The sun is still low in the sky when Louis is startled into wakefulness by Stan shaking his shoulder violently. He comes awake spitting curses and flailing about, trying to shove Stan off, but Stan just pokes at him until he sits up in bed, blankets pooling around his waist, and growls, "What the bloody hell, Stanley?"
"Liam is ready for you and you still need to eat breakfast, get your arse out of bed, you lazy git."
Squinting out the window to gauge the time, it takes a moment for Stan's words to sink in. Confused, he turns to look at Stan, asks, "What? Liam?"
Stan rolls his eyes, then moves about to start getting Louis ready for the day. "Do you listen to anything the Queen says?" Grumbling to himself, Louis slips out of bed and follows Stan into his bathing chamber to wash his face and teeth. Stan just rolls his eyes and selects a pair of breeches and a shirt for Louis, says, "She asked you to take the Princess riding."
Louis frowns into his washcloth, bits and pieces of the conversation coming back to him. He had been distracted at the time, too busy watching Harry lean into Zayn, their shoulders and foreheads pressed together as they laughed and talked quietly between themselves. The jealousy had been irrational, Harry had assured him they were no more than friends, and Louis had no claim over Harry regardless, but.
Sighing, Louis steps into the breeches Stan had selected without comment, but wrinkles his nose at the shirt. "Not that one, I want something lighter. It's unseasonally warm out." Thinking of Harry's eyes, he points at one of the shirts, says, "I'll take that green one."
Louis finishes dressing quietly, humming a tune under his breath as he laces up his boots and fixes his fringe in the mirror. It isn't until he's slipped through the breakfast room door to find Harry sitting at the end of the table, head bowed over a cup of tea, that he realizes it's the same tune Harry had been singing to the flowers on their castle tour.
~
The stables are teeming with people by the time Louis makes it down there with Harry and Gemma in tow. He spots a familiar figure waiting by the doors, is just about to lift a hand and call out to Liam when Harry grabs his wrist and says, voice tense, "Louis, I should tell you, I've never -"
He cuts himself off, swallowing thickly, and Louis stops in his tracks, turns to Harry and asks, "Harry, have you ever ridden a horse before?"
Teeth sunk into his bottom lip and something akin to terror in his eyes, Harry shakes his head slowly. He has his hair held back by a scarf today, but there are curls flopping over the edges of it and brushing at his temples, too long to be contained. He looks so achingly lovely, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with nerves, lips bitten red and hair a fluffy halo around his face, that Louis acts without thinking. He cups Harry's face in his hands and leans in close, foreheads nearly touching, so he can murmur, "I won't let anything happen to you, Hazza, I promise."
He can feel Harry start to relax, blowing out an unsteady breath as his hands lift to circle Louis' wrists. They stand there until Harry's breathing has returned to normal and he doesn't look quite so close to collapsing, then Louis drops his hands regretfully and they walk over to where Gemma is already chatting with Liam.
She turns to them when they stop at her side, says, "Liam is going to bring you a calmer horse, Harry. He's promised you the most sedate horse in the stables, says it won't do more than a trot no matter how hard you try."
Louis can feel Harry practically vibrating beside him again, places his palm flat against the small of his back in an attempt to comfort him once more. It seems to work, tension slowly leeching out of him the longer Louis keeps touching him. He briefly considers telling Liam to forget Harry's horse and letting Harry ride with him, but scraps the idea almost immediately. It's unnecessary and would be improper when he's meant to be courting Harry's sister. Right. Something he would do well to remember.
Louis makes a show of helping Gemma onto her horse, tightening the girth, and handing her the reins before moving over to where Liam is trying to coax Harry onto his horse. He's got the gentlest mare they have, a long-legged dun with large, kind eyes and tiny braids in her mane. Harry is just standing beside her, a careful distance away, staring doubtfully at the saddle. Scooting up behind Harry, Louis takes his hand and places it on the horse's neck so that he can feel her breathing, trying and help Harry connect with her.
"Harry, this is Epona."
"Epona," Harry murmurs, fingers twitching underneath Louis'. Epona snorts in response to her name, twitches her tail attentively, and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Louis feels Harry tense up again, but he just cups his free hand around Harry's hip and rubs his thumb back and forth soothingly, holding his hand against the horse's neck. He can sense Gemma watching them, perched atop her own horse, but he's more concerned with getting Harry to agree to ride Epona than how this looks.
"I used to ride Epona when I was a boy, she was always very good."
