Captain Anthony Crowley of the Royal Guard did his nightly rounds. Unashamed, he had used his position to give himself his favourite spot. The flowers and trees near the main house were even more beautiful in the moonlight than in the bright sun. With a pleasant sigh, Crowley enjoyed the mild breeze, whispering in the flora, as well as the amazing sight.
In addition to the view, this patrol was the quietest. So deep in the palace area no intruder was to be expected. To come this far, someone had to pass all other security measures, something that had not ever happened in the history of the Royal Guard.
So Crowley was surprised to hear rustling nearby. He rushed around a corner and his eyes widened. At the wall of the main building, underneath the prince’s bedroom window, a figure climbed along the vines. Not very elegantly though - the broad legs struggling to find hold and the butt wiggling in desperation.
From Crowley’s position this definitely looked like the well-rounded behind of Prince Aziraphale. But this could not be. Aziraphale was a reasonable person. Aside from being kind, warm, clever, funny and incredibly handsome with large green-blue eyes… stop that! Prince Aziraphale would be married soon! Anyway, Prince Aziraphale was not the type of person to climb along a vine covered wall at dead of night.
Well, it did not really matter. Whoever it was, he just found out that vines, no matter how long grown and sturdy looking, were not made to carry the weight of an adult man. One of the branches ripped, the man quickly grabbed another which did not hold him either and with a curse the intruder fell.
Fortunately his luck was larger than his burglarizing skill. The thick shrubbery beneath the window, while sure not comfortable, intercepted his fall. Cracking, the boughs gave in under the body, but the foliage would cushion it.
Crowley ran closer to check on the man and of course to arrest him. And to question him. Boy, was he curious. But as he heard the intruder speaking, he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Oh, bugger,” sounded a soft voice from the bushes.
“Prince Aziraphale?” Crowley asked.
Sure enough, the prince climbed out of the greenery. Leaves in his blond curls and scratches on his face, he cleared his throat, trying to regain some dignity.
“Good evening, Captain Crowley,” he said as if they were having a formal meeting in the throne room, instead of a suspicious encounter in the garden inmidst some ripped vines.
With raised brows, Crowley noticed Aziraphale’s attire. It was not the usual fine and expensive satin clothes the prince typically wore. While very becoming of the generous body, the beige shirt and trousers were definitely made for a commoner.
“My Prince?” Crowley asked. “What are you doing? Here? Now? Dressed like that?”
Aziraphale put on a charming smile and opened his mouth to speak. But apparently he changed his mind. His smile dropped and was replaced by a defiant expression. He straightened his posture and his chin and lifted his cute nose.
“I’m leaving!” he announced. “They can give the title to my brother or my stupid cousin for all I care. I don’t want it anymore!”
“Come on,” Crowley said softly. “You don’t mean that. You’ll make a great king one day. This country needs you.”
Sadness clouded Aziraphale’s eyes. For a moment, he seemed to ponder Crowley’s words, but then he shook his head.
“I… I can’t,” he stammered. “Not like this.”
“What do you mean?” Crowley asked.
“What do you think?” Aziraphale hissed.
With a sigh, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s wrists, not painfully, but resolutely.
“I think,” he said, “I’ll bring you back to your room. If you’re reasonable now, we don’t need to mention this… occurence to anyone.”
Crowley began walking. But soon he noticed resistance. As he turned, he saw Aziraphale, with a stubborn expression on the pretty face, trying to stand his ground. Of course a Captain of the Royal Guard was stronger than a spoiled Prince. However, Crowley did not want Aziraphale to get in trouble and there was no way he would get Aziraphale back to his quarters without alerting anyone if Aziraphale did not cooperate.
Sighing, he stepped closer to Aziraphale.
“Listen,” he said. “I get it. You’re usually very collected. But marriage is a big thing. Getting cold feet is normal. But think of your bride! Imagine how she will feel.”
At that, Aziraphale let out a humourless laugh.
“How would I even begin to imagine that?” he asked. “I don’t even know that woman!”
“What?” Crowley’s eyes went wide. “But I thought…”
“Yes, yes, my mother is spreading the oh so romantic tale of how we met at a Royal ball and the violins began to play and yada yada yada,” Aziraphale reiterated with rolling eyes. “But we never met. And even if we had met…”, he lowered his eyes, “...there would have been no violins. I… I like men. Only men.”
“Oh,” was all Crowley could think of saying.
His heart ached for the prince. Aziraphale was a lovely and kind person and did not deserve a loveless marriage. Of course, Crowley was not naive. He knew that arranged marriages were common in noble circles, especially for royality. But it was a wide-spread belief - until now shared by Crowley - that Aziraphale’s family did not practice it. Apparently this was a well maintained lie.
Aziraphale was looking at Crowley with beautiful and tear-filled eyes.
“Please, Captain Crowley,” he begged. “Let me go.”
“Go where?” Crowley asked. “If something happens to you…”
“I can look out for myself!” Aziraphale insisted.
Crowley raised a brow and made a sound of disbelief.
“Can you now?”
“Of course,” Aziraphale said with indignation. “I planned everything. I saved some money and hid some spare clothes in the garden. 30 steps to the North of the big statue is supposed to be a tunnel that leads to the stables. I have the key to the secret door. I slip through, go to Silversong Harbour, board a ship and am out of here.”
“But…”
“Just… pretend you didn’t see me,” Aziraphale said. “It will be hours before anyone notices I’m gone for good. Nobody will know that it happened during your shift.”
“I’m more worried about you than about me,” Crowley said genuinely. “You must know how much I care about you.”
“Then don’t make me marry a stranger, Captain Crowley,” Aziraphale pleaded. “Please, I can handle myself. I got this.”
Crowley bit his lip. Then, with a nod and a sigh, let go of Aziraphale’s wrists. The smile it earned him was almost worth the heartbreak at seeing Aziraphale go. After a few steps, Aziraphale turned to Crowley once more.
“Captain?” he said sheepishly. “In the night it is hard to tell - where exactly is North of the statue?”
Groaning, Crowley pointed in the right direction. With a grateful smile, Aziraphale waved and scurried through the night. Crowley watched the curvy figure disappear into the shadows.
The decision was easy and made fast.
With long and determined strides he went after the Prince. Crowley had agreed to let him go, not to let him go alone.