The Sword (Prince Harry fanfic #3)

Chapter Eighteen

A couple days later, Lucy's grandfather was laid to rest. Snow graced the ground in late November. In a few days time, Thanksgiving would come, and Lucy would see some of her other-side of family members. The gray was sky and ice hid under the fresh snow. It wasn't too cold outside but Harry managed to bundle himself up. Lucy wore just a black jacket, which managed to hold off the thick flakes. With the lack of sun, the temperature dipped, and a chill echoed within her.

Lucy's gaze tried to stay on the ceremony of her grandfather, but just outside the gates of the graveyard laid many cameras. They zoomed in on her and they backed away. Bright flashes of light managed to make it over to her in more than a hundred feet. They would sometimes scream, with little respect of the situation. The paparazzi's favorite moments were when Harry touched Lucy.

At first, he was hesitant of the situation, realizing who watched them. Harry waited for her social cues, and in the beginning, Lucy didn't seem like she wanted to be touched. He knew this was difficult for her, and it had been a long time since anyone stood by her side at a graveyard. Lucy stood on her own. She didn't need to do this now. As the ceremony grew on, Lucy reached out for his hand, a small gesture, and he took it. The cameras really clicked then.

As the ceremony finished, people started to leave from the graveyard, which they would get back into their cars for the wake. The funeral part had been long, to sit in a church with many other strangers, to see her grandfather's dead body sprawled out. The ceremony at the grave site seemed to take longer, as if to stretch out the pain. The wake was to hopefully be somewhat of a happier occasion. 

Lucy stayed staring at his grave site for a couple minutes, as people slowly melted away. There hadn't been a large turnout of people to begin with since of the weather and time of the year, and her grandfather didn't have that many friends. Even less came to the grave site and even less would come to the wake.

"Tell me about him, please," Harry asked. His eyes stayed on the grave site, much like Lucy's did. He had managed to ask about her grandfather earlier but she rarely gave an answer or perhaps a quick story.

She smiled a little. "He was ruthless sometimes," she said, "and he didn't have that many friends, as you can tell." She glanced around at all the people gone. "He was an only child, and he started at the bottom and worked his way up."

"He was ruthless?"

"Yeah. If he wanted something done his way and you didn't do it, you were fired. Many people hated him for many things. He was either your friend or your enemy in his business."

"What business was your grandfather in?"

"Textiles."

His blue eyes swept over to Lucy. "I didn't realize that's a hateful business...."

"Apparently." Lucy rolled her eyes. "But at least some people showed up."

"Yeah," he agreed, "it's better than none."

"Probably not a problem you'll have."

Harry's eyes fluttered upward. This was something he didn't want to think about, not with his birthdays seeming to make him older. There were other thoughts of his mind, such as his mother's age for her death.

Lucy noticed the change and swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "it's fine, really." Breathing deeply, white little puffs of air came from his mouth and dissipated in the air. "I'm just starting to feel old."

She laughed aloud, blunt and heavy. "You-- old?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh either. "For being thirty-four years old, I need to get my life together."

"How do you expect to do that?" she asked.

Sighing, his gaze turned up to the gray clouds of the sky. If it weren't for the coldness, he might see no difference between this graveyard and any other. "There are many things I wish to do. There are many things that if I do this, I have my life together."

"But?"

His gaze turned to her. "What if I'm scared of doing certain things? What if someone says no?"

"Do people really say no to you, Prince Charming?"

"You do."

Lucy rolled her eyes again, as if she was yet a teenager again. "Yes, because you need to be told no sometimes, like everyone does." His arm was curled around her and she stepped into him. "And sometimes, you just say stupid things so the response of no is needed."

A cold breeze came through the graveyard, making both of them shiver. Lucy's dress was lifted for a second, and it was to be the paparazzi's favorite picture of her if she hadn't been wearing black leggings underneath. Their gazes glanced at the dress that settled back down on her body, and she looked to the paparazzi. Harry followed her gaze. They had followed everywhere, and they would follow everywhere. It was their job to get the pictures to be sold to the highest bigger all for some big lie. They wanted a picture where Lucy looked fat to claim her to carry Harry's lovechild. Or they wanted her to look distraught to say Harry broke her heart. Or they wanted a picture where the young couple looked angry to say trouble in paradise. The paparazzi wanted to ruin them.

Harry wouldn't let them.

Her hand latched onto his and she led them back to the car. It was at least somewhat warm inside the car, even though Lucy thought it wasn't too bad. She would stay in Minnesota until the new year, and temperatures were only going to drop. Harry needed to get used to the cold if he was meant to stay here.

Lucy started up the car and pulled away from the graveyard. Police officers, who had to follow Lucy constantly now, blocked the paths of the paparazzi so she might be free. Once they pulled onto the open road, cars started to follow her car, all filled with more paparazzi.

She never understood how she was a story, how Harry was a story. Didn't these people have actual things to be reporting on? There were actual stories in the world. And why did they send legions of people to take the same pictures? These pictures wouldn't ever be truly used.

Driving, Lucy checked her mirrors again, all in the hope the paparazzi wouldn't make her crash the car. She pulled into the parking lot of the Legion. Paparazzi were left in her wake.