#king harry

[retro70s80sandmore]

Prince Harry 🩵

[rosyrosethings]

King Harry and The Nanny

This is Part 3. Very angst.

Part 2

Summary: Y/n is feeling guilty about the affair. Charlotte finds out about the two.

///

Harry's body stiffened at Charlotte’s declaration, the silence in the room stretching into an uncomfortable beat. He felt a cold sweat break out at the back of his neck as he registered her words. Another baby. The idea felt suffocating, like an anchor tied to his chest, dragging him down into murky waters. His mind raced, trying to piece together the best response that wouldn’t betray his turmoil.

Before he could answer, a sharp realization hit him—Y/N was still in the closet, listening to every word. The thought of her hearing this conversation twisted his heart in a way that left him breathless. He needed to end this, to find a way to get Charlotte out of the room before things spiraled further.

“Charlotte,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice calm, “this is a conversation we should have when we’re both rested and not caught up in the emotions of the day.”

Charlotte’s blue eyes searched his, a flicker of doubt crossing them. “Harry, please don’t dismiss this. We’ve been distant, and I thought... maybe this could help us find our way back to each other.” The sincerity in her voice was laced with desperation, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He looked away, the weight of her gaze pressing down on him like a burden. He swallowed hard and forced himself to meet her eyes again, determined to keep his voice steady.

“We will talk about this,” he assured her. “Just... not tonight. Let’s get some rest first.”

Charlotte’s shoulders sagged slightly, a small sigh escaping her lips as she nodded, conceding to his request. “Alright, tomorrow then.”

She reached out, her fingertips brushing his forearm, and he had to resist the urge to flinch at the touch. With one last glance around the room, Charlotte turned and walked out, the soft click of the door closing behind her a temporary reprieve.

As soon as the sound faded, Harry rushed over to the closet and opened the door. Y/N stepped out, her expression unreadable but her eyes brimming with unshed tears. The realization of their situation hit her harder than before, the image of being the ‘other woman’ searing into her mind.

“I need to go,” she whispered, voice trembling as she pushed past Harry, brushing by him with a touch so light it might not have even been there.

“Y/N, wait—”

But she was already at the door, her back to him as she paused for a brief second. “Please, Harry. Don’t,” she said, her voice cracking before she slipped out, leaving him alone in the silence.

///

The next morning, Y/N walked through the grand entrance of the palace, the familiar scent of fresh lilies and polished wood greeting her senses. The corridors were already bustling with staff, but to her, it was just another day in the palace. She held her head high, determined to carry on as if nothing had changed, even though every step weighed heavier than the last.

James and Anastasia were already waiting in the playroom when she entered coloring sheets in front of them. their faces lighting up as they saw her.

“Y/N!” James shouted, racing toward her with the boundless energy only a child could possess. Anastasia followed closely behind, her giggles filling the room as Y/N knelt down to scoop them both into a hug.

“Good morning, my little sunshines!” Y/N said, planting kisses on their cheeks. She focused on their smiles, letting their joy distract her from the ache in her chest.

“Can we play outside today?” Anastasia asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

“Of course, but only after breakfast,” Y/N replied, brushing a stray curl from the little girl's forehead. The children chattered excitedly, and Y/N threw herself into their world, listening intently and laughing with them as though nothing had changed.

But that facade cracked the moment she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Harry’s presence filled the room, as undeniable as the sunlight streaming through the tall windows.

“Good morning,” Harry’s voice was deep, commanding, and tinged with a note of hesitation as he addressed them all.

Y/N’s muscles tensed, her fingers briefly pausing in their play with Anastasia’s hair before she forced herself to continue. Without looking at him, she stood and gave the children a bright smile. “Now that The king is here! I think it’s time for me to check on the kitchen staff to make sure your favorite breakfast is ready,” she said, her voice a touch too bright as she glanced over their heads, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“I can help!” James volunteered, grabbing her hand.

Y/N chuckled, crouching to his level. "Its okay James, I will be right back. Talk to your father." She said softly.

Before Harry could say anything or step closer, Y/N was already halfway to the door. She felt his gaze on her back, the intensity of it searing her skin. She quickened her pace and slipped out, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud.

Harry’s jaw clenched, frustration simmering just below the surface. He turned to find James staring at him with a curious tilt of his head. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

Harry sighed looking at his, a smile naturally appearing ruffling his son’s hair. “Nothing, buddy. Let’s hear about your morning.”

The day continued in a series of frustrating near-misses for Harry. Each time he sought Y/N out, she was busy with some other task—organizing the children’s schedules, meeting with the staff about upcoming events, or simply disappearing down another hallway before he could catch up.

By midday, his patience was threadbare. He finally spotted her in the courtyard, chatting with one of the palace maids about the children. Harry's stride was long and determined as he approached, but before he could reach her, his aide, Mr. Renfield, intercepted him.

“Your Majesty, we need to discuss the details of the upcoming state meeting. The Prime Minister has requested an audience within the hour,” Renfield said, bowing respectfully but firmly blocking Harry’s path.

A muscle in Harry’s jaw twitched. “Can it wait?” he asked, his eyes locked on Y/N, who was now laughing at something the maid said, her smile like a knife to his already bruised heart.

“I’m afraid it cannot, sir. It’s urgent,” Renfield pressed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a final glance at Y/N, Harry exhaled sharply and nodded. “Fine. Lead the way,” he said, already feeling the frustration coil tighter in his chest as he was forced to turn away. The sound of her laughter faded behind him, and he knew that, for now, he would have to wait a little longer to have the conversation that had been gnawing at him since last night.

