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“I hate this so much. I know. But we’re gonna do it together. And we’re gonna make it work. You and me and history, remember? We’re just gonna fucking fight. Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you. So, I promise you, one day we’ll be able to just be,
His bedroom door flies open, and Zahra slams on the light, a steely expression of rage barely concealing the sheer terror on her face. Alex’s brain flashes to the panic button behind his headboard and wonders if the Secret Service will be able to find him before he bleeds out.
Still, the cocky shithead part of him is slightly pleased to finally have a claim on Henry. Yep, the prince? Most eligible bachelor in the world? British accent, face like a Greek god, legs for days? Mine.
or so help me God I will personally make your balls into fucking earrings.
“Look, I’m only going to say this once, and if you ever repeat it, I’ll have you kneecapped.” She drops her hand, fixing him with a glare that manages to be both chilly and fond. “I’m rooting for you, okay?”
“Bit short for a stormtrooper.”
“Fuck off, Philip, I love him,”
“What exactly do you intend to do, then, Henry? Hmm? Marry him? Make him the Duchess of Cambridge? The First Son of the United bloody States, fourth in line to be Queen of England?”
You can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, Philip. I’m done.”
“If you want a fight, you should have seen it when I found out he had known about you two all along,” Zahra says. “Why do you think I got a rock this big?” “It usually works for us,” Shaan amends. “Yep,” Zahra agrees. “Plus, we banged it out last night.” Without looking up, Shaan meets her hand in a high five.
“I’ve been gay as a maypole since the day I came out of Mum, Philip.”
“Even if you’re willing to submit to the flogging in the papers, it doesn’t erase the stipulations of your birthright: You are to produce heirs.” And Alex apparently hasn’t been biting his tongue hard enough, because he blurts out, “We could still do that.” Even Henry’s head whips around at that. “I don’t recall giving you permission to speak in my presence,” Queen Mary says.
“I still don’t think—” Philip begins, but Bea seizes the pot of tea from the center of the table and dumps it into his lap. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Pip!” she says, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him, sputtering and yelping, toward the door. “So dreadfully clumsy. You know, I think all that cocaine I did must have really done a job on my reflexes! Let’s go get you cleaned up, shall we?”
He whoops so hard he spills his coffee on George Bush’s favorite
He called Henry the North Star once. That wasn’t bright enough.
From his side, Henry, whose eyes are wet, seizes Alex’s face roughly in both hands and kisses him like the end of the movie, whoops, and shoves him at his family.
