Harry carefully took aim, his lip caught between his teeth as his eyes focused, the rest of the world fading away. Before he lost his nerve, he released his fingers, feeling the snap of the bowstring against his arm and-

"NYAEREAAAARGH!" Gemma let out a strangled cry as the cream pastry splattered across the front of her dress.

Harry crowed victoriously, leaping to his feet and dodging the apple Gemma hurled with deadly force at his head.

"You toad!" Gemma roared, emptying the picnic basket in search of appropriate weapons. "I have to meet Gaston in this dress, for fuck's sake!"

"Language, your Majesty," Harry drawled, taking shelter behind a tree. He was one of Cheshire's finest warriors, but Gemma was his sister and therefore infinitely more dangerous than your average mercenary. She was also about to formally accept the hand of Duke Gaston D'Gaston, a man whose army was the key to finally winning the war against Doncaster. "I hope you're not going to swear at Gaston Gaston like that. Might scare him off. Jesus!"

"Gaston D'Gaston," Gemma hissed, appearing right beside him and smashing an apple pie into his curls, "has faced the Beast, Pain, Malice and the Whore in battle. There's not a whole lot that scares him."

"He hasn't seen you mad," Harry said, mock cowering against the tree and giggling helplessly. "You're terrifying."

"Because you ruined my engagement dress!"

"So what? He knows what you look like, he's agreed to marry you. It's not like a dress can magically fix your face- ow!"

"What's wrong with my face?" Gemma demanded, smacking him with a banana. Where had that even come from?

"Nothing!" Harry cried, raising his hands in surrender. "Nothing! Ed's written enough songs about it, Jesus, apparently some people even find you beautiful."

Gemma's arm dropped to her side, but more disturbingly, the colour dropped from her face and the smile fell from her eyes.

"You can't say things like that anymore," Gemma said. "I'm getting married. Ed... Ed doesn't sing about me anyway. It wouldn't be appropriate."

Harry felt his face collapse under the weight of his frown. He knew his expression now matched Gemma's, drawn and miserable. Only his sister had a steely resolve beneath her unhappiness.

"You shouldn't have to get married," Harry said quietly. He'd wanted to say it for months, ever since negotiations started to arrange the union.

"I was wondering when you were going to say that," she sighed. "You've been thinking it from the start. Don't deny it, Harry, you're a terrible actor."

"Good thing I'm not the politician then." Harry offered a small smile, wrapping his arm around his sister and leading her back towards the picnic rug.

They were in their favourite part of the royal woods, the little grove they had found and made their own as children. Before Gemma had inherited the throne and the wars that came with it. Before Harry had been given a sword and taught to use it to protect his sister and Kingdom of Cheshire till his last breath.

Their horses had gotten loose from where they had been tethered to a tree and were gleefully devouring Harry and Gemma's lunch. Harry didn't care. There were important things to discuss. His sister's happiness, for one. The war with King Louis of Doncaster, for another.

"I'm serious, Gem, you don't have to marry him. Our lawyers could draw up an iron clad treaty even his great, great grandchildren won't be able to get out of."

"Gaston is a brilliant general with the strongest army in the six kingdoms," Gemma reminded him unhappily. "When he pledges his men to the royal forces we'll finally have the strength to take on Doncaster. This truce won't last forever. All our sources say the Beast has been amassing troops near the border, improving the roads, stockpiling food and supplies. They're preparing for war, Haz, and I need to be ready."

"I know all that," Harry said, "but it's your life."

"It's my Kingdom," Gemma corrected him. "I live to serve Cheshire, and Gaston's request is not unreasonable. He's about to pledge his life, his wealth, his men- everything he has, to my cause. What he's asking in return isn't much."

"It's kind of everything," Harry said. He still had his arm around her, and he squeezed tight. They both stood watching the horses decimate the last meal they were going to eat together for a long time. Normally they would have laughed, but Harry couldn't see anything funny about seeing his sister wed in exchange for an army.

"That's just how these things work, when you're Queen," Gemma shrugged. "I've known it my whole life."

"I'm still sorry," Harry sighed. "If I could, I'd do it for you."

"I know, but I don't think Gaston's interested in you that way Harry."

"I should hope not!" Harry laughed, "you know what I mean though. If he had a sister..."

"Then I'd be asking another woman to pay the price of the war," Gemma shook her head, "or my own brother. No, Harry, I'm going in to this absolutely sure. I know the price I'm paying, and for my Kingdom I'm happy to pay it."

