#phfanfic

It only took her two weeks to make all the arrengements to her temporary move to London. Louise rented an apartment in Regent’s Park right next to Andrea’s apartment, a very cozzy place where she could easily get used to. She decided that Amy, one of the sanctuary’s staff members who was also a zoologist would be in charge while she was out. Two days before leaving, Louise and Nola were everywhere - Louise could already feel her heart missing that baby lion.

For two weeks she also hid her trip to London from Harry and all the time she asked why she was doing it. There was something there, holding her and for two weeks they talked as if nothing was happening, as if nothing was about to happen.

FLASHBACK

“Louise, I’m begging, plea-”

“Grandmother.” Louise interrupted her gran, took a deep breath and turned to stare her. “Please, don’t. I know what I’m doing, or at least I feel like I do.”

“You’re insane! Why the hell don’t you just tell him that you’re going tomorrow?”

“Because I don’t want to. I don’t feel like I should.”

“Could you please tell me what’s going on in this mind of yours?”

She took a deep breath again.

The thing was she actually had no idea what was going on, her mind was nothing but a blur while her heart was screaming “DON’T TELL HIM”. And she wouldn’t - not until she wasn’t safe and sound in her new place. Louise felt that was the right thing to do.

“My heart is yelling at me, gran. I want to tell when I’m there.”

“Promise me you’ll tell him as soon as you get there.” Maud had the grandmother-authoritatively-tone in her voice, something Louise knew quite well. “Don’t even dare to unpack your stuff before you tell him.”

END OF FLASHBACK

And she didn’t - she didn’t even mind to see the entire apartment though it wasn’t a big one, Louise threw her stuff in the living room and left, in a hurry, to Kensington Palace. She barely had time to notice London’s cloudy sky and she certainly didn’t paid attention to people around her.

Louise made the known way to Kensington Palace and there she was thirty minutes later with a heavy breath and her heart beating like a drum. It was crowded, just the way she remembered it was - thousands of tourists were there taking pictures, talking about how beautiful the palace was and how would be living in a Palace.

She took her phone and dialed his known number.

“Hello, love! I was about to call you. Are you busy?”

He sounded happy, so happy she started crying. It took her a few seconds to answer him, she didn’t really know what to say. She definitely knew where she was, but in the middle of the crowd right in front of Kensington Palace, she closed her eyes and after a long, deep breath, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m so happy to hear your voice...”

“Louise, love, are you crying?” Then he sounded worried.

“Actually I am, I’m crying because I’m so happy to hear your voice, Harry.”

He giggled. “You’re so adorable, I’d love to kiss you and have you in my arms now.”

“Are you home?”

“Just arrived, I was about to cook some nuggets.”

“Then you stop whatever you’re doing and come outside to have me in your arms.”

“What you’re talking about?”

“I’m outside Kensington right now.” More tears came with a loud and very happy laugh.

“You’re... You’re WHAT?!” There was his loud laughter too. That typical laugh she loved so much and that made her such a happy person.

“I swear this is not a joke, I can’t even explain why I didn’t tell you before. Just, please, please...” With a crying voice, she almost begged. “I need to see you.”

“I wish I could just come outsideand take you in. I’m pretty sure it’s a bit crowded out there, isn’t?”

“Mmm-hmm...” She murmured.

“Where you’re staying, love? I’ll be there in a second.”

She gave her new address and Harry wanted to punch himself still not believing how close she was. Louise was there, she was in London. For some still unknown reason she was there and he wouldn’t waste any second.

“Apartment 2A, Harry.”

“Apartment 2A, good. God, you’re so close, Louise. So close.”

“I am, love. I’m going back to the apartment now.”

“I’d tell you to wait me with your clothes off but Nathan is coming with me and... Fuck, I definitely need to take your clothes off.”

She chuckled. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

They hung up and just as fast as she made her way to Kensington, she made her way back. Again, breathing heavy, she climbed the stairs to her apartment in a rush. Louise took her shoes off and tried to clean up the mess of bags her apartment was. Luckily, Andrea was kind enough to stock up on food in the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator the day before Louise’s arrival. There was even a bottle of wine over the granite countertops.

Louise texted her grandmother saying she was already in London and that Harry was on his way, then texted Andie to thank for the food and the wine.

Right after that, the doorbell rang. Her heart almost stopped - Harry was there, right across the door. He was there.

One, two, three steps closer. Louise could almost hear his breath, she could feel him there.

And there he was. In a baby blue polo shirt, jeans and his typical brown suede shoes, Harry was there with a huge smile on his face, his warm presence that almost melted her heart and his bright blue teary eyes. They couldn’t really say anything, there was nothing to be said.

Louise just nodded, still starring her boyfriend, when Nathan asked her if he could look around the apartment. It felt like it took hours for him to do it, but when then she was finally brought back to Earth when he said he’d be waiting for Harry in the car, right across the street, and then he left.

Looking around him, suddenly shy, Louise invited him in. First thing Harry did was noticing the amount of bags there was in her living room.

“Will you tell me-”

“I’ve accepted a temporary job at the London Zoo.” She said even before he could finish his question.

“Whoa... Whoa.” Harry took a deep breath.

He looked around the place with his wide blue eyes, though there was not much to look. It was a small but comfortable apartment, probably big enough for her. When Louise was next to him, there was no sign of awareness in her gaze. But there was always something in her eyes. She licked her lips, as she stood still right next to him while he seemed interested in studying every corner of her new place.

She was so close to him. So close he could could touch her – he could just reach out and touch her  skin – just raise his arm and stretch out his fingers and touch every inch of her body. The small distance between them was almost painful.

Harry stared her.

The shapes of her thighs beneath the black jeans, the arc of her cheek, the fullness and youth of her lips. Her breasts pressing against the beige sweater, it all made her mouth once dry suddenly full of wet saliva. Harry took her hand without saying a word and led her to the sofa, and Louise easily responded to his gentle touch. She sat next to him without moving her gaze from his face, breathing heavy just like him, both hearts beating together.

Harry’s hands touched her face as she closed her eyes and kissed the palm of his hand.

Harry’s hands touched her face as she closed her eyes and kissed its palms, bit it softly - he wrapped the tip of his fingers around her blonde shiny and soft hair while her hand rushed to reach his left arm. He realised that he was biting his lower lips and swallowed compulsively. One of his hands left her face and went between her legs, pressing the thin shift against her.

Louise leaned closer, moving her lips swiftly from his face to his neck, then to his cheeks, nose (which made him laugh) and forehead - and the touch of her hot breath on his skin shot through his mind in burning lines. She bit just above his clavicle, then higher to just under his jaw. She sucked at him as if she were drinking from him and her body shuddered and the hand between her legs moved faster. Harry could see the rise of her breast pressing against his chest. His hand seemed to move of its own volition, slowly, as he stared at the absolute perfection of his girlfriend's high breast.

"Harry..." With a moan, Louise complained when his hand moved from between her legs to her sweater only to get rid of it, showing her white lace bra. He cupped her breast enclosing it within his palm, feeling the frisson of the nipple in the centre of his hand. His thoughts fled how much he missed touching her driven to warmth and lust.

She stroked and grabbed at him through his shirt. He pushed her shift down further, exposing more of her pale warm skin and that delicious pink nipple as he got rid of her bra. Soon, all of their clothes was lying on the floor and both stared at each other.

"I've missed you, Louise. I've missed you so, so much..." And finally, for the first time, right after he whispered, their lips touched for the first time in months. It was an eager but also a very, very calm kiss. She had missed so much the warmth of his lips on hers. Louise's hand reached Harry's ginger hair, her fingers wrapped around it and she pulled it, making him moan against her lips.

He pushed against her and cried out at the touch, his nerves singing, rushing blood. He slid into her and it seemed like the most pure sensation of his life, and his thoughts, were silenced in a cresting wave of pleasure rising like a tide of ice through him, touching every nerve. He was enveloped, buried in her fevered flesh, searing impossibly hot against him

Louise held his wrists and arched her back as they fucked. He opened his eyes and saw that she was watching him, her mouth open and her eyes half closed in bliss and lust. She moved more quickly, her fingers gripping his wrists to the point where it was beginning to hurt. Louise began to moan, suddenly and loudly, an animal noise echoing in the silent apartment. She thrashed on top of him, her breath rasping, and he leaned back as waves of shockingly bright pleasure rocked his body with her every movement.

"Fuck, Louise..." He could feel every minute difference of pressure inside her, slick and muscular and heated with fever.

"Mmm, Harry..." Her nails dig into his skin. Her movements increased even more.

She threw her head back, yelping from the back of her throat. She buried her face under his jaw. He felt his own orgasm peaking through him. It blocked his senses in a sizzling white noise. A purity of pleasure and nothingness. She screamed against his neck. Her hips came clamping down on him and he felt his own cry echoing hers involuntarily. She bent back, away from him, her legs shuddering as she came. She screamed again and threw herself forward onto him, baring her teeth.

"Good God, Louise..." Harry said between a heavy breath, as his hands made their way from her waist to her back and finally, neck, where he held it and brought her face close enough to his just to kiss again.

There was a naughty smile lingering on her lips, a smile that made him smile with her.

A chorus of gurgles, squeals and butchered singing woke Harry on the day of his thirty-fourth birthday. Last year, the song had been sung by just his wife – who had only just gotten pregnant. And now this year, Harry woke to the sight of his two children and his wife – a woman who despite the early hours of the day still seemed as beautiful as she was on the day he married her.

Rose beamed as Harry blinked, slightly disoriented as he was introduced to the world on the day of his birthday. “Good morning, Wales!”

