The Thrill Is Gone

The long night of debauchery left Harry in dire need of rest. It had been ages since he’d last had a night like that, three months to be exact, and as he sat in the back of the Bentley. He couldn’t help but remember what William had told him about pacing himself. Harry should’ve heeded his brother’s words. It would’ve been a more practical way of going about things, but Harry had never been the practical one.

When he wanted things, he had to have them right away.

That was the reason why he’d decided to go out to clubs, instead of staying home like his older brother had suggested. William told Harry that it’d be better for him to stay in. He had, after all, only returned from his tour in Afghanistan that morning, but Harry didn’t want to stay in. To him, staying in was an unthinkable manner of spending his first night back in England. Harry needed to celebrate the fact that he had returned from Afghanistan in perfect health, and the only way he could celebrate properly was by getting pissed drunk and shagging a beautiful stranger.

And now that he had accomplished his tasks, he needed to get to bed so he would be well rested for the afternoon tea that he was scheduled to take with his grandparents. Harry needed to look well rested or else his grandmother would go off on a lengthy rant about how his inacceptable behavior was taking its toll on his body. His grandfather wouldn’t join in on the scolding. He would, however, stand behind his wife with a look of disapproval and if there was one thing that Harry hated, it was being scolded like a child.

He was twenty three going on twenty four and felt himself old enough to make his own decisions. His family disagreed with him. His grandparents thought him a child of privilege. Whose every want had been indulged and had grown to be a young playboy, much like his father had been. His father, having gone through a similar path as Harry, believed his son to be wasting precious time on frivolities. He often tried to reason with Harry about the benefits of leading a more . . . becoming lifestyle, like the one led by William.

Being compared to William was not something that Harry personally enjoyed. He loved his older brother dearly, there was no denying that, but they were two very different people. William was more subdued. He knew his place in the world and acted the part of a future king. Harry, on the other hand, was the second born and as such, felt himself able to do whatever he pleased. And that was why the media dubbed him The Royal Bad Boy.

The title wasn’t one he was particularly fond of. He wasn’t a bad boy. He was just a young twenty something year old that was acting like most people his age. Only difference was that he’d been born into the monarchy and that was enough to make his every move end up on the front age of tabloid magazines, as well as every one of his conquests to talk about how he’d broken their heart.

Harry never paid those tabloids any mind and he never felt sorry for the woman with whom he’d had one night stands with. They knew what they were getting into the moment they’d agreed to shag a stranger. After all, when a person’s willing to shag a stranger, they’re not exactly putting themselves out there to be a long term girlfriend.

There’s only been one woman that Harry’s ever called a girlfriend and that was his former lover, Chelsy Davy. For her, he truly cared and had almost gone as far as to believe himself truly in love with her, but that relationship eventually came to an end. Harry wasn’t one for monogamy and he would rather break up with her than break her heart by cheating. That was the only time that Harry had ever been in a relationship and he was almost certain that it would be the only actual relationship he would ever have in his life.

“Your highness,” spoke Harry’s bodyguard. “We’ve arrived.”

“Huh?” mumbled Harry tiredly when he woke. “What’d you say?”

“We’ve arrived, your highness,” the bodyguard named Alistair, spoke. “Would you like the car to be brought around the front or would you prefer the helps entrance?”

“Whichever keeps me from running into my grandmother,” Harry sat up, rubbing his bloodshot eyes as he did so.

“Trevor,” Alistair called to the driver. “Would you be so kind as to take us to the helps entrance?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.” And so Trevor drove the Bentley to the entrance designated for the help. “There you are, your highness, have a pleasant day.”

“Thanks Trevor,” Harry threw the door open. “That reminds me, feel free to take the day off, you deserve it after last night.”

Harry was escorted to his bedroom by Alistair, whom only left once the young prince had been tucked into bed. Taking care of Harry was an exhausting job. Not one that just any bodyguard could manage, but Alistair was good at what he did and the pay made the sleepless nights worth it. Now that Harry was fast asleep, he left the bedroom in search of his own, which was located on the other side of the palace, where all the bedrooms for the help were placed.

Harry slept through the morning and he would’ve slept through the afternoon had Alistair not intervened. Alistair was always on top of what was to be done and at a quarter after one, he took the liberty of waking the sleeping prince.

“Your highness.” He spoke.

A low groan was Harry’s response.

“You are to take tea with Her Majesty and His Royal Highness at two this afternoon.” Alistair reminded. “It’s currently a quarter after one.”

“Oh come on Alistair, you’ve got to be kidding me. I just came to bed an hour ago.”

“It’s been over five.” Alistair motioned to the clock on the nearby table. “I’ve already taken the liberty of running the shower for you. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

Harry tossed the covers off himself. “Can you fetch me some aspirin?”

Alistair nodded before taking his leave.

“One in the fucking afternoon,” Harry grumbled softly. “Ugh, I suppose it’s time to play my part.”

Harry sat up slowly, his fiery red hair an absolute mess and his nose throbbing in pain. He lifted his hand to prod at it and when his finger grazed its tip, he grimaced in pain.

