Ooooh! Royal and florist please!
Harry looked around at the thousands of sketches and balled up pieces of paper on the floor and huffed a breath up to push his bangs from his forehead. They of course fell right back into place, obscuring his vision and making his work space seem even more of a chaoitc mess.
His fingers threaded through his hair and pulled it back while he paced around the room in frustration. Normally, visualizing the perfect floral arrangment and theme came easy to him, but that day, nothing seemed good enough.
He’d been in countless magazines featuring his wedding themes from whimsical fairy gardens to high class formal affairs. After meeting with a wedding planner or a bride, the choice of flowers, greenery and colours most suited to each event bloomed from his mind like a beautiful spring day.
Of course it would be his most imporatnt gig that would trample his petals. It was the pressure already bearing down on him.
He still could hardly believe that he had been chosen from a sea of florists for Princess Charlotte’s wedding. It would be the one event that would make or break his career and right now, he was breaking it.
Roses were too cliche and daisies were too simple. White was too stark and yellow was too brash. None of the greenery seemed to fit either.
He was doomed if he was this lost at the sketch phase.
He flopped down into his desk chair and pulled up the picture of the royal family that had been sent to him along with the other detailed notes he had been given to start with. Each member of the family and the wedding party had an image provided and each would need their own boquet, corsage or boutonnier to match the rest of the ceremony and reception.
Another long sigh escaped him as he scrolled through the younger princesses for inspiration but then stopped short when he reached the picture of Prince Louis. It was a candid shot, laugh lines around his eyes and a genuine smile that took over his entire face.
Harry was no stranger to the prince so the photo shouldn’t have caught his attention. They were both of similar age and Harry had watched him grow up in the spotlight since he could remember. He also vividly recalled the scandal of the royal family when Prince Louis had been caught sneaking out the back entrance of a gay club in London a handful of years back.
This handsome and glowing individual was a far cry from the rebelious homosexual the media had tried to paint him. This man was charming even from a still photo. It drew Harry in.
The blue of the Prince’s eyes stood out like bluebells in a meadow and Harry grabbed his sketch pad and coloured pencils as inspiration struck.
It would be his proudest moment when every detail had been executed to perfection and when he would be interviewed about his process and inspiration, full page spreads of the beautiful greenhouses and blooms, the light and life in Prince Louis’ eyes would be a secret kept between him and the bees.
