Her first week in Lochmore went by quickly, and surprisingly so. The wedding planning took up most of the Queen and Marie's time, and since they were only given a week, they kept busy. Marie had barely even seen her betrothed. He was off, with his father and brother hunting, which was apparently official business. However, the three men returned on the eve of the wedding, just in time for the following day's nuptials. While in the Queen's presence, Marie was able to mask her discomfort, but now, as she stared out the window overlooking the castle grounds...her world seemed to be closing in on her. Maybe it was how tight her maiden had tied her corset this morning, but she felt like she couldn't breathe and she truly didn't want to do this. She didn't want the weight of two countries on her shoulders. Surely, she wasn't strong enough. Someone clears their throat behind her and she quickly turns around. This is the second time he's caught her crying, and she doesn't like it. As he watches her, he feels sympathy for the young Princess, and as tears roll down her cheeks, he only wants to find words that will soothe her.
"I can't imagine how hard this must be. I truly can't."
"Do you..." She sniffles and tries to make her voice sound less meek. "Do you ever find solace in the idea that you don't have the responsibilities that we have?" He leans against the wall, gazing at her. "Your brother and me."
"Yes and no." She follows his movements and studies him, carefully. "I feel like, sometimes, I'm not respected the way Leopold is. He's the heir to the throne. I'm the younger son...the occasionally reckless son. So, I suppose it's nice, not to be scrutinized all the time, the way that he is...but I think...he's lucky. In some aspects of his life, and his duties." Marie nods at the handsome Prince. His eyes are utterly captivating. "But I'm sorry that your duties have brought you here—well, for your sake. You should know that we truly appreciate your decision to come here, Princess."
"I didn't choose this, my parents did. I just...decided not to throw myself off the top of Notre Dame." Harry watches her with sadness in his expression. "I've never been given a choice to make on my own, not in my entire life." He holds up his finger.
"I'll be right back. Stay here—if, and only if, you choose to stay here." She smiles at him and nods. Choosing to stay. He's back in a couple of moments, with his arms behind his back. "Will you please close your eyes, Princess?" She closes them. "Alright, you may open them." In his ringed fingers, are two stemless roses. Two beautiful blossoms. A deep red one and the other being a cream color. "Choose one. Or both. But it's entirely up to you." Marie bites her lip and feels a tinge of excitement surge through her veins. She gently takes the ruby red rose, and her fingers tickle his. She breathes in the heavenly fragrance and he admires her as she does so.
"May I have them both?" He shrugs, a teasing gleam in his eye.
"The choice is yours, and yours alone." She takes the white one, as well, feeling a small bout of victory. Even if it was a silly choice to make, he aided her in making it. Rather, he made it possible.
"They are beautiful, your Highness." He raises his eyebrows. "Harry." She corrects herself.
"And you, if I may be so bold, are also beautiful. More so than any masterpiece that I've ever laid my eyes upon."
"That is quite bold." Marie has the same gleam in her eyes. "But I do appreciate you saying so." He takes her free hand in his and kisses it, whilst bowing down to her.
"Goodnight, your grace."
"If I am to call you Harry, you must call me Marie." His dimples appear quickly and prominently.
"I'd be honored...Marie."
"Goodnight, Harry. I wish you the sweetest of dreams."
"And I you." He turns around to walk away before glancing back. "You'll never be alone here, and if you do feel like you are...come and fetch me. I'd be more than happy to be at your side, Princess." She watches his taut figure stride away from her, and she isn't sure how to feel about how quickly she's taken a liking to him.
+
The morning of her wedding, she cries, and then she gets out of her large bed, wipes her tears away and adjusts her slumping posture. She's a princess. This is her duty, to her family, to her people...to her country. It is her job. Marie makes a sudden decision to give up the pitiful outlook on the entire situation, instead, choosing to stand tall and accept it. And maybe, just maybe, it was a certain Prince's unnecessary kindness and warmth, but she didn't feel very alone. At least not now. The English Court was behind her and she was ready to embrace them, and serve them. As she wrapped her silk robe around her body, there was a knock on the door. A young page stood on the other side.
"Your grace, the King and Queen would like to see you in the inner hall, it appears to be quite urgent." She nods and follows the boy, down the window-lit corridors. When she walks into the hall, King Frederick and Queen Louisa are standing with Leopold, conversing lowly.
"Oh, Marie...come here, please." She feels uncomfortable in her bed clothes. "Something has happened." She looks from the two rulers, then at Leopold.
"Portugal is trying to declare war, with Spain at their sides. We're very sorry, but right now, the wedding must be postponed until we get this sorted.We have to be sure that we don't make another enemy and our relationship with the two countries...well, it's strained, to say the least." The King says. "Diplomats from both countries will be sailing in today and we'll be negotiating new terms for an agreement. Hopefully we can make amends with each of them." Leopold steps forward and holds Marie's hands in his.
"I will be at my father's side this week. I assure you, we'll fix this. And as soon as it's over, I'll wed you." Marie smiles at him and nods. He and Frederick quickly leave the inner hall and Louisa lightly grazes her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Marie. This will all be over soon." She feels relief, but also a bit fearful. Spain, as far as she knew, was currently a violent country. King Charles was rumored to be a volatile man and his reign had ended far too many lives. Luckily, he had a solid relationship with France and his friendship with her father was steady. She wasn't sure what Frederick's relationship with them was. Portugal was slightly more difficult. King John the third wasn't a horrible man, but he was easily swayed when it came to his power-hungry neighbor. Harry came stomping into the hall, just then.
"What is this I hear about Spain!? They're coming here!?"
"Yes, and you are to be on your very best behavior. No quarrels with anyone, do you understand me?" Louisa warns her second- born. Harry puts his hands on his hips.
"If Prince Filipe is here, mother, I can assure you...I will not be able to stop myself from—"
"That is enough!" She scolds him, before turning to me. "Marie, would you please keep an eye on this one while the Courts are here?"
"I have no qualms with Portugal. John's son isn't a pompous—"
"I will not say it again, Harry. You are not to engage in any quarrels while we are attempting to conserve the peace with their countries. I will not have it, your brother will not have it and your father...he certainly will not have it. Marie, I need you to keep him grounded, please, can you do that for me?"
"Of course, your grace. I'll do my best." The Queen forces a smile and then warily eyes Harry before leaving the two of them, alone in the hall. Marie can't help but smirk over at him, and he sends her a knowing one right back.
"If you could meet this Prince...he's simply the worst."
"Well, hopefully, I won't have to." He walks towards her. "But, I believe your father said it was only some Diplomats."
"Are they invited to the wedding then, as well? Don't they say something like...the more, the merrier?"
"It does go something like that, yes, but as far as nuptials go, I will not be marrying your brother...at least not tonight." Marie is almost certain she sees a flicker of happiness rush across his face, of course, it is gone as swiftly as it came. She's only a bit surprised when he carries on with an entirely different topic of conversation.
"Have you seen the grounds?"
"I've walked outside...well, briefly, I suppose."
"But you haven't actually seen them?" She shakes her head.
"I have not." His dimples appear and she likes them. They make her feel like smiling, so she does. And she nods, while slipping her arm through his.
"I will say, m'lady, the thought of spending the day being looked after by the Princess of France surely trumps the entertaining idea of bashing Prince Filipe's smug grin away from his horrid mug."