He finally stepped into James’s room. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the walls, illuminating James hunched over his desk, scribbling away at his homework. It was Friday, which meant Y/N had put the children to bed around 9 p.m. James often bargained for more time, and Y/N, with her gentle nature, would stay until he drifted off. Sometimes, that meant spending the night curled up in the chair beside his bed because James couldn’t sleep if she left. He would wake every hour, panicked until he saw her still there, a silent guardian against the dark. One morning, Harry had found them just like that: James, small and peaceful, nestled in Y/N’s lap as she cradled him with one arm, her head resting against the chair, eyes shut in exhausted slumber. The sight struck Harry so deeply that he couldn’t resist capturing the moment—a soft, candid memory that spoke of comfort and devotion.

James lifted his head at the sound of the door opening and smiled sleepily when he saw his father. “Are you looking for Y/N? She’s with Anastasia, putting her to bed.”

Harry’s brows knit together in mild surprise as he moved further into the room, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Why do you think I’m looking for Y/N?” he asked, easing himself onto the bed, his tone light but probing.

James leaned back in his chair, eyes wise beyond his years as he met his father’s gaze. “Because you’ve been trying to talk to her all day. I don’t know what you did, but... I don’t think she wants to talk to you.” His voice was small but certain, the kind of truth that only a child could deliver so bluntly.

Harry’s smile faltered, a sigh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right, James,” he admitted quietly, the weight of the boy’s words settling heavily in his chest. He glanced at the chair where Y/N would sometimes sleep, a pang of longing tightening in his heart. “You’re absolutely right.”

Harry smiled at James, leaning in with a playful glint in his eyes. “But I have a plan, James,” he said conspiratorially. “Part of that plan involves a surprise. I’ve asked the chef to stay late and make your favorite dessert.”

James’s eyes widened, anticipation lighting up his face. “What is it?” he asked, leaning forward with excitement.

Harry’s grin grew as he answered, “A special pavlova with fresh berries and vanilla bean cream.”

James’s mouth dropped open, and he jumped up from his chair with pure glee. “Really?” he squealed, barely able to contain himself.

Harry nodded, his heart swelling at the joy radiating from his son. “Yes, really. You can go get it now, but remember, you must be sneaky. Y/N can’t see you, and only one slice—if she finds out I gave you sugar at 9 p.m., she’ll have my head.”

James nodded eagerly, determination sparking in his eyes. “I promise!” He dashed out of the room, his footsteps quick and light as he made his way down the hall to the kitchen.

Y/N entered the room quietly, balancing a few books in her arms. She didn’t notice Harry standing by the window, his presence hidden by the shadows. Her focus was on her nightly ritual with James, and she began speaking softly, her voice gentle and full of warmth.

“Alright, James, I’ve brought some options tonight. We’ve got your favorite adventure story, a silly one, and a new book about knights,” she said, her eyes on the books as she stepped further into the room. It wasn’t until she glanced up, expecting to see James’s eager eyes, that she froze.

Harry stood before her, tall and composed, the soft light catching in the emerald green of his eyes. Her breath hitched as she noticed the brown sweater he wore, a rare departure from his regal attire. He looked softer, almost endearingly out of place, and for a fleeting moment, her heart swelled. But reality crashed back—he was married, and the fragile warmth inside her quickly dimmed.

Harry’s expression softened, a mix of regret and yearning. “Please, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and filled with a raw sincerity. “Let me talk to you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her chest, her grip on the books tightening as she struggled to keep her composure. She hesitated, eyes searching his face for answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself before meeting Harry's eyes. “What we did was wrong,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her words. “I shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

“It hasn’t gone far enough,” Harry countered, his tone desperate, eyes pleading.

She shook her head, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “Harry, you are the king, and you’re married. We can’t do this.”

His jaw clenched, frustration darkening his features. “I know what I am, Y/N. But I also know what I feel. You can’t tell me this isn’t real.”

“Your wife,” Y/N said, her voice breaking as she forced herself to look away. “She wants another baby. I heard her say it.”

Harry’s expression faltered, a shadow crossing his face before he spoke, voice low and raw. “I don’t want a baby with her. She isn’t—” He paused, eyes searching hers for understanding. “She isn’t you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, heart pounding as he reached out and took her hand, his touch both electric and grounding. His voice softened, the words tumbling out as if they’d been held back for too long. “I love you, Y/N. I have for longer than I can remember.”

She stared at him, speechless, the room spinning as his confession sank in. “You... what?” she whispered, disbelief laced in her tone.

“I love you,” Harry said again, firmer this time, his gaze never wavering. “I see my future with you. Not just as the king, i do hate how we found each other but I'm meant to be with you.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, tears welling in her eyes as she searched for words. But none came; all she could do was look at him, the world as she knew it shifting under the weight of his truth.

"Is that true?" She said her voice choked up. Her heart swelled with affection. She hated how the two of them were in this situation. He smiled and nodded

"Very true my love." He said, her eye's swollen with tears

Y/N’s eyes searched Harry’s face, the storm of emotions between them unspoken but palpable. He leaned in, and when their lips met, the world around them seemed to fall away. The kiss was deep and desperate, a shared acknowledgment of everything they had kept buried for too long. Time stood still as they let themselves get lost in one another, their connection stronger and more real than ever before.

///

In the kitchen, James sat perched on a stool at the island, happily digging into his pavlova. His small feet swung back and forth as he savored each sweet bite. Charlotte walked in, catching sight of him with surprise.

“James, what are you doing up eating dessert this late?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm but tinged with concern.

James looked up, a touch of nervousness flickering in his eyes. “Daddy said I could have it,” he said softly, his voice uncertain. He never quite knew how to act around her, always feeling a bit unsure.

Charlotte’s brow furrowed, but her focus shifted. “Where is your father?” she asked, her tone more serious now.

“In his room, talking to Y/N,” James replied innocently, taking another bite without a second thought. To him, there was nothing unusual about it—his father spoke with Y/N all the time.

Charlotte’s eyes darkened for a moment before she composed herself. “Finish up and go to bed immediately, do you understand?”

James nodded quickly, watching her leave as he scooped up one last bite.

