Conflict (Mal x Harry)

A proper lady

I have rewritten a lot of this from how it originally read so if none of the comments make sense that's probably why tbh soz...

Mal is almost 18 in this.

CHAPTER ONE

The door slammed behind Mal as she ran into her dorm; away from the press, at last.
They were everywhere ever since the coronation. Everywhere all the time, and she couldn't take it anymore. Never in her life had she had this much attention; not from her mother, not from her (very-much absent) father, and more often than not her friends knew when she needed space. Isle kids weren't born to experience affection. No - they were bred to be hard and self-sufficient, and know what to do no matter what the world spat at them.
Well, anything but this overwhelming following Mal had acquired since becoming princess consort.
The worst part about it all this was that her boyfriend was an oblivious oaf. Ben just couldn't distinguish private life from work life and it made her feel like another one of his duties.

She hadn't seen him in days because he was always in his office and always "too busy" to talk. She couldn't remember the last time he had even held her hand. This is not what she had imagined after the coronation. She hasn't really imagined anything - she'd been so caught up in the moment that she hadn't thought ahead to the long-term.
Mal always thought ahead. She was the problem solver. When Evie's mum had confiscated her magic mirror? Mal had been the one to form the retrieval plan. When Jay's dad had hit him so hard that his eyes had been bloody and bruised for weeks? Mal had sought the four of them refuge in the newly-founded hang out and brought them food each day.
She knew how to handle situations, and she always followed through. But now? On Auradon? Something in her had drowned that fire to pull through - she was weak.

She'd dyed her hair when he'd asked.
She'd stopped the swearing.
She'd gone to goodness lessons, despite no longer needing them, to stop speculation in the media.
She wore everything he told her to - she'd do anything to leave her dorm in a pair of sweatpants and one of Jay's hoodies, but alas: a proper lady shouldn't do such things, says her propriety teacher (because yes, she had one of those too).

Her chest suddenly heaved and piping tears rolled down the apples of her cheeks, burning a trail in their wake. She pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying desperately to push the tears back in but it was no use. They wouldn't stop.
A sob cracked out of her chest, seizing her entire body as she gasped for air. Nothing was enough, it was felt as if a vacuum had stolen all the air from the room.
Her room, the one place she was safe and now it felt as if it too were betraying her, as the walls seemed to cave in.

Her heart was yearning for simpler times, gasping for them.
Taking whatever she wanted from whoever. Wearing whatever she pleased and not giving a shit.
She was powerful there, and while she may not want that kind of power again, she wanted the power of control. Control over herself, her body, her clothes. Her autonomy had been stripped and she was so very tired because of it.

But that life - the one on the Isle - was no more. She was trapped in this fairy tale life, that she didn't even want. In a relationship with someone who cared for his job more than her.
She wouldn't admit it to herself but, most of all Mal missed one thing more than anything else in the world.
She missed him.

Wildfires burned in his soul, though his eyes reflected that of stormy seas.
He told her to do what she loved and to be who she wanted.
He loved her for who she was, never asked for her to be anything other than herself.
A man she had loved, but had never had the guts to admit out loud. 
Her only memories of him came in flashes - images in her dreams of polished hooks and a searing red leather.
Her pirate.