Spare

This next book is a testament to how life truly is/was. From a man who has spent his life in others' shadows, here he is standing and BEING HIS OWN man. For someone who's learned from his past, doesn't forget it and takes a stand for it and history NOT repeating itself. This is a story of a man making his OWN way. From the boy believed to be nothing than filing the ranks to stepping out on his own, here is the TRUE story of love, loss & healing with Prince Harry.

Harry missed his mother, the ICONIC Princess Diana, named after a goddess. She was omnipresent for the very same reason she was indescribable - because she was light, pure and radiant light. Visible to the mortal eye due to its brightness and dazzleing. That was his mother. That was where Harry could see her, sense her, always in Frogmore Cottage. Diana wanted to bring among PEACE! to someone somewhere, and Harry knew how desperately he would want - no, did want - peace between her boys, and between them and their dad, as well as the entire family. There have been styles in their ranks, off/on. going back centuries, but this was different. This was a situation becoming irreparable. So, even though Harry had flown home specifically & solely for his Grandfather's funeral, while there, Harry was asked for a secret meeting with his older brother, William, and their dad to talk about the state of things. To find a way out of their predicament.

When Harry caught up with his cousins at the funeral, all drinking and sharing stories of their grandfather, they looked tightly aligned. Harry's stomach dropped. Normally, they'd be squabbling about one thing or another, but now they seem more in lockstep sync. Harry didn't know what to expect. . .A walk or a duel. He met with them with a weary smile on his face. Harry's heart began thrashing in his chest. He had to compose himself with deep breaths. Apart from fear, Harry was feeling a kind of hyper-awareness, and a vaguely intense vulnerability. Harry experienced this before:

. Walking behind his mother's coffin

. Going into battle for the first time

. Giving a speech in the middle of a panic attack

There was that same sense of embarking on a quest, and not knowing if Harry was to it, but there was no going back. Harry relied on the guidance of his heavenly mother. Here it went.

Waking into a situation PAINFULLY TEPID. Harry told himself not to think about reminders of his mother's funeral, but to think about what he DID have. Small talk collided on secondary subject manner. Harry anxiously awaited them to the privacy issue, wondering how his dad and brother could remain calm? As they all placated their own burial roots, it was only after that they got down to business. Harry tried to explain his side of things. He wasn't at his best. Harry was still nervous, fighting to keep his emotions in check, while also striving to be successful & precise. More, he vowed not to let this encounter become another argument. But, Harry saw it wasn't up to him . . . his dad & brother had parts to play and they were ready for a fight. Every time Harry ventured a new exploration, started a new thought, one or both of them would cut him off. William in particular wasn't hearing any of it. After shutting Harry out of several times, the 2 brothers began sniping, repeating the same remarks to one another throughout their lifetime. This time, it got so heated that their dad, Prince Charles, raised his hands for ENOUGH. Taking a stand to stop the arguing in his final years. In this instance, Harry thought about his grandfather, King Phillip.

All at once, something shifted inside of Harry. He looked over at William, really looked at him, maybe for the first time since they were boys. Harry took it ALL in: His brother's scowl, which was William's default; his alarming baldness, William's resemblance to their mother, which was fading with time & age. In some ways, William was Harry's mirror, in some ways he was Harry's opposite. How could 2 brothers who grew up close end up divided? How did this happen? 

Harry was massively tired. He wanted to go home. But, Harry seen that home was not the place he left. Or maybe always was. Harry looked beyond at what was in front of him. What happened, William? Harry left. William KNEW why; claiming he didn't. It was one thing to deny it. . Another flat out difference to claim total ignorance of the reasons that Harry fled the home of his birth for which he ACTUALLY fought for in his mother's country. To claim no knowledge of why Harry & his wife took the drastic step of picking up their child and running like Hell, leaving EVERYTHING behind. Really?

William tried to deny it. Harry turned to their dad, who was claiming the same denseless ignorance. Harry thought they TRULY DIDN'T KNOW. Staggering. If they didn't know why. Harry truly left, maybe they didn't know him AT ALL! Maybe Harry never  knew them either. That made him feel terribly alone. But, it also fired him up. Harry HAS TO tell them. After a mental struggle, Here We Go. . .

For Harry, Balmoral was always simply Paradise. He was always too busy fishing, shooting, running up/down "the hill" to notice anything off. He was truly happy there. Balmoral was its own micro-season, a 2-week interlude into the Scottish Highlights. Harry's grandparents were there with Charles & William. The whole family was there with the exception of the boys' mother due to her own holiday somewhere. His mother was in Paris or somewhere. Alas, the memory lies, with a million others, on the other side of a mental wall. A horrible, tantalizing feeling that just a few inches away, the wall is too thick. Wherever his mom was, Harry understood that she was with her now friend. Not a boyfriend. Not a lover. Friend. William & Harry had previously just met him. Actually, the boys had been with their mom weeks earlier when she first met him, in St. Tropez, they were having a grand time with quality time with their mom. Laughter, horseplay and the norm when the boys spent time with their mom. Everything about the trip to St. Tropez was heaven. The food was tasty and their mother was smiling. It was before a jet-ski misadventure that their mother's friend joined them along. He chatted up the boys and their mom. Specifically their mom. He gave her a present. A diamond bracelet. She liked it and wore it a lot. Then, he faded from Harry's consciousness. . As long as their mom was happy.

Harry and the family lived to be outdoors, especially his Grandmother, who would be cross if she didn't breathe at least an hour of fresh air each day. What they actually did outdoors, Harry couldn't remember. What reports could tell Harry sounded lovely. Harry's memory works in remembering the physical setting of something. Dates? He has to look it up. Dialogue? He'll try. But, ask about any space he's occupied - he'll recreate it down to the carpet tacks. His memory assesses and reacts this way due to his inner soldier, assessing every space as a battlefield. An innate homebody by nature, rebelling against a nomadic existence. Whatever the cause, his memory gathers and curates as it sees fit. Things like chronology and cause-and-effect are often just fables we tell ourselves about the past. The past is never dead. It's not even past. Hearing that, Harry was thunderstruck and gobsmacked. 

Born September 15TH, 1984, Harry was christened Henry Charles Albert David of Wales. But from day 1, everyone called him Harry. Due to the love of Queen Victoria, Charles wanted to name him after her with Albert, but Diana blocked him. Balmoral had 50 bedrooms, one of which was divided for a nursery for William & Harry. William had the larger half, with a double-bed, a good-sized basin and more. Harry's half of the room was far smaller, less luxurious. Harry never asked why. He didn't care. But, he also didn't need to ask. With a 2-year age difference of William being the oldest, he was the Heir, whereas Harry was the Spare. It was used in the press yes, but it was. Shorthand often used by their family. The Heir & The Spare. No argument about it, but also no ambiguity. Harry was the shadow, the support, the Plan B. Harry was brought into the world in case something happened to William. He was summoned to provide backup or perhaps. . . a kidney if needed.

This was made explicitly clear to Harry from the start of life's journey and regularly enforced thereafter. Harry was 20 the first time he heard the story of what Charles said to their mother, Diana. An heir and a spare. A joke. On the other hand, minutes afterward, Charles had gone to be with his other woman, Camilla Parker-Bowles. Harry took no offense. He felt nothing about any of it. Who could change the inevitable?

• Harry wasn't their Grandfather
• He wasn't their dad
• He wasn't his brother, William

Harry was third in line behind them.

Every boy & girl, at least once, imagines themselves as a prince or princess. Therefore, Spare or No Spare, it wasn't half bad to actually be one. Wasn't that the definition of standing behind those you loved? Acknowledging those before you. Everything at Balmoral was either old or made to look like it. The castle was a playground, but it was also a stage. For Harry, few pleasures compared to a scalding soak of a shower.

On August 30, 1997, William & Harry hurried through their evening baths, jumped into their pajamas, and settled eagerly in front of the TV. Posh bone china with fancy dimes covering fish fingers, cottage pies, roast chicken & peas. Mabel, their nanny, who was once their dad's nanny, joined them. 30 minutes later, the boys heard the adults migrating downstairs. With what commotion he heard downstairs, Harry thought it must be Hell being an adult after seeing what they go through. His parents divorce had become final exactly one year before. Almost to the day.

William & Harry finished dinner, watched some TV then began their bedtime hijinks. Running around a side staircase and eavesdropping on the adults, hoping to hear something they shouldn't. Harry's bed was tall. He had to jump to get in, after which he rolled into its sunken center. Harry pulled the sheets and covers to his chin, due to his loathe & detestment of the dark. His mother was the same way. Harry inherited it from her; alongside a multitude of things. How much sleep did Harry actually cherish until the grogginess wore off of the news. . . 

Their dad was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down. His dad gave a half-smile, averting his gaze. The room was half-lit. Their dad had looked at them in a funny way. . .more like a fearful "What was going on?" Harry remembers thinking: crash. . .OK? Was she all right? Yes? 

He vividly remembers that thought flashing through his mind. He vividly remembers waiting for confirmation that his mom was alright from his dad. Harry remembers that never happening. There was a shift. . .

Harry began pleading with God, his dad . . .anybody: No. No. No. Harry remembers hearing there were complications. His mom was quite badly injured and taken to a hospital, darling boy. His dad always called him "Darling Boy!" His voice was soft and in shock. Their mom was in a hospital with a head injury. Did their dad give accurate details? Harry couldn't swear to it, but probably not. Harry thought her injuries would be fixed and she would be home. . .but, she didn't make it.

These phrases remain in Harry's head like darts on a board. He remembers those 2 words: She didn't make it. From then, everything came to a STOP!

None of what Harry said to his dad remains in his memory. What Harry does remember with absolute clarity is that he didn't cry. Not one tear. His dad didn't hug him. He wasn't great at showing emotion under normal circumstances. How could he show emotion in a crisis? He did try to assure Harry it would be okay.

That is quite a lot for their dad. He was Fatherly, hopeful & kind. And so very untrue, He stood up and left. Harry laid there, or sat there. He didn't get up. He didn't bathe, didn't pee. Didn't get dressed. Didn't call out to anyone. After decades of working to reconstruct that particular morning, Harry came to one inescapable conclusion: He must've remained in that room, saying nothing, seeing no one, until 9:00A SHARP when the piper began playing outside. With bagpipes, it's not the tune, it's the tone. It can bring emotions to the surface.

Harry sees photos of them going to the church, but he has no memories. On the way back to Balmoral, a 2-minute drive, it was suggested that they stop. People had been gathering all morning outside the front gate and had to leave things. Acknowledgements should be made, The boys pulled over, got out of the car. Harry could see nothing but a matrix of colored dots. Flowers galore. Harry could hear nothing but the press' cameras. He reached for his dad's hand, for comfort, then Harry cursed himself due to unknowingly giving in to the press.

Hours later, their dad left for Paris, accompanied by Diana's sisters, Harry's aunts, Sarah & Jane. They needed to learn more about the crash and make arrangements for Diana's body. Body. People kept using that word. It was a punch in the throat, and Harry thought it was a lie, because their mother couldn't  be dead. The realization took Harry's breath away, made him gasp with relief. Coming up with excuses to mentally block the inevitable from reality Harry thought he felt better until doubt crept in; going on a mental back-and-forth. Soon after, the boys' father and aunts returned first. Their return was captured by every TV outlet and the world watched. Harry & William were kept from the TV, but they heard it all anyway.

The next few days passed in a vacuum, remaining ensconced inside their castle home. The only voices Harry heard at home were the mental ones plaguing them. Arguing with himself. Then, one morning, it was time. Back to London. Harry remembers nothing about the trip. He remembers the aftermath; but not so much the events themselves. At times, Harry memory places it there, other times memory casts itself forward, to many years later. Their Aunt Sarah Ferguson, was holding 2 tiny blue boxes. Harry lifted off the top of his blue box. Inside was . . .locks their mother's hair. Sarah explained that while in Paris, she'd clipped 2 locks from their mom's head. So, there it was: Proof! Their mother was truly gone. But, then came the mental doubts, the lifesaving uncertainty: Harry thought he could mentally block/deny what happened. 

Harry & William walked up/down the crowds outside of Kensington Palace; smiling, shaking hands, as if they were running for office. The hands were wet from tears. Harry disliked how those hands felt. Moreover, Harry hated how they made him feel. Guilty. Why were all these people crying and Harry hadn't? He wanted to cry, and tried to, due to his mom's life being so sad that she felt the need to disappear, to invent this strange massive charade. But, Harry couldn't squeeze out a drop. Maybe it was due to the family ethics. No crying ever. Harry remembers the mounds of flowers all around them. Harry remembers consoling those that he didn't even know his mother. Still don't.

There stood a large coffin. The flag mesmerized Harry. Maybe it was due to boyish games. Maybe it was due to his precocious patriotism. Or it could be the constant commotion of THE FLAG! That was ALL Harry heard about. People were up in arms because the flag hadn't been lowered to half-mast over Buckingham Palace. They were trying to deflect the attention of their role in Harry's mother's passing. They only cared about seeing some official show of mourning, and they were enraged by its absence. How rich, coming from the same source of people who "cared" so much about Harry's mother that they chased his mother into a tunnel from which she never emerged. 

Standing before the flag-draped coffin, Harry asked himself and wondered if his mother was a Patriot?What did Harry's mother truly think of Britain? Did anyone ever ask her? Harry wondered when he would be able to ask her himself? Harry can't recollect anything the family said in these moments. He doesn't recall conversations between brothers; though he does remember people around them saying "the boys" look "shell-shocked". No one bothered to whisper, as if the boys had been so shell-shocked to have gone deaf? Plans were drawn for the boys to walk behind a pulled horse-drawn carriage, It seemed a lot to ask of 2 young boys. Several adults were aghast including the boys' uncle; their mother's brother, Uncle Charles, who thought it was barbaric. An alternative plan was put forward.

William would walk alone. He was 15. Leave the younger out of it. Spare The Spare. It was arranged this way to garner sympathy. The boys' Uncle Charles was furious. But, Harry wasn't. He didn't want his brother to undergo an ordeal like this without him. Had the roles been reversed, William never would've wanted - let alone - allowed him to go it alone.

