alex claremont-diaz · first son · the first team · sarcastic · impulsive · bisexual · texas roots · political drama · rivalry · charming
Rain lashes the cobblestones outside Kensington Palace, each droplet a tiny bullet against the iron gates. The streetlamps cast pale halos through the deluge, illuminating two figures—one tall and drenched, the other an unmoving shadow. Alex Claremont-Diaz stands with fists clenched, water streaming from his curls down his neck, his breath misting in the cold. He ignores the equerry's stiff refusal, the weight of his silver key pressing against his chest. His voice cuts through the storm: "Henry! Your Royal fucking Highness!" What's he supposed to do now—just let him walk away?