"I still wish you didn't have to marry strategically," Harry frowned, "it just seems so... cold."

"I don't have to. I'm choosing to," Gemma nudged him with her elbow, "there's a difference."

"If King Louis wasn't such a monster I'd say you should just marry him and put an end to the whole thing."

"There's a reason King Louis has never been able to find a bride. They don't call him The Beast for nothing."

"I heard he forbid his manservants from marrying until he does," Harry said, his lip curled in distaste, "Master Pain was engaged and the Beast forced him to break his word and end it."

"I heard that too," Gemma nodded, "He punished the man by forcing him to share living quarters with the war master. Malice? I don't even know if that's his name, but I'm sure the reputation is well deserved. I can't understand how a King can expect loyalty when he treats his servants so badly."

"He has no honour."

Harry wanted to spit on the ground with disgust, but he at least had enough honour to control the urge.

"But we do," Gemma detached herself and brushing her dress as clean as possible, "and honouring our oaths is what's going to win us this war."

"Sorry about your dress." Harry offered her his handkerchief, "but honestly, if Gaston Gaston-"

"D'Gaston!"

"Whatever, if he has a problem with you getting a little messy then he doesn't deserve you. You're amazing, even if you are the most annoying worst sister ever, and he's getting a lot more out of this deal than you are. He's getting you."

"Stop it," Gemma blushed, "you almost sound sincere."

"I'm serious, Gem. I'm... I'm going to miss it when I don't have you all to myself anymore."

Gemma gave him one of her famous hugs, the kind she had given him since they were little kids. "I need you to try to like Gaston," she wasn't begging, but it was close. "When you like someone you like them so much they actually become better people, Harry, but when you hate people... I really need you to like him. Can you please, please try?"

"I don't hate Gaston," Harry assured her, "I mean, I've seen him in battle and he's incredible. I've seen him in front of his men and he's got their respect. I've seen him at the negotiation table and he's clearly got a brain between his ears. I just... I've never actually spoken to him as myself, you know? I've always been playing the Prince and he's been playing the Duke but... I'm sure once I get to know him I'll love him."

"I hope so," Gemma sighed, with a small smile. Harry knew she was relieved, but it pained him to see the little well of unhappiness inside her. Gemma was committed to her decision, but Harry didn't believe for a second that it made her happy. "If you can love him then maybe one day so can I," she said, staring off in to space. Harry wondered if she heard a little music when her mind wandered like that. Wherever her thoughts went something in them made her happy.

Harry glanced up at the sun, which was much further along in the sky than he'd thought. "Uh...I hope Gaston finds tardiness adorable," Harry giggled, "because you're due to meet him in like... half an hour."

"Shit," Gemma swore, shooing the horses away from the picnic rug. "Fuck. Shit."

She grabbed the corners of the blanket, gathering everything together in a giant bundle. Harry rushed to readjust the horses' saddles and prepare them for the ride back to the castle (which would take at least an hour...oops.) He had to laugh when Gemma, the Queen of Cheshire, hauled the enormous, clinking bundle on to her back and sprinted off towards a bush, throwing it behind.

"I'll come back for it tomorrow," she said, "we've got to get to the palace!"

"Need a leg up?"

"Do I look like a girl to you?"

"Uh..."

"Get on your own horse, brother, and don't fall behind."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"That's more like it." Gemma leapt into the saddle and kicked her horse into an immediate canter. Harry urged his mount after her with a wide smile. She may be a blushing bride, but there was nothing maidenly about the Queen of Cheshire.

When they reached the fork in the road Gemma pulled up her mare and turned to Harry. "We could take the short cut?" she suggested, but really she was asking permission. She might be Queen, but when it came to her safety Harry was in charge.

"Bandits," Harry warned, "and that route takes us way too close to Doncaster. What if Louis has sent out a raiding party?"

Gemma nodded, but Harry could read her concern all over her face. If she was late Gaston might think she had withdrawn from the agreement. Harry's frown deepened. There was danger in taking the short route, but there was equal risk in being late to the engagement party.

"Just this once," he said, and saw relief in the set of Gemma's shoulders, "we'll take the short cut. But don't tell anyone. I might be the Prince but they'll have my head for putting you in that kind of danger."

"I order you to take me on the short cut," Gemma grinned, "now it's my fault if we get attacked by Doncastermen and locked in King Louis' dungeon."