—★ harry lewis, cymbeline, part four!
"...hang there like fruit, my soul."
summary: your mother tries to arrange you a royal marriage.
content - elizabethan!harry x princess!reader, historical innacuracy, arranged (royal) marriage, patriarchal society, shortish one sorry aha, a lot of filler words and events
word count - 1000+
previous parts here!
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you had heard of the queen's further refusal from harry himself.
it was irritating. you knew not whether it was your mother's unwillingness to comply, or harry's persistence to receive such an unlikely answer.
you couldn't wander the streets, and especially not with a nobleman and unchaperoned. so you and harry decided on meeting in the quiet field beside your palace's gardens.
"we need to ask her again." harry began. "i cannot live knowing i have not married you."
"i know. but we are both fools to believe she shall change her mind."
harry didn't reply to that. he just let out a long exhale, lowering his head ever so slightly, but then it rose again to look at you as your eyes darted around.
"is there a problem?"
"noises. i can hear my butlers. they will be looking for me. apologies, harry, i must leave."
harry didn't call your name to bring you back. he knew that this conversation would be over for at least this evening.
"your highness!" one of the butlers called out, before his eyes finally found you. "your highness! your mother has been asking for you. she requests your presence."
"thank you, sir." your pace quickened as you shuffled inside and up the stairs toward where you knew she would be.
and then she was there.
"my dear. you may want to sit down."
"why?"
"i have arranged you a royal marriage, and-"
"what!"
"-i want no protests. you either marry no one, like i hoped you would, or you marry somebody who shall keep your status up."
"mother!"
"you either fight for our rights by staying independent, or you fight for our rights by ensuring the country loves you. to marry mr lewis is to go against both. if you want to rule this country, they must love you or hear you. so, you are to marry prince phillip of france. he is arriving in what we assume shall be three weeks, and then you will marry him." there was a rough silence then after your mother's harsh words were said. they were reality, but still so difficult to process. and then, once you could gather your thoughts, you spoke again.
"did ruling england ever actually make you happy?"
your words lingered. and she had no answer to that.
"dear-"
"did it make you happy." you repeated, harsher this time, exaggerating each word.
another silence. "retire to your chamber."
"i knew it! you are not happy. if you give me the same life as yourself, how do you expect me to be happier? to do more good? i am rebelling, and that is the very thing that will lead to change."
"i said, retire to your chamber!"
and finally, you listened to her. and as you walked away, you felt a strange feeling of shame, that you should have held your ground for longer, or that you shouldn't have even got involved with harry in the first place. you had only embarrassed yourself in the end.
who was prince phillip of france? how had he and your mother collaborated to ruin your life simply by removing harry from it?
you had to find him again.
even if that meant sneaking out of your bedroom with a cloth to cover your head, sliding through the doors leading to the fields before stealing a courser from the stables.
the horse was young, as small as the hobbies but still speedy. the black coat of hers did well to conceal your identity, matching the black cloth that you now wore as a small cloak.
if you were seen, you would be killed. and somehow that was better fate than marrying the prince phillip your mother spoke of.
you barely even realised that it had only been twenty five minutes since your mother had summoned you.
at first, you only noticed because the direction of the sun had barely moved, only a third of what it would have after the hour you assumed it had been.
and then secondly, you noticed that harry had not even left the fields.
he was pacing when you saw him, a sign that he had been waiting for you and that he felt the time slow as much as you had.
"harry!"
"you're back! what happened?"
"she's arranging a royal marriage for me." you practically panted as you said the words, rushing out quickly despite your hesitance to say them.
the fallacy fell pathetic, his mouth gaping open slightly as the now falling ran trickled down the side of his head. then the other side. then dampening his eyelashes.
he let out a curse you didn't know the meaning of, and you finally looked into his eyes.
"i'm still fighting."
"i know you are. you always do."
the butlers weren't calling for you this time, but still, you feared being caught with harry still.
so you excused yourself from the conversation for what you believed to be the last time ever, finally letting the tears fall once your back was to him and to anybody else it was clearly just rainwater. of course it was. what was there to cry about? nothing and yet everything all at once.
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a/n: okay if there's any historical inaccuracy here i'm sorry, i tried to find the best way to add more harry into this scene aha so if i didn't add him very effectively i'm sorry, and sorry that it's quite short, i tried to make it as long as i could but literally any other storyline i can add is in chapter five
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i also write for alfie buttle, arthur frederick, chris dixon, harry lewis, will lenney and more! reqs are open xx