“For fucks sake!” he stomped over to the mirror. “Really?” he exclaimed when he saw the strangely colored bruising on his nose. “Just what I needed, now they’re going to go on about how I'm so damn irresponsible. Oh well. No use in fussing over this.”

There wasn’t any point in fussing over his nose. It wasn’t like he could hide it. He didn’t have make up, stored somewhere and although he was tempted to ask the help if they could cover it up for him. He knew that none of them were his shade so he’d just have to deal with his grandparent’s wrath.

And the moment they set eyes on his nose, they leapt into action.

“My word,” exclaimed his grandmother, Elizabeth II. “What is the meaning of that?”

“There is no meaning to it, Ma’am.” Harry replied nonchalantly.

“There most certainly is.” Elizabeth II countered. “Agatha, Helen, give us a moment please.”

The two middle aged women stepped out of the sitting room.

“How on earth did that bruise come to be?” she inquired in a menacingly low voice. “And don’t you dare lie to me, Harry, don’t you dare.”

“If you’re worried about it being caught on tape, rest easy.” Harry sat himself across from his grandparents. “It wasn’t.”

“And how can you be so sure of that?” questioned his grandfather, Philip.

“Because there weren’t any cameras around,” Harry explained. “It happened in an apartment.”

“Oh good heavens,” Elizabeth II removed her glasses. “Did . . . did a young woman do that to you?”

Harry nodded.

“Why?” she nearly cried. “Why did someone feel it necessary to hurt you like that? Were you being disrespectful? We’ve told you time and time again that if a woman changes her mind, you can’t force yourself on her! You may be a Prince of England, but even you have to abide by the laws. What if wind of this got out to the media? Can you imagine what they would do with such a story? Oh no, no, no, no! This is horrible. Now, I’ll have to go pay off that woman so she won’t say a word of it to the media. That’s if she hasn’t already,” she added hastily.

“Contrary to popular belief, I do have morals and no, I did not force myself on that young woman. I simply startled her when I was trying to leave the apartment of her mate, that’s all that happened and I doubt she’ll tell anyone that she punched me. More likely that her mate goes blabbing about bedding a Prince, but that’s nothing new. There’s always one of those stories going round.” Harry chuckled lightly at the thought of it, the papers always claimed that tucked away in his pants, were the real royal jewels.

“This amuses you?” his grandmother scoffed. “How does this amuse you? You were out all night, doing God knows what with a random woman and you came home with a bruised nose that will be the topic of everyone’s conversation!” she barked. “For once, I would like you to go out into public and not shame the family! Do you think I take pleasure in cleaning up the messes you make? Do you honestly believe that your childish behavior is one that pleases the people?”

“They seem to get a laugh from it,” Harry answered defiantly.

“Never speak to your grandmother that way.” Philip declared.

Harry turned to look at his grandfather. “She asked me a question. I answered it.”

“Answered it like a barbarian,” Philip shot back.

“And isn’t that what I am to you? To both of you?” he corrected. “Nothing I do pleases the crown. I'm just a burden to you all.”

“Harry.” Elizabeth II spoke his name in a warning fashion.

“I went to fight in Afghanistan. There I was happy and sure that you lot were glad to have me out of the press. And then I was brought home because the crown demanded my presence in England. I came back without fighting and now that I'm here, all anyone seems to do is tell me what’s wrong with me. I just got in yesterday morning. It’s only been a day and I’ve already been attacked by everyone in the family, except Will of course. He’s the only one that doesn’t seem to want to chuck me off.”

“If you acted like a proper Prince then there would be no reason to quarrel.” Elizabeth II stated calmly.

“This is how my dad acted.” Harry stared her directly in the eyes, something that few ever did.

Elizabeth II shook her head. “He may be my son, but he is not a man that should be looked to as an example.” Her expression softened significantly. “Charles was wild in his youth. I indulged him. He was, after all, my eldest and the future King so I felt it only right to indulge his wants, but now I know that I was mistaken in doing so. Charles needed guidance, he needed to be reigned in and where I failed with him, I shall not fail with you.” it was then that her expression regained its original sternness. “You can be a great man Harry, whether or not you will be, depends entirely on your behavior so heed my words, change before it is to late and the behavior that the public once found so delightful, causes them to detest the very mention of your name, because it happened with your father.”

Harry balled his hands into fist, underneath the table. “The reason they hated him was because he cheated on my mom throughout their entire marriage. I'm not like that.”

“You’re not?” Elizabeth II strongly doubted his words.

“I may sleep around, but I have never been unfaithful.” He said through gritted teeth. “I respect women enough to not do that to them and as for the one night stands, well there’s nothing disrespectful there. They know what they’re getting into with me. And they have no real expectations.”

Elizabeth II remained unconvinced.

“Might I be excused?” Harry inquired shortly after his outburst.

“Heavens no,” Elizabeth II lifted the bell that rested on the tables center. “We’ve yet to take our tea.” And then she rang the bell, its ring accompanied by her calling for, “Agatha, Helen!”