So, come morning, bright & early, off they went, all together. Harry's Uncle Charles was on his right, William was on his Charles' left, followed by their grandfather. On Harry's left was the boys' dad, Prince Charles. At the start of it, Harry noticed how serene his Grandfather was, as if it were just another royal engagement. Harry kept his eyes down the road. So did William. Harry remembers feeling very numb. He remembers clenching his fists. Harry remembers keeping William in his eyeline of vision and drawing STRENGTH from it. Mostly, Harry remembers the sounds surrounding the service. There was such a SHARP contrast to the deafening silence. The only hint that they were marching through a canyon of humanity was the occasional wailing.

After 20 minutes they reached Westminster Abbey. The funeral began with a series of readings, and a culmination of Sir. Elton John. Elton walked to the front, seated himself at a small piano. He played a special version of Candle In The Wind he rearranged specifically for Diana. One memory Harry has from that day of the song climaxing, his eyes began to sting and tears nearly fell. Nearly. Towards the end of the service came Harry's Uncle Charles, who blasted everyone - family, the world, the press - for stalking Harry's mother to her death. You could feel everyone recoil from the blow. Truth Hurts.

They yielded pressure and lowered the flag to half-mass; not the Royal Standard, of course, but the Union Jack - an unprecendented compromise. The Royal Standard was always reserved for members of the Royal Family - for which Harry's mother wasn't anymore. This meant Harry's mother was forgiven by his grandmother, The Queen. Harry wondered this as the coffin was slowly carried outside with the largest crowd ever seen. It went past Buckingham Palace; up Park Lane, towards the outskirts, over to Finchley Rd. then Henlon Way, then the Brent Cross flyover; then the North Circular. . . .leading its way before passing through the iron gate of Harry's Uncle Charles' estate; Althorp. 

The boys watched most of that car ride on TV due to already being at Althorp. They had sped ahead. Not only did the hearse go the long way around, it was delayed several times by all of the people  heaping flowers into it, blocking the vents and causing the engine to overheat. The driver had to keep pulling over so the bodyguard could get out and clean the flowers off the windshield. When the hearse finally gets to Althorp, the coffin was removed and carried across the pond, over to a little island, and there it was placed on a platform.  

The boys, William & Harry, walked across the same bridge to the island. It was reported that their mother's hands were folded across her chest and placed between them and laid a picture of William & Harry possibly the only 2 men who ever truly loved her. Certainly, the ones who loved her the most. For all eternity, they'd be smiling at her in the darkness, and maybe it was this image, as the flag came off and the coffin descended to the bottom of the hole, and that finally broke Harry. His body convulsed and his chin fell. He began to emotionally break and sobbed uncontrollably into his hands. Harry felt ashamed of violating family ethos; but he just couldn't hold it in anymore. Harry reassured himself it was O.K. There weren't any cameras around. Harry promised himself that his mother was not only in a hole. He bawled at the mere idea.

Then, from there, everyone moved on. The family went back to work and Harry went back to school. Back to "normal"everyone stated. If you wanted to find Harry in September 1997, the library would've been the last place to look. Better to check the woods. Or the sports fields. He was always trying to keep moving; keep busy. Harry was also, more often, alone. Harry liked people. He was gregarious by nature, but Harry didn't want anyone too close. He needed space.  

That was a tall order, due to Harry's school housed 100 boys living in proximity. They ate together, bathed together, slept together; sometimes 10 to a room. Everyone knew everyone's business; down to immense personal details. And yet, no one mentioned Harry's mother when the new term began. Out of respect? More out of fear. Harry kept and said nothing to no one. Days after his return, Harry had a birthday; his 13TH. By long-standing tradition, Harry had his choice. His choice was his mother's favorites of food. His first birthday without his mom, his aunt Sarah had appeared out of nowhere holding a box. After peering through, Sarah had informed Harry that his mother had bought it for him in Paris. It was an Xbox. Harry was pleased. He loved video games. Charles had said that Diana hurt her head. As a defense mechanism, Harry's memory was no longer recording/remembering like he once did. Therein, Harry felt he had hit his head; just as his mother did.

Despite having 2 Male Headmasters, Harry's school was run by women. Whatever tenderness day-to-day they received, came from them, the women. The matrons CARED for them. Aside from Harry's outburst, he had not cried again. The matrons fancied themselves as a Mom-Away-From-Mom, which was odd; but now especially confusing; because of his mom's passing, also because the matrons were suddenly . . .hot. Harry developed a crush on a certain teacher, Miss Roberts, whom he felt was certain he was going to marry one day, as well as a pair of sister teachers. Every boy had his own towel for washing up, embossed with their school I.D. number. Harry was 116. As a 13-yr-old, he graduated from matronly bathing assistance. But, he was still dependent on their nightly tuck-ins, still treasured their morning greetings. Harry awoke from a morning visage, framed by the sun hoping for what could've been.  . .but never was.

The matron Harry dealt with the most was Pat. Unlike most matrons, Pat was the opposite of her counterparts that he found attractive. Only the newest & stupidest boys would go to Pat with a problem. Or worse, a cut. She was "empathy challenged" with no bedside manner. Pat, herself, had many crosses to bear. Harry didn't so much as torture this poor woman. For him, that wasn't the reward, but making his classmates laugh. It had felt good to make others laugh, especially since Harry hadn't laughed in months. Maybe Pat knew this. Seeing Harry being a total ass was the best. Cracking up his friends, but nothing was better than making a miserable Pat bust a gut with Harry's antics.

On Tuesday, Thursday & Saturday, the school had what they called Grub Days. A day where they would gorge on sweets.A plethora of them. Just the sight of that table made their childhood mouths water. Harry would super-size his sugar rush by taking his Opal Fruits (which later changed its name to Starbursts) and squeeze them together into one massive candy, then jam them into the side of his mouth. He could feel the dextrose enter his bloodstream. The opposite of grub day was letter writing day. A letter home to his parents. Harry could barely remember when his parents weren't divorced. So, writing to them without parental drama required the finesse of a career diplomat. After his mom's passing, letter writing was impossible. Harry was told by the matron to write a "final" letter to his mom. He remembers wanting to protest that was still alive. Harry probably dashed off writing something quick, saying he missed her and school was fine. He folded it once and handed it to the matron. Harry immediately regretted not taking this assignment seriously.

Harry wished he'd dug deep, told his mother everything that was weighing on him/his heart, especially his regret over the last time they spoke on the phone. Harry's mother had called early in the evening, the night of the crash, but he was running around with his brother and cousins and didn't want to stop playing. Harry was short & impatient with his mother on the phone and rushed her off. We all have that moment we wish we could take back that forever haunts us. Being impatient on the phone with his mother is something Harry will ALWAYS REGRET! He wished he searched for the words to describe how much he loved her. Little did he know that search would take decades. 

A month later, it was time off school. With the press' hysteria of his mother's passing, the nation was in a state that had veered into psychosis. To worsen the top of it all, William wouldn't've been home to watch over Harry. He was at Eaton. So, their father announced that he'd take Harry with him on a planned trip to South Africa to meet Nelson Mandela. Harry didn't get it. He wasn't sure why he wanted his dad for him to get the significance of the trip. The truth was that Harry's father's staff hoped for a photo-op with this particular political leader to earn him some positive headlines, which he sorely needed. Since Harry's mother and the divorce, his father's popularity ratings had plummeted.

Whatever the official reason was for the trip, Harry didn't care. He was just happy to be going along. It was a chance to get away from Britain. Better yet, it was a better time with his dad, due to his father being mentally checked out. Not that he always was a bit checked out, his dad wasn't ready for the responsibilities of parenthood. He just wasn't made for single parenthood. But, to be equally fair, his father did try. In the evenings, his father never forgot that Harry didn't like the dark, so he would gently touch Harry's face until he fell asleep. Harry had the fondest memories of his father's touch on his son's cheeks, forehead; then waking up to find him gone, magically. Other than a few fleeing moments, Harry and his father merely co-existed.

Harry's father had trouble communicating, trouble listening, trouble being intimate face-to-face. On rare occasions, after a multi-course dinner, Harry would find a letter on his pillow saying what his father couldn't. But, Harry would've appreciated more if his father SAID it. Then, came REALITY! A work trip featuring father/son. The Spice Girls concert was Harry's first public outing since the funeral. Harry knew through speculation of the public's concern for his welfare was running high. Harry performed with a smile on his face screwed on . . . just wishing he could go back to bed at/in boarding school.

The Spice Girls cooed at Harry, saying things he didn't understand, while bantering with journalists, whom weren't so much as questioning him, but trying to trap him. Journalists who didn't care for Harry. They were trying to get Harry to say something "Newsy": The more outward The Spice Girls were to the media, the more Harry could fade into the background. Harry was able to truly enjoy the show with his dad. He recalls that as the flashes brightened, Harry truly had his dad that night. Loving him and needing him. The next morning, Harry and Charles left for a beautiful lodge on a snaky river; KwaZulu - Natal. The whole trip was a smashing success. Not only a terrific adventure, but an unforgettable bonding experience with father & son.

Most of Harry's teachers were just kind souls who just let him be. After what he'd already lived through, the staff didn't want to put Harry through more. Some teachers never gave him any leeway passes. His History teacher found it odd for a British prince to not know British History. It wasn't that Harry didn't know about his family's history, he didn't want to know. In theory, Harry liked British history. There were certain bits that he found intriguing due to having visited these locations with his dad. Other parts of History for Harry, he just didn't care. Harry's family had already declared him a nullity. The Spare. Harry didn't complain about it, but there was no need to dwell on it either. Far better position to be in at the time for Harry because he didn't need to think about historical facts like his father & brother. Harry knew his place, so why go out of his way to study it? What was the point in memorizing past spares? Why trace his family tree when it all leads to the same severed branch - his mom?

After class, Harry asked his teacher to stop embarrassing him. Harry's argument was that it was cruel and unfair to single him out from other boys the way he did. The teacher had overstepped and he knew it but was stubborn.  

Late at night, after lights went out, Harry and some of his classmates would sneak out, go roaming up/down the corridors. A strict violation of the rules, but Harry was lonely and homesick, due to anxiety & depression. He couldn't stay grounded and locked into his dorm. There was one teacher, whenever he caught Harry, would give him a tremendous clout, along with a hardback version of the New English Bible that he would violently hit Harry with it, making him (Harry) feel bad about the teacher and bad about the Bible involved. Nevertheless, the next night Harry would go back to flouting the rules. If he wasn't roaming the corridors, Harry was roaming the school grounds, usually with his best mates, mates that Harry would get into shenanigans with. He couldn't remember the punishment he received after getting caught. Whatever it was, Harry knows he didn't mind. There was no torture Ludgrove could dish out that surpassed what was going on inside of him. Needless to say, abandoned children don't care about a bell. Rambunctious boys don't care about the sound of a bell. Adding to this general sense of bedlam was the psychiatric hospital down the road, Broadmoor. Broadmoor had installed a warning siren; and now/then they'd test it to check its working order. It sounds like Doomsday. A teacher's bell on steroids.

Charles liked telling stories. A patient that was talking crazy circulated a remarkably unfunny joke, given the rumor that Harry's actual father was one of his mother's former lovers: Major James Hewitt.  One cause was due to James' genetic makeup. Tabloids delighted by the idea. They couldn't get enough of it. Nevermind the fact that Diana didn't meet Major Hewitt until long after Harry was born. The press loved it. There was even talk that some reporters were seeking Harry's DNA to prove it. Charles finally sat Harry down for a proper heart-to-heart, reassuring Harry of the TRUTH! Major Hewitt wasn't Harry's father. If Charles had any doubts, he kept them to himself.

Harry's mother LEGENDARILY stated that there were 3 people in her marriage. But, her math was off. She felt her boys out of the equation. They didn't  quite understand their parents, but they intuited enough. They sensed the presence of the Other Way, due to suffering the downstream effects. William long had suspicions about said Other Woman; which confused him, tortured him and when those suspicions were confirmed, William felt tremendous guilt for having done nothing, said something sooner. Harry was too young to have suspicions. But, he couldn't help but feel the lack of stability, the lack of warmth & love, in their home. Now, with their mom's passing, it landed on their dad. He was able to be openly free to see the Other Woman as he liked. But, seeing wasn't sufficient. Their dad wanted to be aboveboard. The first step to that was to bring "the boys" into the field.

William went first. He was summoned from Eton for a high-stakes private meeting. At Highgrove over tea with Harry went well. Harry & William compared notes later. William stated that his impression of Camilla had made an effort and had appreciated by William. That was all he indulged to say. Harry's turn came next. He told himself this was no big deal. Just like getting an injection: Close your eyes. It'll be over soon. 

Harry has dim recollections of Camilla being bored/calm as he. Neither fretted over the other. Camilla wasn't Harry's mother and Harry wasn't her biggest problem. In other words, Harry didn't matter. He wasn't the Heir. This meeting between The Boys and Camilla was merely a formality. The commonality they had in common was horses. Camilla loves them, and Harry knew how to ride. Harry wondered right before the first meeting if Camilla would've been like stepmothers in storybooks. But, Camilla wasn't. Both of the boys felt gratitude for that. The boys thought their dad should be happy. Yes, Camilla did play a pivotal role in cementing the events of the unraveling of their mother, the boys understood the trappings that Camilla was on in the riptide of events. The boys didn't blame Camilla. They'd steadily forgive her if she made their father happy.

With the descendency of how their father was raised and the boys knowing better, William & Harry agreed their father deserved better. Their dad deserved a proper companion. That was why, when asked, William & Harry promised their dad that they'd welcome Camilla into the family. The only thing they'd asked in return was that their dad would not marry her. They pleaded that there was no need to remarry. A wedding would only cause controversy. It would've only incited the press. Ingratiating and making comparisons between Camilla and their mother. No one wanted that. Least of all Camilla.  Their father didn't respond. Camilla answered. . . straightaway. Shortly after their private sessions with Camilla, began to play the long game; a campaign aimed at marriage and eventually the Crown. Stories began to appear in the press, everywhere, about their conversations with the boys. . . some sourced from William himself. In a 2-person conversation with pinpoint accuracy. . . it could only come from one source. . . William and the leaking had been abeited by a a spin doctor that Charles hired at Camilla's urging.  

