The Decorum of Warfare - Zarry - GIOD Sequel

eight.

May 1496 - Florence, Republic of Florence

Harry feels like they have been in Florence for an eternity now. He adores the city, don't get him wrong but his entire stay here, he has been completely drained by the child he's carrying underneath his heart and the time only seems to drag on and on and on. He can barely do anything these days and is bored out of his mind.

He is doing the usual thing for him now - reading a book in their chambers, when there is a knock on the door. Harry calls for whoever is on the other side to come in and he's pleasantly surprised to see Sandro Botticelli come in, along with a painting hidden under a sheet.

"Oh, Sandro, how good it is to see you," Harry greets him, standing up from his seat and helping the old man with the painting. "I will help you put it on the dresser. I am so happy you came."

"I am happy I had the chance to pain Your Majesties," Sandro says after the still veiled painting sits atop a massive wooden dresser. "I do hope I did you two justice."

"Of course, you did," Harry chuckles. "How you could not? But we shall see the painting first, right?"

"Certainly, Your Majesty," Sandro nods and unveils the panting at last.

Harry's knocked back, seeing himself and Zayn depicted in Sandro's eclectic and unique style. It is unlike any portait they have ever had made and it's probably the best of them. They are hardly recognisable yet, you could see that it's them. They are just as Sandro sees them. And that is apparently beautiful. It is no Birth of Venus or Primavera but it took just a few seconds for Harry to fall in love with the work.

"It is absolutely splendid," Harry breathes out, unable to glue his eyes off the painting. "I am speechless. Thank you, Sandro."

"It was my pleasure, Your Majesty," Sandro says. "I am glad you are satisfied with my work."

"More than that, I adore it," Harry says, turning his head quicky to Sandro. "Please, you have to come to England. Turn us into an ancient legend, make it magnificent. Do anything you want. We will pay for your journey and of course, your fee. You would be more than welcome to stay at Windsor."

"It would be my honour," Sandro bows a little, his hand on his heart. "When would it be good for Your Grace?"

"A couple of months after we come back," Harry says. "We have not been to England in a couple of years, ever since the war started. We will have responsibilities. We will certainly need to visit Scotland and some lords around England. After that however, you can come and spend as much time as you wish."

Sandro smiles a little, looking down. "I do not like to spend too much time away from Florence. I feel like I cannot pain well without her."

"That is understandable," Harry nods. "Being a local to this wonderful city, I would not want to leave either. Even as a visitor, leaving Florence behind is heartbreaking. I hope we will be able to come again soon."

"When are you leaving, Your Majesty?" Sandro asks.

"A couple of weeks after this little one stops taking its time," Harry chuckles, putting a hand on his belly. "Any day now. Still, the babe could not come soon enough. It would have been overjoyed if the baby was already out in the world for weeks."

"At least your child will always be tied to Florence," Sandro gives Harry a smile.

"The silver lining," Harry chuckles. "I would prefer to be home for this. With my friends and my Mother-in-law, as strange as it sounds. I am not even thirty and yet it feels like I have lived a hundred lives."

"Not many have as extraordinary life as you do, Your Majesty," Sandro says. "The world will remember you for a long time."

"Perhaps," Harry sighs. "You will be remembered for better things than I will. My name will always be associated with not one, but two wars. I have killed, slaughtered men on battlefields. I had my step-father executed. I will not be a bright figure in history. But that is alright. Perhaps Philippa will be a better Queen."