I like your tiara - h.o.
warnings: a little bit of angst if you look hard enough!
word count: ~1100
pairing: Prince!Harrison x Princess!Reader
a/n: here’s the first part of the rewritten series! I’ll post the next one next Sunday or Monday!
taglist: permanent and series taglists are open, just send an ask!
The corset was a little too tight for your liking, and your dress was the ugliest shade of maroon you had ever seen. Your hair was being pulled slightly too hard and the tiara was digging into your scalp. However, your dress accentuated all of your curves quite nicely, and the color complimented your hair. Your favorite tiara glinted in the lighting quite beautifully, too. So, you decided, today was not a win, but it wasn’t a loss either. Today was more of a draw. You were getting away from your controlling parents, but you were also essentially being sold off for marriage.
There was a small knock on your door. “Lady Y/n, it’s time to go, Your Highness,” one of the maids spoke. You grabbed your bag with some of your books and opened your bedroom door to see Lucy waiting for you with a smile. She offered to carry your bag, but you refused; it wasn’t that heavy. As Lucy walked with you down to the main doors, she spoke, “you do look rather radiant today.”
“Yes, well I do want to make a good first impression. He is going to be crowned King in a matter of weeks after all,” you replied, trying not to think about leaving the only place you’ve called home.
You used to run through the hallways playing with Lucy when you were younger. She would inevitably catch you, but it was still a lot of fun. You curled up with a good book in the library on the weekends as you got older, trying to avoid responsibilities. You wasted hours in the screening room, watching old films while doing your Princess homework. Most of the time you’d watch the films until Lucy reminded you of the work that needed to be done. The stables were where you learned to ride horses like a proper lady. Recently, countless nights had been spent sitting on your balcony, often staying up until the sun was rising. When you and Lucy got down to the main entrance, you noticed the sleek black limo was waiting, as were your parents.
Your mother walked over and pressed a gentle, but meaningless kiss to your cheek. “You look beautiful, dear,” she spoke softly. You offered her an empty smile and a loose hug before moving on to your father. The relationship with your mother was always tense - she always wanted you to be proper and elegant, but you just wanted to be yourself.
“You’re going to be a great queen, darling. I’m so proud of you,” your father spoke with a gentle voice. Your father, on the other hand, was more lenient with you. Your father was more supportive of you. He wanted you to be happy and be yourself. He enjoyed seeing you relaxing in the gardens in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, your hair in a tight up-do with one of your simpler tiaras on. He noticed that this was the time you were most at peace. More often than not, you’d have one of your romance books in hand, with your nose buried in it.
“I can call you if you need anything, right?” You whispered as you hugged him tightly. You had no clue how you were going to run a country on your own. Your father has been preparing you for the past few years. He’d let you sit in on meetings and help to make major decisions for the country. He was always there to oversee your work, though, just to be sure that you didn’t make a mistake. You knew that he had prepared you as well as he could, but you couldn’t help being nervous.
“Of course you can,” he whispered back.
You pulled away and climbed into the long limo, preparing to leave the place that you grew up in. Other than periodic visits, this really was the last goodbye. It hadn’t quite set in yet. Your older brother would take over rule from your father when he got older and married a Princess of his own. Hopefully, she would be happier with her husband than you were.
Your small suitcase was already sitting in the seat next to the brunet driver in the front seat and the cooler was stocked with water and expensive champagne. There was a small note sitting next to the cooler that read “Feel free to help yourself, dear. -H.O.” You appreciated the handwritten note, but you were still less than eager to meet the stranger that penned it. He was mysterious, to say the least. You’d never met him in person, only heard about him through the news. He had sent you a couple of letters in the past few weeks, but that was all you had heard from him. You’d hoped to learn more about his kingdom, but you had no such luck when you were researching.
You let yourself have a glass of champagne as you settled in for the long ride to your new home. About an hour into the ride, you got tired of looking at the scenery and dug in your bag. You took out your reading glasses and one of your favorite books. It was easy for you to get lost in the book, even though you had read it over a dozen times. Two books and eight hours later, the now suffocating limo finally stopped at Prince Harrison’s palace. As the limo door opened, light flooded into where you were sitting, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.
You swallowed your anxiety and looked up at the Prince. His hair seemed to be a lighter shade, but the sun was shining on it, making it unclear. You could, however, tell that it was soft and fluffy. His crystal blue eyes stared into yours, making your stomach flip. His teeth were unnaturally white, but his smile was contagious. You knew he was supposed to be clean shaven, but he had a light shadow. Overall, he was well built, and he looked like he could be a friend.
The prince held his hand out to you and helped you out of the limo, giving you a small smile. “I like your tiara. The jewels fit you,” He said, his eyes fixated on the piece of jewelry. His voice was soft and flowing. You couldn’t help but notice his beautiful blue eyes again, they popped out at you. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t slightly attractive. His looks, however, didn’t make up for the feeling of overwhelming misplacement that was crowding your head.
“Thank you, it’s my favorite from my collection,” your voice was timid and empty. You returned the smile, hoping to hide the feeling that you wanted to be anywhere else but there.
taglist: @perspectiveparker