Charlotte moved down the hall with deliberate, quiet steps, her pulse quickening as she approached Harry’s room. The door was ajar, just enough for her to see inside. What she saw rooted her in place: Harry standing close to Y/N, their faces mere inches apart, eyes locked with an intensity she hadn’t seen from him in years.

“I love you,” Harry said, the words filled with raw honesty. “I see my future with you. Not just as the king, not with duties and titles—but as a man. A man who wants to wake up every morning to your smile, who wants to see you in every moment of my life.”

Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat as she watched them kiss, the tender and passionate exchange breaking what little composure she had left. The reality of what was happening unfolded before her, undeniable and searing.

Before she could react further, the sound of James humming a tune as he bounded up the stairs reached her ears. Heart pounding, Charlotte backed away and slipped down the hall, retreating to their bedroom before the children or anyone else could see her. Her mind raced, the sight of Harry and Y/N entwined haunting her with every step.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from Harry, her breathing uneven as reality seeped back in. They heard the distant hum of James’s footsteps nearing, and she took a shaky step back, clearing her throat as she tried to gather herself. “I should read to James,” she said softly, her eyes searching Harry’s for a moment before she moved toward the door.

Harry nodded, the lingering warmth of their kiss still buzzing in his veins. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered.

She gave a faint smile and slipped out just as James appeared in the hallway, a satisfied smile on his face from his secret dessert. Y/N ushered him back to his room, starting their nightly ritual with a gentle ease. The sugar rush had James chattering at first, but before long, his words slowed and his eyelids drooped. For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N watched as he fell into a deep sleep, no anxious glances to ensure she was still there.

Quietly, Y/N stood, brushing a soft kiss against his forehead before slipping out of the room, a sense of bittersweet contentment filling her.

Harry made his way back to his room, his mind still lingering on the warmth of Y/N’s smile and the memory of her touch. The thought of her, of what they shared and what it could mean, brought a rare softness to his expression. But as he opened the door to his room, that warmth was replaced by a sharp tension.

Charlotte was waiting for him, seated in an armchair by the window, her posture stiff and regal, her expression a mixture of anger and disdain. The dim light caught the gleam in her narrowed eyes, and Harry immediately knew this wouldn’t be an ordinary conversation.

“Harry,” she said, her voice low and controlled, though it carried an unmistakable edge. “We need to talk.”

He frowned, taken aback by her tone. “Charlotte,” he greeted cautiously, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair. “What is it?”

She didn’t respond immediately, instead letting her piercing gaze roam over him. Finally, she spoke, each word sharp and deliberate. “Is there someone else?”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?” he asked, trying to play dumb, though his body stiffened under her scrutiny.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Charlotte snapped, standing abruptly. Her robe flowed behind her like a storm cloud as she approached him. “Are you seeing someone else?”

The room felt stifling, the silence between them heavy and suffocating. Harry hesitated, knowing that denying it would only prolong the inevitable. Slowly, he turned to face her fully, his green eyes meeting her cold glare.

“Yes,” he said quietly, the single word cutting through the tension like a knife.

Charlotte froze for a moment, as if the confession had stunned her despite already knowing the truth. Her jaw tightened, and she took a step closer, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “How long?” she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and betrayal.

Harry hesitated again, guilt flickering in his expression. “Charlotte, I—”

“How long, Harry?” she pressed, her voice rising. “I deserve to know!”

He swallowed hard, unwilling to give her the full truth. “Longer than I should have allowed it,” he admitted, his voice heavy with guilt.

Charlotte’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she blinked them away, refusing to show vulnerability. Instead, her expression twisted with bitterness. “It’s her, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice dripping with venom. “The nanny.”

Harry’s silence was answer enough.

“The *nanny*,” she repeated, her voice laced with mockery and disgust. “The woman who works for us. Who takes care of our children. That’s who you’re willing to throw everything away for?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly, his voice quiet but resolute.

Charlotte’s lip curled into a sneer, and she took another step toward him, her eyes blazing. “How could you?” she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. “I have been your wife for years, Harry. I’ve borne your children. I’ve stood by you in front of the world. And this is how you repay me? By humiliating me for some—some slut?”

Harry flinched at the venom in her tone, his jaw tightening. “Charlotte, don’t.”

“No, I won’t stop!” she snapped, her voice rising. “You’ve betrayed this family for her. And for what? What could you possibly see in someone so… *low*? She’s a servant, Harry. A servant.”

“Charlotte, that’s enough.”

“Enough?” she laughed bitterly, her voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, I haven’t even begun. She’s not even pretty! That dark skin, that unrefined look. She doesn’t belong here, Harry. She doesn’t belong with us. She’s beneath you.”

“*Enough!*” Harry roared, his voice echoing through the room with a force that made Charlotte flinch. He stepped toward her, his tall frame towering over hers, his green eyes blazing with fury.

“You will *never* speak about her like that again,” he said, his voice low and commanding, each word carrying the weight of his authority. “Not to me. Not to anyone.”

Charlotte blinked, momentarily stunned into silence by his outburst. But her shock quickly gave way to defiance. “You’re defending her? *Her*? Over me, your wife? Over this family?” she spat, her voice trembling with rage.

“Yes, I am,” Harry said coldly. “Because she doesn’t deserve your hatred. Y/N is kind, compassionate, and loyal—all the things you stopped being a long time ago. She loves our children. She knows them. She’s everything you’ve refused to be.”

Charlotte’s face twisted with anger and humiliation. “How *dare* you,” she hissed, her voice shaking. “You’re the one who betrayed *me*. You’re the one who ruined this marriage. And you have the audacity to blame me?”

“This marriage was ruined long before Y/N came into my life,” Harry said sharply. “You know it. I know it. We’ve been playing pretend for years, Charlotte. You don’t love me. You love being queen.”

