The key that opens
'I don't think you understand the stakes of this assignment.' Minerva said, her voice echoing around the stone walls of the courtyard.
'I do ma'am.' James replied dutifully, his sarcastic remarks that usually would have risen in his throat, silent, quashed by the swirling anxiety in his stomach.
'Do you, James? Really?' James lowered his head, 'If you fail at this, if even one little princely hair is knocked out of place by the end of the day, it is both our heads at the chopping block. Do you understand that James?'
'Yes ma'am.' He replied, his voice coming out hoarse and strained. He was really starting to regret his choice of profession.
'Good. Because I have a wife James, and I intend to grow quite old with her. Please don't be the roadblock in that old dream of mine will you?' James swallowed, and nodded, almost not of his own volition.
'I won't be ma'am.' he said after a moment, his tone regaining some of its usual confidence, even if it was fake.
'I'm sorry it had to be you James, but you do understand don't you?' Minerva said finally.
James, as he stood there, looking at the woman who'd mentored him for over a decade, suddenly felt the same way he did when he stood in this same courtyard eleven years ago. Scared, and afraid, but strangely comforted by the threats of a wise looking woman with greying hair. Minerva was as good as a mother to him, and so despite the twisting feeling in his stomach, he nodded.
'Good.' she said, her face reforming itself into its usual mask of composure, 'They'll be here to collect you in twenty, ready or not, so I'd best get going if I was you.'
He nodded again, for what scarily felt like the last time, and made his way up to the dormitories.
****
It was a good thing really, that he'd been chosen.
The pay was good, too good really, though he supposed that came with a job in the palace. That and he'd finally get his own room for once, though he supposed it would be less of a room, and more a watch station of sorts, so he could always be near to the prince, even while he slept.
He should be happy. Most people within the guard never get a permanent placing, and are sent off on odd jobs, never straying from the compound for more than a few weeks at a time. James though, would never have to see that decaying place again if he didn't want to. He would be travelling the country, half the world even, on the stipend of the king, and all he had to do in return was make sure that his son didn't die. Easy enough.
Regardless though, his stomach refused to settle. It felt too quick, too sudden, he needed more time. But he supposed it made sense that they were moving so fast, the kingdom was down to one heir, and the rapidly aging monarchs no longer had the ability to produce another.
Prince Regulus, was the country's only hope at a stable succession. And to the crown, and the guard, that was of upmost priority.
****
'Evan? Evan where the fuck are you?' James yelled into the empty courtyard. It was Sunday, so the rest of the guard was at church, but he knew Evan never cared for God, unless he had suddenly had a crisis of faith. When they were younger, they would skive off mass together, and sneak into the back to steal a bottle of communion wine. And while the sisters had never caught them directly, it didn't stop them from suspecting them.
James had at least hoped to see him once before he went.
'Evan? Come on man I know you're here somewhere.' At that, a very tired looking Evan stumbled out of one of the alleyways, rubbing his eyes with the balls of his palms.
'Goodness James, what the fuck has you screaming this early? Just give the pipes some oil or what?' James didn't reply, instead choosing to sweep his best friend of ten years in a crushing hug.
Evan, though slightly startled, relaxed into it, wrapping his arms around James in turn.
'What's all this about? What did Minnie have a go again? I told you not to listen to her James, she's-'
'I'm leaving.' James said, tears threatening to well in his eyes, blurring his vision. James' head was still tucked into Evan's shoulder, so he couldn't see his reaction, but he had a feeling he was confused.
'What do you mean you're leaving? What on an assignment? Okay? When are you gonna be back then?'
James stilled, his eyes screwing shut. 'I'm not. I'm not coming back Evan. They're sending me away for good.'
Evan drew back sharply, his arms still screwed onto James' shoulders, but this time James could see the hurt and sadness displayed on Evan's face.
'What do you mean? Where are they sending you? Holy shit James.'
'I know.' He breathed out, bringing his hands away from Evan for a moment to wipe the water from his eyes, 'fucking hell, I know. They're sending me to the palace. Personal body guard to the prince.'
