The Throne (Prince Harry fanfic #6)

Chapter Fifteen

"Your highness, please follow the light with your eyes only," the doctor said, waving a small flash light, or torch, in front of Lucy's eyes.

Doing the best she could, Lucy followed the light with her eyeballs. It wasn't difficult to do, but it was difficult to look at the light. It was more than a burning sensation to look at the white light, but even her moving her eyeballs inside the sockets hurt. Lucy was happy she managed to roll her eyes prior to this pain. Black dots danced in her vision. She gripped the sheets tightly as she tried not to sway. It didn't help that Harry stood so close to her, watching her every movement.

The doctor clicked the light off, and Lucy settled back on the bed.

"So when can we do the biopsy?" Harry asked. It was rushed and forced, and his arms crossed his chest. He rocked back on his heels, and Lucy was forced to ignore it.

She had a lot to worry about, most of it herself. Dying wasn't something she wanted to do; in fact, she was quite the fighter when it came down to it. She was fighter; she was a survivor. Lucy didn't want to be concerned much about herself, even with a mass inside of her. It was always easier to ignore it, which she did. Headaches and dizziness were nothing, along with tiredness. Wasn't this just growing older? Wasn't this just having five children? Lucy thought that was what happened when she grew older and had five children. She didn't ask for help and no one gave it to her.

With her own health to worry about, Lucy was also concerned with Harry and her children. With the latter, those were her kiddos; she was their mum. Anything that happened to her affected them. She wanted to protect them, and she knew she couldn't always do that. Harry said the boys knew, which was to be expected. They thought themselves to be little men, even when Lucy tried to get them out of gender roles. However, the little girls, she wanted innocence for them just a little while longer. This was the main reason Lucy hoped the mass was benign. So much for her own health, but at least if was benign, the kids wouldn't have to worry about her. If malignant, there would be many more things for the kids have to go through, and Lucy had to go through them too.

And then there was Harry, who Lucy worried about. If something was to happen to her, he would've been alone. It would've been different if they had a divorce and that was the end of the crisis. They wouldn't be married but at least they would be somewhat together. They could've parented together. They could've at least been civilized, or at least that was the hope. There was still some form of love between them, even if it wasn't the same as before. It had matured and aged like they had. But it was still love. If Lucy had to go through the pain of chemotherapy and radiation, she didn't want to see the pain on his face. He would've been a "man" and held her hand, while trying to keep it in and to be strong for her, but it would've caused her pain to see him reduced to no more than a sack of acting faces. And Harry wouldn't have complained, at all, the whole time.

The doctor turned to Lucy and waited for her response.

"How long does it take for recovery after the procedure?" Lucy asked.

"You should be out of the hospital the next day."

"If I do it in the morning?"

"By nighttime."

"I want to be out that afternoon."

"Your highness--"

"I have a busy schedule. I must keep to it."

"This is your health we're talking about, ma'am."

"Do you think the public gives a fuck?" Lucy asked but didn't wait for a response. "We're royals, not human beings. We're not weak and like everyone else. If they see weakness, we are easily taken over. There are already anti-monarchist groups that move against us. There are already assholes with guns. There are already loud-mouthed politicians who spew shit to make themselves look better. Those are the people we compete with.