“Morning,” He said in response, his voice gruff as he rubbed his eyes.

Emmy squealed as her father tried to wake up, smashing the sheets with her tiny fists as she tried to contain her excitement. Rose smiled at her daughter, her hand coming to brush back her crazed mop of auburn hair – juggling a wiggling Alex in her other arm as he reached out for his father.

Harry blinked again, trying to rid himself of the blurriness that was currently plaguing him as he reached out to his daughter, dragging her from where she sat to his chest – pressing a firm kiss to his daughters’ forehead. “Hello, Princess.”

Emmy squealed, which only seemed to brighten Harry’s morning for he returned the excitement – wearing a broad smile himself.

“Do you want to open your presents?” Rose asked as she set Alex on the bed, running a hand through her tousled blonde locks.

“What sort of question is that?” Harry asked as he shuffled up further, sitting up in the bed. “Of course I want to open my presents, bean.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, sorry!”

He laughed, smiling as he saw his son who seemed far too fascinated with his bugger rather than his father. “Rose, I think your son is about to eat a bugger.”

“What?” Rose asked, her voice slightly muffled from inside their closet.

When she returned back to the bedroom, presents in hand, she cursed beneath her breath as she saw her sun digging for what seemed to be buried treasure in his nasal cavities. “Oh, Alex, no.”

Getting his hands away from his nose, Rose shook her head as she cleaned her son’s hands with her dressing gown. “Harry, you know I don’t like him doing that.”

“Why? Its just buggers!” He said with a laugh, to Rose’s chagrin.

“Yes, but his nails are so long that he keeps scratching himself and it irritates him,” Rose said as she moved Alex to sit beside his father. “Plus, dear husband of mine, buggers are gross.”

“If you say so, babe, but I aren’t you forgetting the fact that you are a discreet bugger picker?”

“I am not,” Rose dismissed, rolling her eyes as she climbed onto the bed.

“You are too,” Harry argued. “I’ve seen things, bean. I know you better than you know yourself.”

Rose laughed. “Whatever you say, Wales.”

Harry grinned, glancing to the presents in his wife’s arms before he looked back to her. “So do I get my presents now?”

Rose nodded. “Yep. Go ahead, Wales. I want to see what you think.”

And so he did; tearing at the helicopter wrapping paper to unveil present after present after present. Being a man who had everything the world had to offer, Harry never had much use for presents and so for the past five years, rose and Harry exchanged presents that were cheap. Whereby other people used presents to give money or holidays, Rose and Harry had no need for that and so each year would pass with superficial presents given; old books and helicopter models being given today.

“Oh, thanks, bean, this is awesome,” Harry, said as he examined the box of his new helicopter model.

Rose smiled, Alex in her lap. “I know. And you can make it yourself, like, I know it’s assembled at the moment but you can unassembled it and make it yourself, so I figured it would be good to do while we watch telly.”

“What, no more cards against humanity?” Harry joked.

Rose giggled. “Maybe. But considering you are now an old, old man I just thought I should give you something to help your brain activity.”

Harry hit his wife on her shoulder, evoking giggles from the golden haired Duchess. “Oh, shut up. You’re not much younger.”

“Excuse me, I am the epitome of youth,” Rose said, pointing to the blackish-purplish circles beneath her eyes. “Can’t you see that?”

“Hmmm, so attractive,” He teased; only to be hit back.

Rose laughed, shaking her head. “You’re lucky it’s your birthday otherwise I wouldn’t be so generous.”

He grinned, before turning back to his presents as he looked at the mess of wrapping paper. “So where’s the best present?”

Rose’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“My best present?” He asked, cocking a brow. “It’s not here?”

“Well, I don’t have it,” Rose said, shaking her head in confusion. “That’s all I got you, Wales.”

“Really?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. “Not even a kiss?”

Rose rolled her eyes, before leaning forward to kiss her husband. It never seemed to become normal, kissing Harry. Every single time their lips met it seemed like it was the first time again. She had always read about kisses that made the head cloudy and the stomach filled with butterflies, but kissing Harry was more than butterflies.

Kissing Harry was having a hummingbird as a heart, and a stampede of wild creatures as a stomach. Kissing Harry was like a head that lived in a constant state of exuberation – so near the sun that life was too bright to behold. And even after so long, he still took her breath away the same way he did the first time she laid her lips upon his.

“Happy birthday,” She whispered as they resurfaced for her, her hand coming to trace the outline of his jaw. “I love you.”

He grinned, kissing her once more. “I love you too.”

“Good,” She said, tapping his cheek before she sat back. “It’d be a worry if you didn’t.”

He laughed. “Like I could ever not love you.”

Rose flushed. “That’s too cheesy.”

“Cheesys’ my middle name,” He said with a grin.

Rose scoffed. “No, it’s Charles David Albert.”

Harry grinned, before shock overcame his features. “No it’s not!”

“What?” Rose said as she pulled her hair from her sons grasp. “What do you mean? Of course it is!”

“No, it’s Charles Albert David!” Harry insisted, shaking his head as he laughed. “I know my own name, jelly bean.”

Rose was about to argue, only to have the realization hit her. She was wrong, and he right – and it was something she hated to admit. “Ugh, sorry.”

“My own wife doesn’t know my name.”

“Oh, shut it,” Rose said, throwing a pillow at him.

Harry deflected the frilled pillow, smiling so large as he pointed to Emmy who was too busy sucking on her fists. “That could have hit, Emilia, you negligent mother!”

Rose scoffed. “Oh shut up, Wales, you’re the negligent father – I wasn’t the one who let their daughter nearly choke on a noodle yesterday.”

Harry raised his hands. “Hey, hey, stop the verbal assault here, it’s my birthday.”

“And you’re so lucky, Wales, otherwise I would have reported you and you’ll be known as the Prince who tried to kill his daughter with a noodle,” Rose said, pointing at her husbands chest.

Harry grinned. “At least it’d be a fun way to be jailed.”

“What, by killing our daughter?”

“No, by being the noodle killer.”

“Oh, for gods sakes.”

Harry laughed, before he wrapped his arm around his wifes waist and pulled her to him – pressing a kiss into her neck. “So what’s the plan for today, bean?”

“Well,” She said, “We have the engagement in Brighton today, and then we’re going to the Well Child awards tonight.”

Harry nodded. “Right, right.”  

Rose nodded, before looking to her daughter who was squealing – wanting attention to be on her. “Are you okay, Miss Emilia?”

She squealed again, to her mothers giggles. “Goodness, biscuit, are you trying to wake up Queen Victoria herself?”

“That would be hard considering she’s dead,” Harry murmured.

Rose grinned. “Apparently she was a pain and hated children – I’m sure if our Emmy disturbed her sleep she’d come to life again.”

“Hey!” Harry said. “That’s my Great Great Great- okay, she’s my Great times four grandmother.”

“You’re obviously so close,” Rose teased, grinning.

“So, so close.”

*** “Hello, hello, how are you?”

Rose smiled as she greeted the crowds, waving to the masses as she moved from person to person. Bundles and bouquets of flowers were passed to her, all with well wishes that made a lump form in her throat and her chest tighten. She had yet to get used to just how kind people could be – how they went out of their way to greet her, and say hello.

Today was like any other day, and yet it was so different – today they were in the place she grew up in. They had visited before, but they weren’t married then and it was a quick visit to her old school – a place which held secrets that she didn’t want the worlds media to know anything of.

With the sun (occasionally), and the beaches greeting her as soon as they arrived in Brighton, the couple toured the peer before they went onto the beach – watching the activities that had been organized for today. There had been a group of school children that showed how they were taught to swim in the ocean, despite it being rather choppy, and a few other groups of swimmers and surfers.

After the stoned beach, which had been hard to navigate in her heels and so, being the local she was, she had made sure that Joan had brought a pair of ballet flats with her – which Rose promptly changed into the moment they began to tour the beach, they moved over to the board walk.

The crowds lined the streets, wanting to get a glimpse of the royal couple and Rose, upon seeing the numbers, couldn’t help but gasp. She knew that the crowds would be big today, as this was one of her first official engagements with Harry since the birth of the babies, but she wasn’t expecting the scale in which the crowds had grown. Thousands had come to see the royal couple – adorned with their union jacks and smiles – it seemed that today, despite the suns lack of presence, it was bright.

“Well, well, your Royal Highness,” One member of the crowd said, his hand still grasped in hers as he grinned, ruffling through his jacket for something. “I just- I just need you to know that I met you a long time ago-“

“Oh, did you?” Rose said, grinning as she made a face, to which the crowd laughed. “Oh, I hope I was okay.”

“You must have been seventeen or eighteen,” He said as he brought pictures from his jacket.

“Oh, no,” Rose squealed as she saw the pictures, flushing as the crowd laughed at her reaction. “Oh, my god where did you find these?”

The pictures were of a teenage Rose competing in a track race, and subsequently losing. She must have been seventeen in the pictures, and yet she looked like she was twelve. “My daughter was the year below you, Ma’am.”

“Oh, my god,” Rose said, shaking her head as she tried to find her husband. “Harry? Harry!”

Harry was quick to turn around, asking the people he was talking to to wait a moment as he went to tend to his wife. “What is it?”

Rose showed him the picture, to which he laughed aloud – loud enough to attract a news camera. “Oh, my god, look how young you were!”

“I look twelve, don’t I?” Rose giggled, looking at the pictures.

“It’s brilliant,” He said, nudging his wife. “You should show your Mum those – she’ll love ‘em.”

