The Thrill Is Gone

“If you’re not gonna be with me, you can’t call me Henry!” he threatened, sounding more like a toddler throwing a fit than a twenty-three year old man trying to salvage his relationship.

He foolishly believed his threat would be enough to change her mind. His royal mindset made him think that she would forgive his prior offenses in order to continue on intimate terms with him, Prince Harry of Wales. Anyone else would’ve done so, to be a favorite among royalty was a true honor, rarely bestowed upon commoners, but Paulina didn’t care about being his favorite. She didn’t give a damn about his title or fortune. She had cared about him, about the man hidden within the title, but now the man that stood before her wasn’t the same she’d shared her bed with. He was a stranger that repulsed her, and unwilling to be with such a man, she rallied her courage to say the words that would condemn them both to heartache.

“Farewell, Your Royal Highness,” she spoke, her words dripping with venom as she curtsied.

She didn’t stay much longer in his presence. In fact, she only stood there long enough to shoot him a reproachful glare, and as soon as it had been conveyed, she took off in a brisk walk, wanting to put as much distance between them as physically possible. She couldn’t be around him anymore, not after everything that had happened.

Harry watched in silence as she stormed off. He should’ve gone after her. He should’ve apologized a hundred more times and sworn that he’d never forget to call her again, but she’d injured his pride. She’d told him off worse than anyone had ever done, even his Gran hadn’t given him a telling off like that, and his pride refused to let him chase after her, even if his heart begged him to. He was a Prince of England, and as a man of rank, he didn’t have to put up with being treated in such a manner. He deserved better, and if she wasn’t going to kiss his ass and let him do as he liked, then he’d find someone who would.

With his pride in full control of him, he drove back to Alistair’s house in the country. Alistair had been under the impression that Harry wouldn’t stop by until Tuesday or Wednesday, so when he heard his car pull into the driveway, he grew worried. Had something happened to the Prince? In just a pair of shorts, he ran down the stairs and out the door to check up on him, and when he saw the look of fury on his face, he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“Sir . . .” Alistair began to say.

“Take me back to London,” ordered Harry. “I’ve no reason to waste away in the country, so go get dressed so you can bloody take me home!”

“Yes, Sir, right away.” Alistair bowed before running back inside to get dressed in appropriate attire. “Would you care for water, Sir? Perhaps something else to drink?” he asked when he walked into the sitting area, dressed in a fine suit.

“I’ve no time for water,” said Harry, stepping away from the fireplace. “I’ve only time for London. Get me there as quickly as possible. I’ve very important matters to tend to.” He walked out of the house, making his way towards the black Jaguar that Alistair drove when it was just him and the Prince.

Alistair was taken aback by the manner in which Harry spoke and carried himself. He hadn’t seen him like that since . . . well . . . he’d never seen him like that. Something horrible must’ve happened with the young woman he was seeing, which was pity, because Alistair quite liked her. He liked hearing the stories Harry told him about going on bike rides and sneaking into gardens. He liked the way Harry smiled when he spoke of her, but that had come to an end, and it had ended – undoubtedly – because of the pictures of Harry kissing Chelsy.

“Would you care for music, Sir?” he asked, when he’d started the engine.

“Kanye, but Kanye on,” replied Harry. “Are there any drinks here?”

“Do you not think it a bit early for drinks?”

“Who are you, my father?” snapped Harry. “I’ll have drinks whenever I bloody well please. Now do we have any in the cooler or not?”

“There are two bottles of champagne, Sir. Though I regret to inform you there are no glasses.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need any.”

By the time they got to London, Harry had longed finished the two bottles of Champagne and was working on the flask he carried around with him. He wasn’t drinking because he was upset. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. He was drinking because he was going to spend the entire week celebrating his return to England and his newfound status as a singleton. He was going to go back to his old ways, to getting smashed at clubs and shagging beautiful leggy blondes. He was going to have pictures of him and those blondes plastered across the front pages of all the magazines, so that when she went to the market, she’d be forced to see him.

