History Repeats Itself - A Prince Harry Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty Part-One

"Guess who doesn't want to be here right now," Harry said in a bitter sing-song voice, glaring ahead at the road. Beside him, in the driver's seat, Rick chuckled. In the back, Emmy rolled her eyes. "Hey, I saw that."

"Please try not to cause drama," she said, leaning forward to rest her chin on the shoulder of his chair. "You know what my father's like-"

"Arrogant, sexist, and an overall cunt," he said.

Emmy frowned, sitting back; his profanity – her most hated word – made her uncomfortable. "Just ignore him."

"How can I? You know that he's going to ask me all about the wedding and whether I'm "taking good care of you" and "Oh, Henry, do come and drink some of this wine that I secretly spat in"."

Again, Emmy rolled her eyes.

"So you don't like him, Harry?" Rick said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. It was a sight that was not often seen: Harry's head PO with a smile on his face. It surprised Emmy.

Harry returned a wry grin. "Can't you tell?"

"Couldn't make it any more obvious," she muttered under her breath.

"Emmy!" He swivelled as far as the seat belt would let him, fixing her with a scowl. "You have to hate him just as much as I do."

"He's my father," she said.

"So? Do you not hear the way he talks to you? You've been his daughter for nineteen years, surely he'd know you prefer being called 'Emmy' by now."

"He's just a...traditionalist."

"He's an arsehole."

"You're an arsehole," she added cheekily, trying to change the serious subject to something more light-hearted.

"At least I'm not a sexist arsehole," he replied.

Emmy sighed theatrically, trying to emphasise her exasperation. "Be the better man, Harry. You know what's coming so try and prepare for it so that you can ignore it."

He huffed, annoyed. He didn't mind spending New Year with Emmy's family, especially since she'd spent Christmas with his – and his father and William and Kate would be at the party to celebrate the end of the year anyway – but it was the thought. The thought of Alexander and his smug little face, his arrogance, his apparent kindness and then underlying haughtiness, it irritated him.

They continued in silence for the next few minutes. Alexander's house was in the heart of the New Forest, minutes away from quaint, picturesque villages like Brockenhurst and Minstead, and it was through these that they travelled, down tiny roads bordered by vast green land and shadowy woods. Before long, however, Emmy could stand the silence no longer.

"Are you angry?" she asked in a murmur.

Harry sighed. "No. Not angry."

"Annoyed?"

"Kind of," he admitted. "Mainly by the thought of...what's to come. I don't want to have to put up with your father."

"Neither do I," she said. "But I've had to. For nineteen years."

"I don't know how you did it," he said, throwing her a sad grin.

"It was hard," she said. "Especially after my mother died. My father was so close to Benedict and Lucy, but I was the closest to our mother. Maybe that's why Father doesn't seem to love me as much as my siblings. Maybe it's because I never loved him as much as Mother."