Rose nodded, before Harry went back to his side and she returned the photos – to which the man insisted that she keep. And so she continued on down the line, shaking each hand she could as she stopped to talk for mere moments – accepting gifts for Emmy and Alex while Joan took the flowers the Duchess was offered.

The reception at a hotel on the beach front for selected members of the community was next on the agenda – Rose and Harry entering the room to a standing ovation to which the royal couple gratefully accepted as they were both given a glass of wine. The reception was constructed to ensure that everyone would have a moment with either the Duke or Duchess, and that was what Harry and Rose intended to make happen.

It was during the tenth person Rose conversed with that she noticed who stood beside him – a bright smile alighting her face as she realization flushed through her. “Hello,” She exclaimed, stepping forward to kiss her step sister on the cheeks before stepping back. “Oh, my god, I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

Carole smiled, nodding. “I know – it was a last minute decision. Didn’t Mum send you the email that I had been chosen?”

“No, she didn’t!” Rose said, running a hand through her hair. “But I guess she may have told me at the Christening – oh, god, it’s so good to see you! How have you been? How’re the kids?”

“Good, good,” Carole said with a grin. “Katie just turned three in April, so …”

“Your Mum was saying!” Rose said, grinning. “Oh, Carole, I’m so glad I saw you – how was France?”

“It was amazing,” Carole said with a smile. “And I am so sorry we couldn’t come to the christening – Mum said it was beautiful.”

Rose laughed. “Emmy and Alex were a nightmare, but yeah, it was really fun. Harry’s poor grandmother, though, she had to put up with the babies screaming! And for a ninety-two year old, I mean, that’s not what you want to hear!”

Carole laughed. “I’m sure!”

As Carole and Rose chatted, catching up, it wasn’t too long before Joan lightly tapped Rose on the shoulder – a move that Joan had perfected in order to alert Rose that she needed to move on. And almost instantaneously, Rose remembered that she wasn’t Rose but the Duchess. She couldn’t spend the time she wanted to getting to catch up with her step sister, but had to move on and it was a painful realization. And yet she did what she had to do and bid goodbye to her step sister – moving on to someone else who had been watching the conversation with interest.

And all too soon, it was time to go leave.

Of course they couldn’t leave Brighton without stopping into Rose’s mother’s house; a quick visit and a cup of coffee that was greatly appreciated. Since Rose had had the babies, the house had simply become a shrine to appreciating Penelope’s grandchildren. Pictures were everywhere – pictures of the babies when they were in hospital and at the photo call afterwards; pictures from the christening last week adorned the fireplace and Rose couldn’t help but laugh at her mothers speediness.

“You don’t waste any time, do you Mum?” Rose asked as she sipped her coffee – pointing to the official photo that had been framed.

The photo had been released the day after the christening – along with three others. The first was a photo of the entire family together; Harry’s family, and her mother standing behind them as they held the twins – who seemed to be the most photogenic babies that Rose had ever laid eyes on. Although she had to think that, didn’t she? She was, of course, their mother. The second photo was of Rose and Harry and their children.

Harry was holding Alex, and she was holding Emmy. It was her favorite photo of the day, simple because  of how her children were looking at each other. Rose dreaded the day they would talk and walk, for she knew that from the moment they could move freely they would be fighting as siblings do. Rose shook her head at the thought, knowing that if her children were anything like their father and Uncle, they would be exhausting.

“Of course not,” Penelope said as she straightened the picture. “I love them too much to wait.”

“It’s like a shrine, Mum,” Rose said she moved to the other pictures, smiling as she saw her wedding photos and photos of her father and her at her wedding.

“Can’t I just have pictures of my grandkids around?” Penelope said. “It’s not like you live close by.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic, Mum,” Rose said, rolling her eyes as she sat down. “You know you’re welcome up whenever.”

“But you’re always out, darling,” Penelope said, fixing her daughters hair.

“Mum, don’t,” Rose said, swatting her mothers hand away. “Seriously, you know you can call and I’ll try to be free. I don’t like thinking you’re alone out here.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Penelope said, shaking her head. “I’m just being dramatic sweetheart.”

Harry nodded, having watched the interaction closely. “Yeah, Pen, you know you’re always welcome.”

“I know, I know.”

*** “You look beautiful.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rose said teasingly, before her smile softened. “Thank you, Wales.”

Harry smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You tired?”

She shook her head as she clasped an earing onto her ear. “Not really – the coffee picked me up I think.”

Harry laughed. “I would hope so – that coffee was so strong that I almost had eight sugars in it.”

“Eight sugars?”

“Almost,” He corrected.

She cocked a brow. “So … seven then?”

“Seven and a half,” He said, before pressing a kiss to her lips. “Now hurry up – we’ve gotta be there in half an hour.”

“Haven’t you heard you should never rush a lady?” Rose asked, glancing at him.

Harry grinned. “Good thing you’re not a lady.”

Rose punched him in the shoulder. “I am so a lady.”

“If you say so.”

Rose rolled her eyes, before she slipped into her shoes – returning to the bathroom where Alice was cleaning up her makeup supplies. “You do look beautiful, Rose.”

“Oh, thank you Allie,” Rose said, smiling as she glanced into the mirror.

Tonight was a gown night – and it was a beautiful gown they had given her. Deep scarlet, almost the color of blood itself, the gown had layers and layers of satin in the skirt that seemed to make it unbearably large. And yet despite the weight it held, it was so beautiful that Rose didn’t mind. Adjusting the one shouldered strap, Rose turned before asking Alice to help make sure everything was creaseless and zipped up.

After being a Duchess for nearing a year two years now, Rose knew that it was idiotic to not check before you left every possible thing that could go wrong. Clothes had to be creaseless and perfect – imperfections were not allowed when you are representing your country. Rose had to learn that after several ‘wardrobe malfunctions’, or whatever that even meant.

They were in the car within ten minutes, the drive quiet as London passed them.  Rose’s hands were busy on a piece of tissue, tearing it apart as her mind lay on her babies who had only just been fed as she left them. It was still so hard to leave them – and today had been a big day, filled with hours of engagements that prevented Rose from being with them.

But then she knew how lucky she was; some mothers didn’t get the luxury of being there every day, like she had.

Harry was quick to scoop Rose’s hand into his – pulling her attention from the tissue to him. “Feeling okay, love?”

“Yeah,” She said, smiling as she grasped his hand back. “You?”

“I’m great, bean,” He said, before his hand reached out to cup her cheek. “I love you, you know?”

“Of course,” She murmured, her own hand coming to cup his and kiss his palm. “We’ve had a tough ride, though, haven’t we Wales?”

“Eh,” He began, to Rose’s amusement. “It’s not been the easiest.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Could you make it sound easier, Harry?”

He grinned, before kissing her temple. “It’s been worth it though.”

“Yeah,” Rose said, nodding as she placed her hand on his thigh. “Joan said that I got a major request today.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, cocking a brow.

“The UN have reached out,” Rose said, turning to look at him. “They want me to head a campaign of there’s on sexual assault in war zones.”

Harry sat up straight, a smile coming onto his lips. “Rose, that’s amazing.”

Rose nodded. “I know.”

“You’re going to do it, right?” He said, nudging his wife. “Right?”

“It’ll take a lot of my time,” Rose murmured, turning to Harry. “A lot of my time, Harry. I’ll be going to refugee camps, and going to countries where it’s huge.”

“How much time?” He asked, cocking a brow.

“Weeks at a time,” Rose said, biting her lip. “Weeks away from the babies – away from you.”

“Rose-“

“I’ll think about it,” She said, cutting him off. “I know I want to do it, but I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t want to miss them growing up.”

Harry was silent, deliberating mentally before he gave a small nod. “It’s up to you, jelly bean. You know I’ll support you.”

“I know,” Rose said, smiling. “I know.”

“And with how you’ve supported me with Sentebale launching in the US,” Harry began, “you know I’ll be there to support whatever you decide.”

Rose smiled, nodding as she began to calm. “I know.”

“Okay,” Harry said, kissing the back of her hand before the car came to a halt. “You ready, Rose?”

“Are you?”

“Always.”

They stepped onto the red carpet to a flurry of screams and flashes. Rose had learnt, in the two years she had been a member of the royal family, that royals do not pose on a red carpet. No, they simply walk – not acknowledging the press. And Rose was grateful for that for she knew she hated posing.

As was customary of every event, one simple question would be asked between each other: ‘Where’s Arthur?’

Arthur was a photographer that had been photographing Harry since before he was born, and so he was practically a good friend. And so whenever he was found in the crowd, Rose and Harry would make special points to wave to him in particular – knowing that they wanted him to get the picture that would sell the next morning.

Meeting them at the entrance was a little boy and his mother, with a few other children who all bowed and curtsied as the Prince and Princess came into view. It mattered not about their proper titles, for from the moment they came into view, the children called out to them: ‘Prince! Princess!’

Harry’s hand came to the curve of Rose’s back as she bent down to accept the flowers from a little girl whose hair was falling out – her sickness almost invisible as her smile alit her face. “Hello, Princess Rose.”

Rose beamed at the little girl, whose name – from the look of the gold necklace adorned on her neck – was Lily. “Hello, Princess Lily.”

The girl dissolved into a fit of giggles. “She’s not a Princess!”

Rose laughed at the little boy who had exclaimed the words, cocking a brow. “Are you sure? She looks like she’s a Princess.”

The boy cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, Lils’ not a Princess. She’s, like, normal.”

“Oh, well, if you say so,” Rose said with a wink, before leaning in to whisper to Lily, “I still think you’re a Princess, Lily!”

