#roughly based on Sir Terry's where's my cow which I have never actually read

[themalhambird]

Hello again! Okay now that you wrote it in the tags of the last fic you wrote for me - I need one where Hal's telling bedtime stories to Henry because it's hard to articulate in words how pure that is. Thank you again!

No matter where he was, or what he was doing, Hal Monmouth Prince of Wales always made sure he was home by six o’clock, to read to his baby son. Little Harry Plantagenet had a book, which was not chewed because medieval books are very expensive and his mother Princess Cate never let him keep it in his mouth long enough to bite. But it was Little Harry’s favourite book nonetheless, and so Hal read it over and over to him. It was all about a knight who lost his horse, and it went a little like this:

“Is that my horse? It goes moo! That’s not my horse, that is a cow!” And then Hal would make a cow noise, which always made his son giggle. And the book went on: “Is that my horse? It goes, baa! That’s not my horse, that is a sheep!” And Hal would make the sheep noise, and that made his son laugh too. Hal liked making the animal noises, but he said to Cate: “This seems like a very silly way to try and find a horse. And not even Falstaff could manage to mistake a sheep for a horse!” Then he paused and added: “Well, maybe he could, or at least he might claim it’s a horse even though he knows full well it’s a sheep,” because his friend Falstaff could be very silly like that sometimes. And Cate, who was cuddling Harry on her lap, rolled her eyes at her husband and said:

“It eez a story for children, ‘Arry, not your cousin’s ‘unting manual. Eet does not ‘ave to be logical, just fun. Carry on, or it will be passed Henri’s bedtime and you will not ‘ave finished telling him his story!” But Hal put the book to one side and shifted closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“How about daddy makes up a story for you tonight Harry?” he asked. “It can go: “I’ve lost my daddy,” he put his hands over his face like he was playing peekaboo. “Is that my daddy? It goes “Sweet honey lord!” That’s not my daddy, that’s uncle Ned!”

Little Harry eyed his father doubtfully, and Hal cast around for an impression the baby might be more familiar with, because Poins was currently absent from Court doing spy stuff that meant he couldn’t be around so much. There had been absolutely no cold outright rejections of former friendships on Hal’s part, because this is a happy story and such things don’t happen in happy stories. “I’ve lost my daddy,” Hal said, “Is that my daddy? It goes-” Hal wrinkled up his face and in the bestest, grumpiest voice he could muster exclaimed: “Now, Harry!” This time baby Harry laughed and clapped his hand. “Granpa!” he said. Hal and Cate exchanged smiles. 

“Clever boy!” Hal said. “That’s not your daddy! That’s your grandsire the King!”

“Is that my daddy? It goes woof, woof, woof, woof- get down!- woof woof! That’s not my daddy, that’s Cousin York being swamped by excitable puppies again! Is that my daddy? It goes ‘Anon, Anon!’ that’s Master Francis at the Boar’s Head- where I have definitely not taken our infant son,” he added hastily, as Cate’s eyebrows rose and she gave Hal a look that promised trouble if he wasn’t careful, “That’s not my daddy! Is that my daddy? It goes, uh,  voulez vous coucher avec moi se soir? That’s not my daddy, that’s…the only bit of French I know, I’m trying to imitate your mother-”

“Mummy goes Bonjour mon petit!” Harry interjected, looking up at his mother and beaming. 

“Your three year old is better at French than you are,” Cate said, with a smirk. 

“Well, duh,” Hal retorted. “He’s half French! It’s an unfair advantage.”

Cate stuck her tongue out. “Is that my daddy?” she asked,  “It goes “bler de bler bleurgh, ble blur.” That’s not daddy, that’s Uncle Humphrey doing an impression of daddy failing really really badly at speaking French!” she whispered conspiratorially in her son’s ear just loud enough for her husband to hear, and rewarded Harry with a kiss on his chubby cheek as he giggled and Hal glared in mock outrage. 

“Is that my daddy?” he asked, wresting back control of the narrative, “It goes I looooove my hoooorse, my horse is my best frieeeeend! That’s not my daddy, that’s mummy’s annoying brother, my uncle Dauphin.” Then, before his wife could retaliate, “Is that my daddy? It goes Look you! That’s not my daddy, that’s Captain Fluellen. Is that my daddy? It goes MORTIMER! that’s not my daddy, that’s the Hotspur being grumpy as usual!”

“MORTIMER!” Harry repeated, clapping his hands in excitement while Hal cast around for another impression to do. “MORTIMER, MORTIMER, MORTIMER!”

“Your father is going to charge you with treason and banish you to King’s Langley with my sister, and brother in law,” Cate said, and Hal grinned. 

“Is that my daddy? It goes “Here, cousin, seize the crown! That’s not my daddy, that’s uncle Richard! Do you remember when we took you to meet uncle Richard last week Harry?”

“Pretty hair,” Harry said solemnly. “Nice doggy. Can we go again?”

“Probably not for a while,” Hal admitted. “Granpa doesn’t like people going to see uncle Richard much. You see, ,once upon a time-”

“You are getting your stories mixed,” Cate said quietly. “perhaps you should save that one for another time? It is getting late, Harry must go to bed soon,” As she said this, Harry yawned and snuggled against his mother. Hal smiled fondly. “Of course,” he said, moving to bring the story to a close “Is that my daddy?” he asked, reaching out his hands. Cate passed Harry over to him as he went. “It goes: Harry you are the most precious thing on this earth  and I love you to a million pieces! mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah!” he took Harry and pressed lots of his kisses to his tummy, and Harry giggled. “Daddy!” he said, and Hal smiled as he stood up, cuddling his son tight while Cate pulled back the bed clothes. They tucked their son in to bed together, both smiling down at him. “That’s right,” Hal said, stroking Harry’s soft, fluffy hair. “daddy loves you very much.” he pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead and tucked the blankets in around him.

“And mummy loves you very much,” Cate added, leaning in to kiss him as well. “Bonsoir, mon petit.”

“Night- night.”

“Bonsoir -night- night.” little Harry mumbled, eyes drifting shut as his parents blew out the candles. They turned to each other, smiling through the now-semi darkness as they took hands and Hal caught his wife’s lips in a kiss. 

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi se soir?” he murmered, and Cate laughed quietly. 

“Oh, oui,” she agreed, and they both tiptoed quietly out of their son’s room and towards their own