Eaton

In the early autumn of 1998, having completed his education at Ludgrove the previous spring, Harry entered Eaton; The finest school for boys that was meant to be a shock. Harry seen what his ancestor, Henry VI, was some sort of holy shrine, a sacred temple had previously laid. The situation-at-hand became obvious during Harry's very first  French lesson. He was astounded to hear the class was conducted entirely in French. Presuming all of the students were fluent. Afterward, Harry went up to the teacher and explained that there'd been a dreadful mistake and he was in the wrong class. The teacher told Harry to relax, assuring him Harry would be updated in no time. So, Harry went to his headmaster, and begged to be in a smaller class. The principal did as Harry asked. But, it was merely a temporary measure. 

Once or twice, Harry would confess to a teacher that he was merely relocated to said class. Harry was in way, way over his head. It was explained that if Harry needed anything, he always had William there. At the same time, William told Harry, his own brother, to pretend Harry didn't know him. William, in his explanation, had become territorial. Eaton was William's sanctuary. No need for a kid brother around. William was forging his own life, and wasn't willing to give that up. William hated being lumped in with Harry, as if they were a package duo. William HATED it. When their mom tried to dress twin them as boys. Harry barely took notice. He didn't care about clothes, his or someone else's. Just as long as it wasn't something mischievous, Harry was good. But, for William, it was pure agony to dress the exact same as his brother. And to attend the same school as his little brother; it was pure murderous torture for William. Harry assured his older brother that he/Harry would forget his brother's existence. But, Eaton wasn't going to make it easy. To try to ease things, Eaton tried to house the boys together. At least, Harry was on the ground floor. William was way upstairs with his class group.

Many of the 60 boys in the house were as unwelcoming as William. Their indifference, however, didn't rattle Harry as much as their ease. At least in Ludgrove, Harry knew his lay of the land. At Eaton, Harry had to start from the fresh bottom again. Starting Over. Worse, without his best friend, whom was attending a different school. Harry didn't even know how to dress in the morning. Every Etonion was to formally dress in perpetual mourning for Henry VI. While Harry was sorry for this ancestral passing, he wasn't keen on mourning him 24/7. For a bot who just lost his mom. it was a real kick-in-the-balls daily. Harry tried his damndest to not be late and have his name LARGELY ENGRAVED in The Tardy Book; one of the many words he had to learn. . . along with many  more; including the way they introduced a different inventory of a summary of the location.

Sport, Harry would be his thing at Eaton. Sporty boys were separated into 2 groups: dry bobs or wet bobs. Dry bobs played land sports. . .Wet bobs involved water sports. Harry was dry who occasionally got wet. Harry played every dry sport, though Rugby allowed Harry to indulge in rage; any pain he felt. . . Harry put on the Rugby field. No one had an answer for a boy who seeked eternal pain to match his external. Harry made some friends/mates. It wasn't easy. Harry had special requirements. If they could look past Harry's position; If they seen Him. . .They met the criteria. Someone to treat Harry "normal". Sometimes, Harry and his mates would escape, head for Windsor Bridge. They would head to the underside of the bridge, where they would partake in smoking cigarettes (tabbage) in privacy. His mates did it to being on autopilot. Sure, Harry fancied a cigarette after a McDonald's meal; who didn't?  Of course, if Harry was to bunk off; he would've golfed with a beer. Still, Harry took every cigarette offered to him, In the same onclarance, Harry graduated to weed.

In an effort to fit in, Harry wanted to be a TOP funny bloke. He allowed the boys in his flat to shave his head after a smartass comment. Someone fetched the clippers. Someone else pushed Harry into a chair. When the cutter was done, Harry looked down and saw a dozen patches of hair on the floor. Right then, Harry knew he'd made a COLOSSIAL mistake. He ran to the mirror and screamed in horror. His friends screamed in laughter. Harry ran around in circles wanting to reverse time. Not knowing where else to turn, Harry violated the single rule bestowed upon him never to be broken. Harry ran to William's room. Hoping for comfort from William, instead William laughed along with the others. Harry remembers William sitting at his desk, bent over a book, chuckling as Harry grappled in his mistake. William's only words to Harry were a mere matter-of-fact obvious point. After being unhelpful, Harry left his brother. What was worse. . . the Daily Mirror caught slight of Harry's new hair. . The headline says Harry The Skinhead. A schoolmate had sold Harry's night to the press. They had no photo to give. But, they improvised. The image created for the front page looked bad, but not that bad.

Harry didn't think it could get any worse. . .What a grevious mistake for a member of the Royal Family. Weeks later, the newspaper put it out there of Harry's accident. Harry had broken a thumb playing Rugby, no big deal. But, the papers incited that Harry was on life support. Bad & in poor taste under the circumstances of it being a little more than a year of their mother's accident. Harry had dealt with the press his ENTIRE life, but they had NEVER singled Harry out. In fact, after their mom's death; it was an unwritten rule of treatment from the press to lay off. Let the boys have an education in peace. Apparently, the agreement had expired, but of Harry being as a delicate flower. Or an asshole. Or both in the press. And knocking on death's door.

Harry read the articles several times. He was marveled at its larky tone. Harry's only existence was pure fodder for the tabloids. He was no longer a human being to them. They didn't see a 14-yr-old boy hanging on by his fingernails. Harry was seen as a character to be manipulated and mocked for fun. So, what if their words were torturing a child? All was "supposedly justified" due to Harry's genes of Royalty.

Charles' office forged a formal complaint, demanding an apology; accusing the paper of bullying his younger son. The newspaper told Charles to fuck off. Before trying to move on, Harry took one last look at the article. What took Harry by true surprise was the shitty writing. This was coming from Harry being a poor student, a dreadful writer at the time and yet Harry seen the illiteracy right there. Harry had evidentiary support to the contrary. It was clearly written by a young journalist. Soon to be forgotten, 

Harry couldn't pinpoint the source of which it laid, but it was circulated that Harry was cast in his role in the Royal Melodrama. Long before he was able to legally drink a beer. It became dogma. Being given the Naughty title was what Harry swam against; the daily expectation Harry could never hope to shake. Harry didn't want to be naughty. He wanted to be noble. He wanted to be good, work hard, grow up and do something meaningful. But, every sin, every misstep, every setback triggered the same outcome and thereby reinforcing what was bestowed. Things may have been received differently if Harry had received good grades. But, he didn't and everyone knew it. His grades were publicly posted. The entire Commonwealth was aware of his academic struggles, which were largely due to being overmatched at Eaton. But, no one wanted to get down to the root of it all: Harry's mother; Diana.

Studying and concentration wage a war with the mind. In Henry's teen years, he was waging an all-out war on his. He was forever fending off his darkest thoughts, its basest fears - his fondest memories. The fonder the memories, the deeper the ache. Harry found strategies to deal with it. Some healthy. Some not. But, all quite effective. When Harry was forced to sit with a book - He naturally freaked out. Naturally, He's trying to avoid the situation. At all costs, Harry avoided sitting quietly with a book. It struck him that the whole basis of education was memory. Harry's own memory. . .where life is stored. . . was the part of the brain that was resisting. Harry's memory had been spotty since his mom's passing, by natural design, and he didn't want to fix it. Fixing it = dealing with it. Not remembering was balm. Storing memories into a place where Harry wasn't ready to go to.

It confused Harry due to remembering/memorizing some things; like lines from favorite films Ace Ventura and The Lion King; he'd repeat them often to others or himself. So, despite his clear memory of not wanting to remember his mother, Harry was also trying gamely not to forget her. It was also becoming clear that Harry was meant to be his father's opposite. What bothered their dad the most was how Harry went out of his way to avoid books. Unlike Charles who loved them. Especially Shakespeare. Charles often peppered conversations quoting Shakespeare. Charles' point was that due to their shared heritage, they should know & recite Shakespeare at hand. Harry never doubted how much it upset his father that Harry just wasn't a Shakespearean enthusiast. Harry tried with Hamlet. The story and prologue were too close to home for Harry. Harry slammed it shut. No, thank you! 

Charles never stopped fighting the good fight. Finding ways for he & Harry to bond. Either way, it was torturous for both. The one piece of literature Harry does remember enjoying was a slender novel: Of Mice & Men; one that Harry was assigned in English class. A story about friendship, about brotherhood, about loyalty. . .it was filled with inneundo's that Harry related deeply to. So true for these boys. Too bad, William was still pretending to ignore his brother.

In early Spring 1999, Harry was home from Eaton for the weekend. He was woken up to find his dad on the edge of his son's bed, stating that Harry was going back to Africa. Reason being the same old problem: Harry was facing a long school holiday; over Easter, and something needed to be done with Harry. So, an African safari it was. Alone with William. Harry was so excited about the prospect of this safari. He mentally blocked out the in-between from the news of the trip to actual departure. They flew direct to Johannesburg, then by prop plane to Maun, the largest city in northern Botswana. There they met up with a large group of safari guides, who steered them among a convoy of open-topped land Cruisers. Driving off straight into pure wilderness, toward the vast Okavango Delta. As the travels continued, Harry had trouble catching his breath. A dream in which Harry taking it all in. Lots of high fives, bear hugs and names flying at them. When thinking of this trip, Harry's first thought goes immediately to their campfire. The campfire was where they collected their days activities. Staring into that fire, then up to the universe. Dropping your guard later into the night fire. As time passed, out came the whisky. Then laughter got louder. Harry enjoyed himself. Thinking to himself: More of this, Please. Harry had always feared the darkness all of his life. Africa cured him of his phobia. The campfire. Marko, the largest member of the group had similarities with Harry. Harry was a ginger, self-conscious about it, but Marko was an extreme ginger who owned it. Harry wondered how to be taught how Marko embraced himself. Marko was one who led by example. He was one big ginger Mardi-Gras. Harry wondered why most people weren't like this guy.

Harry wanted to ask his brother what it was like to have this experience, but apparently the Eaton rule carried out over to Botswana. William still wanted nothing to do with his brother any more than if they were at school. When it would be "suggested" that Harry was going to bed, always before everyone else, Harry didn't squawk. The days were long and the tents were a welcoming cocoon. His bed was wrapped in a cozy African rug. For the first time, in a long time; months/years, Harry fell asleep straight away. Harry found the animal noise so soothing. The later it got. Relaxation. No matter how loud the animal, Harry could still hear Marko laughing. Before the end of the trip, Harry promised himself. . . .he was going to find a way to make this guy, Marko, laugh.

Harry found similarities between him and others. One being their penchant for having a sweet tooth. They both particularly loved puddings. So, Harry being mischievous got the idea of spiking Marko's pudding with Tabasco. After realizing the prank, Marko laughed after realizing that Harry was the culprit, taking it in stride. From then, Harry couldn't wait for the next night. As everyone began to enjoy their dinner, Harry tiptoed out the meal tent. He went 50 meters, into the kitchen tent and poured an entire teacup of Tabasco into Marko's bowl of pudding. The kitchen crew caught Harry in his deed; but Harry put his finger to his lips.  They chuckled. Scurrying back into the meal tent, Harry gave a wink. (Mission Accomplished!) He never told William of his pranks or kept his brother updated. Harry knew William wouldn't have approved. Harry squirmed, counting the minutes until dessert was served, fighting back the giggles. Suddenly, someone noticed a difference. WHOA! Shit!

In unison, everyone turned their heads. Everyone froze. Except Harry. Marko gripped Harry's shoulder. Harry turned back in time to see the adults all look around one another, mouths open. Holy Fuck! Their eyes darted towards Harry. Fuucck! They were all imagining the press banner back home. The world would reel. Harry would roll. Harry was thinking of his mother. A passerby leopard was a felt sign from her. All may have been well; but imagine the horror! As a Royal, you were taught to maintain a buffer zone between you and the rest of Creation. Of course, the family included distance as well. No matter how much you love someone, you never cross that chasm between Heir Or Spare. Physically, but not emotionally. The older generation maintained a nearly zero-tolerance prohibition on all physical contact. In Africa, royal rules were disbarred. In Africa, distance dissolved and creatures roamed freely. Utopia. It was through seeing this with his eyes that that was what Harry craved & desired. What he yearned for all of his life - Life! Realizing that, Harry's eyes were opened and captivated. He took in his surroundings and his environment. SEEING it. Appreciating it. The Circle Of Life. Around the campfire that night, everyone rejoiced in the river. Stories. Harry heard it all night.

Speaking of weirdness, the smell of marijuana waifed in the air. Voices grew louder. Harry asked if he could partake. Everyone gauffed. Fuck off. William looked at his brother in horror. But, Harry wouldn't back off; stating he was experienced/ Heads rolled. . .calling Harry's bluff. Harry had previously slammed down 2- 6-packs Smirnoff Ice with buddies drinking until they passed out. Harry boasted. Other pals allowed Harry to sip off their flask on stalking trips. Adults shrugged. One rolled a joint and passed it to Harry. He took a puff. Coughed, and puked. African weed was much harsher than at Eaton. And the high was less too. The "joint" was just fresh basil wrapped in filthy rolling paper.  

When they were kids, William & Harry would play with children who were friends of their dad's. As the youngest/smallest, Harry always took the brunt. But, he also did the most escalating, the most asking for it. So, Harry deserved everything he got. Black eye. Violet welt. Puffy lip; Harry didn't mind. On the contrary, maybe Harry wanted to look tough. Maybe he wanted to feel something. Whatever his motivation, Harry wanted to hurt himself more. When Harry fought back in play, he would lose all control, all ability to focus on anything but family, country, tribe, and hurl himself at something, everyone. . . .just kicking ass. Harry didn't know how effective or skilled a fighter he was. But he always succeeded in providing enough diversion for William to get away. After it was done/over, Harry always felt such love for his brother, and he sensed love in return, but also some embarrassment. Harry was half William's size and half his weight. Harry was the younger brother: William was supposed to save his brother; not the other way around. When there was no one else present, William & Harry would turn on each other. Mostly, it was on the way somewhere. One time after a brotherly squabble on the road, the boys were then divided/separated after Charles stopped the car and shouted at William to get out of the vehicle. William then looked at Harry furious. He felt Harry had gotten away with everything. Looking from the backseat and onto the other car; Harry could feel his brother plotting his revenge.  

Harry tried but couldn't stomach hunting/shooting. Unlike William. Their dad was religious and felt that if you loved nature, you had to know when to leave it alone. Harry felt close to God and saw reasoning within his dad's words. It was all a form of worship. Harry wasn't religious, but a "blood facial" was, to him, baptismal. It was all a part of something to experience. Harry loved skiing and he excelled at it. But, once his mother entered the forefront of his mind, Harry was buried under his own private avalanche of emotions. And questions that evaded him mentally. Harry tried to share his theory of their mother having disappeared mentally with his brother. William had the same notion and entertaining a similar theory. But, ultimately discarded it. Harry wouldn't hear of his brother's harsh reality.

