tiltingwithlips | [werewolf AU] A long night

Hal rakes his hair with his fingers, until they hit the edge of the crown. He plucks it off his head and holds it, feeling the weight again.

"My father will not live forever," he says.

Harry snorts, loudly.

Hal glares. "How, then, did you keep it so secret, Lady Percy?"

Though not secret enough, and that worries him too.

Very dry: "Long practice, sir. I was bitten in my eleventh year. But I had not a king's power at my disposal. You've kept it secret for these several months, have you not?"

"It is not so long," he says ruefully. "And I have a well known habit of disappearing into the world when I am needed."

Harry looks deeply unimpressed. "Shalt thou still claim thou'rt in Cheapside when thou'rt king?"

"I have no Northumbrian waste to vanish into when I may. If that is where you have been." Hal crooks an eyebrow. "How is your rebel father?"

"We're not here to talk of the earl," says Harry, gripping his hilt again.

"Nay," Kate says, very sharp, "we are not. I think it far more pressing that we speak of what you are -- and all the more if you are to take the throne, for soon you'll have no leave to disappear as you were wont to do."

"What I am!" Hal shakes his head. "Name me prince, heir, scapegrace, any of a thousand ill things before you name me creature, monster, less a soul, less than human. What shall we speak of, lady? What canst thou have to say to me, who art the mother of this outrage?"

At once, Harry grabs Hal's sleeve. "Mind thy tongue, Prince of Wales or no."

"Think'st thou I would risk myself and risk my lord again to come to thee and name thee monster?" Kate asks, her brows drawing down. "I, who have borne the name before? I tell thee, sir, I come because thou speakest sooth: 'tis of me that this coil is born, and as I am a lady -- as I am a Percy -- I will not shy from duty that comes with it."

She takes a deep breath. "If that be but to beg thy pardon, 'tis done. I crave it. But if I may help you -- as thou art my cousin in this -- then so I would."

Hal has been watching her speak with a kind of wounded, searching look, for which Harry has little patience. His senses are keyed in to another threat, though: the hairs stand on the back of his neck, and he goes stiff with listening.

"Kate," he says urgently, before the prince can reply. He nods toward the door: voices are echoing in the hallway -- one of them belonging to the king.

See, sons, what things you are! Henry shouts. Hal grows drawn, and clutches the crown to his chest.

Kate's eyes widen.

Without another word for Hal, she grabs Harry's arm and drags him towards one of the darkly shadowed corners.

They're not really gone -- Hal can -- he can smell them. Hotspur and his wife, in a room with the king and the prince, undetected -- he must give them up, he must --

The doors are flung open. King Henry, with a fire in his eye that Hal has not seen since before Shrewsbury, marches toward him like a nightmare. "Now, where is he that will not stay so long till his friend sickness hath determined me?"

Kate's eyes widen in alarm as more people enter the room. Oh, this was a bad idea.

Her grip is white-knuckles tight on Harry's hand.

If he's putting himself between Kate and the court, that is instinct inborn, not made.

Hal seems too dismayed to keep his feet. "I never thought to hear you speak again!" he insists, at which the king launches into a desperate and furious tirade.

Kate rests her forehead on Harry's shoulder and tries to breathe evenly and silently, to still her fear -- and, as the king rants at the prince, to ignore her shame. This is no thing for them to watch and be privy to.

At one time, Harry might have found pleasure in seeing the wayward prince so dressed down, even to see Hal as roughly handled as he and his father and uncle had been. He gets no joy of it, though, nor of seeing King Henry totter and rail.

Yet the prince rallies suddenly; he stands and pleads not only his innocence, but his honor, and a sea-change in his heart. Harry's side twinges. He cannot trust such honeyed nonsense, but the king... the king's face empties of rage and fear before them.

Harry takes stock of the rest of the chamber: Warwick, the princes, other guards... there must be a back entrance, if the room does not empty.

That, or they're going to have to rely on Hal's clemency.

Wonderful.

As King Henry keeps rambling on, pulling Hal close and wandering about the throne, Harry knits his brow. Something about his smell has changed: it's become sour and dense. He looks to Kate, alarmed.

Kate sniffs, and her eyes widen.

By the time the Duke of Lancaster comes striding into the room, the air is filled with the reek of sickness. Kate presses her lips together and closes her eyes.

Harry waged a war to topple this man.

Now King Henry may finish that work without help.

Harry cannot look away: the king grips Hal's collar, whispering, staring, staggering. And then, from one moment to the next, he simply -- stops.

Hal catches him as he falls; Harry can't see his expression, but it cannot be less stunned than his own.

The Duke of Lancaster rushes forward to help his brother bear their father's body to the floor.

Kate -- doesn't know what to feel.

One answer becomes plain enough to Harry: worry. They must not be discovered. They must find a way out, and quick.

Men of the court swarm to the scene. Guards come rushing in and out. The main entrance is thoroughly out of the question. In the midst of all this, Hal turns and stares in their direction.

Kate gives Hal an alarmed look.

Is this going to be how it ends, then? With Hal discovering them to the rest of the court?"

Hal shakes his head, and turns to the rest of the throne room.

"We must bear his royal body hence, lords. Afore God, when we have brought him to a statelier rest, I must to the chapel for a time, alone."

Harry squeezes Kate's hand. He nods toward a small door hidden in the paneling at the back of the room.

Kate lets out a breath, nods, and starts creeping that way.

The door creaks, but at least the uproar covers it well enough. It opens into a narrow passageway, ill lit and drafty. At the very least, they're hidden, for now. If only Harry had the slightest idea where Westminster's chapel was.

The moment the door is shut behind them, Kate grabs Harry for a quick, desperate kiss.

"Harry -- art well?"

He cannot enjoy it -- he is too distracted.

"In body, well enough." He bows his head and exhales hotly. "We did not plan for this."

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