That’s what she deserved for talking to him like that. She should’ve just gotten over it! He hadn’t cheated. Chelsy had kissed him, and even if he had kissed her, it’s not like he cheated on Paulina. They weren’t together, not officially, they were just going out and shagging. It wasn’t anything concrete so she had no right to scream at him, to get worked up. He hadn’t broken any promise. Okay, so maybe he should’ve phoned her, but that whole bit with Chelsy was blown massively out of proportion. And maybe his accusing her of cheating wasn’t the best decision he ever made, but he thought it reasonable. There was some bloke who’d obviously just had a shower, and he was dressed in her clothes. What else could he have believed at the moment? He’d responded like anyone else would’ve. He’d had more of a reason. . . wait, no, no that wasn’t going to work, because if she couldn’t get mad at him for snogging Chelsy then he shouldn’t have been able to get mad at her for . . . bullocks! He was allowed to feel however he wanted because he was a Prince and she . . . she shouldn’t have gotten so worked up. That’s what his drunken mind believed as he sat in the backseat of the Jaguar. He’d been the victim and she’d been a bitch. That was all there was to it.

“Why didn’t ya stop?” slurred Harry from the backseat. “Aren’t ya gonna let me out?”

“Yes, Sir, but I thought it best we go in through the helps entrance.”

“Why the fook would I wanna go in through there?” questioned Harry, gruffly.

“Sir, I simply thought that in your present state you’d wished to avoid being seen by Her Majesty.”

“Ah, right, right, she’s always lingering about the main entrance. Good thinkin’, we’ll go through the helps. And tell ‘em to take me food, cuz I'm awfully hungry and parched. I didn’t even get a meal in when I went to Oxford. I just . . . I went to see her and she fooking went off on me. Can ya believe that? On me! On a fucking Prince!” he yelled, his eyes stinging with tears. “Who the hell does she think she is to go off on me? She’s no bloody title and she goes off on me!”

Had another heard Harry going on about Miss Balcázar, they would have thought he hated her with every fiber in his being, they would have that he was disgusted by her, but Alistair was wise enough to know the young woman had only offended his pride, and worst than that she had left his heart wounded and the young prince, feeling dejected.

“Know wha? Forget the food. Have ‘em bring me another bottle instead.”

“I’ll make sure they send a bottle of that tequila you love so –”

“Not tequila!” bellowed Harry. “Have ‘em throw all the tequila out! I don’t bloody want any anywhere near me! Fook tequila! FOOK IT!” he yelled.

“Yes Sir, I’ll have them do it directly.”

When Alistair pulled up in front of the helps entrance, Harry claimed he didn’t need any assistance. He’d make it all the way to his chambers on his own, but shortly after exiting the jag and taking his first few steps, he found himself lying on the concrete. Alistair rushed towards him, inquiring it he was alright, if he could stand, Harry said he only needed a bit of help to send him on his way, but after falling a second and a third time, Alistair grew tired and carried Harry all the way up to his chambers.

On the way to his room, they passed William who was taking a quiet stroll through the palace. His eyes immediately widened at the sight of his brother. He hadn’t been home when Harry arrived the previous night. He’d been out with Kate, but now that he saw his brother being carried in by his security detail, William was alarmed about what trouble his brother had gotten himself into. He wasn’t the same Harry that left for Africa. That much he knew by the picture of him snogging Chelsy in a club. William was upset his brother had gone back to Chelsy, she was no good for him. No good at all. That American was much better for Harry, he’d been loads better behaved since she came into his life, but now that things had obviously ruptured between them, he’d gone back to his old ways and his drunken self was being carried through the palace as he muttered and laughed wildly to himself.

“Oi!” exclaimed Harry when he saw his brother. “Wha are ya doin’ here Willie?”

“At the moment, I'm wishing I were anywhere but here.” William replied. “What have you done to yourself, Harry?”

