responsibility of the Crown to him. He had fought her at first, knowing he had never in his fifty-three-years trained to take over the throne like his brother and his children had. But there was no one left to entrust the duty too, His Royal Highness Prince Henry George Adair Hart, Duke of York, was the last surviving member of Her Majesty's children.
He was also the only one who knew how much Mother hated the idea of handing complete control of the Kingdom over to the greed of Parliament. So much so, he agreed after a mere week. He never could defy her for long, even if he was intimately aware he was not born a King nor would he ever be able to see himself as an acceptable one.
Turning cautious eyes towards the thousands of curious observers following the path of the escorted Bentley outside the Palace gates, he was vaguely aware of Eggsy holding a hushed conversation with Merlin on the other side of his glasses as a nation's palpable grief settled like a cloud over the first sunny day in over a week.
It seemed the winter storm had finally abated enough to bring with it the scent of change, a new and unexplored prosperity weaving through the blue horizons as a warm body shifted closer to his side to provide a pillar of support he was not ashamed to take advantage of.
Eggsy was all beautiful strength and deadly grace, soft emotion and fierce caring he had tasted for the first time the night before. And if a black leather gloved hand slipped knowingly into his palm, he did not have the internal strength to pull away or deny himself the comfort. There was no more need for him to be afraid, not when it was just the two of them far, far away from harsh reality and the scrutinizing public eye.
When they finally reached a crowded Westminster Hall fifteen minutes later, it took a few long moments before the Prince was ready to step outside the car to the hushed murmurs of the public and a full military escort awaiting his presence. His darling Eggsy did not push him however, staying carefully silent by his side as sharp green eyes kept a constant eye trained on the outside surroundings from behind the lenses of black framed glasses.
In the distance Her Majesty's favourite bagpipes sounded mournfully through the air, urging polished black Oxfords to take their rightful place behind the coffin and the royal crown resting atop the family colours. Millions of people would be watching, waiting for their King to be crowned in the next week.
The shoes he had to fill were big ones, a duty he himself knew could no longer shy away from.
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