Lily flushed, before she hugged Rose tightly. Rose smiled, patting the little girls back before she stood – taking her husband’s outstretched hand as they continued on into the ball room.

Rose was seated, and conversations were lively as Harry was introduced to give his speech. As her husband spoke, eloquent and funny, Rose was reminded of just how much she loved him. Him, the man who could speak to a room of children who were not well and make them believe, for just a moment, that they were fine. Him, the man whose jokes seemed to alight a room just as much as him smile did.

And so, Rose knew she was lucky to have him.

So, so lucky.

Brighton Event

She wouldn’t be like her mother, she had decided a long time ago. Although her mother loved her, and oh how she loved her, Rose’s mother wasn’t particularly good at being one. She stayed out too late, and drank too much – she had too much fun when she should have been responsible. While her daughter attended kindergarten, she attended nightclubs with an ever-changing career.

Rose had never known stability in her childhood.

Not from her mother, at least.

And so, when she was little, she had decided that she was not to be the type of mother hers was. She was not going to be the mother who only saw her child when it was convenient.

She had been eleven, at a cousins christening, when she had first thought about her future children. Children will blonde hair and blue eyes – or maybe dark hair and brown eyes. She didn’t know really, nor did she really mind how her children would look – she was only eleven, of course. But despite her age, Rose had wondered what it would be to be a mother.

Since she had given birth five months prior, she hadn’t really thought of herself as a mother. Of course so much had happened within this period that she had little time to evaluate her new status as a mummy. In some ways, she knew she was a mother – it was obvious, really; the constant surrendering of ones body being enough to know that she was now responsible for two little people, making her a mother.

But today … today she felt like a mother.

“Good morning, biscuit,” She murmured as she leant over her daughters crib, peaking through her lashes at her squirming daughter.

Rose’s words were spoken in a hush as she addressed her daughter – careful not to wake her still snoozing boy. The twins still shared a nursery, as convenience dictated it. Rose dreaded the day she would have to give them their own rooms – to separate the two that had never been separated. They had always been within a few meters of each other, and the thought of them being in completely different rooms was daunting to the new mother.

Emmy babbled as she saw her mother peering over her, a gummy smile filled with dribble meeting her beaming parent. Rose shook her head as her daughters babbling became louder, swooping her into her arms as she left the nursery in the hopes that her boy would have a few more moments in the land of dreams, where so few lived.

“How are you, my little girl?” Rose asked as she bounced Emmy up and down, grinning as her daughter squealed. “Does that mean you’re good, Emmy? Are you happy this morning, silly?”

Emmy babbled away, gurgling as she fiddled with her mothers hair. Rose rolled her eyes as she juggled her daughter on her hip, and went to the kitchen – grabbing the pot the milk bottle was sitting in. After being put on her anxiety medication, breastfeeding was no longer an option – something that had troubled her but was now a relief in sorts. She was no longer exhausted from feeding two babies at odd hours of the morning, instead passing the torch over to Cat, their nanny, or to Harry – who was more than willing to feed their children.

While Rose fed her daughter, she put the TV on – watching the news lazily as she caught every second headline. The news had always been depressing, but as of late, she tended to avoid it.

“In other news, the Duchess of Sussex will make her second public appearance in four months today as she and husband Harry attend the christening of Prince Alexander and Princess Emilia.”

The news showed images of the last time the world had seen her babies – the day after they had been born. It seemed like it had been years since that day, but it had only been five months – five long, yet eventful months. Rose couldn’t help but smile as she saw the footage of her flustered self clutching at her daughter, smiling so broadly that she almost seemed delirious.

Rose shook her head, looking back down to a suckling Emmy who seemed to preoccupied with her bottle than caring at all for her fame. “That’s you on the telly, biscuit. Do you know that?” Rose asked, moving a red curl from her forehead. They had grown so much – too much, Rose thought as she traced her daughter’s chubby cheek.

“We have a big day today,” Rose murmured, “but you wouldn’t know that, would you? You’re going to get christened. Yes, you are. You’re going to see Great Granny, and grandpa and Aunty Kate and Uncle Wills,” Rose rambled, looking down at Emmy to see her wide blue eyes staring up at her, “oh, yes, we’ll see you cousin John and Aunty Bella and Uncle Tom – we’ll see everyone today, beautiful.”

“You know, you talk too much,” Harry said, rubbing his eyes as he spied his wife and daughter.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Too much? I don’t say enough.”

“Ah, tell that to my over used ears.”

Rose snorted. “You’re lucky you’re ears have the privilege of hearing my brilliance.”

“’Privilege’?” Harry scoffed, cocking a brow. “I don’t’ think you can count it as a ‘privilege’ with my ears now severely damaged.”

“They would be, wouldn’t they old man?”

“Oh, you bitch.”

Rose laughed, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the news. “Isn’t that crazy? Seeing Emmy and Alex on the news?”

Harry snorted. “It’s gross.”

“Yeah,” Rose murmured, looking gown at Emmy. “Yeah, it is.”

“At least the pap’s aren’t annoying us every five seconds though,” Harry said, smiling as he kissed his wife’s forehead. “How are my girls, this morning?”

“Good,” Rose said, looking down at Emmy. “She’s good this morning – not as fussy as yesterday.”

“Good,” Harry seconded, looking in the direction of the nursery. “Alex not awake yet?”

Rose shook her head, motioning to the monitor. “Nope. He’s like a log this morning.”

“Good,” Harry repeated, smiling as he flopped down on the sofa. “Finally. I feel like their routine has been fucked in the last few weeks.”

“Harry!” Rose scolded, shaking her head. “What did we say about F-U-C-K?”

Harry rolled his eyes, slouching in his seat. “You always swear around them.”

“But I birthed them so I can,” Rose said with a shrug.

He scoffed. “BullS-H-I-T.”

Rose shrugged again. “I don’t make up the rules, Wales.”

“They’re your rules!”

Rose laughed, before she looked down at Emmy. “Listen, Wales, my vagina was torn to pieces because of those two so I get to make the rules.”

Harry rolled his eyes, before he glanced to the news. The world wasn’t a warm one, nor was it kind – the world was cruel and horrible and horrific and yet wonderful in the same breath. Not wonderful for the atrocities it is home to, but wonderful for the life it holds.

“Are you nervous about today?”

Rose looked at her husband, her teeth gnawing at her lip as she shrugged. “Not really.”

Lie.

It wasn’t really a lie, but more so a word with a convincing nature. The truth was that Rose was anxious – anxious about what they would think of her, and her babies, and everything. God, it’s so stupid, she thought as she stared at the TV – the anxiety that blossomed within her it’s seemingly alive despite how much she wanted it to die. Although she had already done her first appearance the week prior, she couldn’t help but feel that the microscope she had once been under had doubled in size – partially because her children had doubled the publics interest in her life, to her distress.

But this was her life, Rose told herself. This was the life she chose for herself; the ring that fit snugly on her left hand was evidence of that. Rose gently touched the silver band of her engagement ring, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she remembered the day Harry had placed it on. That was so long ago – the memories simply glazed with nostalgia for dress fittings and cake tasting and everything that a wedding was.

“Beatrice phoned last night,” Harry said, interrupting her line of thought.

Rose cocked a brow. “How is she?”

Beatrice had given birth to a baby boy a month prior – naming him Matthew. The boy was everything you would want in a baby; sweet and mild tempered, and Beatrice took to motherhood like a fish to water. Rose had visited her a week after she had given birth, introducing the second cousins to each other and cooing over the families newest addition – a green eyed boy with black hair.

“Good, good,” He said as he wrapped an around her shoulders. “She can’t wait for today. Said she can’t wait to get out of the house.”

Rose smiled slightly. “Is she wearing any crazy hats this time?”

Harry laughed. “God, I hope not. Last one nearly took an eye out.”

Rose echoed Harry’s laugh, rolling her eyes before she heard Emmy let out a squeak of a wail. Rose’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked down at her daughter – the baby squirming as she pushed away the bottle from her mouth. “Okay, naughty, you don’t have to pill it all over you!”

“Apparently,” Harry said as he wiped his daughters chin, “she does.”

And almost on cue, the cry of their son echoed through their apartment.

Harry looked to rose with wide eyes, shaking his head. “I’m calling it right now, jellybean, these two have twin powers.”

“Harry,” Rose groaned, rolling her eyes as he began to talk rubbish again, “they do not have ‘powers’.”

“I’m telling you,” He said as he stood up, motioning to the nursery, “they have a connection.”

“A connection does not equal ‘powers’,” Rose snapped, shaking her head.

“You just wait and see, jellybean!”

Rose sighed, looking back down to Emmy who was no longer fussing. Rose cocked her head to the side as she stared at her daughter. “You don’t have powers do you? Please tell me you don’t have powers.”

Emmy blinked up at her mother.

Rose exhaled, blowing a strand of her hair out of her eyes. “I’m taking that as a ‘no’.”

***

“Are you excited, Rose?”

Rose smiled as Cat knelt down, a naked Emmy in her arms as she sat her in the barely full bathtub. Rose grinned at her daughter as she held Alex, who was preoccupied with a flannel. Rose nodded as she watched Alex grin at the sight of his mothers keen eyes, his small, chubby hands splashing as he grabbed his mothers attention.

“Very excited,” Rose said, grinning, “and I’m glad we waited. I got to keep them to myself for a little longer than Kate had with John.”

