Chapter Two

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Present Day

After a month of healing and physical therapy, Prince Harry of Wales suited up again. His tailored blue suit fit his body well, and his black shoes were shined. Today, he only needed help put on his jacket, a little tight. Panic had crept into Harry early on because he thought he might not be ready for today, but he worked hard. This was his pay off. His cuff-links shined and a smile plastered his face. Happiness spread within him.

Upon leaving his wardrobe, entered his bedroom, where upon his nightstand was Lucy's journal, black old leather with red roses glittered upon, and the yellowed pages of years of history, torn and damaged. Her handwriting filled every page. Her life was in his hands if he ever dared to pick it up.

Lucy's journal mostly sat there, and he looked at it every night before he went to sleep. He never opened it. Well, he did once. He pushed the strings away that bound the thing together, and he turned to the first page. The date was before the mass shooting, before the life he knew, and he shut the journal automatically. It wasn't his life. This was her life, and he desperately wanted to know. He hadn't opened it since. He called that a moment of weakness.

Harry wasn't sure if her notebook had been left by her for him or she had forgotten it. From what Harry had been able to get out of the charity, she had to leave in a rush. They kicked her out, and she was no longer protected by the charity. They gave her a plane ticket, and for her safety, she left. He wouldn't expect less from her, when she had nothing left to do. She knew he was safe and someone else would've came in for the students. However, he still wondered about her.

Where was she? What was she doing? Did she care? Had she forgotten?

Lucy never forgot, he knew. But she hadn't come. Perhaps she wouldn't be let in anyway, she was American and young. She could've just been another "admirer" but she wasn't. He felt something toward her too. And it hadn't softened. He had deployed his friends and his favors out, and none of them found her. Wherever she was, she didn't want to be found.

Still, where was she? What was she doing? Was she safe? Of course Lucy was safe, Harry swore to him. She always took care of herself. She could defend herself. He worried, but the world assured him that she was fine. She would've assured him everything was fine. She would've said that today wasn't about her but him. She would've laughed and pushed him into the real world.

His world wasn't real, she would've mocked, and Harry would've laughed. But this was his life.

Harry hadn't seen her for a little over a month, and it felt like a lifetime. The love for her didn't fade, but maybe hers had. Maybe she didn't care, or maybe she had better things to do.

Shifting his cuff-links again, he pulled his vision away from her journal and walked out his bedroom. In the recent events, he had moved back in with his brother, William, Duke of Cambridge, and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, as well as his young nephew and niece. He wished to move back to his Clarence House apartment, but his father directed him to stay with William, not trusting him to be on his own yet. He wouldn't be allowed to be back in the Clarence House until he was fully healed and back into his old role.

This house, Kensington Palace compartments, where William and Catherine lived, was nice but it wasn't his home anymore. He itched to get out, to be free again. He loved his brother and adored Catherine, but this was confining. He also spent most of his time with William or his father, Charles.

Today, he would be out with William for a charity event. This was his first charity event since being back, and though he had done this thousands of times before, nervousness started to trickle into his veins. He rolled his shoulders and tried to relax, but looking at himself in the mirror only made it worse.

"Are you nervous, Harry?" William asked, walking into the front room.

"Of course not, Wills," he lied. "Why would you ask?"

William laughed. "I know you." He shifted within his own jacket before noticing his brother. "Do you need help putting it on?"

Harry in his right hand held his suit jacket, and he did need help putting it on. He tried upstairs but pain had gotten to him when he pulled to one side too much. His abdomen had been stabbed a little over a month ago, back in Africa, back with Lucy, and he healed well enough. But there were always good days and bad days.

He didn't want help from his older brother, due to being "weak" in the eyes of himself, but he nodded and gave the jacket to William. The navy blue of matching color with his pants slid onto him, and Harry nodded thanks. His brother clapped him on the back.

The television buzzed as Harry looked at it from the reflection of the mirror. It was a boring and normal day, where the sun shined on the rest of the world but was cloudy in Britain. There were bad things in the world, the usual, but they were small today, as if world peace had been claimed for once in the lives of humans. There were clouds, but there wasn't any rain today, just the hovering clouds.

"Ready?"

"Always."

The two men left Kensington Palace in the black and sleek car. They weren't recognized through the windows, only rarely. If someone waved at them, they would wave back, but for a few moments at least, they were normal. It was all calm, like nothing bad was coming. It was warm inside the car, when Harry always loved the warmth, but it was terrible now. He wished to lower a window, but it was against protocol. He remembered the days well when he was free in Africa, the ability to do whatever he wanted. Of course, Lucy was in charge, but she was easy about things.

When the sleek, black pulled up, the cameras were already rolling. Whatever move he made was to live forever. The photographers pushed against each other, and bright lights blinded him. A smile pulled against Harry's face naturally. The two men were met with screams from girls at this school, and a sign that said "Marry me, Harry!"

This was only the first day.



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