Henry And Alex - Blog Posts

would Henry love square dancing or line dancing or swing dancing? Imagine them doing some kind of swing dance mixed with some modern ballroom (cuz you know at least Alex had to take some classes) for their first dance at their wedding. Laughing and pushing and pulling each other all around the dancefloor and looking very much in love

Right so Henry wants to be a writer right? And how he's the first openly queer British royal. WHat if he began researching and writing a comprehensive book about the queer history of British monarchs?!?!?! Like what if that's what he becomes known for. Please somebody make a fic i beg you.

Does your brain ever just go "Sorry. Er. I was just. Cornettos.”

Okay remember when Alex said-

“I saw this young, queer guy who looked like me, sleeping at his desk because he wants kids at public schools in his state to have free lunches, and I was like, I could do this. I honestly don’t know if I’m good enough or smart enough to ever be either of my parents. But I could be that.”

“And now I’m sitting here thinking, that son of a bitch sold out, so maybe it’s all bullshit, and maybe I really am just a naive kid who believes in magical shit that doesn’t happen in real life.”

AND HOW THIS JUST PROVES HOW GOOD HE ACTUALLY IS-

Once, there was a young prince who was born in a castle. His mother was a princess scholar, and his father was the most handsome, feared knight in all the land. As a boy, people would bring him everything he could ever dream of wanting. The most beautiful silk clothes, ripe fruit from the orangery.

At times, he was so happy, he felt he would never grow tired of being a prince. He came from a long, long line of princes, but never before had there been a prince quite like him: born with his heart on the outside of his body. When he was small, his family would smile and laugh and say he would grow out of it one day. But as he grew, it stayed where it was, red and visible and alive. He didn’t mind it very much, but every day, the family’s fear grew that the people of the kingdom would soon notice and turn their backs on the prince.

His grandmother, the queen, lived in a high tower, where she spoke only of the other princes, past and present, who were born whole.

Then, the prince’s father, the knight, was struck down in battle. The lance tore open his armor and his body and left him bleeding in the dust. And so, when the queen sent new clothes, armor for the prince to parcel his heart away safe, the prince’s mother did not stop her. For she was afraid, now: afraid of her son’s heart torn open too.

So the prince wore it, and for many years, he believed it was right.

Until he met the most devastatingly gorgeous peasant boy from a nearby village who said absolutely ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years and who turned out to be the most mad sort of sorcerer, one who could conjure up things like gold and vodka shots and apricot tarts out of absolutely nothing, and the prince’s whole life went up in a puff of dazzling purple smoke, and the kingdom said, “I can’t believe we’re all so surprised.”

"It’s weird because I always know things about people, gut feelings that usually lead me in more or less the right direction. I do think I got a gut feeling with you, I just didn’t have what I needed in my head to understand it. But I kind of kept chasing it anyway, like I was just going blindly in a certain direction and hoping for the best. I guess that makes you the North Star?"

If not this sort of vulnerable beautiful confession, what's the point🙄?

I just can't- how Henry knew he loved Alex all along and couldn't put it into words and so- they used other important figures' letters- like Hamilton and Eliza-*sobs profusely*

"You engross my thoughts too intirely to allow me to think of any thing else—you not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep. I meet you in every dream—and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness."

~Red, white and Royal Blue

Romance is dead except for whatever that nerdy dirty-mouthed perfectionist aspiring American politician and blonde haplessly romantic Hufflepuff British poet prince had going on.....

"Anyway, I found this part of a letter Hamilton wrote to Laurens, and it made me think of you. And me, I guess:

"The truth is I am an unlucky honest man, that speak my sentiments to all and with emphasis. I say this to you because you know it and will not charge me with vanity. I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself. The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you …"

Thinking about history makes me wonder how I’ll fit into it one day, I guess. And you too. I kinda wish people still wrote like that.

History, huh? Bet we could make some.

Affectionately yours, slowly going insane,

Alex, First Son of Founding Father Sacrilege."

He’s definitely not thinking about Henry.

He’s not thinking about Henry when he puts in twenty-three hours in his first week of work, or when he’s filling the rest of his hours with class and papers and going for long runs and drinking triple-shot coffees and poking around the Senate offices. He’s not thinking about Henry in the shower or at night, alone and wide awake in his bed.

Except for when he is. Which is always.

~rwarb, Casey McQuiston

“I’d date more, probably, as well.”

Alex can’t help laughing again. “Right, because it’s so hard to get a date when you’re a prince.” Henry cuts his eyes back down to Alex. “You’d be surprised.” “How? You’re not exactly lacking for options.” Henry keeps looking at him, holding his gaze for two seconds too long. “The options I’d like…” he says, dragging the words out. “They don’t quite seem to be options at all.”

Alex blinks. “What?”

“I’m saying that I have … people … who interest me,” Henry says, turning his body toward Alex now, “But I shouldn’t pursue them. At least not in my position.” Are they too drunk to communicate in English? He wonders distantly if Henry knows any Spanish.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Alex says.

“You don’t?” “No.”

“You really don’t?” “I really, really don’t.”

Henry’s whole face grimaces in frustration, his eyes casting skyward like they’re searching for help from an uncaring universe. “Christ, you are as thick as it gets,” he says, and he grabs Alex’s face in both hands and kisses him.

~Red, White and Royal Blue