Cat nodded, smiling as she tipped some warm water over Emmy’s head – lightly massaging the babies head. Her hair had darkened in the prior few months – now resembling more auburn than ginger. Rose was sad to see the lightness of her daughters hair fade, simply because it had resembled Harry’s so much so that almost everyone commented on it.

Bath time was usually a night affair, but today was a special day. Today, Rose would be introducing the world to her babies; again. It was daunting and nauseating and yet she knew it had to be done – simply because she knew the babies needed to have this day.

As she knelt over the bath, Rose felt a smile break onto her lips as she saw how her babies communicated. Squealing and babbling, as if they were speaking their own little language, her two children seemed absorbed in their own world – only to submerge whenever their mother began to splash the water, to which they would copy their mothers movements, albeit more clumsily.

There was a knock at the door, signaling that bath time was up. Rose glanced over her shoulder to see Joan smiling at her. “Molly and Alice are here, Rose. You need to get ready.”

Rose nodded, giving Joan a smile before she lifted Alex out of the bath and wrapped him his yellow towel. The babies continued to babble as both Cat and Rose carried them to their shared nursery, placing them on the dressing table to ready them for the day ahead. Both babies would be family wearing gowns – one a replica and the other the same gown John had been christened in.

Although there were many downsides to belonging to such a notorious and famed family, Rose couldn’t help but adore the history her children had. They could trace their heritage back a thousand years, and she would be able to teach them about it – teach them about who they were and why they’re family was important.

It seemed like such a trivial thing, but Rose knew that their history would be what defined them – even if they didn’t want it to. The truth was, Rose had married into a family that was the very fabric of the United Kingdom. Her husbands family were King and Queens – he was related to every royal family in Europe and she, as the mother to his children, knew that when the time came that they realized that they were different, she would have the history behind her.

Even though it was years away, and it was nauseating to think about, Rose knew that the day would come unexpectedly. They would ask either Harry or herself why they lived in a house tourists visited. They would ask why their Mummy wore a tiara; why their great granny was on the coins they paid for their sweets with. There would be questions, and oh how she dreaded the day she would have to explain why everyone knew their names; why anonymity was never an option for a Prince and Princess.

Sighing, Rose shook her head – I shouldn’t be thinking about this, Rose thought to herself as she left the babies with Cat, walking to her bedroom casually. Molly and Alice, like every other event she attended, where there to make her look presentable – like the Duchess she was now so unfamiliar with. The role of Duchess – of Princess – was once so easy to wear, as she was never really dethatched from it. For a while there, she was doing so many events that it became hard to detach herself from who the public saw and who she really was.

But after being away for so long – the tiara locked away while she found herself once more – it was difficult going from Rose to a ‘Princess’; to the woman who was recognizable by the world. It was silly, that she should have such trouble with going outside, or going to an event, but Rose truly felt like whenever she went outside as the Duchess she had agreed to be, she wore a mask with her designer shoes and coat.

“Hi girls,” Rose said as Alice forced her into the chair, chatting away about pointless things and yet seemingly addressing every topic that had been in the news this morning.

So Rose simply sat back and listened, watching her reflection as she was prodded and primmed curled and powdered. Lipstick applied, and eyelashes curled, Rose was finally allowed to get dressed.

After pulling her coat on, Rose spared a glance to the mirror, feeling a knot form in the back of her throat a she stared at her reflection. Rose Dormer. The Duchess of Sussex. Rose, member of the royal family. Her Royal Highness – the mother to a Prince and Princess. She had never considered herself to be one of the girls that dreamt of a life with a crown; the girls that imagined themselves with titles and riches and castles.

No, she was never that girl – the kind of girl that found princesses intriguing. Her mother, on the hand, was completely that kind of girl. Rose sighed as she cocked her head to the side, adjusting her head piece as she wondered what kind of girl her daughter will be. But, alas, her daughter didn’t have the choice of being girl who wanted to be a Princess or who simply didn’t.

She was already a Princess.

One of the heirs to an old throne.

And oh how it scared Rose.

“You look beautiful.”

Never did the sound of her husbands voice become boring; especially when he was paying her a compliment. Rose couldn’t help but grin as her husbands arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her towards his chest as he laid a spattering of kisses in the valley between her shoulder and her neck. “Thank you, Wales. You look good too.”

“Do I?” He asked, cocking a brow.

Rose grinned. “Always, Wales.”

He laughed. “There’s a reason I married you.”

“Is that the only one?” Rose asked, cocking a brow.

He snorted. “No, jellybean – your legs were a pretty good reasoning.”

“My legs?” Rose asked, her shoulders deflating in disappointment. “That’s it?”

Harry pressed her finger to his chin, deliberating before giving a final nod. “Yep.”

“I thought you loved the way I suck your-“

Harry slapped his hand on her mouth, a laugh escaping him. “Okay, enough of that.”

Rose didn’t hesitate in licking his hand, causing her husband to jump back in disgust. “Oh, you animal!”

Rose laughed, adjusting her now skewed fascinator. “An animal that doesn’t have a gag reflex!”

Harry’s cheeks burned brighter than they had in months, and he shook his head – biting his lip to stop himself from laughing and encouraging his wife’s lude behavior. “This is supposed to be the day we are being all spiritual and stuff. I doubt Gods gonna like you talking about dick bobbing.”

Rose turned from the mirror, her face struck in confusion. “Who the fuck calls it dick bobbing?”

“All the cool kids.”

“You’re not a kid, Wales, you’re old!”

“Shut up!”

***

“Oh, god, they look so cute!”

Rose couldn’t contain her squeal as she took a step back from her efforts of dressing her babies – both in the gowns that had been passed down for generations. She couldn’t stop as her heart swelled with the sight of her blonde haired son and auburn hair daughter wriggling together – her daughter kicking her brother as she sucked her fists.

“Bean, we gotta go,” Harry said as Rose snapped away, her smile beaming as she waved at the babies – trying to get their attention.

“Yeah, yeah, just a few photos,” She said, before she looked up. “Actually, Joan, could you take a family photo please?”

“Bean, they’re going a take a bunch of photos there,” Harry said, glancing at his watch. “Come on.”

Rose rolled her eyes, grabbing Harry by the arm as she dragged him over the loveseat the twins had in their room – positioned carefully below their large window. “Just a few pictures won’t kill the time,” She said as she scooped up Alex and Harry scooped up Emmy.

“And plus,” She began as she settled, looking at Harry. “I don’t want to see the Duke and Duchess. I want this to be a family photo.”

Harry’s face, which had been brooding with impatience mere seconds ago had now softened as he realised why his wife was delaying them so much. He nodded, wrapping his hands around his daughter’s stomach as he moved closer to his wife.

Although the twins were five months now, Rose didn’t bare to stop taking photos every second she could. She just couldn’t take enough, and she knew that whenever they would greet the world publicly, the press would own hundreds – nay thousands of photos of her children, and so she wanted to be sure that she had more photos than the press could dream of.

The photos were quick, and soon enough Rose was buckling the babies into the car, sitting in between the car seats as Harry sat in the front. That was the trouble with having twins – they could no longer sit together unless they were by themselves. Although Rose didn’t mind too much, as her children’s facial expressions were much more entertaining then Harrys crude jokes.

As they approached St James’s Palace, Rose felt the anxiety that had been clawing at her chest hours prior began to flare again – as if to remind her that it was still there, and it was still alive. Rose exhaled, reminding herself to be calm – the media will only see you for a few minutes. It will only be a few minutes. They will barely see the babies.

But she knew those few minutes, despite how small they were, were enough for the media.

“You okay, bean?”

“Yeah.”

Lie.

But oh how she wanted to believe it.

And it seemed so did Harry.

He wasn’t stupid, nor was he blind – he knew she was anxious. But for this one day, for this one small day in their children’s lives, he wasn’t going to prod for a more honest answer. He wanted her to be happy today, and if that meant that she wanted to lie, than he was okay with that. Rose was everything to him, and sometimes nagging can wait.

“Okay,” Rose said as the car came to a halt. “Show time.”

Unbuckling Alex from his seat, Rose smiled as she grabbed the bib she had tucked in the car seat – knowing that, as Alex was a drooler, she was going to have to be paying attention to where the drool was going. She couldn’t have her son ruin a specially made christening gown – Joan would kill her.

As she began walking, she was stopped quickly as she heard Emmy begin to cry. Rose turned to see Harry trying to soothe his daughter, rocking her slightly as he walked towards Rose. “Biscuit, it’s okay,” Rose said as she laid a kiss on her daughters red hair, “it’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”

“I think it’s the cold,” Harry said, rubbing his daughters bare arms as she began to quiet.

“Oh, biscuit,” Rose said, wiping her daughters tears from her cheeks. “Babe, please keep her happy – I don’t want the photos to have her screaming in them.”

Harry snorted. “I think the press would have a fit.”

Rose smiled slightly. “I can only imagine the headlines.”

“’Harry and Rose abusing their daughter’,” Harry imagined, to Rose’s amusement.

“Oh shut up.”

They quickly walked inside, smiling as they were met with the sight of their family. Charles was quick to give Rose a kiss on the cheek, smiling broadly as he ruffled his grandsons hair as Alex began to squeal with delight. “Is that Grandpa, Alex? Is that Grandpa?”

Alex squealed again, to Rose’s laughter and Charles shook his head. “I think he’s pretty smitten with you Charles.”

Charles laughed. “I guess I just have that effect.”

Camilla laughed. “Tell yourself that, sweetheart.”

“I think it’s just with babies, Dad,” Will said as he clapped his father on the shoulder before he kissed his sister-in-laws cheek. “How are you, Rosie?”

