Marching On

All was still in the Kensington flat as Lavin paced up and down its shadowed hallway. The wooden floorboards were cold against her bare feet.

She'd felt Denmark hours after her conversation with Temperance and Lucy, wanting to waste no time.

Her eyes floated to the clock on the visible kitchen wall. Harry would be here any moment.

She tugged at the long sleeves of her oversized cashmere sweater, and idly picked invisible lint of her black leggings. There was no telling how this would go and it was making Lavin all the more nervous.

Ding-dong.

Lavin opened the door, able to only tug the corners of her mouth into a second-long smile. Harry moved in to kiss her but she turned in time to feel his lips press against her cheek.

"Have I done something?" Harry asked, standing before her with his motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm and his leather jacket zipped to the top. "Was it what I said at the wedding?"

"No." Lavin shook her head, stepping aside so he could step inside.

"Why's it so dark in here?" he asked, flicking the living room light switch on and off.

Lavin was shutting the door when she answered, not turning to look at him. "I called the power company to turn it off."

"Why?" he said cautiously, moving into the living room. The warm light of the setting sun was enough for now.

"I'm selling the place."

"You're not," Harry said in disbelief. He turned to watch her as she started lighting the candles that lined the fireplace mantle and the few that were huddled together on the end table next to the couch.

Lavin swallowed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She tapped the lighter against the palm of her hand before answering:

"I am. There's no reason to keep this place. Gen's living in Africa and I'm permanently in Denmark."

"There is every reason to keep this place, Lavin," he told her, tossing his jacket on the couch. His helmet sat on the coffee table, reflecting the candles' flames in its visor.

Lavin set the lighter down, waiting for him to continue.

Harry sighed, moving towards her. He wrapped his hands gently around her arms. Lavin's heart leapt, she was unsure if she should stay in his arms or flee.

"This is the one place we have privacy. It's the one place you can disappear to when you're too exhausted to deal with life," he said quietly.

Lavin slowly pushed his hands away from her. "That's what the Dronningens palæ was meant for."

"Your mansion?"

Lavin nodded. She'd never allowed Harry to come there. It was hers and hers only. Only her family, courtiers, and security knew where it was located.

"Will you let me come there now?" he asked, searching her eyes.

She shook her head hesitantly. "No," she said quietly.

She could see the blow her answer took on his ego. His face quickly recovered and he grinned, grabbing her left hand.

He idly played with her ring finger. "What about when we're married? Then will I be granted access to this fairytale getaway?"

Lavin sucked in a large amount of air and began to wiggle free from Harry's grasp; but he took hold of her entire hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go, Harry!" Her voice was full of emotion and she was desperately trying to hold back a sob.

Harry did let her go. "What's wrong with you? First, you won't let me kiss you. Second, you won't let me come visit you in this mysterious mansion of yours. Third, you won't even let me touch you."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I won't accept that. Tell me what's going on right now."

Harry took a seat in the large armchair by the brick fireplace, looking agitated.

Lavin watched him, unable to figure out how to begin. Finally, she took a seat on the empty wooden coffee table, their knees almost touching.

"Danish custom says a queen of Denmark should be married, or at least...engaged, before she takes the throne."

She folded her hands in a neat pile in her lap.

"I know, Lavin," Harry said, "That's why I was going to propose to you within the next month."

Lavin pressed her eyes shut, trying to shut off the images that were coming to mind. Her ears perked when she heard him move and then she felt the warmth and weight of his hands on her knees.

Her eyes opened. Harry had inched closer to the edge of the armchair. His eyes were softer than before and he was frowning.

"You're crying. What's going on, Lavin?"

"We're both in line for our own crown, Harry. We can't get married."

"William will be king and then his children. Not me, I can marry whoever I like," Harry told her.

Lavin swiped at the tears racing down her face. "And what if your brother never has kids? If there are no children you will become heir."

She saw the realization in his eyes. "What happens now?" he asked.

"My family would want me to start looking for someone to be Denmark's prince consort...my consort."

Harry released his grip on her knees and stood. "You realize you are ending our relationship over a tradition, right? You don't have to be married before you become queen or even when you are queen.

"A tradition is not a law," he whispered harshly. "You don't have to follow it."

Lavin's anger rose too. "I know the difference between a law and a tradition!"

"This was such a waste of your time," Harry told her darkly.

"Excuse me?" she asked, eyes wide.

"You wasted months tearing apart my relationship with Caroline to be with me and for what? Hardly seeing each other and an impromptu dinner with the man you left me for?"

"That's not fair!" Lavin exclaimed. She clenched her fists as she stood up.

Harry's nostrils flared and his cheeks were ablaze.

"That's not fair, Harry," she repeated pathetically. "None of us could have predicted my father would get sick."

Harry shook tremendously as his own tears consumed him, silently, but Lavin was unable to ignore them. He reminded her very much of the day he told her his mother died.

"You've been the one woman who's been the most consistent in my life. I can't lose you. I can't do it, Lavin. Not again," he cried, his shoulders shuttering with each breath.

He took his seat again, placing his head in his hands.

Lavin watched him continue to cry, shake, and angrily fist tears away from his eyes. She quickly saw him as the skinny twelve-year-old again too embarrassed to be seen crying.

She ran her hand through his hair, letting it rest on his shoulder.

He looked up with bloodshot eyes and red marks where his knuckles had been pressed harshly into the delicate skin. Harry inhaled sporadically and pulled Lavin to him.

She fell softly into his lap. She gave him a sad smile as she brushed his tears away.

"There has to be a way we can be together," he said, looking at her with watery eyes, sounding small. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her closer.

"There isn't much we can do until you're no longer in line for your grandmother's job," Lavin told him, her hand gently wrapped around the back of his neck. His skin was hot to the touch.

Another wave of tears came from Harry. He shook his head in juvenile defiance before he nestled against her. "I'm only the spare, Lavin. I've always only been the spare."

"I know, Harry," she told him reassuringly.

Lavin rested her head on top of his, smelling the spice from his shampoo and closed her eyes. Her tears had slowed as did her breathing but she could feel Harry's sliding down her chest as his wouldn't stop.

Lavin felt very much that their roles had switched. Normally he was the one consoling her, wiping her tears away. Now it was she doing that for Harry.

She tucked her legs against Harry's torso; his jeans were coarse against her toes but offered warmth.

"I love you, Harry. No matter where our lives take us I will always love you."

She could feel him nodding against her and then his fingers were playing with thick pieces of her hair.

"I won't love anyone else but you, Lavin."

Neither of them talked for the remainder of the night. The sun had gone behind the buildings leaving them surrounded in candlelight. And they stayed like that, folded around each other, in the large armchair, Harry playing with Lavin's hair until he fell asleep.

Lavin's eyes grew heavy and before she too fell asleep she knew that this night would be their last one spent together.