The two women ran into the sitting room and were quick to serve the tea for the Royals. In silence, Harry sat. He had no words to speak to his grandparents. Well, he did a few choice words that he would’ve loved to throw in their direction, but he was tired and quarreling with them took to much energy.

Instead he sat there, observing as they talked amongst one another about what needed to be done in order to fix him. They were bent on making him into what they believed to be a proper royal. And Harry was bent on being Harry and nothing, not his grandparent’s threats nor his father’s words would change his mind.

He may have been born into the monarchy, but he would live his life as he saw fit.

Tea lasted a little over an hour and when it ended, Harry was excused to do whatever he wanted. Though his grandparents made it clear that it would be in his best interest to remain at the palace that night or else his weekly allowance would be significantly smaller than what he was accustomed. He nearly rolled his eyes at that, but humored them enough to give them a false sense of security.

In truth, he hadn’t planned on going out that night. The previous night’s festivities had taken a lot out of him and all he wanted was to have a pint while he watched a film, but now that they had expressed their desire for him to remain home. He had to leave. Where he was to go, he hadn’t a clue; perhaps a bar, a movie, or a trendy café. No. None of those would do.

He wasn’t in the mood to socialize. Having to be friendly and flirting was tiresome, especially when all he wanted was to rest. So instead he decided that he would check into a hotel for the night and let his family’s imaginations run wild. They would think him there with a woman and fuss over it. It would do quite nicely, quite nicely indeed.

“Harry!” his brother called to him as he walked through the grandiose corridors.

“Huh? Oh hey, Will. What are you doing here? Thought you were going out with Kate,” Harry pretended to be in higher spirits.

“Was, but Pippa came round with James and Kate wanted to spend time with them.” William explained. “What the hell’s wrong with your face? Get into a row so soon?”

“No, no row.”

“What happened then?” William was genuinely curious to hear the tale.

“A bird punched me in the face, don’t worry though. I wasn’t hurting her or anything. She was just standing in the kitchen of this other bird’s house that I was trying to get out of and she panicked, punched me in the face and left me with this parting gift. Well, wasn’t just this, she also gave me a coffee mug.”

“A coffee mug?” repeated William, skeptically.

Harry nodded. “Felt bad for punching me so she gave me some coffee. Nice of her, now that I think about it,” he mused aloud.

“Are you sure it was just one punch? Looks pretty nasty to have been done by a lone punch,” William commented.

“Just one,” Harry reassured. “But she had a real mean punch, made my eyes tear up and everything.”

“Must have been a beast then,” William meant that in terms of intensity, Harry took it as referring to the woman’s looks.

“Actually no, she was rather pretty, a bit fat, but her face made up for it.”

William stared disapprovingly. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Bring in weight to the occasion? If someone’s rather pretty, they’re rather pretty, doesn’t matter if they’re overweight or thin.”

Harry scoffed. “You’re only saying that because you’re a lover of women.”

“If anyone deserves that title, it’s you, Harry.”

“I'm not a lover of all women, only some; fit blondes to be exact. Those are my specialty. All the other ones are just there to keep other men entertained.”

“You’re awful.”

“I'm honest.” Harry smirked. “And you should’ve seen the bird I shagged last night. Looked like some Victoria Secret model and let me tell you, she was top notch in the bed. Took it and kept asking for more.”

“If she was such a great shag, why didn’t you stick around?”

“Because I’ll find an even, better shag in a few days times,” Harry proudly proclaimed. “No use in being tied down.”

“One day you’ll think differently on that.”

“If Chelsy didn’t make me see things different, no one will,” of that Harry was quite certain.

“Doubt it.”

“It’s true and the only reason you’re so certain of love is because of Kate. But not everyone’s destined for that sort of thing and I'm lucky you were born first or else I would’ve been forced into a marriage so that some little brats would’ve been born.”

William sighed. “Sometimes I worry about you.”

“What have I told you about worrying?”

“Not to, because I don’t get paid for it,” William answered.

“Exactly,” Harry patted his brothers back. “Now what are you doing tonight?”

“A bit of reading, I’ve been meaning to give a look to a few books.”

“Well why don’t you come, read at the hotel with me? I'm renting a room just to be off the old sods.”

“Harry.”

“It’ll just be me and you and Alistair at the hotel. Though I'm getting him, his own room,” Harry added. “So what do you say? Want to spend the night with me? Promise I’ll cuddle, know how much you fancy that.”

“Oh shove off, you tosser.”

“My, my, my, Will, no need for cursing,” Harry held his hands up. “So are you coming or not?”

“I’ll go, but I need to have a chat with you about a polo match that’s coming up.”

“This for charity or is it one of those stuffy ones that we have to go to as Royals? Because if I have to stand in a bloody suit all day in the heat just so some old farts can say that a Prince was there, I won’t go.”

“It’s for charity. We’re trying to raise money for the RMH and since you’re back, I'm sure that everyone would appreciate if you came out. Just think of all the girls that’ll get tickets to see you play.”

“When is it?”

“Two weeks.”

“Where is it?” Harry asked.

“Oxford.”