Charlotte’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, but she quickly masked it with rage. “You will regret this,” she said, her voice icy. “You will regret everything. And that woman—she’ll be gone by the end of this week.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, his tone dropping to something dangerously calm. “If you so much as think of harming her or taking action against her, I will make sure you regret it. Don’t forget who I am, Charlotte. I was born to this role—you were chosen. Don’t test me.”

Charlotte stared at him, her fury burning bright but her words failing her. With a sharp turn, she stormed out of the room, her robe billowing behind her as the door slammed shut.

[daylightmidnights]

Prince/King Harry

Harry is an asshole and Y/N didn't know a prince could be so mean, Part 2, Part 3

Prince Harry and servant Y/N blurb, part 2

It's Good to Be King

Threads Of Devotion, Part 2

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue July 1976 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Model Patti Hansen wears a gray silk raincoat by John Anthony. Coat, Taroni silk.

Hair Christiaan. King Harry

Makeup Ariella, Way Bandy.

Photo Arthur Elgort

vogue archive

[larrylimericks]

25Oct21

In floral headdress, H danced around, Shortly thereafter, donning a crown. Hail the Sunflower King! Bow down, kiss the ring! We would, except none could be found??

[guessimdumb]

Visit Original Link

King Harry - Dear Mathew (1977)

Art rock-glam pop maybe? I stumbled upon King Harry while trying to figure out what the members of the band The Actress had done after their wonderful 1969 single It’s What You Give.  So here you have it - pretty catchy really.

[walled-flwr]

If the British Royal Family is a “private” family, why do they have more than 50 “royal experts” dedicated to discussing their private business everyday 🙄🤔?

And why do they have so many definitions of privacy? M&H’s privacy means never heard from again while royal family’s privacy means they control what they want to share

[megalony]

Two out of three

This is a King! Harry Styles imagine which might have a follow up, I’m unsure yet. There is a lot of angst and some fluff in this part, I hope you all like it, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Masterlist

Summary: Harry and (Y/n) are in labour expecting twins and people are counting on them having a boy so their is an heir to the throne. But things don’t go smoothly for the royal couple. (Set around early 1900s).

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We're supposed to have another month of this, yet." (Y/n) spoke quietly like she was afraid to break the calming atmosphere around them but the slow and tense way that she spoke gave away that she wasn't best pleased. They were supposed to have another month of preparing before they should have to think about labour and even though (Y/n) did want this to be over and done with soon, she didn't want it to be now.

She tried to force herself to smile but her lips only tightened to form into a wince when she tried to sit up straighter against the sea of pillows engulfing her and a twinge of pain tightened like a knot at the base of her spine. Pushing through the uncomfortable feeling, (Y/n) sat herself up straighter with a little help from Harry before she sank back into the feather pillow behind her that felt heavenly against her sore spine. A small push of air left (Y/n)'s lips when she let her spine and her back muscles relax but once she was relaxed on the bed her back felt much better.

"Better?" Harry smiled cautiously as he tried to move a few of the pillows so they were better surrounding (Y/n). More recently it seemed that every day Harry came back into their shared room, he would find another pillow on the bed or another blanket cocooned around (Y/n) like she was creating a burrow or a nest. He knew the pillows eased the pain in her back and made it more comfortable for her to sleep but at the same time, it was getting to the point where Harry couldn't move or sleep for pillows.

But if (Y/n) was indeed going into labour now like she suspected then the nest of pillows wouldn't be needed for much longer.

"Hm, I'll be better when this is over."

(Y/n) smoothed her hands over her stomach that now meant she couldn't see her feet or her legs when she laid down like this. Having another baby was a blessing to (Y/n) and Harry but (Y/n) had hoped she would get a bit closer to her due date before labour happened. It somehow felt safer if she reached her due date since they were having twins, it could ensure they were both okay and healthy and ready rather than being early.

"Don't pretend you don't like being pregnant." Harry coiled his arm to his chest when (Y/n) playfully hit him with a scowl on her face.

She knew he was partially joking but he wasn't being very sympathetic like she wanted him to be. They both knew that (Y/n) liked being pregnant because people didn't bother her half as much, no one pestered her in case she turned around and snapped at them which she pretended to blame on the hormones. No one said anything when she sat in on a meeting with Harry or when she wandered into the kitchen for a rather unusual snack or food concoction. And since reaching the seven month mark of the pregnancy (Y/n) had been confined to their room and on bed rest which meant no one bothered her or hassled her or got on her nerves.

Even though people did tend to fuss when she was pregnant and constantly ask if she was okay, it was better than being put down or treated like she was a little girl who didn't belong or know what she was doing. And there was something about the way that Harry looked at her when she was pregnant that made her stomach flutter with butterflies.

"Yes, but I also like seeing my feet and walking without being weighed down, Harry. Labour isn't very fun, either."

At the mere thought of what was going to happen in a few hours, (Y/n) grimaced and turned her head until she could bury her face in Harry's chest.

The first time around it was worrisome for them both because of why Harry was the King. Before him, it had been a Queen who was the Monarch but her childbirth had been so traumatic and harsh that the baby passed away and the Queen died four days later from a haemorrhage. Harry was King because the Queen's childbirth hadn't been successful so it made Harry scared beyond belief when he thought about (Y/n) having a baby. He loved his wife more than anything in the world and he couldn't continue if something happened to her.

(Y/n) knew the risks, there were so many women who were dying during childbirth or soon after from problems and infections and she did not want to be one of those women. It caused her to lie awake in the dead of night on many occasions fretting that when labour rolled around it would be the last thing she did or endured before she died.

But when they had Emily, even though it had gone on for just over two days and had been more than stressful, it had been okay. Only a few things had gone wrong but Emily had been born perfectly fine and healthy and (Y/n) recovered quickly. She didn't get an infection or suffer mass bleeding or suddenly pass away and they allowed Harry to be in the room when Emily was born when normally the man was supposed to wait outside. But him being the King meant it was hard for people to deny him anything.