Harry aims an amused glance over his shoulder, asks, "Are you calling me a child?"
Louis squeezes Harry's hip, and his voice is pitched low when he says, "Believe me, Harry, there is nothing childlike about you."
A shiver ripples up Harry's spine and his fingers go slack underneath Louis', breath quickening so that his back brushes Louis' chest on every inhale. He doesn't let go of Epona when Louis steps back, though, instead leans on her for support while he turns to stare at Louis with eyes gone dark and heavy-lidded.
Before either of them can speak or make a move, Liam's cheerful voice interrupts with, "Are you ready to mount, then, Prince Harry?"
Eyes still on Louis, Harry nods absently, like he's not even aware of what he's agreeing to. Louis steps forward again so that he can help Harry mount, lips pressed together to hide his smile. He lets Liam instruct Harry on how to climb into the saddle, then wraps a hand around Harry's ankle as he swings his leg over, holding him steady and helping him find the stirrup. Louis keeps his hand on Harry's thigh a fraction longer than necessary, distracted by the play of muscles underneath his palm as Harry shifts about, trying to get comfortable in the saddle.
"You alright up there?" Louis asks, peering up at Harry from underneath his fringe.
Harry lets go of the saddle with one hand so that he can brush Louis' hair out of his eyes, the drag of his fingers against Louis' skin leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "I think so," he whispers, letting his hand drop to rest on his own leg, just centimeters from Louis' hand. He wants so badly to slide his hand over, link their fingers together. "Thank you for always making me feel safe, Lou."
Warmth blooms in Louis' chest, and he squeezes Harry's thigh briefly before stepping back once again and letting his hand drop to hang at his side, cold and empty. He forces an air of casualness into his voice when he says, "Of course. Any time, Curly, I want you to have fun. I'm going to go mount now, alright?"
Harry nods, and Louis turns away. He pats Gemma's horse on the rump as he skirts around them to get to his own horse, an Andalusian brought over from Spain just a few years prior with a gleaming gray body and a charcoal mane. His bridle reads 'Apollo' in careful white stitching. His beautiful sun god, Louis thinks, scratching Apollo's muzzle before checking his saddle and launching himself into it easily. He waits while Liam checks the girth and ties a knapsack to the back of the saddle, then swivels around in his seat to check on Gemma and Harry.
"Alright?" He asks, waiting for them both to nod. Addressing Harry directly, he says, "We're just going to walk around to the ocean, then into the woods for a bit. I have water and some food for lunch, so we don't need to worry about being out too long."
He can see Harry worrying his bottom lip, but he nods anyway, and when Liam tells him to nudge Epona in the sides with his heels, he complies and only lets out the smallest of squeaks when she starts to move.
It takes a half-hour for them to reach the castle gate, a lot of stop and go with a nervous Harry, but eventually, he settles into Epona's slow, easy gait, hips rocking rhythmically with every step. It makes Louis' belly ache every time he watches a bit too long, all too easy to imagine Harry's hips rocking while perched atop something else. So to distract himself, Louis makes easy conversation while leading them along the outside of the castle wall toward the beach.
They walk the horses through the surf, kicking up bits of sand and saltwater that stain their boots and seep into the fabric of their riding breeches before drying in the summer sun. The splash of their horses' hooves scatter oystercatchers digging for mussels in the sand, startle noisy gulls cooling their feet in the water, send tiny white crabs skittering across the wet sand, claws waving menacingly in the air.
The birds and crabs and the bright flash of scales as mackerel leap into the waves distract Harry enough that he loosens up even more, enough to hold the reins with only one hand, the other settled comfortably on his thigh. Pride swells Louis' chest. He isn't sure Harry is even aware that he's given up control, but he doesn't want to alert him to the fact, doesn't want to set them back a step by startling him, so he doesn't mention the horses, just distracts Harry as much as possible with aimless chatter.
They don't stay on the shore long, veer off for the cool shade of the woods so that they don't burn and the horses don't dehydrate. They have to walk single file as they weave between the trees, but Louis leads them toward a brook that runs across the forest, where the banks are wide enough for them to walk two abreast and the horses can stop for drinks of water. Louis paces himself so that he's walking alongside both Gemma and Harry, Harry in the forefront so that he can keep an eye on him and make sure he stays relaxed and doesn't veer too close to any branches.
