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giantbandgeeks · 7 years

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Queen of Peace: FOUR

chapter three//story page//No Light (banner by eriza)

FOUR: over the glowing hill, i will conquer

The team of high ranking servants were gathered outside to meet Harry’s mother and sister. They were finally moving in; the head of the castle was to introduce them to the team, and show them around. But, Florence and Harry waited in the doorway, ready to receive them after everyone had been introduced.

“Mum,” Harry breathed as Anne walked up to him, and she swept him into her arms. Gemma beamed and curtsied at Florence despite the fact she was in pants, to which the Queen smiled and dipped her head in return.

“I hope your ride over went well.”

“Oh, smooth as could be,” Anne interjected before Gemma could respond to Florence’s statement, and swept her future daughter in law into a hug. “Thank you for being so good to my boy, Your Majesty.”

“It is my pleasure,” Florence hugged her in return after a moment’s hesitation. She wasn’t used to this kind of greeting, or hugging as a form of comfort, unlike Harry. His family was big into affection, and she had only started to get used to that with him. “I am glad to have you both living with us now. My Oma and Opa used to live here, and I know my Mum appreciated having familiar faces around. This job is not easy, and Harry loves you both so very much.”

“It’s true,” Harry slung an arm around Gemma in a casual embrace that Florence knew they could never have in public, unlike regular couples. Sometimes she wondered if Harry wished they were normal, but never had the courage to ask.

“Shall we get you settled?” Florence asked, adjusting her skirt’s waistband around her hips. She was used to wearing dresses, and the fact that her shirt was tucked into her skirt was causing her skirt to gradually slip down.

“A hot shower would be excellent,” Gemma sighed, following Florence’s lead into the castle.

The East Wing of the castle was where all the bedrooms were, and the West Wing held all of the offices. Florence pointed this, and various priceless historical artifacts, out as they made their way towards the Styles family’s new living space.

“For now, this is Harry’s room, and mine is just down the hall, but we will be moving to the next hallway over following our honeymoon. My mother will move into one of these rooms,” Florence nodded at the servants carrying Anne and Gemma’s things and they went into the final two rooms in the hall.

“You have conjoined suites. Two bedrooms with a bathroom between, and walk in closets on either side,” Harry continued Florence’s train of thought, and led them into the first bedroom. “They are identical, so it’s between the pair of you to decide which room you want. We’ll leave you to get settled. See you at dinner?”

“Yes, of course,” Anne hugged both Florence and Harry again before they left to carry out their daily duties.

Dinner was largely uneventful, and Florence was grateful for it. She knew that if King Edward were there he would be firing insults at Harry’s family at every opportunity. Instead, Queen Mother Caroline made friendly conversation with Anne, and Gemma and Harry exchanged jokes at the end of the table.

Ivy and her soul mate, Jacques, were also in attendance. He was the Duke of France, so he had composure over his features if not outright respect for Queen Florence. Her sister was deadly silent throughout the whole affair, making Florence sit rigidly in her seat.

However, all of that was just in the past.

Harry and Florence walked arm and arm through the castle’s gardens, soaking in the last of the late summer sun before it set and they had to part ways. Once the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, Harry wasn’t allowed to see Florence.

He couldn’t see her until she met him at the altar the following afternoon. Even as she was walking up the aisle he had to have his back turned. Harry declared that it was cruel and unusual punishment for a nonexistent crime, but Florence argued that this was one of the traditions from centuries before that she agreed with. It made the moment he saw her even more special.

“You are stuck with me, with this life, forever after tomorrow. Are you sure that is what you want?” Florence broke the serene silence that surrounded them since stepping outside. They didn’t mind being quiet around each other, as their work days were spent in a busy buzz of conversation; they just enjoyed the comfort each other’s presence provided.

“Forever and always,” Harry responded, reaching up to squeeze the hand that Florence had resting on his elbow. “Are you sure that you want to be bound to a lowly servant for the rest of your life, and have that recorded in the history books?”

“I am hoping that history will remember me for something bigger than my relationship, but I am glad my name will be bound to yours. Even if I cannot take Styles as my own last name. Do you regret that at least?”

“Stop looking for reasons I shouldn’t marry you, Florence Elizabeth,” Harry laughed, his dimples poking into his cheeks and eyes squinting at the corners. “I could care less about age old traditions. I am just happy to finally have you as my wife.”