“Tired,” Rose joked, only to cause Kate to laugh.  

“Of course you are, you have two babies!” Rose said, before mirroring her actions. “They look beautiful, Rose.”

“Thank you,” Rose said, her cheeks flushing. “I will admit, Harry and I make awesome babies.”

“Mainly me,” Harry joked, nudging his wife as Emmy reached out for her brother, hitting her brothers head with her chubby hands. “Hey, hey, no hitting.“ 

“She takes after her mother, then,” Charles joked, and Rose rolled her eyes.

“Ha-ha-ha, I haven’t heard that a billion times,” Rose said, shaking her head.

Charles grinned, before he launched into a story about his latest event. It was only five minutes later that they were informed that the Queen was just minutes off arriving, and Charles and Camilla bid everyone a quick farewell – going out to meet the Monarch.

Don’t be nervous, Rose said as she stared at the doors her father-in-law left minutes prior, knowing that at any second, she would have to show the world the babies she had kept so protected.

Joan rounded the corner, meeting Rose’s eyes with an encouraging smile. “Okay, guys, you can go.”

Rose nodded, glancing to Harry whom smiled at her with the same encouragement, before the doors were opened. Few photographers were allowed in the courtyard of St James’s Palace, but the few that were wasted no time in snapping the photos. Rose tightened her hold on Alex, who was wiggling around in her arms – mirroring his sister who Harry was almost struggling to keep a hold of.

The smile that graced Rose’s lips was a familiar one – one that Rose hadn’t felt in an odd while and yet it was comfortable. It was welcomed. The other event had been a small Gala, an event that didn’t cause as much anxiety as actually stepping out in front of the press – the press that she knew and hated all the same.

“Good Morning, Your Majesty,” Rose said as she quickly curtseyed, before stepped kissing her grandmother-in-law on the cheeks.

“Good morning, Rose,” Elizabeth said, before she caught the eye of Alex. “And hello little man, how are you?”

Elizabeth was quick to grab her great-grandsons little hand, to which Alex squealed with delight. Although not many would think it, Elizabeth constantly asked Rose to bring her great-grandchildren around where she would spoil them rotten. Rose knew that when the babies got old enough, they would never ask her for anything, instead asking their Great Grandmother.

“I feel like they’ve grown so much,” She said, to Rose’s joy.

“I know,” Rose said, lifting Alex higher. “I feel like they’ll be going to school soon.”

“Oh, you mustn’t wish your life away!”

Rose smiled, chatting with her a little bit more before she let her husband greet his granny.  They stood outside for a little while longer, all talking cheerily as they waited for everything to be readied. Rose caught her daughter eyes, and smile brightly as she tickled her daughters bare feet – laughing as she squealed.

All so quickly, they were ushered inside and a mere half and hour later, beyond the knowledge of Rose or Harry, a photo would be published of a mother tickling her daughters foot while a Prince the world knew looked on lovingly.

They were a family.

And the whole world knew it.

The crowd laughed as she cocked her head to the side slightly, the smile that was on her lips before melting slightly beneath the lights. “Reason number one: I became a mother. A mother to two beautiful, but very overwhelming children."  

The crowd laughed once more, reveling in the joking atmosphere the Duchess created with her words. The crowd watched, mesmerized as the Duchess tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled softly – reliving a time passed. A time was consumed by her pain. A time that never seemed to leave her.

“Reason number two: I suffered through a traumatic experience that no one can ever prepare you for. No one tells you that one day, the life you had once thought was so assured can be gone within an instant due to your own fear.”

The crowd sobered, a hush coming over the once lively people.

“And reason number three: I had to learn how to live again.”

*** Four months ago

“How are you feeling?”

Beyond the walls of Kensington Palace, some children wandered free of pain. Some children had yet to be touched by death, or grief, or sorrow; lucky in their ignorance. Ignorance is often regarded in distain, but for the children of the world who had yet to feel pain, or to cry real cries, ignorance was everything. Ignorance was the bubble they lived within, and for the few years they were allowed, these children were unaware of what this world of theirs would do to them.

Rose had once been a child like them; free of the pain she now knew. Pain was a funny thing – insidious in it’s being and yet silent despite the screams it could cause. Rose had known so much pain in her life, and had once – for the silliest of reasons – believed that she had known enough pain to last her a lifetime. But she was wrong, of course; she did not know the pain of losing a child, or of seeing someone murdered. She had of course seen death before – she had witnessed as death entered the room, and subsequently emptied it. She had seen what the touch of the reaper could do; oh how she knew the pain that came with death.

But all pain was different.

In that way, pain was a chameleon.

It would be so easy if I could just forget, Rose thought, staring absentmindedly at the children below.

Oh, how easy it would be if forgetting was that easy. Some may believe that forgetting was hard; that forgetting was worse than living with all you had lost. But Rose believed that remembering was painful. Living with the knowledge of what you once had – the taste of the food you once stomach still lingering on your tongue and, the sound of the voices you were once surrounded with a whisper on your psyche – was the hardest of truths to endure.

But I can’t forget, thought Rose, the thought evoking her stomach to churn in discomfort. The thought of losing all that she knew – of losing her son, of losing the sound of her fathers voice, of losing the sight of Toms smile – more painful than any injury she could bare. It would be cowardice to simply forget all that she knew now; it would be cowardly to think that forgetting would rid her of the pain she now lived with. She knew it wouldn’t – she knew that pain would find a way to remind her of its presence again. It was the same as sadness – always lurking, always … there. Pain, she now knew, became a part of you the moment you feel it. Pain becomes the smile you wear while ignoring it. Pain becomes the tears you suppress. Pain becomes the unspoken words you so fear. Pain becomes silence.

Pain adapts. Pain destroys who you once were. Pain becomes you.

Oh how she wish it wouldn’t.

Rose wished she could just remain blissful – to ask her father what it meant to believe in God and ask the questions children ask. How she wished she could live in a time where she had no knowledge of death; no knowledge of the life she would once lead. Where there is happiness, there is pain, lurking in the shadows of everything you hold dear. So quickly everything that was assured can be taken from you – with the snap of fingers, with a snap decision, everything can be gone.

The life you built can be destroyed so easily.

Rose knew that now.

“I’m feeling fine.”

The trouble with feeling fine is that was a lie. A huge painful lie and yet Rose sung it as if it were the only melody her tongue could sing. Of course whoever asked her the question knew that she was not fine – how could one be fine after everything she had been through? Fine was no longer in her vocabulary. Fine was no longer a word that described average. Fine was now synonymous with pain.

And she hated that.

Harry didn’t believe his wife, not at all. How could he believe ‘fine’? She told him every night that she was fine, that it had been a week and she was doing okay. But he had yet to reach the monotonous stages of fine; he was still consumed by the terror that had plagued him. He still woke, half convinced that he had lost his wife to the madness that was that creature.

Evil had always been such a far thing – an imaginary force that Harry had only had few encounters with. But Harry knew evil when he saw it; evil were the men that chased his mother on the night of her death. Evil was the events that lead to the loss of his first son. Evil was the man that held his wife – the very reason for Harry’s existence – and his month old daughter at gun point.

Evil disguised itself in the darker parts of humanity; parts that scared Harry.

“Fine is unconvincing,” He murmured as he wrapped his arms around his wife, burying his head in the crook between her neck and her shoulder. In this canyon he smelt his wife’s intoxicating scent – mangos, he thought nostalgically.

Rose cupped Harry’s cheek, sighing as she continued to gaze out into the gardens. “I keep having nightmares.”

“I know.”

She glanced to him. “You hear?”

“You’re not very quiet, jellybean,” He said, grimacing.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Harry said sharply. “You don’t have to apologize for that … thing.”

Rose smiled slightly, but it hurt to make the effort to seem okay. “I don’t want to talk about it any more.”

“But-“

“Please,” She whispered, turning around in his arms as she gazed at him. “I’ve talked about it enough to last a lifetime. Please, Harry, I just want to talk about … gardening, or something.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Gardening?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” She said, exasperated. “Just something else – what about the dog? Did you walk Pickle today?”

Harry was decent enough to look ashamed. Rose sighed, shaking her head as she scolded her husband, “Harry!”

He smiled, before pushing her hair from her face. “Rose?”

“Yeah?” She murmured, meeting his eyes.

“I love you,” He said, before kissing her quickly. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” She said, cupping his cheek as she offered him a tight smile. “I’ll be fine in a few weeks. I promise.”

***

Three months ago

The screams woke the babies tonight.

Harry jolted awake as the screams pieced the air. It was a familiar thing, to wake to screams. Rose’s screams. He stared into the darkness, bleary eyed and panicked as she turned on the light. Almost instantaneously, he heard the babies cry in shock. Emmy had spent the night in their room after a restless night, and after only just soothing her to sleep, she had been awoken again by her mothers fear.

“Rose, Rose, Rose,” Harry said as she writhed, screeching as he touched her.

Rose jolted awake, heaving in her husbands arms as she looked around the room, panicked. She couldn’t breath. She couldn’t breath. The realization was too much, her vision blurring as she saw Avery holding the gun.

Rose had once fallen from a tree when she was younger. She had landed on her back, and the ground had been unforgiving. She couldn’t breath then, either.

As much as she gasped, or pleaded for it, no air would fill her lungs. Rose’s whole body pleaded with her to just take a breath. Breathe, breathe, breath, it beseeched – screaming for air to relieve her lungs of how they were drowning. And yet breathing when there was no air was impossible.  

She saw Avery’s face, again and again. His smile; twisted and insidious.