A few hours into their excursion, Louis stops them where the brook widens and splits into two streams, dismounting easily and tying Apollo to a tree close to the edge of the water. He helps Gemma down first, hands high enough on her waist to be deemed appropriate then moves over to help Harry while Gemma tethers her horse alongside Apollo.
"You know," Louis comments mildly, slipping Harry's foot out of the stirrup, then walking around to his other side. "Gemma has taken to horseback riding quite well, almost as if -"
"We do have horses in England," Gemma calls from where she's stretching out on a large boulder. "Harry just never wanted to learn. As a child, he was afraid that riding the horses hurt them."
Harry is scowling in Gemma's direction when Louis looks up at him, heart skipping at his adorable, mutinous glare and the embarrassed flush to his cheeks.
"Gemma, remember when we discussed what is and is not okay for you to tell people?"
Louis shakes his head, laughing softly, and reaches up to tap Harry's side. "Don't be embarrassed, darling, I think it's sweet."
Harry's flush deepens, but he settles his hands on Louis' shoulders and leans into him. It takes him a second to realize what he's doing, though, and he freezes, fingertips digging into Louis' shoulders hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks from his nails. His voice is tense when he asks, "Louis, what do I do -"
"Relax, I've got you," Louis soothes. "Just lift your leg over and turn toward me. Hop down, I'll be here to catch you."
Hands trembling, Harry does as he's told, sliding his leg over slowly and turning in the saddle. Louis tries not to notice how high Harry can lift his leg, swallowing thickly as Harry turns to face him, knees caging him in. He doesn't have to make the effort long, though, because as soon as Harry starts to ease off the horse, the moment his feet touch the ground, his knees buckle and he crashes into Louis, knocking the wind out of him.
"Woah," Louis laughs, stumbling back a step and taking Harry with him. His arms are wrapped tight around Harry's waist and Harry is clinging to his neck, face buried in his shoulder. Louis squeezes his sides and nuzzles into Harry's hair without thinking. It smells like apples. Louis' stomach tightens and it takes him several heartbeats to pull himself out of the moment, to straighten back up and ask, "Are you okay?"
Harry nods, forehead still pressed to Louis' shoulder, but he doesn't try to move.
Louis swipes a tentative hand up Harry's back to cup the back of his neck, scratching lightly at his hairline. He can feel an appreciative rumble against his chest, buries a smile in Harry's hair before sliding his hand back down so he can grip Harry's hips and set him back a step. Gemma is still lying down on the boulder with her eyes closed, but this is too much, they need to put space between them before Gemma looks over to see what is taking them so long.
Harry's cheeks are rosy, eyes bright when Louis manages to ease away. He keeps his hands on Harry's hips, though, as he still seems a bit wobbly. Ducking down to meet Harry's downcast eyes, Louis asks, "Are you alright, Curly?"
Harry nods quickly, a bashful smile curling his lips. He drags the tips of his fingers down Louis' arms before letting them drop.
"I couldn't stand. My legs were too stiff from sitting on the horse for so long." Harry shifts his weight from foot to foot, nose wrinkling in discomfort. Louis watches, amused, as he curls his hands into fists and knuckles at the small of his back, arching into it with a soft sigh. Louis watches, not so amused, as Harry cups his hands over his own backside, wincing and kneading, withdraw his hands from Harry's sides immediately and takes a hasty step back. Harry aims a sheepish smile at him again and adds, "Bum is sore."
Louis can hear his throat click when he swallows, vision gone hazy with something that feels a lot like lust. He turns blindly toward his horse, desperate for a drink of water, something to cool him down. Gemma is still asleep on the rock, completely oblivious to the fact that he and her brother have been dancing around each other for the past three days. At least, Louis hopes that she's oblivious to the fact. Or else that she doesn't mind. He doesn't think she would mind, as she's not shown much interest in him, but he needs to be cautious, nonetheless.
Needing a break from these thoughts before he gives himself a headache, Louis busies himself with taking out the waterskins and the food he and Stan had packed for their lunch. He's overly aware of Harry moving around behind him, tying up Epona and introducing himself to Apollo and Bridgit, Gemma's horse. He can hear Harry murmuring quietly to the horses as he spreads the food and water out on another boulder sitting half in the creek, though he tries not to listen too hard. His chest already feels tight enough, he's already in too deep, he doesn't want to make this worse for himself.