"You, will be perfectly fine, my love." Harry pressed his lips to the top of her head in an attempt to calm her down but he could still sense the worry circulating through her head. Even when he turned on his side to face her and leaned to kiss her or smoothed his hand over her stomach, he could feel her concerns.

It was the first birth that was supposed to be the most worrisome and (Y/n) had got through Emily's birth like smooth sailing, but this time it was twins and that doubled the risk.

"I've heard things, Harry... it's supposed to be harder with twins, I could start bleeding with the second one or not be able to do it or the doctor might have to intervene and I don't want-" (Y/n) had heard things that made her skin crawl and she knew what labour was like, she'd lost all her energy before Emily was even born, by the time she had the first twin she might not have the strength to give birth to the second. Or the second one could get stuck, (Y/n) knew that had happened for one poor woman and (Y/n) did not want a doctor tampering with her to try and get the baby out.

She knew what doctors were like and they would be worse with her because this was an heir to the throne. They would care more about the baby than (Y/n).

"Sshh, you're overthinking and scaring yourself. You were brilliant having Emily and you're so strong, you'll be fine with these two, I know you will and I'll be there, I won't leave you."

"What if they're both girls?" (Y/n) had to ask, she had to know what Harry thought because it was a question that had been rattling around in her head for much longer than it should.

Times were progressing, Queens could be on the throne just like Queen Alexandra before Harry, but it wasn't the same because heirs to the throne were supposed to be boys. If Emily had been a boy then the members of the court and council would have left (Y/n) alone and that would be it, (Y/n) would have been praised to high heaven and adored because she had a boy. No one would expect her to want or have another baby if Emily had been a boy because she would have given Harry and heir to his throne.

Many women through history in the royal line had stopped after having a son.

But Emily was a beautiful little girl and if (Y/n) and Harry had a boy then the crown would not be placed on Emily's head. They were expected to have a boy and if at least one twin was not a boy then (Y/n) would be expected to have another baby and another until she had a boy.

Harry wouldn't expect her to. If he had his way he would have an army of little girls surrounding him, he wanted as many kids as possible and he didn't care about having an heir. If (Y/n) wanted no more kids after these twins he would be perfectly fine with how their family was but (Y/n) would feel inadequate. She was the source of the royal line, she was supposed to ensure a King could follow after Harry.

"Then I'll have four lovely ladies to spoil-"

"Harry I mean it." (Y/n) bit her lower lip to stop herself from crying, especially when Harry cupped her face with his hands and smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks. "I- I want so many children with you, b-but if they're both girls and labour is hard or makes me sick or I die then you won't have an heir."

(Y/n) wanted children, she wanted so many and not just because people expected her to bear children, she wanted them because she loved Harry with everything she had and she loved being a mother. But if this labour proved very difficult and it scarred (Y/n) in any way or made her ill having another baby might not be able to happen or she might be too afraid. If God forbid, this labour killed her and she had two girls, Harry would be left with three daughters and no son to take the throne.

"Don't say that I won't hear of it! You're too strong and stubborn to die we both know that and I won't let anything happen to you. But if we have two beautiful daughters and you want to stop there then that will forever be fine with me. I don't expect a boy, I would love Emily to take the throne after me because she's a smart little cookie. Don't you listen to what anyone else says because girls are much better than boys."

When they were in the last month of Emily's pregnancy people started to talk, things had to be put into place and it had to be discussed about what would happen if (Y/n) passed during labour and if the baby didn't make it either. It needed to be talked about so things could be set in place but Harry had lost his temper.

Every single member of staff and council in the palace had been under strict instructions not to worry (Y/n) with that talk and no one was to dare bring it up with Harry because he wouldn't have it. He wouldn't talk about the event of his wife or unborn child's death because it scared him and he knew if he lost (Y/n) he wouldn't want to continue living without her.

To hear (Y/n) saying she was afraid of dying made Harry want to sob or be sick because she didn't have to worry. He knew she was too strong to die, she had proved that when they had Emily.

If they didn't have a boy Harry would be content leaving his throne to Emily because even though she was only three she was a smart little girl already and she would grow up ready to be Queen.

When Harry leaned his temple against hers, (Y/n) closed her eyes and basked in the heat and love he was giving and it felt like he was trying to convey his thoughts from his mind into hers to try and calm her down. One of his hands stayed resting on her cheek whilst his other hand moved back down under her gown to caress her stomach. He massaged his fingers into her skin, trying to help ease the tension in her stomach when another twinge of pain shot through her that he could feel.

As long as his wife and twins were healthy Harry couldn't care less about anything else, their health and happiness meant more than if a King or Queen would follow his succession to the throne.

"No- come away Miss Emily!" The voice of Claire, Emily's governess, suddenly cut through the air in a hissed whisper that was a warning to the child to listen to her but everyone knew she wouldn't, she only listened to her parents.

It had been expected that as soon as Emily was born, she would be given to a nanny and then to a governess who would effectively bring her up and teach her. For royals, the parents were more role models than actually parents, they weren't supposed to get involved and change the nappies or dress their children or wake up during the night and feed them and get them back to sleep. But both (Y/n) and Harry had decided from the off that they were going to raise Emily.

Claire was only there to teach Emily and watch over her when her parents were simply too busy.

"Want my papa!" Emily's high pitched voice was more of a crying whine than a small giggle like it usually was and it made Harry pick his head up and lean up on his arm so he could look towards the door.

"I'm so sorry your Majesty, Miss Emily has a small fever and isn't feeling very well."

"My papa!" Emily let out such a wail for Harry that broke his heart and made (Y/n) shudder at her desperate tone. It was like everyone was always trying to separate Emily from her parents or act like they were too busy when they weren't. If someone was wrong they wanted Emily to come and find them.

