Sequel: Adoring William
Status: Complete.

Loving Henry

Epilogue

Six years later

Henry and I had married after only two years together.

With a lot of effort on both out parts, I had still been a virgin on our wedding night. I had fallen pregnant instantly and our first child had been a beautiful baby boy named Henry Nathaniel Wesley Charles, Prince of Wales. I hadn’t been really happy about naming him Charles, but it was Henry’s father’s name and so I didn’t really have a lot of say in it.

My father had been a real pain in the ass when he found out I was dating a Prince of England. He tries very hard to pretend that he fits in with my in-laws and tells everyone that will listen that his daughter is married into the royal family.

He has tried to invite me and my in-laws to his business gatherings, but I always tell him we’re busy. It might seem cruel that I don’t want anything to do with my father, but he brought it upon himself. I was practically worthless in his eyes, until I married a Prince.

Henry and I had been married in Westminster Abbey as well. I had worn a beautiful dress with a train and a long lace veil. It had all looked really beautiful with the stunning, amethyst engagement ring that Henry had bought me.

Henry had wanted to elope, but I told him that unlike me, he had a family that loved him very much and would be truly disappointed to not be included in his wedding.

He had only been concerned for me, since it was my wedding, but all the decisions were being made for me. I hated the spotlight that came from being a royal and had just wanted a small wedding with close friends and family.

If I hadn’t known before then that Henry truly loved me, then I certainly knew it when he sat his family down and told them quite plainly that if he and I didn’t get some say in the wedding, we would elope.

My hero.

“Nate, honey, slow down or you’re going to fall,” I said to my three year old son who was running around the palace gardens, being chased by his father.

They were laughing and having a very good time and I gave a secret smile to my two month old daughter, Princess Arabella Rosaire Elisabeth, who was lying down beside me in a her outdoor crib.

Kate and I were sitting underneath a gazebo, watching the antics of everyone around us.

Kate and William had been trying very hard to get pregnant, but had not succeeded so far. It’s been a sore subject in the family, especially since Henry and I hadn’t been married as long as they have and we already had two children.

We had decided that we wanted a big family and would try for at least two more. It was hard sometimes since Henry was always busy with his Air Corps stuff and sometimes didn’t come home for months on end. Even with a nanny, it sometimes felt like I was a single parent, but I kept my worries to myself. Henry was a wonderful husband who loved his country and his job, but I knew that if I asked, he would give it all up for me and the children.

I could never do that.

A few hours before our wedding, the Queen made us the Duke and Duchess of Albany, but when our son was born, she gave me the title of Her Royal Highness, which is really cool. Being called a Princess was the highlight of my day, really. Especially when I was with my father and he was forced to call me Princess, something that irked him to no end, since my social standing was so much higher than his.

The Business Management degree that I received at Oxford really came in handy when I was busy with my charity work. It wasn’t exactly the type of career I had had in mind, but it was part of being a Princess and in any case, I loved helping people.

Henry often remarked that both our mothers would have been really proud of me.

It always brought tears to my eyes when he said things like that.

Henry came over to where we were sitting, to give me a thorough kiss and a wink, before chasing after our son again.

Loving Henry was everything I had ever wanted.

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DEDICATION: To the bottle of vodka that kept me company while writing this story. That cheap bottle of tequila that I said I loved last week meant nothing to me, I swear.