Marching On

A pair of lips, warmed by the heat of vodka and the summer night air, pressed against hers. Her bare back was pinned against the coarse brick foundation of the wrap-around porch as smooth hands traveled the length of her body.

Her fingers clung to his brown head of hair while they continued to explore each other. A moan escaped her as his hands slid underneath her bikini bottoms.

"Tom?!" a male voice came through the open doors of the large beach house. "Where are you? We broke a lamp!"

"Shit," Tom exhaled, his fist pounding against the brick and his hand in retreat.

His forehead was pressed against hers, both breathing heavy.

"I need to take care of that," Tom whispered and let go of the slender female body.

"To be continued?" he asked before he took to the steps.

"Yeah," a breathless Lavin told him as she tied her bikini top.
___

"She's in America," Prince William told his brother as he set down the latest copy of The Sun on Harry's lap.

"America?" Harry muttered, staring down at the tabloid's cover.

His hand glided over the full-body picture of Lavin hand-in-hand with Tom Werth. He was wearing a pair of muted red swim trunks, his eyes covered by a reflective pair of aviator sunglasses, and in his free hand was a beer bottle.

Lavin, however, looked most unlike herself. Her hair was not in the smooth waves that Harry was so used to seeing but in a mess of tangled kinks as if she let her hair dry after a romp in the ocean. Her eyes wore only a brilliant blue strapless bikini covered by a gauzy sweatshirt decorated with a faded American flag. And glinting in the sunlight were two star stud earrings.

In a passing glance, Harry though, Lavin looked like any Hollywood starlet that graced the covers of the tabloids each week.

"Why is she in America?" Harry asked, his eyes unable to divert from Lavin's image.

"Holiday, I presume. . .Labor Day weekend," William said, skimming through a second magazine.

Harry finally had the courage to open the glossy magazine. He found the article looming only a few pages in: PARTYING IN THE USA FOR DENMARK'S NEW QUEEN.

"The young Queen Lavinia (26) has been spotted in the Hamptons, a hotspot for America's rich and famous during Labor Day weekend. A close friend has disclosed that Her Majesty is staying at old flame Tom Werth's (27) Hampton beach home with a handful of old college friends," Harry read aloud.

His eyes scanned the other pictures: Lavin standing beside Tom at a large grill flipping burgers and hotdogs. Lavin being lifted into the air by another male friend while playing football on the beach, a bonfire in the foreground. Lavin dramatically tipping a red solo cup to her mouth.

"She ran to him again," Harry muttered.

William sighed, taking a seat opposite him. "She's just blowing off some steam. She's lost her father, her freedom, and she's become queen all in a matter of a month."

Harry stood up and threw the tabloid to the floor in anger, in disgust. "She still went to him, William. In her time of great need she runs to him!"

William winced at Harry's bellow and then composed himself once more. He pressed his hands together and tapped them against his chin.

"Lavin just lost her father, Harry. Remember us just after Mum died. We were in no proper state of mind. There were plenty of drugs and parties."

Harry walked to the desk in his Clarence House apartment where the emergency pack of cigarettes was stashed. He extracted one and expertly lit it.

William stretched his long legs onto the couch he was sitting on and continued to flip through the tabloid. They sat in silence; Harry was inhaling the cigarette at an alarming rate and William was skimming an article.

"You must understand that her behavior has partly to do with you," William said suddenly.

"And please, Mr. Holmes, do share how you came to this deduction?" Harry bit sarcastically, stamping out the butt of the cigarette into an empty teacup before dropping into an armchair.

William eyed the letter stuffed into Harry's pocket.

"That." He pointed.

Harry placed his hand over his pocket.

"What does it say again," William asked, not truly caring about the answer since he knew the letter just as well as Harry.

"Do not hate me," the brothers recited. "My life is and will forever be devoted to my country. My heart forever to you. I love you."

"Yes, exactly."

"Exactly what?" Harry asked exasperatedly.

William swung his legs to the floor again and tossed the magazine gently on the cushion beside him. "She's not only lost her father and her freedom, she has also lost you."

"She's not lost me! She's pushed me away!"

"Jesus, you can't be this thick. You really can't be. Put yourself in her shoes, Harry. You were there not so long ago. So it shouldn't be that difficult," William said, relaxing into the couch.

Harry sat forward on the armchair. He was devastated when he lost his mother; he felt lost and alone. And he felt similarly when Lavin broke it off while he was in Afghanistan. Both times he turned to alcohol, partying, and girls.

"You really think it's a phase?" Harry asked, sounding calmer.

"Clearly," William replied. "We straightened out soon enough as will she. She won't be able to elude her duties for much longer."

"Should I go to the Hamptons?"

William only inclined his eyebrow and stood from his place on the couch. He straightened out his sleeves, shrugging. "Completely up to you, mate. But I'm not sure she would appreciate it."

____

"Here you go, Vin."

Lavin took the beer bottle that had been held out to her by an old friend from university. Conner Freeman, a dark-haired young man who had been in many of the same classes throughout their years at school. He was the quick-witted, opinionated student in her politic courses that had garnered an internship at the White House just after graduation. Connor now worked closely with members of the Senate as a lawyer.

Lavin and Connor has spent most of the weekend debating their differing political viewpoints. Something that she found riveting due to the constant neutral perspective she had to take.

Connor took a seat beside her, a beer of his own in his hands.