“You know, I dreamed endlessly about finding my soul mate. Some days it was all I could think about. The first day I met you, you were in my dream that night. I failed to get you out of my head some days. When I saw that you were actually my soul mate I was so overwhelmed. It was straight out of a dream. There is not a day that goes by where I do not thank God that you took a job here and I got to meet you without any intervention. I am so incredibly lucky, not just because I found my soul mate, but because it is you,” The pair had stopped walking, and Florence gazed up at Harry with her bright blue eyes. “There is no one else I would rather walk through life with, Harry Edward Styles.”

“I feel the same way,” Harry nodded back at Florence. “I was mostly in shock when I saw my artwork on your arm. You were someone I had admired for as long as I could remember, someone who I knew would be a great leader someday, and someone who anyone would be lucky to have as a soul mate. And I was right.”

“Our time together this evening is almost up,” Florence said, ducking her chin to hide her blush. Harry looked up to see the sky in shades of blue, orange, and golden. The sun was about five minutes away from being completely gone, so the couple had to hustle back into the castle. “We are going to have a week of completely uninterrupted time together.”

“Just the guards, hiding in the shadows, and pretending not to be there.”

“We are going to a private island. Their week is going to be pretty boring in terms of finding people attempting to assassinate us.”

“Very true,” Harry opened the door for his fiancee, giving her a lopsided smile as she passed. In a very un-Florence-like move, she leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. When she pulled away, he murmured, “Goodnight, Flo.”

“Goodnight, H,” She responded, turning to smile at him before ascending the stairs. This time tomorrow, he would be Prince Consort Harry, and they would be married.

“I’ll see you when you get to the altar!” He called after her, not quite wanting the moment to end.

“You will be the one in tears when you see me,” Florence laughed, not looking back at her soul mate. Harry just shook his head, watching to catch a final glimpse of her before they became husband and wife.

—

Florence sat in front of her vanity as Diana brushed out her hair. Rita, Brynn, and Hannah were all flitting about the room in order to get things in order for dressing the Queen. Diana’s twins were two and a half months old, and this was the first time she had left them since giving birth. They were in the capable hands of the palace nannies, but every time Florence caught her eyes in the mirror she gave her friend a reassuring smile.

Diana did the same in return, but Florence was not one bit nervous for her wedding that would be taking place in a few hours. She felt irritation creeping up her spine, as Ivy and her soul mate were visiting from France, but never nerves. Never with Harry. Florence closed her eyes, and leaned into the steady rhythm of Diana’s brush strokes. Momentarily, she forgot all about her sister, and was able to focus completely on Diana’s nimble fingers now beginning to twist her hair into an elegant updo.

“Are you ready for your makeup, Your Majesty?” Rita asked, gesturing towards the spread on the vanity.

“Yes,” Florence smiled up at her reflection in the mirror, watching as Brynn placed a tiara in her finished hair.

“Well your maids are all dressed for the occasion, especially the blonde one,” Ivy swept into the room, and moved to sit on Florence’s bed. Before she made it, she saw something else worth criticizing. “This is your dress? You are going to swim in this, Florence.”

“I am Queen Florence, Ivy,” Florence bit back, not moving anything besides her lips. Not even her eyes darted in Ivy’s direction. “My ladies are dressed professionally in respect for my wedding.”

Rita, Brynn, and Hannah were all dressed in their formal uniform, ready to stand in the back of the church to watch their Queen marry her soul mate. Diana’s pale pink dress matched the one Ivy was wearing, but the princess had not yet realized that.

“That will not save you from looking like a marshmallow,” Ivy tilted her nose into the air in disgust.

“I will not fight will you on my wedding day. Not about my dress.”

“I suppose Harry will not care anyway. He is a servant after all.”

“After today, he will be higher ranking than you, my dearest sister, and it would do you some good to remember that. If you cannot at least pretend to be happy for me, then you can leave,” Rita had finally finished applying the makeup so Florence stood, pulling the belt around her waist tighter so her silk robe wouldn’t fall. “Today is my day of happiness, and I refuse to let you rob me of that. I do not care what the public will think. My maid of honour is Diana, and I will not permit you to bully me or my ladies.”

Ivy sat, glaring up at Florence. She looked every bit the petulant child who had been reprimanded, but Florence didn’t spare her a second glance as she turned to Hannah. “I am ready to get into my dress now. We cannot keep Harry waiting.”

—

The circlet sitting on Harry’s head was the perfect match to the diamond tiara Queen Florence wore. That was the first thing Florence noticed when she turned the corner into the large room of the church. She had seen her soul mate in tailored suits before, but the traditional tuxedo he now wore framed his body perfectly. There was no way Florence could tear her eyes away from Harry as she slowly strode up the aisle to him.

Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest; she could feel it, and hoped that the audience couldn’t hear it over the music filling the room. There was an endless amount of heartbeats ringing in her ears, and she felt the urge to rub the heart tattoo on her bicep. All eyes were on that tattoo– and all the other ones that were intricately placed on her body, most of which were on display– but she didn’t care.

She had walked the aisle alone, had gotten out of the car with only Diana and Ivy beside her. The late King Edward would have walked Florence up the aisle if everything had gone according to their original plan, but Florence was glad to walk alone. The Queen Mother was in tears as Florence passed her and slowly made her way up the few last steps to her soul mate, knowing that this was a better arrangement for her daughter. Florence was Queen, and forever free of having to bow to anyone.

Her steps had come to a halt. She was standing right next to Harry.

“My Flo,” He breathed the second he turned around, already having to blink back the tears in his eyes. “So beautiful.”

“Harry,” Florence beamed, lifting the blusher over her head. They stayed facing the altar as the audience began singing God Save the Queen.

The ceremony was long, and Florence had the sneaking suspicion that the priest was dragging it out unnecessarily. She couldn’t remember the weddings of very many other royals, but she knew that the ones she had been to were nothing like this. All she wanted was a ring on Harry’s finger that guaranteed that he was her’s forever.

After an endless amount of songs and bible verses that Florence vaguely remembered, it was finally time to exchange rings. She passed her bouquet to Diana, and took the ring from the ring bearer.

“I, Queen Florence Elizabeth of Europe, take you, Harry Edward Styles, soul mate and love of my life, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life,” Her voice was stronger, more sure than it had been at any point during her coronation vows. Without a hint of hesitation or regret, a plain gold wedding band was slid onto Harry’s ring finger.

It was Harry’s turn to take a wedding band from the priest. He clasped it gently between his thumb and forefinger, just as he had over a year ago when he got down on one knee to ask her to be his wife. Again, his green eyes rimmed with tears, but unlike before no tears fell.

“I, Harry Edward Styles, take you, Queen Florence Elizabeth of Europe, soul mate and love of my life, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life,” Once the diamond band rested gently against the stone of her engagement ring Harry took her wrist in his hand, and rubbed a thumb against the bracelet he hand given her only weeks after she found out he was her soul mate. Florence had only taken it off to shower, and had even worn it on the day she became Queen of Europe. It was a comfort to her through all of the changes she had faced in the last few years.

They continued holding hands throughout the remainder of the ceremony. It wasn’t really a part of tradition, but Florence could care less. She was finally, finally married to her soul mate, and didn’t feel like letting him go. Their grip on each other only got tighter as they led the processional out of the church.

Inside the carriage that took them through the streets of London back to Windsor, Florence smiled and waved like the Queen she was. Harry followed her lead, but with the title of Prince Consort only being a few minutes old, he wasn’t completely comfortable with it.

In that moment it felt like all of the people of Europe were watching them, anticipating the first kiss following their wedding. Like in the old traditions, it would take place on a palace balcony for the crowd outside to see.

Harry didn’t care about the publicity of it all. He relished the hand Florence still had on his elbow, and happily strode through the now familiar halls of the castle with her on his arm.

“You really do look amazing today, Flo. Your dress… I was not expecting it to show all of the tattoos.”

“Well, not all of them,” The following smirk was probably the first time Harry had ever seen his wife wear that expression, and it caused him to bark out a laugh.

“Yes, but I meant the tattoos that the world knows about. Nobody beside me, you, and the tattoo artist knows about your dirty little secret tiger.”

“I suppose you are right,” Florence joined in on Harry’s laughter as they paused in the antechamber to the balcony. She pressed a hand on her skirt above where the tiger was inked into her thigh.

Harry had called her fierce like a tiger once, and presented her with a drawing a matter of hours later. She insisted that she get it tattooed on her body that day, but he made her wait so he could clean it up. But, Florence persisted through Harry’s delays, and went into a tattoo parlor with the intention of getting it tattooed on her shoulder. Instead, Harry proposed getting ink on her thigh and keeping it a secret between them.

Of course Florence had agreed.

They had exactly a minute of silence where she laid her head on his shoulder, letting the day’s activities up until that point sink in, before their families were bursting through and they were swept onto the balcony.

As Florence leaned up to press her lips to Harry’s, cameras flashed and the crowd cheered. But, the memory would be seared in their minds for sentimental reasons that surpassed the way that the public could ever see their minor display of affection.

—

The reception was bigger than the wedding itself. The ceremony was mainly other royals and dignitaries, and the reception was open to invited members of the public and friends. Florence and Harry did not need to move about the room and mingle; the people came up to them to offer congratulations.