When Harry was at Eaton, he was walking past the doors to the TV room; one of his sanctuaries. Almost every day, straight after lunch, Harry & his mates would head to the TV room and watch a bit of Neighbours or other programming favorites. But in September 2001, the room was packed and Neighbours wasn't on. The news was on. And the news was a nightmare. Harry tried to peer through the crowded boys to see the news. And the news was a nightmare. Harry asked the boy next to him. It was the events of September 11, 2001 happening LIVE! More-and-more boys gathered. Their eyes glued on the TV news. Anxiously. In stunned silence, in boyish confusion, they watched the only world they knew disappear into a cloud of smoke. Days later, Harry turned 17.

Harry would often wish to himself first thing in the morning and throughout the day that maybe his mother would reappear. It had been 4 years since the accident. Maybe she forged herself a new life/identity. Mentally having the most elaborate of dreams at night. His mother was always wearing a disguise in these dreams. And yet, Harry would always recognize her. Before any form of communication, Harry would snap himself awake. He would look in/around the room, feeling the crushing disappointment. Only a dream. Again. Harry knew the truth deep in his heart. 

Harry was like a religious fanatic who believed the world would end on a particular day. He still hadn't mourned, still hadn't cried, except for a time at his mother's grave, still not processed bare facts.

Part of Harry's brain knew, but part of it was wholly insulated. . . .keeping his consciousness divided, polarized, gridlocked. Just as Harry wanted it. Sometimes Harry would have a stern talk with himself. He would believe it when he had solid proof. With solid proof, Harry thought he could properly mourn, cry and move on. Harry doesn't remember exactly how they landed on what they were looking for. Whenever they found themselves in possession, they'd gather together in a tiny upstairs bathroom, wherein they would assemble a line. They'd take a hit or 2, blow the smoke out of the window, then move to the next station, in rotation, until the mission was complete. Then they'd all head to one of their rooms and giggle over stupid shit on TV; especially Family Guy. Harry felt an inexplicable bond with lead character, Stewie, prophet without honor. Harry knew it was wrongfully bad behaviour. His roommates knew it too. They talked about it often; while stoned, about their education being wasted at Eaton.

They even made a pact to quit cold turkey throughout the time of final exams. But, the very next night, lying in bed, Harry heard this ruckus in the hall. Heading to the loo, Harry could tell that his mates had broken the pact they made. Harry got out of bed and joined in. They split without bogarting the joint in question; shaking their heads. One night, while high, Harry's stationed security looked peaceful and still out there. In his life, Harry thought it was so peaceful in the world. In the same high context, Harry seen a fox and they both froze looking at each other. Thanks to the high from the weed; Harry felt a piercing and powerful kinship with his fox. He felt such a connection to the fox than anyone else at Eaton. This little fox felt like a messenger, sent to them from another realm. If only Harry  knew what the message was. 

Whenever Harry was home from school, he hid himself upstairs; throwing himself inside his video games playing Halo endlessly. Hiding in the basement beneath Highgrove, usually with William. The boys would start a typical weekend evening by sneaking into a nearby pub; where they'd engage in a few drinks, a few pints of Snake Bite, then round up a few guys and bring the buck to Club H (Highgrove). There were never more than 15 give-or-takes. They got on well, and sometimes more than well. Sometimes innocent with the not-so-innocent drinking of Rum/Coke or Vodka, with a splash of Red Bull. They were often tipsy, and sometimes smashed, and yet, no drugs were used in the process. Their bodyguards stayed nearby with a sense of boundaries. 

Club H was the perfect hideout for teenagers. When Harry wanted peace, Club H provided it. When Harry wanted mischief, Club H was the safest place to act out rebellion. The same goes for solitude. William felt the same. Harry sensed a serenity around William in Club H. It was a relief to be somewhere that William didn't feel the need for estrangement from Harry. When it was just the 2 brothers in there; they'd play games, listen to music or talk. With loud music in play, William tried to talk about their mother. Club H felt like the one place to broach the unbroachable. Just one problem: Harry wasn't ready to go there. He changed the subject. William would be frustrated. Harry wouldn't acknowledge. Being so obtuse, so emotionally unavailable was not a choice Harry made. He wasn't ready. Not even close to ready.

One topic that was safe was how safe/wonderful it felt to be unseen. They talked at length about the glorious luxury of privacy. Their one true haven. They were never found from the press. At the end of 2001, Marko visited Harry at Eaton. An excuse to bunk off and leave school with all smiles. While hanging out with Marko, Harry sensed that Mark was questioning him of his recent loss in virginity. An inglorious episode with an older female. Much like this woman's love of horses, she treated Harry like a young stallion. Quick ride. After which she smacked Harry on the ass and sent him off to gaze. Only one wrong problem: It was in a grassy field behind a busy pub. Obviously, someone had to have seen them.

The biggest tabloid had called their dad's office to say they'd "uncovered" evidence of Harry doing drugs in various locations; including Club H. Also a bike shed behind a pub. (Not the pub where Harry lost his virginity). The editor of Britain's biggest tabloid laid claims that were evidentiary lies. One claim was that Harry was a drug addict. Harry offered a way out, but the editor was now vowing to not only GET his story on Harry; but GET at Marko. Harry thought the Palace would kill the press' story. Instead, the Palace opted to play ball with the press. It was the same spin doctor Charles & Camilla had recently hired to throw Harry right under the bus. In one swoop, this would appease the editor and bolster Charles' reputation. This one shiny consolation prize for Charles; no more the unfaithful husband; Charles could now present himself as a harried single dad coping with a drug-addicted child. 

Harry was back at Eaton, trying to focus on his studies and remain calm. Harry listened to go-to soothing CDs of nature. At night, shutting off the lights, Harry hit play. Those sounds from the CDs were Harry's only way to sleep. After a few days, the meeting with Marko receded from consciousness. It began to feel like a nightmare. But then Harry woke up to the actual nightmare. Front Page Headline: Harry's Drug Shame. In January 2002, more headlines came from Marko's lies. One minute it was habitual drug use; the next it was rehab. Rehab. The editor had gotten ahold of photos of Harry & Marko's entering a rehab facility all due in part of charitable Princely duties. Repurposing the photos for tabloid fodder. Harry felt sickened, horrified. He could imagine his country believing these lies. What hurt worse. . . Harry felt heartbroken at the idea that this was partly the responsibilities of his own family: including his dad and Camilla. They had abetted in this.

Harry called William in need of a brother. He couldn't speak. William was sympathetic; but this was part of Royal life. From there, the Rehab stories escalated from the Press. Club H was made to sound WAY WORSE than it TRULY was. Even spectators from Charles came to investigate the rumors thinking Harry was hiding what wasn't there.  

It was strange. After so much mourning to just party. But, months later came the 50TH Anniversary of the Golden Jubilee. Over 4 days in Britain, it was chaos. While Harry wondered how his grandmother kept an imperturbable serenity, he was an absolute nervous wreck. There were several reasons for Harry's nervousness, but the main one was a brewing scandal. 

Just before the Jubilee, Harry was accosted by one of the couriers and flatly asked if he was involved in cocaine. It was a setup with others wanting a GO at him. He was not submitting to blackmail. Of course. . . Harry had been doing cocaine around this time. The press didn't need to know that. At someone's country house, during a shooting weekend, Harry was offered a line and done a few more times. It wasn't much fun, and it didn't make him particularly happy, as it did for others around him. But, it did make Harry feel different, and that was the main goal. Feel Different. Harry was a deeply unhappy 12-yr-old boy willing to try anything that would alter the status quo. That was what Harry told himself. Back then, Harry could lie to himself as effortlessly as he had lied. At this point, Harry realized that cocaine wasn't worth the candle. The risk far outweighed the reward.

Harry played the game well. After calling the journalists' bluff, he went silent. (Or maybe not.) The journalist slithered into Clearance House and became very good friends with Camilla & Charles. Harry was ashamed for lying. But, also proud. In a tight spot, Harry hadn't felt any serenity; but at least managed to protect it. Harry channeled his grandmother's heroic stoicism. He deeply regrets lying, but the alternative would've been 10x worse.

On Tuesday, the culminating day of the Jubliee, marvelous many said it was miraculous it was that Harry's grandmother was so hip, given the array of the greatest artists of the century performing; including Paul McCartney, that Harry's grandmother was so hip! Sitting directly behind her, Harry couldn't help thinking the same thing. To see his grandmother tapping her foot and swaying in time, Harry wanted to hug her, though he didn't. Out Of The Question. Harry had never done that and couldn't imagine any circumstances to which an act was sanctioned. As the concert went on-and-on, Harry began to feel tired. Harry had a headache from the loud music, and from the stress of the last few weeks. His grandmother showed no signs of stopping. Still tapping/swaying.

Suddenly, Harry looked closer. He noticed something in her ears. As Harry looked closer, he saw that his grandmother had yellow earplugs. Harry looked into his lap and smiled. When he lifted his head again, Harry watched in glee as his grandmother kept time to the music she couldn't hear, or music she found a subtle way of controlling with distance. More than ever, Harry wanted to hug his grandmother.

Whatever/whenever their dad resided, Harry lived there as well. When he wasn't living at Manor House. Harry's final year at Eaton was approaching. His dad wanted to discuss life thereafter. Everyone was moving on. Harry considered working at the ski resort where his mother took them. Such wonderful memories. Harry especially wanted to work at the fondue station in the center of town, which their mother loved. Harry loved their fondue; hoping to work that particular station. Instead, Harry took up the notion of becoming a ski instructor. That was out of the question for his dad. Same for a safari guide. Harry truly wanted to do something outside the box. 

Part of Harry wanted to drop out & disappear - as his mother did. Another part of him felt hugely ambitious, Harry, may have been a royal, but he worried quite a lot about making his own way,

finding his own purpose in the world.

Their dad was discouraged from hard work. He had been advised that the Heir shouldn't "do too much" for fear of outshining the Monarch. But, his father rebelled against it & listened to his inner voice. He wanted the same for Harry. His dad KNEW that college university wasn't in Harry's DNA. Harry wasn't against it. . . per se. He even poured over the literature of one university for its Art History. (One was for the pretty ladies in said course as a reason). But, Harry couldn't picture himself spending years bent over a book. It was no secret that Harry wasn't the family scholar. No Digs Indeed! Just Facts! 

Father/son weighted what to do. After going back/forth and by a process elimination they landed on the Army. It made sense It aligned with Harry's desire to disappear outside the box. The military took Harry from the public to blend in. it also fit in with his desire to make a difference. And it is accorded with Harry's personality. His favorite toy as a child were miniature soldiers. Hours of play. Harry's dad completely agreed. The Army was just the key. So, Harry sat down with Marko and devised a plan. Spending half the year working on a farm in Australia. As for the second half of the year, Africa. Harry wanted to join the fight against AIDS. An homage to his mother; an explicit continuation of His Mother's work. It didn't need to be spelled out for him. 

After Marko's research, Harry came back and said: Lesotho. Harry admitted to never hearing of it. After being educated on the matter, Harry has seen loads of work still to be done. Harry was overjoyed with a plan. At last! After hanging out with friends in 2002 and telling of his plan. . . .Good for Harry! They talked about Africa with plans to meet up there. Hoping to find themselves side-by-side into battle or helping others on the other side of the world. The world. The future and what it held. Harry worried about it. Then, just before Christmas 2002, Harry received a call. His friend and another boy were leaving a party and drove into a tree. The call was blurred. Harry's reaction was similar to that of his mother's demise. One of the boys had passed away. The other boy, the driver, had been critically injured. William & Harry had gone to the funeral. Afterward, unlike their mother, there was no way the press could spin this into a disappearance. This was a death; no way around it.

Harry wouldn't be able to be released from Eaton until he performed in one of their formal dramas before letting him go. It was ridiculous. But, Eaton took the dramatic arts very seriously. In Spring 2003, it was Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. Harry was cast as Conrade, a minor character. With the way the character was written, the way that Harry played the role, he saw it as a bit of typecasting. Stories write themselves. Eaton's drama department instructed Harry to have fun with the role. Whatever. Whatever it took to get the hell out of Eaton. This acting was the way out. Harry learned it was wrong and reductive to see this role through his side of alcohol consumption.

Harry found it easy to throw himself into such a ride, and during dress rehearsal, Harry had a hidden talent. Being royal wasn't that far from being onstage. Acting was acting, no matter the context. Opening night, Harry's father sat dead center into a packed theatre. No one had a better time. Here it was. A dream came true, a son performing Shakespeare, and he was getting his money's worth. Charles' emotional reactions were all over the place. Later on, backstage, Charles was all compliments. They were both baffled by one another's reaction to the play. Only to find out, Charles mimicked what he seen from his own father. Harry's only focal point was that his father was there. In person. That was more than a lot of kids had. Harry appreciated & valued his dad coming, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Harry completed his education at Eaton in June 2003, thanks to hours of hard work and a bit of extra tutoring arranged by Charles. While Harry wasn't proud of himself; exactly, exactly because he didn't know how to be, he felt a distinct pause in his nonstop internal self-criticism. And then Harry was accused of cheating. An art teacher had come forward with claims of evidence that were found to be un-based claims. Harry was later cleared by the exam board. But, the damage was done and the accusation stuck. Brokenhearted, Harry wanted to hold a press conference to clear his name. The Palace wouldn't allow him. In this, The Palace stuck to the family motto: Never complain. Never explain. Especially if the complaintant was an 18-yr-old boy.

Thus, Harry was forced to idly sit-by as the papers called him a cheat daily. (All due to an art project) This was the official start of a dreaded nickname: Prince Thicko. Just as Harry was cast in an unwanted role in an unwanted play, Harry was now forced to sit in a cheater role. The difference was the play was for 3 nights. Cheater would be a role that lasts forever. Harry, in near despair; spoke to Charles. Charles apparently had never read any of it. He read everything else, but never the news. The problem was that everyone else did. Harry's family may not have; but British press suggested otherwise.  

