The Sword (Prince Harry fanfic #3)

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was easy enough to say that Harry wasn't on board with the idea of what Lucy did. He hated it. He didn't want her anywhere near the paparazzi. But the paparazzi were going to follow them anywhere anyway. There was a long discussion about it. Eventually, Harry gave up and agreed; he would help her.

For the rest of the Friday after Thanksgiving, Harry trained Lucy bit by bit with media. He told her what to wear and how to act. It was different to be on this side of the commands for Harry, and then it was different because Lucy was female. She was supposed to be feminine and natural looking. However the point she tried to make was not feminine. Lucy, as a princess, was supposed to be kind and gentle, soft-spoken and easy going. With her topic, she couldn't be. In the media's eyes, she needed to be more of a woman, but in what she did, she needed to press harder.

"One last time: are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked.

"Of course."

Lucy got out of the car on Saturday morning, and Harry followed. Cold wind blew around them, and snow hit Harry in the face. There was a sadness already brought to the place. Cameras flashed around them, only illuminated by the constant cloud cover. There was no need for Harry to hide his feelings of sadness in the constant land of the memorialized, and he did hold sadness. However, Harry held something else within him: anger. Upon knowing Lucy and her past, his anger grew toward this subject. After many years of training, he placed the anger inside of him, as if it never existed.

Eyes forward, Lucy stared at the building to memorialize the victims of the shooting five years ago. It was not opened yet and the finishing touches were still being pulled together, but it was the thought that counted. Harry took Lucy's hand, and they walked toward the building.

Sydney waited inside, with a few other members of the buildings. There were a few parents who continued to help build the memorial. There were two cameras, coming from the local newspaper. It was one photograph camera and then one rolling camera. Her hand stayed in his until it was time to let go. Sydney and Lucy hugged, and then let go. Sydney shook hands with Harry while Lucy stepped forward to greet the next person. The camera flashed. Harry moved down the line behind Lucy as Sydney introduced everyone. It was weird for Harry as he was behind Lucy instead of someone behind him.

A book rested there, in the middle, with no names. All visitors would hopefully sign it. Lucy and Harry were the first. It was Lucy's honor to be the first to write her name, Lucille Smith. Harry wrote his name next, Harry Wales. There laid the first two names, where one-hundred names could hit on one side of page and there were one-hundred pages in the book. After it was filled, it would be put in the case of its own and a new book would be brought. Both of them dated when they came.

When they reached the end of the line, Sydney and another member directed them deeper into the large memorial building. The photography camera followed them, flashing only sometimes. Everything from the high school at the beginning of the month had been moved here. Cases stood filled with personal effects. Sydney directed Lucy to some. Harry politely asked questions. The tour continued.

The names weren't alphabetical but by death time. Her family's names were spread out throughout the memorial, each having a large case. Then were the smaller memorials, for the ones injured in the shooting. Lucy had a small case, with a written plaque. There were a few objects of hers within the case, specifically her bloody clothes and a few of her bullets. There were a few personal objects, of how she grew up. On the plaque was her full name, birth date, family members and short paragraphs about her.

Lucy and Harry looked at her case differently. Harry wanted to take in every detail about her. Lucy almost wanted to forget. She forced herself to look more. Harry wouldn't take his eyes away. Anger built up in him. He tensed. Her fingers slid into his hand, interlocking. Lucy reminded him, she was here. She still lived. They were together. Slowly, Harry backed up from the case, rejoining Lucy's world. The tension slowly left his body.

"Shall we move on?" Sydney asked.

Glancing over, Lucy agreed.

Sydney directed them into the next room, which was filled with other artifacts of the day. There were haunting pictures and extreme violence. Blood had been placed around the room. The room looked exactly like a classroom, where their classmate shoot an entire class, killing mostly everyone. It was uncanny. At the same time, Lucy felt the most relaxed, as if she had seen and done this all before.

"Oh, no pictures in here," Sydney said to the photographer, who was forced to leave.

Harry's hand tightened on Lucy, but she took another step into the room, away from him. Her eyes were wide, taking in every detail. This was her mother's classroom, how the desks were lined up and the sheets of paper out. Sydney had mentioned something about it but it didn't compare to actually seeing it. This was what happened.

Sydney stepped toward her friend. "I know this is a lot to take in. This is difficult and--"

"Shut up please," Lucy whispered, and Sydney clamped her mouth. Harry came forward, disgust in his mouth, his body tense again. He wished to say something to her. "It's fine, really. Let everyone know. Let people see the destruction." Lucy turned to her old friend. "The next room?"

"This way," Sydney said and backed out of the room, leading toward another path.

That room was small, tucked in the back, and a sign sat on the door warning people off. If people wanted to see destruction, they would go into that room. If people wanted to see pain, they would go into that room. If people wanted to feel destruction and feel pain, they yet breathed in this town.