Fan Fiction - Ostatní - Britská královská rodina
Harry remembers how it felt, back in 1997, when their mother died. He cried for days; he was just a boy then, after all. He wasn't allowed to shed a tear at the funeral, though, walking behind the coffin with William by his side, and somehow – Harry still doesn't quite know how – he managed to keep up the emotionless façade during the funeral procession. After the official part was over, in the privacy of their chambers, he curled up in William's arms and wept, only vaguely aware of William's ragged breathing and the few warm drops that hit his shoulder. To Harry, William always seemed so strong.
When their father dies, everything is different. No flowers at the gates of the palace, no tender songs written about him. But, to Harry, it's not the lack of public frenzy that makes the difference. It is the way William steps into his bedroom, quiet and pale. It's the way he sits down on his bed with hunched shoulders, his eyes trained on the carpet.
"I've always known it would come to this, haven't I?" he whispers when Harry sits down next to him. "But now that it's actually happened…" he pauses and looks up to meet Harry's eyes.
"I'm scared, Harry," he says, his voice raspy and anxious.
Harry hesitates, feeling awkward for a moment, realizing that this is the new King of England sitting here beside him. Isn't the king supposed to be strong and fearless? Seconds pass and then, shaking his head at his own foolishness, Harry reaches out and pulls William closer. It's his turn to be strong. For his brother.