Harry turned his head to look down at (Y/n) who nodded her head to his silent question that asked if she was well enough for Emily to stay with them for a while. But the pains weren't bad, they were only just starting meaning any proper contractions were a few hours away, (Y/n) was fine to have Emily lying with them for a while.

"It's not a problem Claire, she's fine. Come here baby girl." Harry sat himself up and gave a small nod to the governess before he reached his arms down to pick Emily up when she toddled round to his side of the bed. Harry sat her on his lap and smiled gently at his girl before he pressed his hand to her forehead, noticing she did have a bit of a fever. "You can leave her with us now, Claire."

Harry didn't bother to look over at the governess when she curtsied before exiting the room, leaving the family in peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lamps in the room were turned down until the flickering flames were only burning with the smallest flame possible, cascading the large room into a bask of burnt orange and vermilion light that felt like Harry was standing inside the sun itself. But rather than the light keeping his mind active and awake, the glistening colour made his mind soothe until he wanted to sleep rather than stay awake.

His bare feet padded against the carpet that should be worn down from how his feet had been constantly up and down on the same patch of floor in front of the windows which had the drapes pulled shut to keep the outside world away.

The girl in his arms was growing heavier by the second when she no longer held the control over her body which was limp in Harry's arms that were desperate to put her down after holding her for forty minutes straight.

Emily had woken up only an hour and a half after it took (Y/n) and Harry two hours to settle her down to sleep with them and she felt no better than when she came in to see them. So Harry took it upon himself to cradle Emily in his arms and pace the room with her to try and lull her back to sleep. When she cried or whimpered in his ear he started to hum and sing to her which really seemed to do the trick but now that she was asleep, he didn't want to set her down in case she woke up again.

Her head was resting neatly on Harry's shoulder with her small arms slung around his neck and her knees curled up against his stomach.

When a rather worrisome moan escaped (Y/n)'s lips, Harry stopped his pacing and turned around on the spot so he could cast his eyes over to the bed where (Y/n) was. It was close to midnight now and over the last hour (Y/n) had started to become restless. One moment Harry had helped her off the bed and onto the floor so she could kneel with her arms on the bed, the next moment she had been pacing up and down with him and more recently she decided to sit back down on the bed again.

(Y/n) had moved again since the last time Harry looked over at her, she was now kneeling in the middle of the bed slightly hunched over with her chin pressing into her chest.

"I- I think we should c... call the doctor." (Y/n) breathed through her words that were paused and stretched out when a pain caught her off guard.

Harry looked between (Y/n) and Emily for a few seconds before he quietly hummed in understanding. He watched (Y/n) as he slowly approached the bedroom door, a pained expression on his face when (Y/n) pressed one hand to her stomach before she leaned over and pressed her head into the bed, arching her back out to try and alleviate the pain she was feeling.

Opening the door, Harry padded down the hall until he found a maid passing by.

"Could you send for the doctor please, the Queen's going into labour?" Harry managed a small smile towards the maid as he tried to keep himself calm. He watched the way her eyes seemed to widen despite her obvious tiredness and she curtsied and nodded instantly.

There was something about the servants that always unsettled Harry because they always seemed to think he was a monster or a generally angry person when he was the very opposite. They talked and walked around him like he was going to snap at any moment and were always surprised when he used the manners he was taught or smiled or said please and thank you. He wasn't a monster.

"Of course, your Majesty. Would you like me to take Miss Emily to the nursery?"

Harry looked down to Emily who he almost forgot was still asleep in his arms, he'd simply forgotten about the way his arms were deadlocked in position or how she was clinging to him like a monkey clinging to a branch. He wanted to take her back himself and settle her to make sure she didn't wake up, but then again that would mean leaving (Y/n) on her own and he didn't really want to do that either.

"Yes, thank you but please make sure Claire stays with her I want her watched until her fever goes down."

He pressed a small kiss to Emily's temple before he slowly eased her down into the maid's waiting arms and unhooked her arms from around his neck. Even though she was calm and now asleep, Harry wanted Claire or anyone available to sit up and keep check on her so her fever didn't get worse because if it did they would have to send for another doctor to monitor her. Harry couldn't be sat with (Y/n) with half his attention panicking over whether Emily was okay and being looked after, he needed his full attention to be with (Y/n) tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Almost there my love." Harry's lips were soothing against (Y/n)'s burning skin but his words didn't help like he was desperate for them to. All he had to offer was himself and his words, he had no ability to take away the tremendous agony (Y/n) was going through and he couldn't make this process go any quicker but he was doing anything he could to try and help.

"N-no I'm not."

Harry could feel (Y/n)'s words vibrating throughout her body that tensed dramatically and her jaw locked as she spoke and spat the words in anger. They might be nearly there to meeting their first baby but the second one wasn't even close to being born yet and (Y/n) didn't have the energy to keep this up. She knew it, she knew from the first moment the doctor told her she was expecting twins that it wasn't going to go in her favour. (Y/n) had a sixth sense that when labour rolled around she would use up all of her energy on the first baby or something would go wrong or she just wouldn't be well enough to keep pushing through and she was right.

The pain was so bad that she couldn't feel anything below her torso, her body was overheating to the point the windows had to be opened and cold rags were smothering her skin to stop her from combusting and she felt horribly sick to her stomach.

The only good thing about this was that this labour was going much faster because her body knew what it was meant to do now.

Leaning herself forward off of the pile of pillows behind her, (Y/n) pulled on Harry's hand until he got her message and shuffled forward with her, wrapping his free arm around her waist with his chest against her back in case she needed him to hold her up. He pressed his lips to her exposed shoulder where her gown had slipped down her arm and he began to brush his fingers up and down the side of her stomach like his fingers were brushes painting delicately over a canvas.