“I’ve not done anything.” Harry grinned. “But I will, tonight. I'm gonna go out and –”

“No, you will not.” William declared. “You can’t even walk to your room and you’re planning on going out drinking again. No. That won’t happen. I won’t allow it.”

“Bugger off, ya wanker.”

William shook his head in disapproval. “You were doing so well Harry. What happened? You were lovely when you were with her. You reminded me of the little boy that –”

“SHUT UP!” cried Harry; the tears he’d been holding back finally fell. “Hurry up, Alistair! I’ve no time for his bullshit.”

“Yes Sir,” replied an out of breath Alistair.

It wasn’t much longer before Alistair tucked Harry into bed. He even took off his shoes and socks to make sure he’d be comfortable, and at Harry’s urging, he helped the Prince take off his jacket and pants, leaving him only in a simple t-shirt and boxers. After raising the covers to Harry’s shoulders, he bowed and left the room, ready to spend the rest of the day with the other staff.

“Alistair,” spoke William, who’d been waiting outside. “Terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“That’s my own fault, Sir.” Alistair replied. “I should’ve been aware of my surroundings, but in the palace, I tend to let down the guard.”

“Yes, of course, the only harm that can be done in here is the harm done by Gran when she’s in a mood and Harry.”

Alistair smiled, but said nothing.

“I was wondering, Alistair, if you might tell me what trouble my brother has gotten into.”

“Sir, I must warmly insist that you do not trouble yourself by thinking that His Royal Highness was involved in any trouble. Prince Harry has had a quiet last few days.”

“I know you’ve seen my brother at his worst, but I must say that this spectacle was in no means quiet, even by his standards.”

“That is true, Sir, but Prince Harry did not drink in public. He drank during the drive back from Oxford.”

“Oxford,” repeated Harry. “You mean to say he went to visit her.”

“Yes, Sir,” nodded Alistair.

“And what happened? Do you know?”

“I do not follow the Prince when he visits Miss Balcázar.” Alistair replied. “All I know is that he returned very soon, and that he began to drink.”

“She must not have forgiven him for Chelsy,” whispered William to himself.

“I assume not, Sir.”

“Thank you, Alistair,” he said. “That’ll be all.”

“I’ll take my leave, Sir.” A bow was given by Alistair, and then he walked off in direction of the kitchen.

William stared at the door, wondering the state his brother’s heart was in, and then, without further thought, he quietly made his way into the room, careful not to walk too quickly or bump into any furniture. He walked until he was at his brother’s bedside, and when his eyes landed on his tear stained cheeks, his heart constricted violently. Harry hadn’t been good with emotions, not since their mother passed away, and seeing him in such a vulnerable position broke his heart.

“What happened, my little ginger?” he asked softly.

Not wanting to leave his brother’s side, he instead moved a chair to Harry’s bedside and sat there until the fiery haired Prince woke up hours later. It was nearly seven when he woke, they’d long since missed dinner (much to their grandmother’s displeasure).

“What are you doing here?” grumbled Harry, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Just wanted to make sure you were alright.” William brushed away some of the hair that fell into Harry’s face. “You seemed a bit off when you got home.”

“Just a bit?” questioned Harry, peering up at his older brother.

“Perhaps a bit more than a bit,” chuckled William softly.

“I was a proper twonk to you,” muttered Harry, humiliating.

“You weren’t yourself, Harry.”

“That’s no excuse.” He slowly sat up. “I’ve missed dinner, haven’t I?”

William nodded.

“Did Gran say anything?”

“Of course she said something. She wouldn’t be Gran if she didn’t.” William smiled. “But she wasn’t upset. The staff was good about keeping quiet and I told her we had a late lunch so we weren’t hungry.”

“And she let us get away with that?” asked Harry, surprised that that simple lie had worked.

He nodded. “Gran doesn’t think you’re off drinking like mad like you used to. She thinks you settled down. That’s why she believed me.”

“Hah. She’s in for a rude awakening.” Harry muttered darkly.

“So you and Chelsy are going to start drinking heavily and stumble out of clubs like you used to?”