Lesotho was beautiful. But also one of the grimmest places on Earth. It was the epicenter of the global AIDS pandemic, and in 2004, the government declared a medical disaster. Tens of thousands had fallen to the disease, and the nation was turning into a vast orphanage. Harry and a friend signed up to help at several charities & schools. They worked HARD, gladly and eagerly. They built schools. They repaired schools. Harry and his friend mixed gavel, poured cement, whatever was needed. In this same spirit of service, Harry agreed one day to perform a task that might otherwise have been unthinkable - an interview. If Harry truly wanted to shine a light on conditions to help; he had no choice. Harry had to cooperate with the press. This was more than cooperating. This would be Harry's first-ever solo session with a reporter. 

Harry explained this situation to this reporter. He began asking. Why this place? Of all places? Harry stated that the children in Lesotho were in trouble, and Harry loved children, understood them, so naturally Harry wanted to help. Why did Harry love children? They matched his maturity. The subject of children opened the door to Harry's childhood, leading the gateway to the subject of Harry's own childhood. What they truly wanted to know. Harry looked off and responded with a sense of disjointed words. 

Harry had referenced to recording his mother had made prior to her demise, a kind of quasi-confessional, which was leaked to the press to coincide with the release of Paul Burrell's memoir. History was repeating itself, and Harry told the press reporter that it was a "shame". That was the first time that either William or Harry ever spoke publicly about their mom, for fear it would cause a disruptive stir, and perhaps shine an unflattering light on Camilla. The reporter referenced Harry's most recent scandal over Harry's supposed trip to a rehab clinic. Harry could barely make out the reporter through the sudden red mist. Harry blurted out something about not being "normal"; which caused the reporter's mouth to drop open. He was getting the news fix he desired.

Harry explained what he meant to be "normal". He didn't have a "normal" life. Harry told the reporter that no one but his brother understood what it was like to live in this surreal fishbowl, and the abnormal was routinely normalized. That was what Harry was trying to say, starting to say; but Harry took another approach:

. Poverty

                                                         . Disease

                                                         . Orphans

                                                         . Death

It made everything else bullshit. In Lesotho, no matter what you were going through, you were well-off compared to others. Harry began to feel truly ashamed, and wondered if the journalist felt the same. After the interview, Harry went off to find his friend and they in turn drank a beer. Gallons of beer. It was also the night that Harry smoked an entire shopping bag of weed. It could've been another night than this one in question. . . .Who Knows?  

In March 2004, Harry and his crew were staying in the home of a consulate general, and one night they discussed having people over. Just one small problem, they didn't know anyone in Cape Town. Some of the ladies seemed immune to the common affliction called "throne syndrome". It was similar to the effect  that actors/musicians have in people, except they had talent. Harry had no talent - so he's been told. This all was in reaction to  Harry having nothing to do with him. It was more like a title or legacy. Harry always wanted to know what it might be like to meet a lady and not have their eyes widened at the mention of his lineage, but instead to widen himself; using his mind and heart. This particular young lady, Chelsy, was completely uninterested and bored with his title.

They decided to stick to what they had in common - Africa. Shared experiences through conversation. At some point in the evening, Harry told her he'd soon be entering the Army. He couldn't gauge her reaction. They spent 3 days walking, laughing, drinking, and mingling with the animals. Not just wild animals. Later that night, Harry and this young lady had their first kiss under the stars. They had heard of a nearby camp. 2 filmmakers were doing a wildlife documentary and they were invited to join along. They jumped into a Land Cruiser and soon found themselves in the middle of a raucous bush party. It was an Okavango Carnival. They could tell how at home Harry felt around this community. Harry's body was born in Britain. But, his soul was born in Africa. That was the highest compliment Harry could've ever gotten. After a few days of getting to know them; Harry felt an overwhelming peace. And an overwhelming  sense to see this lady again. Question was: How Does One Make This Happen Without The Press? The resolution was to drive for 2 days nonstop, drinking whiskey and eating chocolate for energetic purposes. Harry arrived at this young lady's front door barefoot, scruffy with a beanie top on his head, a huge smile creasing his dirty face.

Harry and this young lady, Chelsea, learned an important lesson: Africa was Africa. Britain was always Britain. After their arrival from Heathrow, there was the press. There had been a few years, after his mom's passing, when Harry was hardly ever papped, but now it was constant. This wasn't something Chelsea could handle what Harry was used to. This was Harry's life. If she wanted to share any of it, she'd have to get used to it as well. Thereafter, Harry put his chances at 50/50. Or 60/40 that he'd see Chelsea again. Odds were, the press would cost Harry someone he cared about. Harry tried to reassure himself that it was fine, that he didn't have time for a relationship. Harry had work to do. For starters, Harry was facing the entrance exams required for the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst. The exams took 4 days, and they were nothing like those at Eaton. There was some backwork, some written stuff, but mostly they were tests for psychological toughness and leadership skills. Turns out. . .Harry had both: Passing with flying colors. Harry was delighted.

Harry's trouble concentrating, his trauma over his mother; none of that came into play. None of that counted against him with the British Army. On the contrary, that was exactly what the Army was looking for. Lads like Harry. Every area fits Harry to be perfect to join. Along with his passing, Harry received a report date. . . several months away. Giving Harry time to gather his thoughts, tie up loose ends. Even better, time to spend with Chelsea. She had invited Harry to Cape Cod to meet her parents. He did and liked them instantly. They were impossible not to like. Harry didn't know what the future held. He didn't want to put the cart before the horse. If Harry could've designed future-in-laws from the ground-up; he couldn't have imagined better at the time.

                               

Just as Harry was embarking on his new romance, Charles announced that he decided to marry. Charles asked his mother (The Queen) for permission; and she'd granted it. Reluctantly it was reported to the press. Despite William & Harry's urging their dad not to, Charles was going through with it. They shook their father's hand, and wished him well. No hard feelings. The boys realized their father was finally going to be with the woman he loved, the woman he always loved. The boys sympathized with Charles & Camilla as a couple. They had taken the term "star-crossed lovers" to a new term. The wedding would take place at Windsor Guildhall. But then the Pope died. It would've been bad press. Bad Karma. More to the point, their grandmother wanted to represent his mother at the funeral.

Due to delay-after-delay and constant change of plans and feeling sorry for them, Harry couldn't help but think that some force in the universe (Perhaps Harry's mother, Diana) was blocking rather than blessing their union. When the wedding did finally take place without their grandmother, who chose not to attend - it was almost cathartic for everyone - including standing near the altar. Harry mostly kept his head bowed; eyes on the floor, just as he did his mother's funeral; but Harry did sneak several long peeks at the groom and the bride each time thinking: Good for them.  

Farewell to their dad. Harry knew without question this marriage would take Charles away from the boys. Not in any real sense, not in any deliberate or malicious way, but nevertheless, their father was entering a closed space where William & Harry would see less of their dad, Harry predicted, leaving him with mixed feelings. Harry didn't relish in losing another parent. Harry had complex feelings about gaining a step-parent, whom Harry felt had sacrificed him on her personal PR altar. But, Harry saw their dad's smile, and it was hard to argue with that, and harder to deny the cause: Camilla. Harry wanted his father's happiness. In a funny way, Harry even wanted Camilla to be Happy. Maybe Camilla would've been less dangerous if she were happy? Harry does remember watching them...thinking: Damn: Harry would've liked for all of them to be happy.

Around this time, just prior to the wedding, or just after, Harry went off with William to train with The British Special Boat Services. Mostly messing around Harry and the family kept in close touch with the British Military. Nothing showed respect for the military like doing, or trying to do, what they did. Exercises were kept from the press. It was The Boy's mother who took William & Harry on their first military exercise. They were being taught how to respond "if ever" their lives were in danger. But, this day was different. Much more physical, more participatory. Less about teaching, more adrenaline. In the pitch dark, 4 steps from the bottom, Harry fell, landing on his left knee, which was immediately impaled in a fixed bolt sticking to the floor. Blinding pain washed over him. 

Harry managed to get up, keep going, and finish the drill. But, at the end of the exercise, they jumped off the boat's helipad. into the water, and Harry found his knee wasn't working. His whole leg wasn't working. When Harry got out of the water and stripped off the dry suit, William looked down and turned pale. Harry's knee was gushing blood. Paramedics were there in minutes. The Palace announced some weeks later that Harry's entry into the Army would be postponed. Indefinitely. Reporters questioned the injury. The Palace excused it with a lying Rugby injury. Reading the papers, Harry's leg iced and elevated, he threw his head back and laughed. He couldn't help savoring one small particular of self-indulgent glee on the papers, for once, unwittingly, printed a lie for him. They soon got their revenge, however. They began pushing a story that Harry feared the Army. That he was faking a knee injury as a way of stalling. Calling Harry a coward.

Harry didn't love the fancy-dress parties. And he couldn't stand the themes. He found them to be irritating and baffling. He was much more casual and himself alone. Harry was crashing all over the place; some with his dad and Camilla, other places elsewhere. Living out of a suitcase; so Harry couldn't care less about clothes. Being fancy-dressed with a theme was Harry's nightmare. Fuck that! But, big brother, William insisted. His new girlfriend promised to help. Harry liked this new girlfriend. She was carefree, sweet & kind. Her name was Kate. Due to William's attire, Kate & Harry had a great time pointing fingers at him and rolling around the floor. It was ridiculous, especially in a 3-way mirror. Harry liked seeing Kate laugh. Moreover, Harry liked making her laugh. Harry was quite good at it. They connected to each other's humor. Harry told himself how great everything would be when he had a serious girlfriend who could laugh along. He could make Kate laugh with his costume. What was Harry going to be? That was the topic of conversation.

On the day of the party, they ventured to a nearby village to a costume shop. Harry went up/down the rows, sifting through the racks, seeing nothing he liked. With time running out, Harry narrowed down his options: A British pilot's uniform. And a sand-colored Nazi uniform. With a swastika armband. And a flat-cap. They questioned Harry's choice. He rented it, along with the moustache, and went back home. William & Kate laughed. Which was to be the point. But, the moustache needed trimming, so Harry made the adjustments. Then added some Cargo pants. Off they went to the party, where no one looked twice at his costume. Everyone else was more focused on getting drunk and groping each other. No one took notice of Harry; which was a small win. Someone did indeed snap photos.

Days later, this same someone saw a chance to make some cash, or some trouble and sought out a reporter. The crown jewel of the photos was thought to be William in a leotard. But, the reporter spotted something else. Weeks later, the photo was published to the press. What followed was  a firestorm that gave Harry what he thought he deserved. There were moments over the course of the next several weeks/months. When Harry thought he might've died in shame, he truly wasn't thinking. When he saw the photos, Harry recognized immediately that his brain must've shut down. Harry wanted to explain himself all over Britain. But, it wouldn't have made a difference. Judgment was swift. Everyone had their opinions.

Chief Rabbi

Harry turned to William. He was sympathetic, but not much to say. Then, Harry called their dad. To Harry's surprise, their dad was serene. At first, Harry was suspicious. Playing father to bolster his PR ego. The exact opposite. But Charles spoke to Harry with such tenderness, genuine compassion. Harry was disarmed & grateful. Charles didn't gloss over the facts. Harry's cheeks were burning. Charles explained that he remembers what it meant to be young. Explaining that youth, by definition, is so unfinished. Still growing and still learning. Harry knew of Charles' humiliations thanks to books and other media publications. He promised that the fury about this would blow over and the shame would fade. Charles knew all about humiliation. Day-after-day, the scandal grew. Harry was exconated in newspapers, the radio and TV. Members of Parliment called for Harry's head on a spike. In order for this to blow over, Harry & Charles called for reinforcements. He would need to make some sort of public atonement. So, Charles sent Harry to a priest.

Chief Rabbi Of Britain was more than his title. He was an eminent scholar; a religious philosopher, a prolific writer with a dozen books to his name. He offered Harry a cup of tea, then dived straight in and he didn't mince words. He condemned Harry's actions. He wasn't unkind, but it had to be done. There was no way around it.  Charles placed Harry's stupidity on historical content. Harry arrived at his house feeling shame. He felt something else; a bottomless self-loathing. That wasn't the Rabbi's aim. He urged Harry to not be devastated by his mistake, but instead be motivated. He spoke to Harry with the eloquence of forgiveness. Harry was showing his true nature, by seeking his atone. Seeking absolution. To the extent that he was able, Harry was absolved. He was given grace. Use this experience to make the world better. To become a teachable moment.

No matter what Harry did, the calls grew louder for him to be barred from the Army. The top brass, however, were holding fast. Due to not being in the Army yet, Harry was free to be a numb-nuts. 

Harry carried a small overnight bag containing a few personal items, plus one standard-size ironing board; placed under his arm like a surfboard. The Army instructed Harry to bring it. From here-on-out, Harry's trousers would be crease-free. Harry knew as much about operating an ironing board as he did about driving a tank - less actually. That was now the Army's problem. Harry, himself, was now the Army's problem. So, Harry wished the Army luck. So did their dad, who dropped Harry off at the proper location. The Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst. It was May 2005. Charles watched Harry put on his red name tag, WALES, then signed in. Charles told reporters how happy and proud he was. And off Harry went with a photo-op. Click. Harry was assigned to a platoon of 29 others. Early the next day, you could smell the history - it steamed from the wood. They then recited an oath to the Queen.

Boot camp - what a ridiculous name. They were pushed to their limits; physically, mentally, spiot ritually. They were then dragged to a place beyond their limits, and then a bit further, by color sergeants. They got up into the faces of Harry and his comrades, shouting through a cloud of aftershave, and never let up. They belitted them, harassed them and made no secret of their intent. They were meant to break them. If they couldn't break them. . .Congrats! You were in the Army! If they could break them, even better. Better to know now. Better to be broken down from them then by the enemy. Using a variety of approaches. Physical duress, psychological intimidation - and humor? Within 2 weeks several cadets had topped out. They awoke to find their beds made & their stuff gone. Some of Harry's fellow cadets would confess, before lights out, they feared being next. For the most part, Harry was fine.

Boot camp was no picnic, but Harry never wavered in his beliefs that he was exactly where he was meant to be. He thought they could not break him. Why is that> Harry was already broken.