Harry let go of (Y/n)'s hand so he could crack his knuckles and stretch his fingers before he held her hand with a bit better grip since they were both sweating. He'd taken the liberty of removing all of his rings beside his wedding ring after learning last time that his rings had cut into both their hands and created slash marks without either of them feeling anything.

Such a shriek left (Y/n)'s lips that made Harry shake, especially when (Y/n) seemed to tense completely until he thought she'd become locked in place. But the moment her muscles loosened and she turned to jelly against Harry, he felt her chest releasing such a relieved yet exhausted sigh and he looked over at the doctor sitting on the end of the bed with a baby in his arms.

"What did I tell you? You've done it love, it won't be much longer now."

"Are t-they okay?"

(Y/n) couldn't seem to stop her body from shaking like she had electric currents rattling through her body and it hurt, it felt like she was falling through the sky with no clear landing in sight. She couldn't hear the baby crying but she couldn't focus her vision on the doctor long enough to see if their baby was moving or in shock or just too calm to bother with crying out.

Harry reacted quicker than (Y/n), the moment he heard a familiar gagging sound he let go of her hand to grab the bowl resting beside the bed and held it in front of her just as she threw up. He gently pulled her hair away from her face before rubbing his hand soothingly up and down her back but when his bright eyes darted down to look at the doctor, he was met with a grave face and a simple but grave shake of the head.

They'd lost a child.

A choked moan escaped (Y/n)'s lips that caught both men's attention before she threw her head back onto Harry's shoulder, her muscles tensing when she felt another contraction building up.

Out the corner of her eye, (Y/n) saw a maid taking the baby from the doctor before she scuttled out and into the adjoining study, presumably to clean up and weigh the baby. (Y/n) let the child drift from her mind like they had the room so she could try and focus her energy on the next baby.

Before the head was even born (Y/n) let out a horrid, bubbling sob before she pulled away from Harry and let herself sink back into the pillows. Everything hurt, everything ached and everything felt numb. (Y/n) wished her life was a tape that could be cut down to size so she could cut out the labour and just attach the before and after birth together. She wanted to jump straight from the first contraction to being laid in bed cradling her babies in her arms. But life didn't work that way and mother nature was cruel.

The round of screams and humiliated sobs that left (Y/n)'s lips were defeated and lifeless because she had no energy to put into her screams that could convey how she felt or do her pain any justice.

(Y/n) couldn't believe how exhausted yet thrilled she felt when the baby seemed to come into the world so effortlessly once their head was born. It was as if (Y/n) had blacked out for a while and was now awake and their baby was here. She could hear the rather loud scream that their baby let out the moment they were in the doctor's arms and it made (Y/n) smile.

Their baby had a very powerful set of lungs, that was good.

"Done... I'm done, it's over." (Y/n) closed her eyes and held her breath, swallowing the lump in her throat to prevent herself from feeling or being sick again as the bed seemed to envelope her in a congratulating hug that she sank into until she thought she had slipped into the next floor below.

When she found the will to do so, (Y/n) opened her eyes that immediately searched for Harry who was peering down at her. With what little energy she had left, (Y/n) reached her shaking hand up to cradle Harry's face when she saw him sobbing silently.

"A girl, your Majesty." The doctor moved his arms to let (Y/n) see her wailing baby before the same maid who took their first baby wrapped up their little girl with a very weak smile.

"M-my baby, w-where's m..my baby?" It was clear (Y/n) felt weak and she looked very pale and rather sick in Harry's opinion but it was only as to be expected after what she'd just gone through. As much as Harry wanted to lie to (Y/n) so she could rest and not feel her heart breaking, he couldn't help the small sob he let out at her confusion and he watched the exact moment her heart snapped in two and her lips curled in distaste.

(Y/n) couldn't question it. She couldn't ask why or how or tell Harry he was wrong, all she could do was scream like she had eaten glass which was now puncturing into her stomach and organs and was splitting her apart from the inside out.

Despite the agonising howl of pain that left (Y/n)'s lips, Harry leaned down until he could bury his face into the crook of her neck. He kissed her flush skin repeatedly to try and stop her screams but he knew nothing he could say or do was going to make this okay.

"Sshh, shh my love..." Harry felt (Y/n)'s trembling fingers tangling into his curls as she wailed and he cooed in her ear, not knowing how else to calm her down.

"W... what was it?" (Y/n) hiccuped through her few words which made Harry's head lift from her neck so he could look at the doctor. It didn't cross his mind to ask whether or not they'd had another girl or a boy, he only thought to dwell on the fact that whatever gender their baby was, they were not alive.

"A boy, your majesty." The doctor's voice was solemn and calm showing this kind of news was one he had had to deliver more than once, but never to the King and Queen.

(Y/n)'s chest shuddered and bounced up and down rapidly before a very low whine almost like a baby's wail for attention cut from her lips. She'd done what they'd asked, she'd had a boy and now she'd lost him. What were people going to say when they heard all the Queen could do was produce girls? How would they react when they found out she'd lost an heir to the throne but managed to have another girl?

(Y/n) smothered her face with her hands and screamed into her palms but Harry quickly reached down and removed her hands, he didn't want her smothering herself like that or hurting herself unintentionally. He would rather witness her screams than have her trying to hide them.

"Your Majesty, could we sit you up so I can examine you please? The afterbirth hasn't passed yet." The doctor's rather kind yet solemn tone grated on (Y/n)'s nerves when she knew it shouldn't. She wanted him to be rude to her, she wanted him to be annoyed and indifferent rather than kind because it was how people were going to treat her. He may as well be the same and be disappointed that she could give Harry another girl yet cost him a son at the same time.

She barely felt Harry and the doctor taking an arm each and gently ease her up so she was sitting up more or less straight against the pillows that clawed at her and pulled her back into a comforting yet broken embrace.

When Harry heard his name whimpered from (Y/n)'s chapped lips he felt another flood of tears leaving his eyes. He wanted to hold her like he normally did, he wanted to lay down at her side and wrap his arms around her waist with his front resting on top of her own. He wanted his face smothered into her neck and her breaths fanning through his curls. But he couldn't hold her like that yet.