“What? Why the hell are ya bringing up Chelsy? I’ve nothing to do with her.”

“Come on, mate, don’t lie to me. I saw the papers.”

“That’s not what it looks like!” yelled Harry. “Everyone keeps assuming that it was me and her snogging, but it wasn’t, not really. I mean she snogged me, yeah, but I pushed her away and I told her I wanted nothing to do with her, but everyone thinks I was chasing her over there. Paulina thought I was gone as long as I was because I was shagging Chels, but I wasn’t! I didn’t see her until the last bloody day and all this bullshit’s come from it.”

“You’re not lying,” whispered William in astonishment.

“Course not.” Harry sat up fully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. She just sort of pounced on me and some bastard got a picture of it. I wish I could find out who it was. I’d beat the shit out of them.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” questioned Harry. “That blood person’s made a mess of my life. I’d just gotten it in a place I was actually keen on and then – forget it. Forget it. I was just rambling on.”

William observed as Harry’s nostrils flared, it was a sign that he was fighting off unwelcomed emotions.

“I bet if you explain to Paulina what happened, things would be sorted between you.”

“Nothing’s ever going to be sorted out between us,” he said, cringing when he remembered what he’d shouted at her. “She was a massive prat and she hates me now.”

“I'm sure she doesn’t hate you.”

“She hates me.” Harry declared. “Ya should’ve seen the way she looked at me. It was as if she were looking at the most odious man on earth.”

“Well what’d you do?” inquired William, softly.

“Doesn’t matter . . .”

“Course it does, just tell me.”

“I . . . I may have called her a whore.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know! I don’t bloody know! It just sort of happened. She told me to go away and then there was some bloke wearing her shirt, and that blokes always giving her odd little looks, and I just thought that she’d been having a go with him since I left. But she wasn’t. Turns out she got into a fight. Face was all bruised up, and I apologized for that. But she was being unreasonable and wouldn’t –”

“She wasn’t being unreasonable.” William came to her defense. “You insulted her, Harry.”

“I know, but –”

“But nothing,” declared William. “You called her a whore. If she’d forgiven you for that she’d have no self respect.”

“What is it with self respect?” cried Harry. “That’s the same bloody thing she said. She kept going on about how she wouldn’t have any self respect if she stayed with me after I forgot to call her for a month. Oh don’t give me that look. I was busy!”

“Being busy means you don’t call her all day, but you phone her at night, just to say hello. That’s what you do when you’re busy. You don’t forget to call her for a month and expect her to be alright with it. How would you like it if someone did that to you?”

“No one would do that to me.”

“So why was it alright for you to do that to her?” questioned William.

“It’s not that I meant to.”

“But you did it. And then you expected her to just forgive you.”

“Well, she had to!”

“Why? Why do you think she had to?”

“Because I'm a bloody Prince!” yelled Harry.

William sat back in his chair. “Ah. I see why you said she was a prat. She injured your pride. Didn’t she? She didn’t forgive you like you expected. She made a stand for herself. She injured your pride.”

Although he didn’t speak or nod, the look in Harry’s eyes told him she had.

“No one’s ever spoken to me like she did.”

“Not even Gran?” William found it very hard to believe someone had told Harry off worse than their grandmother.

He shook his head. “Not even Gran. She just let me have it, you know? And I was standing there, listening, and all of a sudden I thought she shouldn’t be talking to me like that, I'm a Prince, and she’s not even a commoner from the commonwealth.”

“So you would have preferred it had she forgiven you and stayed with you just because you’re a Prince?”

“I wasn’t saying that.”

“That’s what you were implying though.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. You didn’t want her to tell you off because you didn’t like what you were hearing, and because you didn’t like what you were hearing, your ego took offense. And all you could think was that you’re a Prince, and that you’re not supposed to be treated that way. That you’re not supposed to be told off by some girl you screwed over. But you know what? I personally think you should’ve been glad she was telling you off.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?”