No matter what they did, it was done away from the press. So far, Harry, everyday was kind of a holiday. Nothing could really hurt Harry in a place where the press couldn't find him. - And then they did. - A reporter from The Sun sneaked onto the grounds, and stumbled around, holding a phony bomb with nothing to prove. Their explanation was to expose the training center's lack of security, to "prove" Harry's danger status. Every day, upon waking up at 5:00A.M., they were forced ro down a huge bottle of water. More like Piss Water. After the guzzling, moments prior to setting out on their morning run, some of them would fall to the ground and regurgitate said water, then get out there again for a post-puke run.

The running was constant, sometimes they ran with 40K. on their backs, sometimes a huge loss. Running until passing out, which they sometimes did whilst still running. They would lie there; half-conscious, legs still pumping. In between runs, they ran sets of exercises to qualify. At night, something more than pain would creep into their bones. A deep, shuttering throb. No way to escape it other than to disassociate from it. Surrender yourself from yourself. If you did, you were more of a unit. Harry bought into it, all the way. 

Himself? He was ready to shed dead weight. 

Identity? Take it 

Harry rejoiced slowly and steadily.

Feeling himself being reduced to an essence. Only his vital self remained. It was an enormous gift Harry was being given from everyone. With that,  Harry gave genuine thanks.

After the first 5 weeks, after the close of boot camp, the cadets were treated more like soldiers. So much as it was time to learn about war. How to make it and win it. The exercises were supposed to be about war; but to Harry they were about death. The whole Leitmotif of Army training was death. How to avoid it; but also to face it, head-on. It felt natural to Harry, therefore, almost inevitable, that they were put on buses and taken to Brookwood Military Cemetery to stand on graves and listen to someone read a poem.

Poetry, for Harry, was slightly preferable to History. And psychology. And military strategy. The struggles to understand in hard chairs to analyze and memorize dates, analyzing famous battles, writing essays on the most esoteric concepts of military strategy. Given a choice, Harry would've taken 5 more weeks of boot camp. Harry fell asleep in Churchill Hall; more than once. Week 12-or-13, they were learning of guns/grenades. Due to his vast experience at the age of 12, Harry was a great shot. But, now, he was much better.  

In late summer, they were shipped to Europe and put through the punishing exercise called Long Reach. Worse, Europe was suffering a historical heatwave and they set out the crest of the wave, the hottest day of the year. On Friday, they were told this exercise would run through that Sunday night. Late that Saturday, during their only enforced rest, they slept in bags on a dirt track. After 2 hours, they were awakened by thunder and hard rain. Harry was in a group of 5, and then stood up, held their faces to the rain drinking and taking in the drops. But then they were wet. It was time to march. Sopping wet, in driving rain. Gradually, Harry felt his resolve start to give way. At a momentary stop, checkpoint, Harry felt a burning in his feet. He sat on the ground, pulled off his right boot and sock, and the bottom of his foot peeled away. Trench foot. It was then that Harry was told he could NOT continue. Shit! Harry was gutted, but also a bit relieved. They were on a country road. In a nearby field stood an ambulance. Harry staggered toward it. As it got Some, medics lifted him onto an open tailgate. After examining his foot, the march for Harry was over.   

Harry's team was ready to leave. But then one of their color guards asked to speak with Harry. He hopped off the tailgate and limped over to him near a tree. He spoke to Harry in a level tone. It was the first time in months that Harry wasn't shouted at. Yelling a pep talk to keep Harry going - he limped over to the ambulance, asked for all the zinc oxide tape, Harry wrapped his feet tightly and jammed them back into his boots. Upward and onward, forward. He tried to find some way to distract himself from the agony. They were near a stream. Harry thought the icy water would be refreshing. But no. All he could think of is the feeling of rocks in the bed pressing against raw flesh. The last 4 miles were the most difficult steps ever taken. As they crossed the finish line, he began to hyperventilate with relief. One hour later, back at camp, everyone went on for the next several days. They shifted about the barricades like old men. But, proud old men. 

Harry may have  been exhausted, though he was lonely. He felt radiant. He was in the shape of his life. He was thinking and seeing more clearly than ever before. Everything felt right. Everything had to be pristine, in order & right. Some rules for privacy made Harry laugh. Rules. Privacy. What is that? At the end of each day, he'd sit in his cell, shining his shoes. No matter where Harry was; rules to follow. Afterward, he'd text Chelsy; due to being able to keep his phone for security reasons. After speaking with her, Harry would loan his phone to other cadets to text their significant others. Then it was lights out. No problem. Just then, Harry was no longer remotely fearful of the dark.

It was then official. He was no longer Prince Harry. He was now titled part of the Household Cavalry; bodyguard to the Monarch. The "passing out" took place on April 12, 2006. Family was in attendance. Harry's grandmother hadn't attended a passing out parade for decades, so her appearance was a dazzling honor. She smiled as William saluted. He was at Sandhurst now as well. A fellow cadet. (William started after Harry, due to going to college first.) William couldn't resort to his typical attitude when they went to the same institution, couldn't pretend to not know his brother - or he would've been insubordinate. For one brief moment, Spare outranked Heir.  As the day petered out, the adults left, and the real partying began. A night of serious drinking and raucous laughter. Chelsea was his date. There were 2 passing out ceremonies that evening. Harry woke up the next morning with a wide grin and a slight headache. . . .Onto the next stop. 

Southern Iraq, was where Harry's unit was relieving another's post. In that same month, 10 British soldiers had been killed. In the previous 6 months; 40. Harry searched his heart. He wasn't fearful. He was committed. He was eager. But also: war, death, whatever/anything was better than remaining in Britain, which was a battle in itself. The papers had written a story about William leaving his brother a voicemail, pretending to be Chelsea. Also a story about Harry reaching out for help on a research paper. Both stories were true. But, how could they have known that? It made Harry completely paranoid, as well as William. It reminded them and reconsidered their mom's paranoia; though a whole new lens. They did a deep dive into the circles around them; close & outer reaching. They even suggested their bodyguards, whom they cherished. They'd always been like big brothers to them. They suspected everyone! No one was above it. Harry seen it as a relief to be in a proper war zone, which broke from daily traditions. Harry begged to be put-on-a-battlefield where there were clear rules of engagement with a sense of humor.   

Once Britain's Ministry Of Defense told the world in February 2007 that Harry was deploying; it was OFFICIAL Harry was off to war. PR was divided. Half were furious; calling it dreadful to send a royal into a warzone. Half, however, said bravo. Harry should've fought for a country his family represented. One of the insurgent leaders had a plan to kidnap him, then decide what to do with him - torture, ransom, kill. In seeming/direct contradictions of this plan, it was concluded to promise to return Harry "without ears". Harry remembers hearing that and the tips of his ears growing warm. Days later, another insurgent leader invoked Harry's mother. Stating that Harry should learn from his mother's example, break away from the family. (Rebel against the imperialists, Harry.) Or else, the insurgent warned.

2 Months after announcing Harry's deployment, the head of the Army abruptly called it off. Outside of public threats from insurgent leaders, British intelligence learned Harry's photo was distributed among Iraqi snipers with instructions that Harry was "the mother of all targets". It was this thanks that Harry was a danger to others around and considered a "bullet magnet". And the reason stated was the press. In the public statement canceling Harry's deployment, he blasted journalists for their overwrought coverage, their wild speculations; which had "exacerbated" the threat level. Charles' staff released a statement, saying Harry was "very disappointed", which was untrue. Harry was crushed. He took a moment to collect himself, then inferred the bad news. Though they spent months travelling, training together, becoming brothers-in-arms. .  .these boys were now on their own. Harry didn't feel sorry for himself. He worried about his team. Someone would've had to take over to perform Harry's job, living with presumed guilt.

The following week, several papers reported that Harry was in a deep depression. Some papers eluded that Harry's about face in his deployment was his own doing. The cowardly story again. Harry pondered quitting the Army. What was the point if Harry couldn't be a soldier? He talked it over with Chelsea. He talked it over with William, whom shared complicated feelings as well. He sympathized as a soldier. But as a sibling? A highly-competitive older brother. Most of the time William & Harry didn't have any qualms with the Heir-Spare nonsense. But, now/then Harry'd be brought up short and realized that some level it truly mattered to him. Professionally, personally; William cared what his brother stood and what he was doing. Not getting any comfort from any quarter, Harry looked for it in Red Bull & Vodka. And a gin & tonic. Harry was photographed around this time going in/out of multiple pubs/clubs, house parties at long hours.   

It wasn't so much the photos the next day; what Harry couldn't bear was the sound of clicking. No matter its location; it was always triggering for him and made his heart race, but after Sandhurst, it sounded like a gun-cocking or a blade being notched open. More traumatizing & traumatic! from the flash. The Army had made Harry more able to recognize threats, to feel threats, to become heightened in the face of said threats, and now it's casting him aside. Harry was in a bad, bad place. The paparazzi somehow caught wind of Harry's mental state. Deliberately trying to incite him. ANYTHING to probe him for a response, resorting to violence for a better photo and thus a better payout. Harry got into a scrap that became big news. He walked away with a swollen nose and his bodyguard was pissed & livid. The paparazzi had been grotesque people; but Harry reached maturity level, they were worse. You could see it in their eyes and their body language. The editors promised publicly to never again send photographers to chase after what happened to Harry's mother, Diana. Now, 10 years later, here they were again.  

The editors were still inciting and rewarded handsomely to stalk Harry's family, or everyone else unlucky enough to be deemed famous or newsworthy. And no one gave a shit. Some would say that Harry asked for the hounding press. But, how do you ask for what was there prior to your birth? Harry began a very strange routine between himself and security. When leaving a club or anywhere in 2007, he would have the car pull into a back alley or underground parking lot, climb into the trunk, while bodyguards shut the lid, and Harry would lie there in the dark, hands across his chest, while they ferried Harry home. It felt like being in a coffin. But, Harry didn't care. 

To mark the 10TH anniversary of their mom's passing, William & Harry organized a concert in her honor. While in planning the event, the brothers were emotionless. All business. But on the night of the concert, standing backstage; looking at those in attendance, feeling the pulsing energy; that pent-up love and longing for their mother. . . .the boys broke! During Elton John's rendition of Your Song, and during the chorus, William & Harry tried for the same energy; but then photos of their mom began flashing on the screen. Each one is more radiant. The boys went from being crumpled to being swept away. Harry wanted to say something in a speech. But, it was still too much, too raw. The only thing Harry could muster that cane from his heart, was a shout-out to his team.

Days later, Harry was in Botswana with Chelsea. They'd stayed with cherished friends in Harry's life. It felt like bringing Chelsea home to a Mom/Dad relationship. One afternoon, as they were all getting ready to go for a walk.A buddy began nagging him. Harry, tired of it, caught himself calling out his friend like a Mom. "Okay, Mom". IMMEDIATELY catching himself and so did his friend. It flew out of his mouth. But, Harry didn't correct himself. Both friends were moved. Therefore, Harry continued to call this friend 'Mom' all the time. It felt good. Though he made it a point to call this woman Mom; and not Mum! There was only one Mum! It was a happy visit, overall. And yet a constant subtext of stress. It was evident in how much Harry was drinking. At one point, they took a boat, drifted up/down the river, and the main thing Harry remembers is Southern Comfort Sambuca. One by day. The other by night. 

Harry remembers waking in the moment of the morning with his face stuck in a pillow, his head feeling like it was fastened to his neck. He was having fun; sure, but also dealing with unsorted anger and guilt about not being at war - not leading his troops. And Harry wasn't dealing well with it. No one around said anything. Maybe they saw nothing. Harry was doing a pretty good job of covering it up. From the outside, Harry's drinking looked like partying. And that is what he told himself. But, deep down, on some level, Harry KNEW something HAD TO change. Harry KNEW he couldn't go on like this. So, the moment Harry got back to London, he asked for a meeting with his Commanding Officer. And Harry was fascinated by him. His base ingredients were different than other men Harry had known. Harry's eyes were still, by contrast, were bloodshot from his Okavango debauchery, informing his Col. that he needed to find a way of getting back onto operation; or Harry threatened to quit the Army. 

Harry wasn't sure his threat was believed. He wasn't certain if he believed it. Still, there was no way to entirely discount it. A prince in the ranks was a big PR asset; a powerful recruiting tool. It couldn't be ignored that if Harry bolted; the blame would fall to the Col. and a chain supply of blame. On the other hand, much of what he saw from the Col. that day was genuinely humanity. As a soldier, he understood and truly wanted to help. Due to Iraq being off the table permanently. No 2 ways about it. But, maybe Afghanistan was an option/ After questioning, Harry's C.O. seen it was a safer option. Harry disagreed and found it even more dangerous than the latter. But, who was Harry to argue? If the Col. deemed it safer and if they were willing to send him there. . . Great!

The job Harry would have is an FAC. Forward Air Controller. After explaining the position in detail, Harry was salivating. Only one problem: everyone wanted it. It was also a complex job; requiring loads of training. First thing first, Harry would have to go through a challenging certification process.  Harry couldn't wait to jump onboard.

Wordsworth was one of the great artists in British history. Harry managed to avoid reading his stuff in school, but now it piqued his interest. Seeming pretty good. Breathtaking. It felt like sacrilege to be standing on a cliff above the place and trying to obliterate it. Of course, it was pretend. Harry didn't actually blow up anything. Still, at the end of each day, Harry felt he had. It began with imagination. The dull each day was the same. Rise at dawn. Glass of orange juice, bowl of porridge, a full English, then head into the fields for work to begin. In selecting landmarks, Harry had been selected to start something big, move on to something small. Picturing the world as a hierarchy. Hierarchy? That, Harry could handle. Harry enjoyed the rhythms, the poetry, the meditative chant of it all. And Harry found deeper meanings in the exercise. He understood the meaning of it: Getting the world to see it as you do and not repeat it back to you. Harry would want. Listening intently as the weeks flew by. 

Once Harry was a trained FAC, he had to be combat ready; which meant mastering 28 different combat "controls". Harry needed to know the precision of their dialogue and to respond effectively. Sadly, due to his position, work has to be done undercover. Otherwise, Harry would be back to where he started. So, Harry was moved to somewhere else more discreet. . .Someplace like Sandringham; his grandmother's countryside. It was empty in the autumn. The privacy was thrilling and almost anonymous. Harry was delirious. He tried not to say to Chelsea of his whereabouts in the evenings, but that kind of happiness. . .that's hard to hide. Chelsea KNEW that Harry cared about her. But, she felt unseen. She knew how desperately Harry was going to go to war. How could she forgive Harry's being detached? He was completely taken aback. He explained that this was what he needed to do. What he wanted to do all of his life. He needed to do it with ALL/EVERY bit of him. Anything left, Harry apologized for.

