Malachite | L. S [Completed]

Extra: Freedom

Song the author listened on loop to write this: Perfume by Mehro

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Harry sat in front of the mirror ardently.

The golden specs of the sun were seeping inside his chambers through the window he had left open in the hopes of hearing the thuds of the horses of the King's family arriving. His heart was flooding with anticipation, a deep longing for his beloved Prince. He had, after all, waited an entire year for the summer to warm his crestfallen heart again.

He had spent the entire morrow preparing himself to greet the Royalty. But looking at himself, he found disgrace in every inch of him. No matter how passionately he attempted to conceal his flaws with a myriad of jewels, he remained a curse to the eye. His heart ached when the thought of Louis seeing him crossed his mind. Harry was not the prettiest of things, far from it, and Louis had lived among beauty and riches his entire being. You are tainted too, whispered his mind. Clutching the sapphire of his necklace, Harry willed his tears to not fall.

He looked again, assessing the embroidery of his gown, the details in his hair, and the tint on his lips. If he could fool himself into believing his beauty, perhaps he could fool everyone else. He breathed in, swallowing the growling thoughts and then he exhaled from the depths of him, carving a smile on his face that ached his heart to forge.

He recalled the past summer when his Prince had come back after Harry had spent ages awaiting his return. He was much older, his beauty as fine as romantic literature. There were shadows of hair on his jaw and the callowness of his youth had ripened into the tough grace of his adulthood. He was the poetry of every dying poet. But Harry was too tainted for him, as Harry reminded himself often. Louis would not require Harry to be his, a future King did not need someone like him.

But it did not mean Harry could not want him.

And to want Louis was to do anything to be his, even if only in darkness. If Louis wanted Harry to walk with him into an abyss, if the darkness was to consume him forevermore, so be it. Harry had nothing more to lose, the one thing that was truly his was taken away, and now the sole thing he wanted could not be his.

"Your father has requested your presence, my lord." Harry could hear it now, the distant commotion of it. His Louis was mere minutes away. He nodded and breathed in, the ivory of his fingers tracing the encrusted sapphire.

Each of the Styles was present when he reached the door, and he desperately attempted to pretend he could not see the bitterness in his mother's gaze that was thrown at him. The thuds of the horses grew louder and Harry's heart began an erratic beat. It took them five blinks to arrive and when they did, Harry refused to blink ever again when his eyes fixed on his Prince.

"My Majesties." He heard his father and then felt a nudge to his ribs from Elizabeth, looking at her he found everyone bowing. Oh yes, Harry was supposed to bow as well. When he rose, his cheeks burned and his heart fluttered as his eyes found Louis'; a blinding ocean of ache and long.

Louis looked, even more, august, carved marvellously by a year's time. He stood tall and kind, a regal beauty after all. He was wearing a deep shade of the sea, guilded around the corners and his hair was longer now, brushed back neatly. If Harry's heart was ablaze, Louis was his soothing.

"Harry." Taken aback, Harry realised the King was standing in front of him.

"Your Majesty," Harry greeted, bowing to show his respect. Alfred smiled, taking his hand and kissing the knuckles of Harry's hand.

"You have grown graciously." Harry blushed under the scrutiny, opting to smile at his words instead of speaking and angering his mother. Then came the queen and then Leah. Greeting Leah made his stomach churn and when Louis came, it fluttered.