Desperate to have (Y/n) in his arms properly, Harry gently moved (Y/n) as slowly and carefully as he could manage until he could worm his way behind her with her laid between his legs. He slipped his arms under her own and wrapped them around her, feeling a tiny bit calmer when (Y/n) moved her hands to tightly grip his own, sliding her fingers between the groves of his hands. He dipped his head down until he could kiss her cheek and keep his head pressing against her own, holding her tightly like she wanted because he had no need to fear her breaking in his hold for she was already broken.

For a few seconds whilst the doctor busied himself examining her and feeling her stomach, (Y/n) thought she was going to blackout or even die. She welcomed the darkness, she wanted it to smother her mind and take her away for a few hours until she could wake up and have this all be some kind of sordid nightmare she would forget in a heartbeat. But sleep nor death ever overtook her, she was left limp in Harry's arms.

"Is there a problem?" Harry prayed to God that there wasn't, they couldn't take any complications or errors or problems right now.

"Your Majesty..." The doctor waited patiently for (Y/n) to open her eyes and focus on him and he rubbed his hand over her knee to try and comfort her as well as ground her and keep her concentration that he desperately needed right now. "There is another baby, I've given you an injection to start more contractions so I need you to push again."

It was Harry's turn to have his lips curl up in distaste and his eyes darken like the night sky. They couldn't have another, (Y/n) couldn't have another. She was broken and exhausted and one more push away from slipping into a state close to death. Another baby could kill her, Harry knew they had been tempting fate by having twins, with the state (Y/n) was in she didn't look like she would survive another baby.

"I can't." (Y/n)'s voice was a whisper before she closed her eyes and turned her head to bury her face into Harry. She felt like going to sleep. She wanted to tell this doctor to have a word with God and take the third baby away, magic it into in-existence, into the dark realm where nothing existed because she couldn't give birth again. (Y/n) had nothing left, she was broken on the inside and out, her other two babies had taken everything she had.

When a dull, throbbing contraction slowly but steadily built up (Y/n) ignored it which somehow felt so easy when before a contraction was too hard to miss or push from her mind. She realised now that she hadn't felt the doctor give her the injection he spoke about, nor was she feeling much pain or even the baby moving.

"Sir, the longer we wait the worse she will become. She must push now."

Harry wiped his eyes with the back of his shaking hand before he turned his head to look at (Y/n) who stared up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Love, this baby needs you... you have to try or else we stay stuck here like this and it will hurt so much more. Please... please, try for me." If (Y/n) didn't try her body was only going to feel more broken and confused and something could happen to the baby or to (Y/n). Harry couldn't lose (Y/n) now and as bad as it seemed, the baby wasn't as important to him right now. He needed (Y/n) and he needed to look after her but no one could do anything if she didn't try.

(Y/n) couldn't scream. All she could do was whimper and moan quietly and hope that what she was doing was pushing because she couldn't tell anymore, she could only work out that her mind was short circuiting and wanted to switch off completely.

A small, almost non-existent smile formed on (Y/n)'s face when she felt Harry humming in her ear and very lightly swaying them both side to side but it was to calm himself down as much as her. (Y/n) wasn't holding his hands very tightly at all and Harry was holding her up, she had no energy left it was very clear. But when Harry looked down he could see a river of blood surrounding his and (Y/n)'s legs.

When the head was born, Harry watched the doctor move his blood-covered gloved hands to inject something into (Y/n)'s stomach that he could only hope was to help with the bleeding.

"Just a little more, my love."

(Y/n) couldn't tell if the doctor was intervening and trying to help but she didn't care as long as the baby was out of her and she could go to sleep. Her shoulders slumped and her forehead fell against Harry's chin when she felt the weight lift from her stomach and the pain suddenly evaporated like steam from a hot bath.

"You have another boy." (Y/n) felt a single tear escape her eye and slowly trickle down the ridge of her nose and fall down her cheek before jumping free from her chin at those few words.

Had she killed this heir too?

"Open your eyes... (Y/n) open your eyes." Harry shook his arms a bit too violently for his own liking but he had to so (Y/n) wouldn't go to sleep. He couldn't have her falling asleep on him in case she never woke up. The urgency in his voice made the tears fall faster but it worked and caused (Y/n) to lift her head a little and open her eyes. And Harry watched her marvel at the baby the doctor was holding up for her to see.

Without speaking or thinking or even breathing, (Y/n) curled her fingers to her palms and moved her hands to indicate that she wanted her baby. Their first baby had died and been snatched away from them, their girl was lively but she wasn't here, someone else had her and was tending to her. (Y/n) wanted one of her babies to cradle and reassure herself this was real.

Harry locked eyes with the doctor and nodded with a look that told him not to refuse (Y/n)'s small request. They hadn't been asked if they wanted to hold their daughter and it was assumed they didn't want their first boy- who Harry was going to make sure he held very soon. They had to hold one of their babies now to keep them both sane.

He was tiny.

The little boy was much smaller than what Emily had been or their next girl who looked very healthy and was wailing showing that she was strong. This boy was pale grey-skinned rather than pink, his lips were tainted blue rather than red and he looked sickly. He wasn't breathing perfectly either but he was here, he was alive and for now he would be okay.

His fragile body was laid on (Y/n)'s chest and he curled up until he was almost invisible. (Y/n) moved her weak arms until one hand was on his back and the other was cradling the back of his head and she felt Harry's arms overlapping her own so he could hold them both closer to him like he wanted them all to merge into one. Harry knew they were both unwell, his wife and his youngest were going to need a lot of love and care to get them on the road to recovery.

But as he watched (Y/n)'s fingers skimming over their boy's head, he saw her lips curving into a tired, lost smile.

"We'll be okay, little one."