Pont de l'Alma tunnel

On Harry's way to the semifinals of the 2007 Rugby World Cup in Paris; the Cup had provided Harry with a driver. The driver had asked Harry, on his first night in Paris, if Harry had visited Harry's mother . . . . Harry had watched the driver's eyes in the rearview, growing LARGE. The driver had a openly "What the fuck?" look ache on his face. The tunnel was called Pont de l'Alama. He obviously knew it. Harry wanted to go through the tunnel himself at the exact rate & speed his mother had, according to police reports, at the time of the crash. The original time and speed of Harry's mother had gone without error. The driver looked over at the passenger seat. Billy The Rock nodded gravely. Let's Do It.

If it was found out from an outside source of their venture, there'd be hell to pay for the driver. Off they went with a solemn nod to one another. Weaving through the traffic, cruising past The Ritz, where Harry's mother had her last meal, with Dodi Al-Fayed, that August night. Then, they came to the mouth of the tunnel. They zipped ahead, went over the lip of the tunnel's entrance, the bump that "supposedly" sent Diana's Mercedes veering off course.

But, the lip was nothing. They barely felt it. As the car entered the tunnel, they leaned forward, watching the light change to a watery orange, watched the concrete pillers flicker past. Harry counted them, counted his own heartbeats, and in a few seconds they emerge from the other side, Harry sat back. Quietly. It was nothing but a straight tunnel. Nothing more. Nothing less. Harry thought and expected more.  No reason anyone should die from it. Harry wanted to go around again. 

They ventured through again. It was a very bad idea. Harry had plenty of them in his youth. He told himself that he wanted closure, but he truly didn't. Deep down, Harry hoped to feel in that tunnel what he felt when given the police files - Disbelief. Doubt. Instead, that was the night all doubt fell away. It HIT Harry. His mother truly was gone. Harry had gotten the closure he pretended to seek. He got it in spades. And now, he'd never be able to get rid of it. Harry thought driving through the tunnel would bring an end; or brief cessation, to the pain, the decade of unrelenting pain. Instead, it was on Pain: Part II.

It was close to 1AM. The driver dropped Harry and his friend at the bar, where Harry obliterately DRANK! Some mates were there, and Harry drank with them, and tried to pick fights with several. When the bar threw them out, when Harry was escorted back to his hotel, he tried to pick a fight with him as well. Harry growled at his friend, swing on him and slapped his friend in the head. Harry's friend had no reaction, He just frowned like an ultra-patient parent. Harry slapped his friend again. He loved him; Harry was determined to hurt him. Harry's friend had seen him in this behavior before. Recounting Harry to be a handful. Somehow this friend and a bodyguard got Harry up to his room and poured him into his bed. But, after they left, Harry was UP again. He looked around the room. The sun was just coming up. Harry stepped out into the hall. There was a bodyguard in a chair beside the door, but he was sound asleep. Harry tiptoed his way out of the hotel and left.

Of ALL the rules in Harry's life, this was the most volatile. NEVER leave your bodyguards. NEVER wander by yourself, especially in a foreign city. Harry walked along the Seine. He seen the Champs-Elysees in the distance. He strolled along the city, passing coffee drinkers and eating croissants. Harry was smoking, keeping his gaze unfocused. (This was prior to SmartPhones) Later, after sleeping it off, Harry called William and told him of his night. None of what Harry lived through that day/night surprised William. William had done the same with driving through the tunnel. They both decided to head to Paris together. Afterwards, the boys talked about their mother's accidental crash. For the first time ever. They talked about the recent inquest. It raised more questions than answered them. After all these years. Above all, the summary concluded that Diana's driver was drunk and thereby the sole cause of the crash; was convenient and absurd. Even if the man had been shit-faced drinking, he wouldnt've had any trouble navigating the short tunnel. Unless, paps chased and blinded them. The boys were united on ALL points, and also on the next steps. They'd issue a joint statement. Maybe a press conference. They were talked out of it by the powers that be.

One month later, Harry went to RAF Brize Norton and boarded a C-17. He was the only stowaway on the plane. With the help from the Colonel and JLP, Harry boarded in secret, then crept into an alcove behind the cockpit. Somewhere below, in the cargo below, held Harry's Bergen, neatly packed with 3 pairs of camo pants, 3 clean T-Shirts, 1 pair of goggles,1 airbed, 1 small notebook, 1 tube of sunscreen. It felt like more than enough. Harry could HONESTLY say that nothing he needed/wanted in life had been left behind, other than a few pieces of his mother's jewelry, and the lack of her hair in the little blue box, a photo of his mother that sat on his desk at Eaton; all of which had stashed in a safe place. And, of course, Harry's weapons. Harry missed them, feeling their absence most acutely, since for the first time in Harry's life, other than the wobbling morning stroll in Paris, Harry was about to venture forth into a wide world without armed bodyguards. The flight took so long Harry lost count of the HOURS! Felt like a week. 

When your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it's always hard to sleep. Harry spent most of his night staring at the upper bunk. At his feet. Listened to his surroundings. Harry replayed his life. He thought about his family. And Chelsea. The papers reported they'd broken up. The distance, the differences in life goals were too much. It was hard enough maintaining a relationship in the same country, but Harry was going off to war. It just didn't seem feasible. Of course, it wasn't true. They had not broken up. Chelsea had given Harry a touching, tender farewell, and promised to wait for him. She knew better than to listen to the press.

Harry thought ALOT on that flight about dying. What did it mean? Did he care? Harry tried to picture his funeral. Would it be a safe one? Private? Harry tried to imagine the headlines. How would Harry be remembered throughout History? For the headlines? Or for the title? Would William walk behind Harry's coffin? Any other family for that matter?

Before slipping out, JLP had told Harry he needed to update his will. If anything happened, the Palace needed to know what Harry wanted done with his few belongings, and where Harry wished to be . . . .buried. Asking so calmly and as if they're going out to lunch. But, that was his gift. The truth is the truth. No sense in leaning from it. Harry looked away. Looking around unsure of where he wanted to spend the hereafter. He couldn't think of any location that seemed sacred, beside Althorp, maybe, and that was out of the question. So, Harry suggested Frogmore Gardens. It was beautiful, quiet & secluded. Peaceful. JLP would see to it. Amid these thoughts and recollections, Harry managed to doze off for a few minutes, and when he awoke, they swooped down to Kandahar Airfield. 

When everyone else was in the air and out on a mission, Harry looked around noticing everyone left in the middle of a meal. Tables were covered with half-empty pizza boxes. Harry tried to remember what he'd eaten on the flight. Nothing. Harry began shoving cold pizza faster than he could chew. He took his in-theater test, one last measure to prove that he knew how to do the job. Shortly after, Harry climbed into a Chinate and flew 50 miles to a much smaller outpost. Forward Operating Base Dwyer.  Harry was met by a sand-covered soldier who was ordered to show Harry around. The tour showed the atmosphere had no heat, few lights & not much water. There was plumbing - sort of. But, the pipes were clogged or frozen. There was also a building that purported to be a "shower block", but Harry was advised to use it at his "own peril". Basically, Harry was told to give up being clean. Focus on staying warm  due to a cold climate.

They told themselves they were scanning for the enemy, and in a sense they were. But, you couldn't be in that environment without thinking about eternity. Ashes-to-ashes. Sand-to-sand. Even when Harry returned settled into his cot, drifted off to sleep, sand was mostly in his mind. When he woke up, there was a spoonful of it in his mouth. Just as some of them were eager to draw the Taliban's attention, Harry was eager not to draw the attention of his fellow mates. His main goal was to blend in. The noise of "the cannons"; 2 enormous 105-mm guns nearly every day, several times/day. The noise made your blood stop, fried your brain. For the rest of Harry's life, he knew he'd be hearing the vestige of that sound; it would echo forever in some form of his being. He would also never forget, when the guns finally stopped, that immense silence. 

Harry was greeted by Corporal Of House Baxter. Other than Harry; but they shared the same coloring. They exchanged a few wisecracks and smiles about the involuntary membership in the League Of Redheaded Gentleman. Also the Balding Brotherhood. Harry gave him a hard time about being Irish, and Dwyer returned the favor, laughing; but looking insured. Then, they got down to work. Taking Harry under his wing. In no time, Harry would be no different than those in the same rank. He'd be a security guard. The only fighting Harry would be doing would be against the urge to sleep. Harry cleared his throat, sat down and watched. After a few minutes, Harry raise the volume of the radio up/down. Welcome to the war.

Everything in the Army needed an alternative name. His personal call was Widow Six Seven. Harry had plenty of nicknames in his life, but this was the first, nickname that felt like an alias. He could truly hide behind it. After grabbing a headset, the voices coming from the headset, all perked up, turned their attention to Harry. They were like baby birds who were demanding to be fed. Their food was information. Aside from information, what they wanted most often was permission. Harry liked being the keeper of ROZ (Restricting Operating Zone).  Harry liked the idea of working closely with top guns, being their eyes for Earth. Their need for Harry, their dependency, created instant bonds. Weird conversations/intimacies took shape. They bonded immediately. Comrades. You could feel it.

Every second mattered. Life and death were in Harry's hands. What Harry trained for was exhilarating; but terrifying. 3 Soldiers killed with 2 horribly maimed. So every word or digit Harry spoke would have consequences. They were "providing support" that was the phrase constantly, but it was more euphemistic. They were sometimes delivering death, more so than life, you had to be precise. Harry confessed. He was happy. This was important work, patriotic work. Harry was using skills honed in different locations leading up to boyhood. Even to Balmoral. Harry was a British soldier on a battlefield, at last, a role for which Harry prepared for all his life.

Harry was also Widow Six Seven. He had plenty of nicknames in his life, but this was the first nickname that felt more like an alias, Harry could really and truly hide behind it. For the first time, Harry was just a random name/number.  No title. No bodyguard. Harry savored the normalcy, wallowed on it, and also considered how far Harry'd journey to find it. Central Afghanistan, the dead of winter, the middle of the night, the midst of a war, while speaking to a man 15,000 ft above his head. How abnormal is your life for this to feel normal? After every action they would be a lull, which was sometimes harder to deal with psychologically. Boredom was the enemy and they fought it by playing rugby, 1,000 push-ups, and building primitive weightlifting equipment; taping wooden crates to metal bars. Using their duffels as punching bags. They read books, organized chess matches and slept like it mattered.

They also ate-and-ate. Dwyer had a full kitchen. Pasta. Chips. Beans. 30 minute phone time; kind of a phone card. Next thing you know. . . Your old life is down the line. To think of home was never easy, for a complex of reasons. To hear about home was never easy. It was a stab in the chest. If Harry didn't call Chelsea, he would call Charles. But, Charles much preferred letters.

At times, Harry worried that he was actually missing out on the real  war. Harry feared the real war was closer than he thought. They were put through an initiation test. Harry watched dogs the size of wolves chew apart recruits in the battlefield. Harry began pleading with his C.O.'s: Get Him Out Of There. A few guys made the same plea, but for different reasons. Harry was begging to be put on the frontlines. Finally, on Christmas Eve 2007, Harry's request was approved. He was able to replace an outgoer, which was inside an abandoned Garmir school. It was part of the British Commonwealth. And Harry's new home. No one would have allowed Harry to go anywhere solo. Royal persons required a royal escort. Often, Harry could head anywhere,and suddenly become aware of a shadow to his right. Then another to his left. It was embarrassing; yet touching. Harry adored them, so did others around. even bantering with them about recipes. When the escorts weren't doing that, they intended on fattening Harry up with food being their way of showing love. While they considered themselves 5-star chefs, they were skilled in one dish - Goat curry. When it came to the slaughtering of the goat; Harry wasn't sure why he said no. Maybe it was due to the killing surrounding him without adding more. Harry had to draw a line. At suffering is where Harry drew it. Passing the baton honors to someone else.  

Harry's job in Delhi was the same as those in Dwyer. Only different hours. Constant. At Delhi, Harry was 24hrs on-call. After much work later, Harry was somewhat promoted. To a small lookout high above the battlefield. Hours after Harry's arrival, trouble arose and all was mayhem. What Harry doesn't remember, there was video. The press was there, by Harry's side, filming. Harry hated them being there; but he'd been ordered to take them on an outing. In return, they agreed to sit in on any interviews or information they gathered until Harry was out of the country. After boarding a Chinook full of mailbags, Harry lay down to hide. 40 minutes later, Harry hopped off into knee-deep mud. Harry was shown to his quarters in a sandbag house. A tiny bed. And a roommate. An Estonian signals officer. They hit it off. Giving Harry one of his badges as a welcoming gift. 

It was then that Harry was put on patrol. The road took them down through a wadi, in which they came upon a IED. The first one Harry encountered. It was Harry's job to call in the bomb experts. In the distance were poppy fields. Harry looked off, thought of the famous poem: In Flanders. In Britain, the poppy of the poem was a sign of remembrance, but it was the coin of the realm. All of the poppies would soon be processed into heroin; sales of which would pay for the bullets fired at them. Harry was then joined by 3 journalists. He was ordered to take them into the battlefield; give them a tour - with a explicit understanding that the news embargo was still in effect. Harry was in a Spartan up front of the convoy, the journalists showed inside. They kept nagging Harry. Wanting to get out to take photos and get some film. But, it wasn't safe due to mines in the surrounding areas. Harry didn't want the press there in the first place, but he especially didn't want anything happening to them on his watch. He didn't want any journalists life on his hands. Harry couldn't've handled the irony.

In February 2008, their tanks were in a harbor and Harry, along with his comrads, were eating dinner out of bags, talking in low voices. After the meal, around midnight, Harry went on radio stag. He had the desk pulled down and was taking notes off the radio. Harry's only light was a dim bulb overhead in a wire cage. While jotting down a few notes, but stopped writing and looked up at the stars when Harry heard voices. The voices were saying that this Red Fox code was in trouble, no doubt about it. Harry made out that this Red Fox was a person. Judging from the tone of their voices, Red Fox was about to be murdered. After intently listening, it was being said that Red Fox's cover was blown, being exposed to the enemy and needed to be extracted immediately. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Harry's mind went back to being high at Eaton. The next day they were on patrol and Harry was full-on paranoia, worried he'd be recognized. Harry wore a shemash tightly over his face, with blackout eye goggles, which kept his head on a swivel and his finger tightly on the trigger of this machine gun.  

