the sun and the moon || h.s

m.

Marie stared at her reflection in the mirror in her chambers. Her ladies were waiting outside, after she'd asked them to give her some time alone. Her dress had been designed months before in Paris, and it was...breathtaking to say the least. She was entirely taken aback by herself. She looked...confident and powerful. She felt beautiful and happy.

But there was something else...a tiny heart murmur sized feeling of sadness. She knew who the culprit was, and even though he'd treated her badly, she couldn't find it in herself to be angry at him. She had tried, desperately. But as she stood and watched herself prepare for one of the biggest days of her life, she couldn't find anger anywhere inside of her. And as if he knew what she was thinking, he swung down from the balcony above.

She watched him walk towards her in the reflection. He was hesitant and there was no malice in his expression, his frown was...sorrowful. It pained her, it truly did. She stepped aside and they stood there for a few moments, staring at each other through the mirrored glass.

"You look like an angel, Princess." He whispers.

"Do I?" His smile is soft, but doesn't reach his eyes. He nods. "A year...this has been the plan for a year, and...it's finally happening."

"The marriage of two great countries." She nods this time.

"Yes." Silence, again. He takes every bit of her in, like it's the last time he's going to see her.

"I'm sorry." His eyes fill up with tears and she wants to turn to him and look at him, but she can't. She can't bring herself to move. "I...I am angry. Not at you, not even at my brother. I just...I fell in love with you and I can't have you and instead of being sad about it, I took it out..on you—I treated you badly, Marie and I am so, so sorry." Her vision is blurred as tears well up. Her fingers carefully reach for his and she twists them together.

"I do not...hate you." Her words are slow and strained due to the painful lump in her throat. "I could never..hate..you." He squeezes her hand. "I...love—" She stops before she can say the words and he nods.

"I know." He says, his voice clipped as he desperately holds his own tears in. "And I you." Through everything...a weak smile fights to form on her face.

"In another life...we are no one...I am not the Princess of France and you are not the Prince of England...we are just two people."

"In another life." He concludes. Tears begin to fall from his eyes quickly and he lets them fall. "You...are going to be...an incredible Queen. You are...strong and kind and so brave and I am..." He trails off, "you are going to be...great. I believe in you." He brings her hands up to his mouth and kisses them. She finally looks up at him.

"This can't happen anymore...I have to give all of myself to Leopold, he..deserves..that."

"I know." He says again. Both of their smiles fight through the pain of this moment. Their kiss is mutual, they both know that it is their last. It's not heavy or passionate, but it is safe and warm...and sad. "Goodbye, Marie."

"Goodbye, Harry."

+

Princess Marie is truly a sight as she practically floats down the corridor, towards the Great Hall. Her heart pounds out of her chest as she feels it gently tugging her in the opposite direction. Towards the one she cannot have. So much of her heart wants her true prince, but the small part that hurts so terribly...it aches not for Harry, but for the freedom to choose. Though at this moment, she's uncertain about which one she'd choose. Would she be able to make that difficult a choice? In a matter of weeks, Leopold had drastically and suddenly felt so right, like everything was perfect the way it was supposed to be, but why was there still residing desperation for the younger prince? The joyful nuptial hymn played as she entered the crowded hall. Her ladies held the silvery-beaded material of her extraordinary gown as she moved toward the alter, towards a grinning Leopold. As she met his jovial, untroubled gaze...it seemed as though all of her unease melted away. Blissful nerves took the pain away as the aisle between them lessened. He pulled her into his chest and smiled handsomely down at her.

"Tu es magnifique, mon amour." You are magnificent, my love. Marie's heart skips as the little bit of French flows from his lips. She can only grin back up at him as the priest ushers them down to their knees. Leopold gently and reassuringly squeezes her hand before the ceremonial marriage certificate is placed in front of them. He signs it first, then hands her the quill. It quivers in her trembling fingers, Marie convinces herself that it's simply her nerves. She swirls the ink across the bottom of the parchment, officiating this step before the priest begins his oration. As he speaks, she finds herself falling away from reality for a few moments. Lost in her own mind, she imagines an alternate world. One where neither Leopold nor Harry exist. One where she is completely and utterly free. She's unsure as to how much time has passed, but soon enough, they are being ushered back up from their knees and Leo is pulling her with him, seeing as how her dress was difficult to maneuver in. She shakes the imaginary world away and focuses back on him. He's smiling down at her and she smiles back up at him, feeling truly and blissfully happy that he's the one beside her. She sees Harry from the corner of her eye but refuses to look at him. She's sure that she cannot, for she'll likely spiral into a mental frenzy that would be terrible for all parties involved. So she let herself believe that her heart was wholly her husband's...after all, that's all she was permitted. It's all she'd ever be permitted. As the ceremony is concluded, Leopold wraps his arms around her and cradles her safely. "Je t'aime, my beautiful wife." They will not be able to kiss until the consummation later in the evening, but she was content just being in the security of his arms. He truly made her feel safe considering the circumstances of their impending life...their duties to their countries and their duties as future King and Queen. She was so relieved she'd have him to lean on when life grew to be inevitably unbearable.

"I love you." She whispers into his warm neck. And she did, as much as she possibly could in this singular moment in time.