Prompt 94/100 - Phillip finds out about the relationship between Alex and his brother during the polo match and sees red. He doesn't mean to seek out Alex to hurt him, but everything goes out the window when something happens that changes everything.

It's only after Henry's match is over that Phillip truly sees how far Henry's lowered his standards. Normally, while people of their class were known for engaging with everyone in some aspect, Phillip had never seen his brother so eager to welcome and speak with the American that he invited. For diplomatic reasons, Henry said when he'd asked 2 weeks earlier as it came up in conversation. Phillip sometimes thinks he thinks he's a bloody fool.

He's seen that look in Henry's eyes before, when he was a teenager and used to sneak about Eton unknowingly to both Mother and Father. It's not a good one, not in the slightest. While Phillip's not exactly the type to suspect that what he hopes /isn't/ happening again, might be happening, the sirens in the back of his head still make him pause while tending to his horse.

His groom has, obviously, already tended to him several times both before and after the matches they were in, but that's not why he stops.

It's because he sees Henry and the American walk off towards the equipment storage rooms and disappear out of sight, far too close to be considered impersonal. He can already feel the weight of anxiety sitting on his chest like his helmet was on his head, heavy and concave.

At first, it steadies him, leaving him looking aloof and respectable in the field. Soon enough, however, all respectability goes out the window and his curiosity (and his ire) wins out, the reigns being handed off to someone faceless as he goes to follow.

He doesn't find them straightaway, which makes the heavy feeling in his chest hurt harder and the ire start to burn through his veins like a good whiskey, but when he does after seeing a flash of blonde hair from an enclosed window - it gets rather ugly.

He, at first, balks when he sees his brother with his arse on a dirty table, the American's filthy and coarse mouth between his legs (a just as disgusting sight), but at once, his vision is red. He seizes the back of the man's skull with fury, his fingernails clawing into it and dragging him off Henry while the other throws a punch. It lands him squarely in the face, a pastel purple colour blooming that, sickly, makes him almost feel alive.

He wants more.

He can hear himself screaming and cursing, the sound almost sped up like it's being fast-forward in a movie. At Henry, at the American. He can hear Henry shouting back desperate and contrite, almost begging, the feeling of the other man he's currently attempting to turn into dust also leaving its mark as he tries to claw his own way out of his grip and up his arms to no avail. He will not escape Phillip, not this time. Too many that Henry had played this game with had already - he wouldn't let another one make a mockery out of them. Not out of the Crown.

Soon enough, Henry tries to make a move. Philip saw it coming, the way he charged at them both was evidence enough, so with a yell, he swung the American around to use as a shield as if they were fencing on the grounds of Kensington, only for a scream to stop them.

Looking down at the American, Phillip can only watch in horror as his vision clears enough for him to see the man he had been fighting only mere moments ago still, his shaking, bloody hands hovering around a hook that is sticking out of him.

All is quiet and the howling in his ears dies down as he suddenly lets go and watches as the American slumps, eyes wide open and afraid. The howling is replaced moments later by Henry, who howls almost in the same tone, only more mournful as Phillip takes off before he can be stopped, Henry's panicked calls moments later leading to ambulances, news outlets and worse, attention that wasn't needed while he was cleaning up and making himself scarce.

He wouldn't hear the end of this from Gran, that he knew. Thankfully, with her "assistance" and other than a new arsehole that's been sewn up from both ends and some ice packs, the American somehow leaves France as soon as possible (that being a good few days) and Henry can't look him in the eye.

Phillip doesn't care. Not as much as he used to. It's better this way.

It's always better this way.