Royals

Ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡ ⑧

Felixstowe, Suffolk, England.

"Go south"

Harry glances back at Zayn to see he's slightly awake, covering his eyes with one hand and slowly sitting up.

"I'm not in the mood to deal with disrespectful Englishmen"

Harry frowns at him. They're not yet at shore and Zayn apparently doesn't want them to sail towards an official port that would guarantee them a safer journey to the castle. "And I'm not in the mood to walk through the forest" he replies.

Zayn drops his hand and turns his face so he's facing him. "We're going south" he repeats.

Harry sighs, "We're not" he directs the boat so they're heading towards the port. He doesn't look at Zayn who doesn't open his mouth for the next minute. Harry can see from the corner of his eye how Zayn diverts his eyes from him and settles for untying his hair, brushing his hair a little with his fingers before tying it back properly. He pulls the dagger and moves towards Harry.

"We're heading south" Harry doesn't flinch, because Zayn can't walk around England on his own. He needs Harry. "Turn the boat"

Harry finally looks up at him, "Why?" he sees Zayn blinking a few times before he's putting the dagger away.

"It's enough shame for me to run away" his voice is quite and Harry actually stops to listen to him, allowing him a chance to explain. "Do you know how much insults I'll get for that?" Zayn sits back, "The English are waiting for any mistake, Harry. And they have the biggest one to laugh at"

"In case you've forgotten. I'm a runaway king as well"

Zayn looks up at him, "But this is your country"

"And so is yours"

Zayn rolls his eyes, "England will never by my country"

"Why do you hate us so much?" Harry furrows his brows and watches again as Zayn sighs and rolls his eyes for a second time. He doesn't reply and Harry could remember all the times –even if they were few– when Zayn would visit England and they'll have a very short conversation. Or even that time when he just arrived and he took him to a nearby village. He seemed a lot cheerful than that. He reaches with one hand and pokes Zayn's cheek with his finger. Zayn frowns and moves his head away, "You didn't seem to have a problem with the English before"

"Before" Zayn shakes his head, "Not when I learned they're plotting against me and planning my funeral, and let's not forget trying to steal my country. Yeah, I too wonder why I hate them so much" he scoffs and Harry takes a deep breath.

Zayn looks at the port or rather glare at it, his fingers are twiddling in his lap, and Harry grabs the paddles again to direct them south. Zayn's eyes widen a bit as he looks back at him. "Thank you" his voice is still quiet and troubled but Harry wouldn't comment on that.

"Do you think about it?" He asks instead and Zayn tilts his head to the side a little as Harry glances at him. "What happened in Germany? You never actually talk about it"

"Of course I do" Zayn takes a deep breath, "But I have no reliable information. So I'm sticking to guess the best ... Or the worst scenarios. It's all the same. I'm out of the country, and ..." he sighs as he looks down again, "Why would you care?" he lifts his gaze up to land on Harry.

"I'm a king to that country, remember? Germany is supposed to be my first priority"

Zayn straightens up, "Your first priority?" Harry nods, "When was it ever?" he scoffs.

"When did you ever give me a chance to?"

"Like you'd do the same"

Harry stops for a minute, "I would actually" Zayn stares at him, tries to see through him, those honest eyes that keeps staring back, and he wonders, Why? But he doesn't say it and he settles to turn his head away, or probably turning away from this whole conversation. He's tired, his mind is tired, and he doesn't need Harry inside his head as well.