"Imagine, mingling with a queen. Never thought I would be able to say that in my life."

Lavin laughed. "I doubt our friendship will do anything for your campaign next year. Being from Denmark I don't see how I'm much of a connection."

"It'll be good for my foreign policy-"

"Hey!"

Lavin and Connor's head turned to see Tom descending the steps from the higher porch of the gigantic beach mansion.

"I'm banning all talk of politics for the rest of the weekend! That's all you two have talked about since Friday."

"Sorry," Lavin and Conner replied.

"No worries." Tom grinned. "Dinner will be ready in a few."

"Need any help?" Lavin asked.

Tom nodded. "Sure."

Lavin bid Connor a short farewell as she made her way towards the house beside Tom. They did not speak until they were into the most modernized kitchen she had ever seen.

Tom pointing to the large bowl of blueberries and strawberries. "That's your job."

"Oh," Lavin said. "What am I to do exactly?"

Tom pulled out a blueberry and placed it on the rectangle cake. "It's iced already. It just needs to be decorated. You know American flag. Patriotism. Do you know how the flag looks?"

Lavin feigned insult. "How dare you suggest I am unfamiliar with the American flag? I could recite the whole damn Pledge of Allegiance if you asked it of me."

Tom smirked, his eyebrow moved in a taunting way. "Astound me with your knowledge, Lav."

"Maybe later," Lavin said, grabbing a few strawberries and creating a straight line of them.

Tom hummed in silence while Lavin snuck out her phone to look at a picture of the American flag just to be sure she was getting it right.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lavin?" Tom asked a while later.

Lavin nodded, as she placed blueberries carefully around the sugar stars. "Yes, very much. Thanks again for inviting me. I've really needed to get away."

"No problem," Tom told her.

"What are the plans for tonight?" she asked.

"Connor and Jake wanted to go to the bar tonight. The game is on."

"Which game?"

"Yankees."

"Oh, right. Baseball."

Tom laughed while he continued to concoct his homemade sangria.
____

Lavin was very drunk.

She looked at herself in the dingy bathroom mirror. The overhead fluorescent lights dimming the tan she had worked so diligently on the past two days and the whites of her eyes were clouded with a muted red.

"Cute outfit, girl." A friendly drunk female said before swooping into a nearby bathroom stall.

Lavin quickly thanked her. There was a beaming smile on her lips as she was reminded of her anonymity. She had been nearly uncatchable by the paparazzi and if they had been able to catch a glimpse of her only a few were taken until they moved on.

The Hamptons was filled with actual celebrities this weekend; ones that were much more interesting and fame-hungry than she.

Her phone made a noise in her wristlet. Extracting it quickly she expected it to be Gen or one of her brothers or Tom wondering where she was; but it was not any of them.

The name HARRY flashed across the screen and went black. She unlocked her phone and read his text: I KNOW YOU'RE NOT SPEAKING TO ME AT THE MOMENT BUT PLEASE DON'T IGNORE THIS.

Lavin grumbled. The last thing she wanted to do was ignore Harry but she knew she should keep up this wall she recently constructed as feeble as it was.

Despite herself and in spite of the alcohol, she texted him back.

WHAT DO YOU WANT?

TO TALK.

FINE.

Lavin gripped the phone tightly in her palm as she exited the bathroom and made for the quiet parking lot. Not a second later did Harry's call come through.

"Hello?" Harry's voice sounded when Lavin pressed the phone to her ear.

Her breath caught in her throat disabling her speech.

"Harry."

Harry exhaled roughly, the noise crackled harshly in Lavin's left ear. And without warning tears were running out of Lavin.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she spoke, trying to retain a steady voice. "For every single thing. If only we could have been warned of this possibility when we were young we would never have been in this mess."

"Maybe, Lavin. But I've always heard people say we don't choose who we fall in love with."

"Do you really believe that?"

"More than I probably should," Harry admitted.

Lavin leaned against the nearest car and wept. The phone was still pressed to her head. She tried to cover her mouth to muffle her gasping breaths.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"No. I understand Lavin, I do."

"No, Harry. You don't," she said. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. I locked myself away in the mansion for longer than I wish to mention. I didn't eat; I didn't sleep. I drank until I threw up and even though I'm here trying to have fun the only thing I would like most is to crawl back in there until I die.

"I miss him, Harry. I keep hoping I'm dreaming and I'll wake up one day and everything will be back as it was. My dad as a healthy king, my family happy. Us together."

Harry did not dare to interrupt her.

"I can't be queen. I can't! Not at this age--"

"Do you remember how much you were looking forward to being queen when you were young? How excited you were to serve your country and help anyone that needed it?"

"I was young and so-so-so-so stupid!"

"You're the farthest thing from stupid, Lavin," Harry told her firmly. "You can do this. You have your grandfather to advise you and that is an advantage that no other monarch has had."

"I know--I know I shouldn't be like this. I have never heard of a monarch fall apart like this when there predecessor dies."

"You're only human, Lav. There's no way to predict how a person will grieve when someone they love dies."

"So we're not divine demi-gods?" Lavin joked sarcastically.

Harry laughed too. "If we are then we are the saddest excuse for demi-gods."

Lavin wiped her tears and laughed.

"It's good to hear your voice," Lavin told him.

"Come home, Lavin," Harry said.

"Okay." Lavin nodded. "Okay. I will."