"What happened to you?" the green-eyed boy asked, looking at the beautiful broken man before him.
"I was left in the darkness, so darkness is what I became."
And all this time, she kept Harry Styles in a cell in the north tower
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—Ravenna, in the shadows, sits perfectly still. Though it's been years she still looks the same. The once happy Kingdom has transformed into one of poverty, sickness and greed, but she was happy and that was all that mattered. The object of her gaze is...
Harry Styles, who has changed. He is now a young man, 20 years of age and just as pure and innocent as he was before. His eyes had remained their beautiful forest green color; his curls had gotten longer, just reaching down to his chin; and all the baby fat he used to have was long gone. His jawline was greatly defined, his skin was fair like porcelain, his lips red and full like a rose, and his hair a dark raven brown with a crown of thorns atop his head made from the silver bark of a Weeping Willow tree. He's lying in a darkened cell, fast asleep.
Around the corner, Finn secretly eyes his sister, who doesn't seem to notice him. He didn't understand her infatuation with the boy, but who was he to judge—she is his sister, after all.
Ravenna, just outside the cell, doesn't blink, entranced by the boy. Strange. She didn't know why she was always entranced by him, but she felt connected to him in some way. They were bound together by something; she didn't know what.
Harry opened his eyes and sees Ravenna, sitting up in his bed. This was not the first time this has happened, but it had been awhile since she last "visited" him. Their eyes locked on each other, forest green staring defiantly into icy blue.
"Why me?" he asked, his eyes becoming glossy. "Why spare me? What's special about me?!"
She didn't answer, just stands and walks away, leaving a sad distraught Harry.
Harry let out a sad sigh and slid back to lean against the stone wall. He took deep breaths to try and stop himself from crying, but the tears proceeded to fall, burning his skin with sadness. He missed his parents; he'd give anything just to see them again. He missed Liam, the boy with a grand imagination and big heart. He missed Niall, his humor and never ending big appetite. He tried to picture what they would look like now: Liam a strong, dashing knight and Niall was probably a baker due to his undeniable love for food and all things sweet. A small smile grew on his face at the thought. Oh, how he missed them so.
A drop of blood slowly trickled down the side of his forehead, the sparkly thorns digging deep into his skin. While it was painful, Harry didn't mind it all—he thought the crown was pretty despite the thorns. Ravenna made him wear it since he first was locked away, said it was what "someone like him" deserved to wear. He didn't understand what she meant by "someone like him". She degraded him every chance she got, telling him that his parents would be disappointed in him. That he was better off dead. That he was unloved and unfit to be King. That it was his fault his parents were dead. Everything she said was true, at least to him it was.