And in an instant, he was gone again.

Her eyes lost him, and replaced him with Harry. His face – the one she knew off by heart – was inches from hers. His mouth moved, and yet no words came out. Someone was still screaming. He was too close. He was Avery. Danger, her body screamed, danger. Rose scrambled away from him, her arms flailing and connecting with his face. And as her skin hit his, it was like she could breath again.

Rose gasped, air filling her lungs painfully as arms restrained her. Yet they weren’t Avery’s.

Someone was still screaming. Rose could feel warm hands cupping her cheeks, and wet tears coating her face as her eyes were pulled to face him. Harry. Harry. Harry, she thought, remember Harry, remember Harry. She let out a cry, and yet it was strangled in her throat by something else.

She was the one screaming.

Almost instantly she stopped as she realized that she was the one causing her daughter to cry – she was the one causing her husband to plead with her to just stop it. Her breathing was heaving and labored as she tried to regain control, and yet control had left her the moment Avery had held her at gunpoint. No control, she though in desperation, her eyelids heavy as she felt the need to scream again. Why can’t I just be normal? Why can’t I just be fine?

“Oh, god, Rose,” Harry sobbed, wrapping his arms around hers as her eyes lost the otherness that had consumed them and returned to the green orbs he so loved.

He held her tightly, as if he was scared that if he let her go that she would no longer be tied to this Earth. For the moment, Rose needed no gravity for Harry was her anchor – harboring her to the world she so loved, and yet so dearly despised. In Harry’s eyes were the sight of Rose, and yet exhaustion hindered that sight. He hadn’t slept in nearly two months; two months of night terrors, of panic attacks, of constant tears.

If Harry was honest with himself, he couldn’t recall the last time he laughed, nor could he recall the last time he genuinely smiled. Rose slept when she could, taking the day to have small snaps that would allow her to cling on to the small shreds of sanity she was relying on to keep her present, and yet Harry could find no respite in the horror he was living through. Sleepless nights were not compensated with sleeping days, for he had to make appearances for the both of them.  He had to make it appear like everything was all right, when really; the life he had built was slowly crumbling around him.

“Rose, please, please, please,” He whispered, again and again, as if her name made this any easier. Every night was the same; the same screams, the same tears, the same efforts. He just wanted it to be the way it was, but alas they had never had an easy time, had they? They had always been plagued by something – something that wished for them to fail above anything else.  

But they were strong. They weren’t like the others that fell apart, and never reconciled. They always reconciled – they were better with each other than without, and that was all that it could ever come to. The thought of a life without Rose – the life without the sun he had grown used to basking in – was the thought of no life at all. And how awful of a tragedy it would be to have no life at all.

“Rose, can you hear me?”

She nodded as she inhaled, the scent of strawberries clouding her mind as she tried to ignore the sound of Emmy’s cries. But how could a mother ignore the sounds of her own child’s cries?

Opening her eyes, few tears escaped as she pushed herself out of Harry’s embrace and walked to where her daughter lay, wailing at the top of her lungs. Holding her small body, the three month old, squirmed as she continued to wail in her mother’s arms. Where she would once be soothed by the familiarity of her mother, Rose had been vacant these past two months – of course she still cared for her children as a breastfeeding mother does, but her children had not seen her mother smile in two months; had yet to hear her laugh for most of their life.

“Shhhh, shhh, Emmy,” Rose said, rocking her back and forth as she untied her nightgown and sat. The familiar sensation of one of her children feeding was enough to calm her, but she could still not rid herself of her trembling fingers or her racing heart.

She was trapped in a vacuum of panic, and anxiety – consumed by the need to scream without the ability to. So many questions plagued her, but none had answers. She didn’t know anything – she didn’t know anything about how to make this better or how to make this … panic go away. And then there was the pain – oh, god, the pain was suffocating. In every limb and muscle it lived, crawling from joint to joint as it bred its hostility. With every step she took, her legs trembled and her resolve weakened.

Breathing hurt.

Thinking hurt.

Everything hurt.

Panic is as evil as fear. Like the walls that surrounded her, it imprisoned her from the moment she felt it clawing at her chest. It felt like long nails dragging across the inside of her rib cage, reminding her, again and again, of her panic – of the man who had once threatened her life, threatened he very existence. Breaths became shorter, and the air became thicker. It was too much – all too much for someone with such an exhausted mind to comprehend.

Breathe, a part of her insisted, you need to breathe.

So she did.

But breathing was a hard decision to make. The statement seemed ridiculous, but it was, in every sense, true. To make a choice to do the unthinkable – to do something that is so ingrained in your behavior – is difficult. It’s difficult to breathe when you know that everything is wrong. It’s difficult to breathe when you know everything is gone. It’s difficult to breathe when your life has become an unrecognizable mass of bullshit.

Inhale.

Panic is the state Rose existed in. She couldn’t find her way out, and crying seemed too much of an obvious choice. Every time she looked at the room where he had nearly killed her, it would flare up again – the nails that scratched at her rib cage puncturing her lungs again and again. Her fingers trembled as she tried to remember to breathe, but it was easy to forget when the mind is imprisoned by it’s own created panic.

Exhale.

“We can’t keep living like this, Rose,” Harry croaked, his eyes reddened by his own tears. “You’re not well. You need medication.”

“I know,” Rose said, looking down at her daughter as she suckled. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault,” He murmured. “None of this is your fault.”

***

Two months ago

“Are you smiling? Are you smiling, bugs?”

Her son laughed as she tickled him, Rose grinning from ear to ear as he wriggled beneath her. “Oh, are you being a little worm? You can’t just lay still for Mummy while she changes your disgusting nappy?”

Alex grinned up at her, to Rose’s dismay. “Obviously not.”

Rose shook her head as she changed Alex’s nappy, rubbing her lips together as she fastened his onsie back up before she plucked him from the floor. He sat contentedly on her hip as she walked outside, smiling as she saw her mother making faces at Emmy. Rose shook her head, slightly amused as she placed Alex in his playpen before she sat opposite her mother.

“Emmy adores you, Mum,” Rose said, running a hand through her hair as she yawned. “How is it you’ve suddenly become the baby whisperer?”

Penny shrugged. “I guess I just have the touch.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Okay, mother, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Penny smiled, before she turned to her daughter. “How is it, not breastfeeding any more?”

“Hard,” Rose said, her eyes trapped on her chubby cheeked daughter. “But medication came first, unfortunately.”

Penny smiled softly, reaching over to pat her daughter’s hand. “And you and Harry?”

“We’re fine,” Rose said, nodding. “It’s just been … hard. Even before what happened, things seemed hard."

Penny’s eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, Rose, you love him though.”

“Of course I do,” She said, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean it like that, Mum, like obviously I wouldn’t be able to live without him, but I just feel like every time it seems like our life is getting easier, we end up having something fuck it up.”

“Rose!” Penny scolded.

Rose rolled her eyes. “F-U-C-K up, then. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Penny said, shaking her head. “You know, things get easier. They have to.”

Rose laughed slightly. “Not in our case. We’ve never had it easy, Mum. Sometimes I think we were cursed.”

“Oh, Rose, don’t be ridiculous,” Penny said, rolling her eyes. “No one suits you more than Harry. Not even Tom.”

Rose looked up, surprised that her mother would mention him. “I haven’t heard his name in a while.”

“And?” Penny asked. “How does it make you feel?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “What, are you my therapist now? I already have enough of those.”

“No,” Penny drawled, rolling her eyes. “I’m simply asking you, Rose – how does it make you feel to talk about him. Do you and Harry ever talk about him?”

Rose shook her head. “No.”

“So how does it make you feel?”

Rose pondered her mother’s words, and bit her lip – her eyebrows furrowing as she wondered how it really made her feel. Where the thought of Tom once evoked huge sorrow and pain, it now only evoked a nostalgia for the loss of her best friend. Despite the love she once – and still – had for Tom, he was always her best friend. In some ways, she wished she could tell him about Harry, and Emmy, and Alex – about all that had happened after him. She wanted to tell him everything about her new life, and for it to not be about how much she had once loved him.

Although she knew that if it weren’t for the events that led to her suffering, she would never have met Harry or lost Tom, she knew she wouldn’t change anything. It was awfully selfish, and the thought seemingly wrecked havoc on her consciousness and on her morals. How could she think so awfully? Tom had once been everything to her, and in some ways he always would be but her heart belonged to Harry and the thought of being with any one else made her shudder.

Where she had once spent hours upon hours thinking about Tom, and mourning the man she was to marry, in recent years she had ignored the memories of him and the thoughts that would so often tug at her consciousness. Thoughts of how things could be different; thoughts of a life without Harry and with Tom.

It would have been easy, she thought. Loving Tom was like sleeping or breathing – it was innately apart of her. Loving him was wind to the ocean, and clouds to the sky; a constant attachment that was apart of the fabric of her being. Loving Tom was effortless and brilliant and warm.

But with Harry, it was different. It had never been easy, but oh how the love was so much more than she had ever felt. Harry was the air that filled her lungs and the happiness that consumed her. Harry was everything and she was so lucky that a series of unfortunate events led her to him, even if that meant the loss of a man she loved.

It had been difficult to acknowledge that without the death of the man she loved, she wouldn’t have the life she now led – a life, that although was tumultuous, was everything that she wanted – everything that she was. But without his death, and her depression, she would have never gone to Lesotho, nor would she have ever married Harry. Maybe she would have watched Harry get married to Cressida, or another girl while she lived her own easy life with her best friend, never traveling beyond England or beyond her comfort walls.

