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Chosen To Be

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From the moment Harry Hart met little four years-old Eggsy, on that god awful day he made Michelle Unwin a widow he knew he was cursed to damnation and a life of misery. In the span of two days, his whole world gets turned upside down and comes crashing back to a pinnacle of disasters.

It all started during a raid in the Middle East.

Middle East – 1997

“This is Zero One Alpha, reporting to HQ. We have secured Falcon. I repeat; we have secured Falcon.” Lee Unwin says into his earpiece.

Fastening their prisoner tightly to a chair with a strong strand of rope, Harry straightens up and walks around to face the silent man.

“By the time I count to ten you will have told me exactly what I need to know. If not… the number ten will be the last thing you will ever hear.”

Harry pauses to allow the man to speak but when no words leave his mouth, he starts counting.









The man pitches forward, hunched down in his chair in defeat, seemingly ready to accept his oncoming death rather than speak and giveaway Intel. Suddenly Lee jerks forward with a shocked cry, shoving Harry aside to land hard on his back.

“Grenade! Galahad, get back!” Lee throws himself forward on top of the man just as the man straightens up to reveal the key ring to his explosive grenade, leaving a devastating silence in the wake of the explosion.

“Shit.” Harry curses, lifting himself off of the ground and approaching his fallen friend. “Fucking missed it. How did I fucking miss it?” Harry says angrily.

“Merlin, I apologize for putting you in this position. You trained him well.” Arthur says consolingly. “James… training is over. You are appointed as the new Lancelot. Welcome to Kingsman.”

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Harry turns to Arthur once his speech is over.

“Arthur, I’ll deal with this mess personally.”

Arthur nods and clasps his shoulder tightly. “I’ll see you back at Kingsman for the toast to Lee on the morrow.”

“Sir,” Harry nods in agreement. 

 That disaster is what leads to Harry Hart standing outside of a London home knocking on the door with a stomach full of dread and guilt. That feeling only becomes worse at the unbidden tears that spring to Michelle Unwin’s eyes as he explains why he’s there.

That wasn’t even the worse part, no. Hell hath no fury like the cosmic joke he was being plagued with. Upon walking into the Unwin’s lovely home, Harry was assaulted with a scent so riveting he was momentarily overwhelmed.

He was sure this was the universe’s way of getting back at him for what happened in the Middle East. To show him who his mate is now, while having to deliver the news to said mate that her husband has died, is quite a cruel joke. But as Harry is welcomed further into her home he knew he was doomed.

That heavenly scent wasn’t coming from her…

It was coming from her son - her young infant son.


“I am terribly sorry to have to bring you such distressing news. I very much regret that your husband’s bravery can’t be publicly celebrated.” Harry explains somewhat stiffly, unnerved and weary at discovering that the child is his mate. “I hope you understand.”

“How can I understand!?!” Michelle sobs, quickly glancing towards the small child playing with his toys. “You won’t tell me anything! I didn’t even know he wasn’t with his squad.” She hisses quietly.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t say more.” Harry says softly. Looking at the small child, Harry quickly makes a snap decision, one that he will surely regret later. “But I would like to present you with this Medal of Valor… and if you look closely on the back, there’s a phone number.” Harry explains presenting Michelle with the medal.

“And as a more concrete gesture of our gratitude I would like to offer you… let’s call it a favor. The nature of it is your choice. Just tell the operator, ‘Oxfords not brogues,’ and I’ll know it’s you.”

“I don’t want your help!” Michelle snaps, slapping away his offered hand. “I just want my husband back!”

Harry sighs and slowly gets to his feet and approaches the small child on the floor and crouches down to his level. “Hello, what’s your name, young man?”

The child looks up at him curiously for a moment, staring at him with furrowed brows. “Eggsy.”

Harry smiles gently, “Hello, Eggsy. I want you to take care of this for me, alright?” At Eggsy’s nod Harry goes on.

“If you are ever in trouble Eggsy, I need you to call this phone number on the back, see? Tell the person on the phone ‘oxfords not brogues’. Can you say that for me, Eggsy?”

“Ossfords not bros” Eggsy says dutifully.

“Yes, that’s it.” Harry says smiling with a chuckle. “I need you to remember this alright? This is very important. Can you do that?”


“Good. You take care of this, Eggsy. And take care of your mum too.”

With that Harry got up and excused himself.

Walking away was possibly the hardest struggle he’s ever had to overcome. But he has to, he won’t pursue this.

He can’t.