Glory in Our Defiance • Zarry

6. - In the Night

1485 - York, England

There are two different types of lovers in the world: those who are sleeping together and those who are actually in love.

The first kind shouldn't really be labeled as lovers because there is no love in clandestine fucking hidden under the veil of night. It is almost an insult to real love that is scarce enough as it is.

One would perhaps try to label Zayn and Harry as lovers after that one unfortunate night at Gilly's but they would be terribly wrong. Zayn fully intends for that encounter to be the first and the last of the sort. He cannot be sharing a bed with Harry Styles when he should be fighting him on a battlefield in the bloodbath that is the war for the English throne.

That night, in the vulnerable hours of an early morning, they fell sleep with their limbs entertwined after an eternity of kissing. Their minds didn't alert them about what was going on, about the intimacy that materialized in that badly lit room, in a bed that has witnessed the future King and a traitor touching as if they truly were lovers. After so many hours, they couldn't even blame it on the wine.

Zayn woke up first when the sun was barely up on the horizon. He was disoriented at first, his head pounding with a hangover. When he opened his eyes and looked around, finding his greaterst enemy's head nestled on his naked chest, all the memories came back in a flood. Regret was the prominent emotion but he still slinked out of bed, managing to get Harry off of him without waking him up.

As he was putting on his clothes, he heard some commotion behind him, hoping it wasn't Harry waking up but of course it was just that.

"Leaving already?" Harry asked from the bed, his voice raspy.

"Of course. What else should I be doing here?" Zayn answered and despite his better judgement, turned around to look at Harry.

It only made leaving harder in the end because Harry sure did look inviting, splayed in the bed with the sheet barely even covering his body. He has a lazy smile on his face and his hair was messy, so far from the meticulously groomed "prince" from the night before. He actually looked seventeen then, just a boy having fun around a city before they marry him off. The reality was much harsher because Zayn knew the both of them cannot come out of this war alive.

"Come back to bed," Harry said simply, putting his hands behind his head. "Once you leave the room the war is back on."

"Good," Zayn said, putting on his coat. "I cannot wait to see your head on a spike along with your neat little group of other traitors."

Harry chuckled. "Can I see you again? Outside of this whole war business?"

Zayn looked at him, seeing a little flash of hope in Harry's eyes that may or may has been there. "The next time you will see me will be on the battlefield."

Without any more words from either of them, Zayn turned on his heel and left the room, not looking behind once. The coldness he felt seeping through his body did not come just from the January temperatures.

xxx

For the rest of the week, Zayn is haunted by the memories of that night. He cannot focus when he is with his teachers, even his dreams are infested by his recollections of that damned night. But he knows it will pass. Harry Styles cannot haunt him for the rest of his life. Yes, they made a mistake. But it does not matter. It was one night that no one knows about and they will take that secret to their grave.

On Saturday, it is the day of Frederick's celebration. God knows what he is celebrating but he always seems to find a reason to invite people to his townhouse and get them spectacularly drunk.