History Repeats Itself - A Prince Harry Fanfiction

Chapter Four

Emmy stared ahead of her, eyes fixed on the portrait on the wall: her great-grandmother glaring down at her. She wondered whether her ancestor would have approved of what was going on. She supposed she would have - that was probably the norm in those days.

A week had passed since the news. Since Emmy's life had been thrown upside down and spun around, knotted together and then torn apart again. She couldn't argue with her father, she couldn't resist the power he had over her, and so she found herself sat at the dining table, awaiting the arrival of her future husband.

Harry hadn't been much help, either.

She hadn't seen him yet. She had no idea how he would be towards her - would he blame her? She wouldn't blame him if he did. She hated him just a little bit, hated him for being a prince and for being such a perfect husband.

She was trying not to blame him. But it wasn't easy. Especially when she remembered...what was to come.

Husband.

This is my husband. Harry, darling!

She cringed internally. That was what they would become. To people silently suffocating in a loveless marriage.

Her father sat at the head of the table, and the other end was reserved for Charles, who seemed to have acquired god-like status in the household, for Alexander spoke of him with such respect and admiration, Emmy wondered whether all the family's problems could be solved if Alexander just married him.

But no. She had to be unhappy.

She heard Chelsea approaching, leading the two princes to the room, and Emmy felt a surge of nerves course through her. Harry. This would be the first time she'd see him, the first time he'd see her. This was what it all came down to.

"Ah, Alexander!"

"Charles! How good to see you again!"

Alexander practically jumped to his feet, hurrying forward to meet his friend, and, after a glare from Chelsea, Emmy reluctantly rose, too. She felt remarkably small, childish even, as she watched Harry sulk into the room after his father.

Harry was glaring. At everything and everyone.

But his eyes met Emmy's, and she swore she saw his harsh expression soften. Almost with pity. Maybe. Maybe she'd just imagined it.

"Henry!" Alexander said, patting Harry on the back and smiling broadly at him. "How are you? Well, I hope."

"Eh." Harry shrugged as he grunted his answer. Alexander's smile disappeared, but he quickly ushered the two to the table.

"Henry, you sit beside Emmaline, yes, there, and Charles, head of the table."

"Oh, but we're so far away," Charles chortled, pretending to shield his eyes as he gazed down the table at his friend, emphasising the distance between them. "Can you hear me, Alexander?" he called.

Alexander chuckled. "Loud and clear."

Harry huffed as he sank into the seat beside Emmy, rolling his eyes and muttering, "Embarrassing" under his breath.

"Don't worry," Emmy said, returning her gaze to painting on the wall; she couldn't look at him. She hated to admit it, but she was embarrassed too. And not because of her father's silly behaviour. "My father's like this all the time."

"Hmm." Harry didn't seem affected by that. He pulled himself closer to the table, sighed, and slipped his phone out of his pocket, resuming a game of 2048 that he'd been playing.