It wasn’t anything like Diana and Liam’s wedding had been; there was food and dancing and immense happiness, but it felt like Florence and Harry were hovering on the outside rather than the center of it.

Of course they were the source of happiness, but Harry whispered to Florence that they hadn’t been able to sit since arriving. The constant stream of people had prevented them from venturing very far into the room.

“My feet are starting to hurt,” Florence whispered back in between admirers, keeping a smile on her face. She wore heels all day every day, but standing in new heels for this amount of time was starting to wear on her. “Can we just go sit?”

“Queen Cecilia!” Harry beamed and paused his conversation with Florence to acknowledge the next person coming to give their congratulations. The Queen of South America had brought all of her children to Europe for the occasion, but all of them left their spouses behind. King William of North America, Queen Gabrielle of Australia, and King Jaheem of Africa had already come to chat with Queen Florence and Harry, their immediate families in tow.

“Hello, Harry,” She squeezed him, and then moved on to hug Florence. All five of her children did the same, offering up their congratulations and well wishes. Before the next person told even step forward, Florence spoke up.

“Prince Consort Harry and I will receive the remaining guests from our table,” She threaded her fingers through Harry’s and led the line across the room. Finally seated, her feet hidden beneath the tablecloth as well as her skirt, Florence slid her feet out of her shoes and pressed her toes onto the cool tile. “Thank you.”

Between guests now, Harry and Florence took bites of food and exchanged fond smiles instead of whispered complaints. They gave genuine smiles to each guest rather than the forced ones they had plastered on only moments before.

That was, until the mayor of London came up to the table, and went beyond the obligatory congratulatory statement. He turned his sights on Harry, immediately asking, “Do you bow to your queen?”

“For no one but,” Harry responded, brow crinkling in confusion, but not hesitating in his answer.

“Even though she is your wife?”

“Especially because she is my wife. I treat her with the respect and care that she so greatly deserves on the human level, regardless of her gender.”

“You know that King Edward X, may he rest in peace, is quoted saying that a woman should always bow before her husband. Is that not the case in your relationship?”

“The Queen of Europe bows to no one. She does not answer to me like a dog. She is my queen and I am her subject, but we are equals within our relationship. I will bow to her as such. I will bow to her even in our relationship when asked. She will do the same for me.”

“That is quite enough, Franklin,” Florence glared at the mayor as if daring him to say another word.

“Congratulations again, Your Majesty,” He bowed and left. Florence grabbed Harry’s hand and squeezed.

“I love you,” She whispered, eyes widening as the final guest approached.

“Congratulations, Your Majesties,” King Norichika said. Florence stood, pulling Harry up with her.

“Thank you, Sir,” Florence dipped her head at his low bow, and she felt Harry bow beside her.

“Thank you for our renewed peace. May we live harmoniously for the endless years to come,” Norichika turned towards the crowd and left the newlyweds alone. Florence returned to her seated position, and spied the group of people dancing to the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra out of the corner of her eye.

“I wish to dance,” She smiled up at Harry, who was still watching King Norichika’s retreating back. When he didn’t respond, Florence slipped her shoes back on and began pulling him towards the dancefloor. The party was almost over, and she wanted to squeeze a bit more fun out of the evening.

They held each other close and swayed to the music until Liam came over and tapped Harry on the shoulder. No one else had existed outside of themselves for nearly an hour, and the simple gesture was a shock back into reality. It was the signal that it was time for Harry and Florence to depart for their honeymoon.

Florence hurried up the stairs to change into a tight red and gold going away dress. The sun had long set over Windsor, but it would be warm on the plane and warm in the tropics.

Rita was the one to zip her up, Hannah and Brynn both working to pull bobby pins out of Florence’s hair so that she wouldn’t get a headache on the plane. Plus, she had been enjoying wearing her hair down, curly, and free more and more lately. Diana appeared in the doorway with Liam, each of them holding a twin.

Knowing it was finally time to leave, Florence accepted hugs from each of her lady’s maids, and made her way towards her best friend. She gently placed a kiss on each baby’s forehead, and gave half hugs to both Liam and Diana. “I will see you all in a week. Do not let them change a bit while I am away.”

“I can’t make any promises. Have an amazing time.”

“Thank you,” Florence smiled, and began walking back down to the waiting car. There was a crowd of people waiting at the foot of the stairs, but the only person she saw was Harry. He had shed his tuxedo jacket, tie, and crown. His dress shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and his eyes were twinkling with love as Florence paused in front of him.

She took his arm, and the crowd showered them with rice as they made their way out to the waiting car. Once tucked inside, safely on their way to the airport, Florence murmured, “I think it is time for you to design me a new tattoo.”

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