Food set out, Louis tugs off his boots so that he can dip his feet in the creek. The water is clear and cool, and he watches it rush around his feet, toes forming little rapids that swirl about his ankles and lick at the pebbled creek bottom, shifting them slowly downstream. He gets lost in the rippling water, lost in thoughts of green eyes and too-pink lips, broad, gentle hands, and a body that is a confusing, alluring mixture of hard and soft.
He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn't hear anyone approach, doesn't hear the shifting of fabric against stone or register the heat and presence of another body until Harry is murmuring in his ear, "Coin for your thoughts?"
Louis startles, feet slipping on the water-worn pebbles, and Harry buries a laugh against the back of his shoulder, fingertips light against Louis' sides.
"No," he says stupidly, voice too high and breathy. Harry's eyebrows wing up in surprise and Louis rushes to fix it, blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "Sorry. Er, fish."
Harry's face lights up in interest and he stretches to peer over Louis' shoulder, asks, "Oh, are there fish in here?"
Louis schools his features into something more composed and clears his throat, answers, "No, it's too shallow here. The creek widens the farther east you travel, though, and becomes a river deep enough to swim in. You can find fish and turtles, and we have a small population of the great crested grebe if you have an interest in birds."
Harry hums consideringly, head tilted to the side as he pops fat red grapes into his mouth. The sun is filtering in through the trees, casting dappled light over the ground and Harry's face. Shadows are pooling in the hollows of his cheeks as he sucks on the grapes, glossy curls gleaming where he's sitting in a patch of sunlight, and Louis wants to touch him so badly his fingertips ache.
He forces himself to occupy his hands by breaking off a chunk of heavy honey wheat bread, uses his fingers to smear the soft cheese Stan had packed across the top and licks the rest of the cheese off his fingers. He hears Harry's breath hitch beside him, flicks a glance up at him through his lashes before dropping his hand and taking a healthy bite of the bread. He's still waiting for Harry's answer.
"I like birds," Harry finally mumbles, rolling a grape between his fingers.
Louis tips his head back while he chews the sweet bread, closing his eyes and letting the sun heat his face. "I'll take you there," he murmurs after he's swallowed. There's a short, pregnant pause before he remembers to add, "Both of you."
That night, after supper and a short walk around the gardens with Harry and Gemma, Louis soaks in his copper tub, letting the hot water and lavender soothe his sore muscles. He hadn't been on a ride that long in ages, and he's promised Gemma and Harry another tomorrow, secretly pleased at how well Harry has taken to horseback riding. And if he tugs himself off to the thought of Harry riding something else, well. No one needs to know.
~
Harry's legs ache something fierce when he wakes up the following morning, and it takes him twice as long as usual to dress and walk to breakfast. To his surprise, Louis is already sitting at the table when he arrives, looking sleepy and adorable with a mug of tea clutched in his hands and a droop to his eyelids that says he hasn't fully woken up yet. Harry slides into his usual seat beside Louis with a smile, trails his fingers across the back of Louis' neck in greeting.
Louis' voice is sleep-rough when he rasps, "Good morning. How do you feel?"
Harry shrugs, shifting in his seat to try and find a more comfortable position. He had stretched before dressing, but it hadn't done much to loosen him up. Riding again so soon might not be the best idea, but Gemma had sent a message to his room earlier that she wasn't feeling up to it, and Harry is hungry for time alone with Louis. He murmurs a thank you to the server as she sets a steaming cup of tea and a plate of sausages and poached eggs before him, then says to Louis, voice deliberately mild, "I'll survive. My bum is still quite sore, though. Any ideas on how to remedy that?"
He slides Louis a sly look, silently preening at the way all traces of sleepiness vanish from Louis' eyes and he chokes a bit on his tea. It takes him a minute to compose himself, hunched over the table while he coughs and wipes furiously at his watering eyes. Harry rubs his back, trying to ease some of the discomforts, and once he's caught his breath, Louis leans into it, gulps in air, and says lightly, "You should try stretching. Or I'm sure we could have the court physician draw up a salve for you if you'd like..."
Harry hums into his tea, says innocently, "I would probably need assistance applying the salve, who would help me?"
Smiling indulgently, Louis leans forward, close enough that Harry can smell traces of lavender and something spicy and appealing, and says, "I'm sure you'll find someone, darling."
Harry tries not to pout too hard at Louis' nonchalant response as he eats his breakfast, but he can see Louis watching him from the corner of his eye, and he just wants - well, he's not quite sure what he wants. But he's almost positive it involves Louis' hands on his bum.