Not Just A Pretty Face ¦¦L. S.¦¦

Prologue

Third Person's POV

England is a beautiful country. Harry has always loved watching the green lands and blue waters from the windows of his chambers. His favourite beverage is tea, not too hot, not too cold. It has turned into a routine, sitting next to one of the big windows while reading a book, the sweet drink in hand.

"My prince!" The doors of his chambers fly open. Harry turns his head towards the distraught guard, a nonchalant look on his face.

"What is it, Liam? I remember ordering no disturbance during tea time." Frankly, Harry is not worried. Liam is his main guard, his best friend, always ready to protect him. The prince loves him for it, but the guy is always in such a hurry. Always impatient, concerned.

"I am aware, your grace, and I apologise. It is quite urgent, though." Harry raises an eyebrow, taking a sip from his tea, pinky elegantly sticking out. He looks his friend up and down. Liam's brown, puppy eyes are wide, his brown short hair, disheveled. He is breathing heavily, like he had to run through the castle to reach Harry's chambers for limited time.

"Well, out with it then." Harry waves his hand with an uninterested look on his face.

"Your father, the king, requests your presence immediately." The prince sighs tiredly. He know who his father is. He doesn't need to be reminded every time someone spoke of him.

"Shall we go meet him, then?" The prince stands up from his comfortable place, dusting off his dress lightly.

Harry is beautiful. Some even say, heavenly looking. He has a tall, slim figure with broad shoulders. His hair is a pretty, dark brown colour. It's curly, reaching just inches above his waist. His eyes are an alluring forest green colour and his smile, adorned with two deep dimples, is oftenly described as adorably manipulative.

He is the talk of the country, not only because he's the prince, but because of his homosexuality and love for long dresses. No one really wants him to be king, but he certainly does not care. His sister, Gemma, just as attractive, would be a much better ruler than him. That is the deal. His sister would become queen and he would stand next to her, as a right-hand man of sorts. The royal family doesn't mind Harry's ways of expressing himself, so the prince is living his best life. Until now.

"This is absolutely outrageous!" The prince storms out of the throne room, keeping his walk fast. "Does he really think he can just snap his fingers and make me marry some stranger?" Liam, who is literally jogging after him, gasps in surprise. "Can you believe it? He keeps telling me I am his favourite child, but he would not hesitate to make my life Hell?"

"Wait, your majesty, please slow down." Even angry, Harry is a sight to look at. His face is scrunched up beautifully, posture still straightened, dress gently gliding on the marble floor.

"He tells me this man is supposed to be some amusingly rich noble. If I give him my hand in marriage, our country will receive more grain. We already have enough of that," Harry yells, voice powerful. Every servant nearby barely resists the urge to cup their ears as they move out of the prince's way. Liam only winces slightly, used to the royal's outbursts. The prince is certainly making a scene, though. Soon, everyone will know he is to be engaged and doesn't support the idea. "And what is even more unbelievable, my mother agreed to this pointless union."

"Your grace, I think it would be best if you lower your voice." Harry stops walking, Liam almost bumping into his back. The fire in the prince's eyes makes the guard want to run away right then and there. If there is anything the tall beauty despises more than responsibilities, it's injustice. He has been dealing with it all his life. When it came to his sister, when it came to religion in his castle and strong negative opinions. He had to deal with it all because, for some unknown reason, it isn't okay to dress as you wish and be attracted to the same sex.

"I want you to call for my trainer. I must relieve some pressure before going to meet with my sister. Surely, she will be on my side." The guard nods frantically before scampering away. He would do everything to be far from his prince's fury right now.

Harry sighs, before turning towards a common maid, who is cleaning at the moment. At least she is pretending to do so. The prince knows she had heard everything. Pretty much everyone had.

"Would you send my ladies to my chambers, please? I must prepare quickly for my sword lesson." The woman gives a quick nod. She bows before going to fetch Harry's ladies.

***

"Sir, we have news." Louis looks up from his documents, an expectant look on his face.

"What is it, Zayn?" His voice is more feminine than he would like to admit. His height does not really help with the threatening look he is going for, but that doesn't stop anyone from fearing him.

Louis is the founder and leader of a rebel organisation that calls themselves 'The Misfits'. They believe that the king, and the rest of the royal family, need to be neutralized. It is true that the country is not starving, but they have other problems. George, the king, is ruthless, unjust. He takes decisions that would benefit him first and not his country. Louis wants him dead.

The lad has been dreaming of the moment when his hands will wrap around the king's neck and squeeze until the life drains out of the pathetic bastard's eyes for a while now.

Louis is strong, muscly. He had been on the streets, meeting dangerous people since he was twelve. Now, at the age of twenty-four, he is used to his life. He had to steal to survive and kill to not be caught. His beautiful blue eyes had lost their shine long ago. Now they are always cold, staring right through people's pity attempts to fool him. His brown hair is not as feathery, not as soft, as it used to be years ago. The lower part of his face is covered in light facial hair and on the upper, right across his left eyebrow, is a huge scar. It goes down his left cheek, ending just a bit above his thin lips. It looks rather nasty, but since it had nearly blinded him, Louis is grateful 'ugly' is the only word it could be described as. He doesn't care about unattractive. He cares about gold, power, blood. That's what got him where he is. Not his pretty face.

"Our men have spotted a carriage outside. It looks like some important people could be riding in it. They are waiting to hear your orders." Louis puts his feet on top of the desk, crossing them at the ankles.

"Important, you say?" He puts a finger on his chin, tapping it thoughtfully.

"Rich," Zayn supplies, making Louis chuckle. His favorite.

"Let us go then." The leader stands up gesturing for the raven-haired guy to lead the way.

So, that's the prologue. Just a short explanation of the roles and such. I hope you liked it.

Please, tell me all about your opinions in the comments. I love reading them!

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