the light in the gold

—————

"Must you drag me into your scoldings?" 

The princess twirled around to face him, the hem of her sparkling dress swishing against the polished stone under their feet with a mischievous smile on her face. 

"What else was I to do?" she prattled, canting her head as the lecture from her father had already rolled right off of her, "I saw you laughing at me. I thought you wanted in on the joke." 

Harry, fingers laced at his waist, only shook his head, stifling a fond smile. "You are too generous in the fights you pick with the king. You'll only be able to laugh off so many before there's actual consequences, princess." 

"Oh, please," she twirled again with a ruffling giggle, tiara casting rainbows across the grand corridor thanks to the rays of light coming through the large windows lining the wall. "I'm very funny. You even think so! I keep your life interesting—you even said as much!" 

That he did—against his very will did she keep his life interesting. He wouldn't have it any other way. 

"'Interesting'," Harry repeated, faux-hesitant, "That is one way to describe you, princess." 

Her eyes lit up at his teasing, her steps stalling until she was close enough to shove against his chest. The contact was barely felt through the layer of leather and the armor chest piece he had covering his torso, though there was a warmth simmering behind his sternum as if she had touched his bare skin. 

"Be nice!" she demanded through her own playful smile. Falling into step next to him, she dragged her hand across his molded chest plate and threaded her arm through his, hand on the crook of his elbow. "Your life would be so grey without me, Harry. What would you even do?" 

Harry allowed himself to look down at her curled into his side, just as she rested her head on his shoulder. 

What would he even do without her, indeed. 

It wasn't a new question he proposed to himself, especially as of late. Despite having known the princess for majority of his life due to being lucky enough to be apart of the king's guard from a young age—guarding private gardens and stables, all the way to his current station at the royal family's side—, there was something about the last year or so that had shifted in him. 

He'd always thought the princess was gorgeous, along with being entirely too kind given the expectations of her title, and surprisingly bold given the schooling and etiquette put on her from a young age. She was so obviously special. Enough so that he remembered harboring a crush for her as a boy and well into his young adult years, though Harry always remained remarkably realistic. 

If Harry was able to to see it all, someone who wasn't afforded the same kind of formal education that all of the princes, dignitaries, and diplomats that were of her caliber, then he had no shot against all of those who could actually court her. Never mind the fact he was never going to be anything more than her guard; his station made any kind of romance categorically impossible between them.

That left his admiration of her to stay just that: silent admiration. 

Even upon being brought into her inner circle as her personal guard and becoming close enough to her that he'd heard her more than once describe him as her best friend  to her handmaidens, he stayed quiet. Nothing but a child's crush on a pretty girl—a princess. No need to get worked up, he'd reasoned at first, not when she was going to be swept off her feet by one of her many pining suitors. 

But, he hadn't seemed to take into account just how close he would get to her while being at her side. 

—————

"Must you drag me into your scoldings?" 

The princess twirled around to face him, the hem of her sparkling dress swishing against the polished stone under their feet with a mischievous smile on her face. 

"What else was I to do?" she prattled, canting her head as the lecture from her father had already rolled right off of her, "I saw you laughing at me. I thought you wanted in on the joke." 

Harry, fingers laced at his waist, only shook his head, stifling a fond smile. "You are too generous in the fights you pick with the king. You'll only be able to laugh off so many before there's actual consequences, princess." 

"Oh, please," she twirled again with a ruffling giggle, tiara casting rainbows across the grand corridor thanks to the rays of light coming through the large windows lining the wall. "I'm very funny. You even think so! I keep your life interesting—you even said as much!" 

That he did—against his very will did she keep his life interesting. He wouldn't have it any other way. 

"'Interesting'," Harry repeated, faux-hesitant, "That is one way to describe you, princess." 

Her eyes lit up at his teasing, her steps stalling until she was close enough to shove against his chest. The contact was barely felt through the layer of leather and the armor chest piece he had covering his torso, though there was a warmth simmering behind his sternum as if she had touched his bare skin. 

"Be nice!" she demanded through her own playful smile. Falling into step next to him, she dragged her hand across his molded chest plate and threaded her arm through his, hand on the crook of his elbow. "Your life would be so grey without me, Harry. What would you even do?" 

Harry allowed himself to look down at her curled into his side, just as she rested her head on his shoulder. 

What would he even do without her, indeed. 

It wasn't a new question he proposed to himself, especially as of late. Despite having known the princess for majority of his life due to being lucky enough to be apart of the king's guard from a young age—guarding private gardens and stables, all the way to his current station at the royal family's side—, there was something about the last year or so that had shifted in him. 

He'd always thought the princess was gorgeous, along with being entirely too kind given the expectations of her title, and surprisingly bold given the schooling and etiquette put on her from a young age. She was so obviously special. Enough so that he remembered harboring a crush for her as a boy and well into his young adult years, though Harry always remained remarkably realistic. 

If Harry was able to to see it all, someone who wasn't afforded the same kind of formal education that all of the princes, dignitaries, and diplomats that were of her caliber, then he had no shot against all of those who could actually court her. Never mind the fact he was never going to be anything more than her guard; his station made any kind of romance categorically impossible between them.

That left his admiration of her to stay just that: silent admiration. 

Even upon being brought into her inner circle as her personal guard and becoming close enough to her that he'd heard her more than once describe him as her best friend  to her handmaidens, he stayed quiet. Nothing but a child's crush on a pretty girl—a princess. No need to get worked up, he'd reasoned at first, not when she was going to be swept off her feet by one of her many pining suitors. 

But, he hadn't seemed to take into account just how close he would get to her while being at her side.