She sighed, shaking her head as she looked back up to her mother. “I don’t know how it makes me feel, Mum. I don’t like to think about it – it just conflicts me.”

Penny cocked her head to the side, smiling softly. “Maybe you should. It might be good for you to let go of him. To let go of it all. You’ve never been good with change, Rose.”

Rose scoffed. “Mum, I’ve let go of Tom, believe me. Sometimes, I just don’t feel like myself – that’s it.”

“Your eyes tell a different story.”

***

A month ago

“You’re taking me on a date?”

Harry grinned, nodding as he opened the car door. “Yep.”

“And you’re not telling me anything?” She asked, cocking a brow.

“Nope.”

“You suck.”

“You won’t be saying that later on.”

Rose rolled her eyes, shaking her head they pulled out of their home. “So, have you had this date planned for long?”

“Nah,” He said, shrugging as he changed gears. “Just three months.”

“Oh,” Rose said, laughing as she leant back in her chair. “Is Romeo Harry going to strike again?”

“I am going to strike, score, win- fuck, I am going to make every other guy look like a big fat turd of … turd,” He said, laughing with his wife. “You get the picture.”

“Oh, I get the picture,” She said with a laugh, shaking her head. “The turdy picture.”

“I really didn’t mean for you to picture turds before this amazing date,” Harry admitted, to his wife’s laughter.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Rose turned her grinning face to look out the window, watching London melt away before they turned into a familiar street. Rose’s eyebrows furrowed as she turned to Harry, seeing the familiar buildings pass by them. “Harry?”

“Yeah?” He asked, cocking a brow.

“Where are we going?” She asked, confusion consuming her.

He didn’t answer, but instead parked the car. “Come and find out.”

Her old flat looked just as she left it. Confused wasn’t the right word to describe how she felt for she didn’t know how she felt. Nostalgia seemed to be the horse she rode as she stared at her old living room, her old kitchen, her old balcony. Everything was as left it, except for the furniture.

She turned to Harry, shaking her head as he wrapped his hand around hers. “What…”

“I wanted to make you feel like her again,” He said, smiling. “Rose Dormer. Not the Duchess.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open as she tried to find the word to describe what she was feeling. In the middle of the living room was a blanket and an arrangement of DVDs, books, and food. It reminded her of when they were dating – the living room picnics they so often had striking her as the memories flowed back to her. She had forgot about those. She had forgot so much.

“Harry,” She breathed, shaking her head as she felt her breath hitched in the back of her throat.

In a second, she was kissing him and in an hour they were laying on the floor beneath the blankets – the warmth of each other keeping them warm.

“So,” Harry started, grinning. “Best date ever?”

“Oh, yes,” Rose said, laughing as she snuggled into his chest. “Best date ever. You did good, Wales.”

“Thanks, Dormer,” He said, pressing a kiss to her head.

Rose looked up, a smile spreading across her lips. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

“I’m sorry about that, Dormer,” He said, before kissing her once more. “Sometimes life gets in the way.”

“It does,” She said, looking to the fireplace. “Things have changed so much.”

“They have,” He murmured. “I know it’s been hard.”

“Understatement of the year, Wales,” Rose murmured, grinning as she looked up at him.

Harry chuckled. “Sorry.”

Rose smiled, shaking her head as she looked back to the fireplace. “Mum said I’m not good with change.”

“I think your Mum is right,” He murmured.

Rose snorted. “For the first time in her life.”

Harry laughed. “I guess.”

They were silent for a moment, before Rose shook her head. “She also said  I need to let go of everything; that I need to let go of … of Tom.”

Harry was silent, waiting for Rose to elaborate as she stared at the fire. “But … but I don’t know how to let go of everything that’s happened. I feel like I just … I just can’t. I feel like the best thing I can do is ignore it.”

“You can’t ignore it, Rose,” Harry murmured. “You can’t ignore pain."

“I know that now,” Rose said with a roll of her eyes, before she sobered. “I just want to.”

“It would be easier if you could pretend it didn’t exist,” He murmured. “But pain … pain and grief and death you can’t just ignore it. Tom died. Your Dad died. My Mum died. James … he died, like, you can’t pretend that one day they’re gonna come back.”

“I know they’re dead,” Rose snapped, her cheeks flushing. “I know they’re dead, Harry.”

“I know you do, I know you do,” He murmured, tightening his hold on her. “But sometimes I think you trick yourself into thinking that you’ll see them again – that one day your Dad will come and meet the babies, or that Tom will come back.”

“I don’t, though,” She said, refuting the claims. “I don’t want him to come back because if he came back I wouldn’t have you and I need you. I need you and Emmy and Alex in my life and that’s selfish, it’s so selfish I know, but I can’t have him back.”

Rose laughed, wiping away a stray tear as she rolled her eyes. “Like he could come back, anyways. I just- I just struggle with it sometimes. I struggle with James and Dad and-and Tom, sometimes. I miss them. I miss who I was when they were around.”

Harry watched her in silence, feeling like whatever comfort he could provide was void. His wife – the woman who he loved – had changed, that was obvious, from the girl he had first met. But beneath the insecurities and the pain, there she was – his Rose.

In that moment, he wondered if he had been blind. For as he stared at Rose, the girl he had loved for so long, he felt his stomach twist in a way it had never done before. She was beautiful. Her strength seemingly burst from her fair skin, as if it was too wild to be contained. Every careful movement she made was so gentle that it was barely detectable; the way her fingers trembled as she tried to remain control, the way her lips twitched as she focused.

But above everything else, Rose shone. She exuded a warmth that would battle any winter. She was the sun and he the planets that revolved; completely transfixed with every move she made. He instantly felt ridiculous for pondering such thoughts in such a dire situation, and made the effort to focus on her pain rather than her beauty, but alas Harry was a transfixed man.

“You’re still Rose,” He said, his voice low. “You’re still the sweaty girl that gave me the tour of the hospital – the girl who kicked me out when I broke her heart. You’re still the girl who makes bad jokes and can’t be tickled. You’re still the girl I love, Rose, but you’ve just changed. And change is good – look, without change, we wouldn’t have Emmy or Alex. We wouldn’t have the life we have now.”

Rose listened to her husband with a desperation she had felt few times in her life, and in that moment, she felt so damn lucky that she had met him. Through the tragedy and pain she had cursed at that time, she now lauded it for without it, she never would have met this man – this man who knew her more than she could ever know herself. This magician of a man who just made everything better, even when everything seemed so bad.

And in these past few months, Rose knew that if she didn’t have Harry, she wouldn’t have survived.

“I love you so much, Wales.”

“I love you more, Dormer.”

“Liar.”

***

Rose looked over the crowd she was addressing, her breath hitching in her throat as she tried to control her trembling fingers once more. This was her first official appearance in nearly four months. Four months of being within the walls of the Palace that was now her home – four months of recovery, of taking time to know herself, and her babies. Four months for her, not the title she now wore.

“On second thought,” Rose began, “I don’t think I should apologize for if I wasn’t away for so long, I would never have gotten better. And I don’t think anyone should apologize for taking time for themselves and for their own health.”

“These four months have been ones of pain, and heartbreak and trauma. I have suffered through night terrors and anxiety. I have spent each and every day working on myself, and trying to overcome said trauma, but if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it or let it go,” Rose said, shrugging slightly. “I’ve simply changed. And change is good, despite how scary it can often be.”

“That’s why I’m speaking for Mind today, and why I am honored to be their patron. I hope everyone has a great night, and I thank you for your time.”

There was applause, of course, but the only applause Rose cared for was that of her husbands. She smiled, flushing as she saw her husband beaming up at her – proud. And she was proud of herself – for how far she had come, for how far she had yet to come.

‘Amazing’, he mouthed, his grin broad as he led the applause

This is the first time I've logged on since I posted the last chapter. I've got nearly forty messages asking me about the next chapter, and about updates, or giving me insight to how much the story means to them or how much they like it. These messages make me wish that I wanted to write this story, but I can't force myself to write - it's just not something that will produce good work. And in any case, I no longer find royalty something I like to write about.

So for now, I will no longer be writing Our Version of Events. If for some reason I get really into it again, I'll continue to post chapters but I doubt that's going to happen. I want to thank everyone in this fandom who has liked the story and has messaged me - I want to thank all the other writers for their support (wow this is beginning to sound like an acceptance speech). I really appreciate what this story has given me, in terms of what I've been able to achieve with my writing due to the skill this story has allowed me to hone. 

I really did think I would finish this story. I even wrote the last chapter and everything. But unfortunately I don't think I'll ever be able to get to that stage. 

I'll miss writing Rose, and of course my version of Harry. They've been great characters to write but I'll miss everyone who has read this story. I'm so sorry for stopping it here but maybe one day I'll return to it or maybe I'll regret writing this and post a chapter in a week from now, but I doubt that'll happen.

However some exiting stuff is happening for me (well I hope it will)! I'm sending a manuscript off to a publishing house in a few weeks (like twenty days to be exact), one I've been working on for a few years now, and I'm very excited but realistic about it (I know the statistics about publishing). Our Version of Events was a writing exercise for that very reason - to help improve the writing of my original story which is now all finished and edited and yay I'm so excited that I've actually finished something, irrespective of whether or not it gets published! Who knows, if I completely fail at getting this thing published (which is very likely) I might be inspired to finish this story but nevertheless this'll probably be my last post. And also I forgot to mention that I met a guy so that's awesome and exciting and just yay again!

So thank you guys for making writing this story great. I'm so sorry I couldn't finish it for you.