It was strange, but James somehow knew what Evan's reaction to that statement would be. He knew it wouldn't be the envious, but elated glee of his dorm when he told them why he was packing his things. Evan seemed to be the only other one who understood this job to be what it was. A death sentence.
But to see it displayed on his face, rather than just in his mind's eye, was even more crushing than he'd expected.
'James... Fuck.' He said, pulling him back into an embrace, his arms wrapped tightly around his back as if that could make him stay. But nothing could. He was property of the guard, and they had just retitled his deed.
'You'll write to me yeah?' James said, his voice strangely hopeful, despite the situation.
'Fuck of course. I don't think they'd be able to stop me. Fuck, the palace huh?'
'yeah.' James sniffled, wiping the rest of his tears with his shirt sleeve.
'James you be careful yeah? I know that sounds stupid, but please. Be careful. That place is a viper's den, don't get yourself mixed up with that shit.'
'Nah, trust me, I know where I stand.'
****
It had taken him five minutes to pack his things.
Not that he had expected it to take any longer really.
He was rather skint in the way of personal possessions. He had the clothes he wore to mass (When he could be arsed to go), he had his training uniform, the shoes on his feet, a few pairs of underwear, and ten letters, sealed in fine red wax.
Plus, his training uniform was gonna taken in as soon as he left the dorm. Given to some new unlucky recruit, probably only with a hasty scrub in the laundry well in between. So he supposed his trunk was then another thing lighter.
It wasn't that he longed for personal possessions, years living in the same room as thirty odd other teenage boys taught you not to value your things too strongly, lest you be crushed when they're inevitably stolen.
More that he longed to have a little more... substance?
He could fit his entire life, an entire decade of memories in a trunk two and half handspans wide. His life felt too fragile, as if one small gust of wind could erase all evidence of him on a whim.
But he had Evan, and he supposed that would have to be enough for now.
For the rest though, he quickly shoved the odd loose end into his too light trunk. His fraying toothbrush, his small bar of soap, and the bone tooth comb he used to brush his hair each morning. He knew he'd likely be able to source much better replacements at the palace, it felt too painful at that moment, to part with that as well as the rest of his life as he knew it.
He didn't feel the need to say goodbye to the other boys at the compound.
They knew where he was going, so it wasn't as if not saying goodbye would lead them to worry or anything. And plus, James already knew what they'd say.
They'd congratulate him with that same false tone that let you know that in their mind, they were thinking about this exact conversation in reverse. Fantasising about the day they would leave this rotten place behind.
James couldn't blame them, he'd done the same a few years ago, when Arthur had left to be sent to the coast to guard the royal shipping company on voyages. James dreamed even then of seeing the world, so he kindly pushed away the more realistic images of rough and perilous seas, and empty provision barrels, in favour of the idyllic images that had haunted his dreams since he was a child.
But now that these were his shoes he was wearing, now that he stood at the foot of the carriage that would take him away from all he knew, forever. The images filling his brain were much less idyllic, and much less serene.
They were plagued with musket barrels, and the smell of gunpowder. Spears through his stomach and the guillotine at his neck.
'Yeoman Warder Potter.'
The final syllable of his name, tolled his fate like a funeral bell. He supposed that was apt though. After today, he would barely have a name, and if and when he died on this assignment, his funeral would be quick, and without honour. It felt oddly nice that he could be acknowledged now, if not in death.
He stood up, and though his brain hesitated, his body did not. There could be no weakness from this point on. Weakness would put the king's sword at his throat, if not the barrel of a rebel shotgun.
He had already said his goodbyes, at least all the ones that mattered.
The carriage that would take him to the palace was as much as he expected. Quietly luxurious, yet not luxurious enough as to make him think he was anything other than he was. A body in the army of the king, cannon fodder. He was to be a human shield in the way of the bullets that would surely fire for Prince Regulus, as they had for his brother.
He tried not to look at Minnie as he entered the carriage, too afraid of what he would see there. But he caught a glimpse of her as he passed, she looked older then. A little more weathered, as though the process of sentencing one of her child soldiers to death had aged her.
Really James shouldn't be so morbid. He was only the what, fifth guardsman to be sent to the palace. Perhaps the odds were indeed in his favour.
****