“Not at all,” replied Harry. “It’s fantastic that she told you off, that she treated you like a normal bloke, because when it comes to relationship, there shouldn’t be a distinction between royalty and commoner. You should both be on equal footing in order to make it work.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“Am I really? Because I don’t think I am. I quite think it a good thing that she told you off. You deserved it Harry. You may not want to hear that, but it’s true. She’s great for having –”

“She’s bloody impossible is what she is!” interjected Harry. “I mean – she yelled at me for not having given her my number but then I tried to give it to her, she told me that she didn’t bloody want it anymore! And then . . . then after all the damn effort I put into us, she had the nerve to tell me that I thought she was just a shag. That that was why I didn’t call her!”

“Well one can see why she would think that.”

“No! One can’t fucking see why she would think that! I went out of my way to get to Oxford to be with her! I sat through boring films for her! I pretended to care about Van Gogh! I even started paying more attention to politics just so we could chat since she’s so bloody keen on them! I did all that for her. So I don’t know how she’s thick enough to think she’s just a shag when I’ve made it so bloody obvious that I love her!”

“L-love?” stuttered William.

“Yes. I love her. I fucking love her. You happy now?” questioned Harry. “I love the way she looks at me when I’ve said something completely daft that makes her laugh. I love the way she rubs the back of my neck when we go on drives. I fucking love the way she sounds when she talks in Spanish. I fucking love her and I ruined it. Alright? I fucking ruined it because I was an idiot, and now,” there it was, a few tears began to cascade down his cheeks, “Now I’ve lost her. And all I can think to do is to get proper smashed and shag some birds to try to keep my mind from drifting back to her, because I can’t stand to think of the way she was looking at me! I can’t stand it! She’s meant to smile, you know, she’s got the loveliest smile and she’s got one special just for me, one that even when her lips stop smiling, her eyes keep shining. But I’ve lost that. I’ve lost it.”

“And you really think drinking and shagging’s going to make it any better?”

“Won’t make it better, but I’ll forget . . . for a bit at least.”

“Let me tell you something about love, Harry.”

“What about it?”

“You have to fight for it.” William declared. “Love may be brilliant and all, but it’s not easy. It needs to be fought for.”

“But she can’t stand the sight of me.”

“Then give her space.”

“But you just said to fight!”

“And you will, but you’ve got to give her space first. You mucked things up Harry. She needs time to settle down and get her mind together. And while she does that, you’ll think of ways to woo her.”

“I don’t woo.” Harry declared.

“If you want to get her back you bloody well will woo.”

“That sounds like romance novel garbage . . . oh.”

“What happened?”

“She loves that. That romance novel garbage. She’s obsessed with Jane Austen.”

“Then we’ll use Miss Austen to help win her back.”

“How do you suppose we do that?”

“Well I suppose you start by reading the novels.”

“My balls will fall off if I do.”

“And you might not get her back if you don’t.”

Harry let out a frustrated groan. “Fine, but you’ll get me the books. I'm not about to be seen in a shop buying those dreadful things.”

“I’ll stop by the shop with them with Kate.” William sat up. “I think I’ll order us some dinner. Clean yourself up while I'm gone, ya smell quite badly.”

“You’re a prick.” He paused before adding. “But thanks for, well, you know.”

“Just promise you won’t be an ass to her if she takes you back.”

“If?” asked Harry.

William nodded. “I won’t stand here and pretend she’ll take you back, she might not, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is you making an effort for her.”

“Why would I make an effort if I don’t know she’ll even have me?”

“Because you love her,” William stated simply. “And when you love someone, you’ll go through a lot for them, even if that means trying to help them when they’ve been an absolute ass, which you were. But I’ll be here, till we’re ancient, just trying to make sure you’re alright.”

It was moments like those that made Harry realize just how incredibly fortunate he was to have William as a brother. He was always there for him. When their mother died, it was William who – for over three weeks– slept in a chair beside Harry’s bed just to make sure that if his younger brother had a nightmare, he’d be there to hold his hand and make it better. And now, now they were young men, and William was still there for him. He’d always be there.