After dusk, Special Forces collected Harry and flew him across the valley, back to Edinburgh. Harry had gotten with his Col. Ed. After filling Harry in on what happened, an Australian magazine had outed Harry of his location. The magazine was inconsequencial, but an American picked up on the story, posted it online and everyone else cowered to it. Now, the news was everywhere. Harry was now essentially outed. Col. Ed apologized. He knew this wasn't meant to happen. On the other hand, Col. Ed wanted Harry to know how much his superiors had been pressing the Col. to pull him. So, Harry was lucky the tour wasn't shorter. Harry managed to put together a respectfully long stint with a sterile record. Bravo.

Harry was on the verge of begging to stay; but he could see there was no chance. Harry's presence put everyone else in peril. Harry shook Col's hand, and left the tent. He grabbed his belongings and said a few quick goodbyes, then jumped back on the Chinook, which was still churning and burning. Within an hour, Harry was back in Kandahar. Harry showered, shaved, got ready to catch a plane bound for England. Other soldiers were mulling about going home. This time was different. Happy to go home. Until the arrival of a Danish soldier's coffin was being pulled/loaded into the cargo hold. They all fell silent. When they got on the plane, Harry could see 3 guys in hospital beds. Harry unbuckled his seatbelt, walked up the aisle and discovered 3 gravely injured soldiers. Harry spoke with the doctor in charge of their care. Harry felt angry with himself for having been so self-absorbed. He spent the rest of that flight about those who never made it home. He thought about how the media portrayed what Harry was living through.

The Cat & Custard Pot

Harry landed on March 1, 2008. The obligatory press conference stood between him and a proper meal. Harry held his breath and went for it. Afterward, Harry walked out of the room and straight into his dad & brother. They stared at Harry, wide-eyed. Harry looked exhausted. Haunted. Along the way home, they spoke as if they were in a library. Harry looked out the window watching the atmosphere fly by. Taking it all in. Harry was given a month off from duty. He spent the first part of it with friends. They heard rumors he was home and called for a drink. Harry went to a place called The Cat and Custard Pot. Harry sat in a dark corner, nursing a G&T (gin & tonic). Those in Harry's company were laughing and chatting. Making all sorts of plans for trips and more. Everyone was LOUD! Harry just felt like being quiet. He felt distantly out of place. At times panicky. Other times Harry felt angry.

After a day-or-2, Harry rang Chelsea and her family. She was in Cape Cod and invited him. A day-or-2 later, they drafted upriver on a rented houseboat; The Kirby Queen. They cooked simple meals, slept on the upper deck of the boat under the stars. Harry tried to decompress, but it was hard. The press had gotten wind of their plans and awaited them. After heading back from Maun, at a farewell dinner, Harry realized how badly he wanted to be a husband and father. . . .but, Harry himself wasn't so sure. 

The press obviously reported inaccuracies in Harry's relationship with Chelsea. He never once regretted his decision to skip college. But, the press had gotten worse. They were now peddling fantasies, phantasms, while physically stalking and harassing him; along with those in Harry's circle. Harry was sincerely apologetic. She was freaking out. Come to find out, the press had installed a tracking device underneath the car. It was happening to others surrounding Harry and his social circle. What could Harry say? He completely understood her side. If Harry had a choice, he wouldn't want this life either. But, he would surely miss her. Whenever Harry tried to keep a low profile in disguise, Harry was always found out. They didn't get their photo their night - a small victory. What goes up must come down. Harry seen their relationship was tainted, irredeemably, and in time they agreed it just wasn't worth the grief and harassment. At every turn, life was determined to drag Harry back into a classroom. But, Harry soon spent that summer of 2008 not thinking about it. Toward the end of that summer, Harry's ventures landed him in Botswana.

Right at the turn of the new year, 2009, a self-shot video was to kill time prior to their flight, messing around. Harry panned the group he was shouting and uneducatedly spoke of a racial slur. Growing up, Harry heard many people use this vocabulary and he never seen anyone flinch or cringe. . . Never once suspected any hint of racism. Harry was 21, awash in isolation and privilege. Harry thought it was harmless. He sent the footage to a fellow cadet, who was making an end-of-the-year video. From a video sent through worldwide news circulation. Heated condemnations began ruling with others thinking Harry learned nothing. They thought Harry hadn't matured one bit after the Nazi debacle. Pointing Harry to be a racist. From denouncing him publicly to condemning him to the BBC. Harry was sitting in Highgrove barely able to process Charles' office issuing an apology on his behalf. Harry wanted to issue one himself but royal staff advised against it. Harry didn't care about protocol. He cared about people thinking the worst of him being a racist. Those he hurt and reactions made Harry feel worse. 

As the controversy continued to spread, Harry shipped off to RAF Barkston Health. He wanted to hide from humanity, flee the planet and this came into play. Before any flight, the Army needed to make sure Harry was ready. For several weeks, they poked his body and probed his mind. Drug-free. Harry's first aircraft would be an aircraft. With so much on Harry's mind, he went into lessons distracted, and it showed. Harry had to learn to get go and clear his mind. It worked. Like a charm. Reminding Harry why he loved this to begin with: Speed. Power. Freedom. Only to find out, they were caught by the press. The next came with surprises in training that Harry HAD TO prepare/acclimate himself to. Soon came time to remove the training wheels and fly solo up he went. Harry may not have been a pilot; but he was on his way. 

During this time, Harry was living in Shroshirem with William, who was training to become a pilot. William found a cottage 10 minutes from the base, on someone's estate, and invited Harry to stay with him. Or maybe the other way around. They all enjoyed the arrangement. Their first time living together since Eaton. It was fun. It was the decisive moment when the unraveling of Murdoch's media empire. Exposure of those abound and punishment soon to follow. Soon enough they would all lose their jobs, and their ill-forgotten fortunes. Justice among the masses. Harry & William were both overjoyed. It was glorious to have vindication among the paranoia. They felt betrayed by those they trusted to do their jobs. The public was horrified and no one was safe. While the outside world went strange, the boys bonded over the brotherly talk/discussions. While sharing a cottage, they agreed to a joint interview, during which William griped endlessly about his brother's habits. Harry's a slob and William snores. Total opposites of what was stated. Harry laughed, but looking back at it, he couldn't help but think there was something else at play.

Harry was training for the frontlines, the same place William trained to get, but the Palace scuttled his plans. Throw William to the frontlines, but save the Spare. William was training to be a search-and-rescue pilot, but was looking at the objective the opposite way. William was doing exceptional, remarkable work. Still, Harry showed Pride to his brother. He knew all too well the despair of being pulled from a fight for which you spent years prepping for. With his job and duties, Harry learned to be alone, to think alone and function alone. Harry learned to perform one set of skills with his hands, while learning another with his feet. 

Harry was turning 25, but it felt more like just another birthday. He was warned that this age was one where many young others come to a fork in the personal road. Harry was ready to move forward. He decided to have a birthday celebration with a trip to Botswana. Everyone noticed how different Harry seemed - again. He seemed older, harder after his first combat tour. But now, Harry seemed more. . . .grounded.

Harry accomplished achieving his wings as Army Corps. Colonel-In-Chief; pinned to his chest in May 2010. Harry & Charles shared a moment bonding. Camilla was there, his aunts, Diana's sisters, along with Chelsea; whom Harry had requited love with. They were up one minute and over the next with old problems resurfacing. Also, Chelsea wanted to travel and be young. Harry was given his wings and figured Chelsea had been given hers. They went to Botswana one last time. One last trip upriver. One last visit with his friends. They had a great time; counting and appreciating their time together. Harry vocally spoke of ways for this arrangement to work out. They both knew they were avoiding the inevitable. Driving themselves crazy in the process.

Looking each other in the eyes, they urged this breakup to be final. It was time. Harry forced himself to put the relationship out of mind. Staying busy from one location to another. To that end, Harry went to Lesotho with William working with adult HIV positive patients. After 2-or-3 days, they set off towards more remote schools.  Off the grid. Way off. Upon arriving, they went straight to the school for boys as young as 8. Listening to these kids with such an eagerness to learn. Their stories made Harry feel ashamed/shitty to think of his bitching about school/anything. The joy in these boys' irrepressible. They lit up their day and enriched their lives. For both of them. 

When Harry returned to Britain, the Palace announced William's plan to marry in November 2010. News to Harry. All of the brotherly bonding time and not one word. Harry saw the papers that had published florid moments that were precious family memories. Harry was there and appreciated the depth of his brother's love for Kate and thus decided to gift William the ring Harry inherited from their mother. He never gave William the ring because it wasn't his to give. William already had it. He asked for it after their mom passed, and Harry was more than happy to let it go. As William focused on wedding prep, Harry wished him well. He thought long & hard about his singlehood. Harry always presumed that he would be a young husband, a young father, because Harry resolved not to follow Charles' footsteps in way of age and routine. Harry promised himself to be the complete opposite of the example Charles set. 

Charles was older as a parent with created problems, and placed barriers between them. Charles had routines. Due to the royal schedule, Charles found his own way and schedule to play and bond with the boys. Long after the boys wanted their father's attention, Charles stopped engaging in physical fun. He just didn't have the enthusiasm. When the time came, Harry promised he would. Thinking in his own words: the promise of becoming a young father. Was it the REAL TRUE Harry making the first MAN promise to himself. What if this promise never happened? What would've been Harry's purpose? If all else fails, Harry could remain a soldier. If anything, Harry could always rely on  charitable work. Since the Lesotho trip, Harry felt more passionate than ever to continue his mother's causes. That was enough of a full life.

Harry was invited to join Walking With The Wounded on a serendepitious trip. He wanted to say Yes! He was dying to. Just one problem: It was close to William's announced wedding. He would have to beeline there-and-back or risk missing it. Both, Harry and The Palace were truly nervous. After asking for advice, realizing it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Harry had to go. But, first priorities needed tending to. In direct continuation of the Nazi debacle, Harry and his friends organized a trip to Berlin. And so in December 2010, a bitterly cold day. Harry stood at the former site of the Berlin Wall, which was also the sight of the SS torture chamber, and Harry swore he could hear the echos of HISTORY! It was there that Harry understood the resonance of him in that Nazi uniform. It was the result of various failures - fail to think, failure of character, as well as a failure of education. Not just school education, but self-education. Harry resolved to change that. Harry couldn't become the person he hoped to be until He changed.

On the eve of William's wedding, the brothers had dinner with Charles at Clearance House, as well as William's best man. The public told Harry was to be best man; but it was a bold-faced lie, and thus the Palace saw no choice but to say Harry was. In truth, William didn't want Harry giving a best man speech. William didn't want his brother going off-script with a live mic. William didn't think it was safe to hand him a mic. Harry might say something wildly inappropriate. William wasn't wrong. With what Harry & William are already subjected to, they didn't want to put that on others. William explained this and Harry didn't blink. Harry understood. They even laughed at what would be inappropriate. It became pleasant and jolly, despite William visibly suffering from groom jitters. Meanwhile, Harry regaled tales of his time at war.

There were times when William begged for his brother to be by his side. Harry could see it in his brother's face & eyes that the rum was hitting HARD! Harry sensed he needed to be a wingman. Painfully familiar for him. But whatever. Throughout the excitement, Harry couldn't help but shake his head. On the eve of William's BIG day it neared the boys' WORST day. Harry observed his brother several times. William tuned in early out of tipsyness. But, every inch  of the boys physicality needed to shut down. Harry was shocked, therefore, when he went to pick his brother up in the morning, William looked like he hadn't slept AT ALL! Red eyes and a gaunt face. William tried to play it off fine. But, he wasn't.

After dressing and getting ready, after they prepared to get in the car and pulling away, Harry couldn't take it and had to say something: DAMN! You reek! Harry tried to cover his brother's ass. He jokingly cracked a window, pinched his nose - offered his brother some mints. This somewhat made Harry's stomach churn; getting married in the same location as their mom's funeral. Harry then shot a glance at his brother.

The boys went inside, shoulder-to-shoulder. Harry looked again at his uniform and cap. They were grown men shouldering along, but walking with the same  tenacity as their mother's funeral. It wasn't just their mom's memories; it was still so hard to think of their mom in the realm of death. In the many faucets of who his mother was, could Diana be in the Beyond with artists GREATS! Harry began pacing, shaking his arms; just as anxious on the groom. Harry tried to break the tension with no reaction as they both paced around. The ceremony is mostly a blank in Harry's memory. Harry loved his new sister-in-law, feeling she was more sister than in-law, the sister Harry never knew he had or wanted. Harry was pleased Kate was forever joined by William's side. She was a good match and made each other visibly happy, and therefore made them happy. In his gut, Harry couldn't help but feel this was yet another farewell in the heart.

Harry knew this would separate them. He had the same feeling when Charles got married. In the Camilla era, Harry predicted that he would see his brother less and less. After happy occasions, people, even brothers, tend to fare-thee-well and onto their separate ways.

It occurred to Harry that identity truly is a hierarchy. They are primarily one thing rather than a line of succession. Each new identity assumes the throne of Self, but it takes us further from our original self. Each new step into adulthood lures us away from childhood. which is diluted as life progresses. Harry watched as William grew up into the man he became; along with the succession. He would grow up from Willy and become William. Good for him, but a loss for Harry all the same. William relayed several times that Harry was to act as a "compare' ". Harry had to look the word up. He road-tested a few lines on JLP, but Harry just winged it. He regaled in childhood stories and a few read snippets. He didn't want to see anyone's face but their mom's. Harry had the clearest vision in his mind of her baby's BIG DAY!  

Harry kept feeling the sensation of Frostbite in his Netheregions due to travels in the Arctic cold. It was then oscillating between extremely sensitive and borderline traumatized. Harry tried some home remedies, one which included applying cream from Elizabeth Arden. It creeped Harry out that his mom used the same product. But, Harry was guaranteed a cure. Harry found a tube, and the minute he opened it, he was transported through time. He felt as if his mother was there in the room. Harry then applied it. . . ."down stairs". He needed to see a doctor A.S.A.P. But, he couldn't ask The Palace to find him one. Word of mouth to the press. Harry couldn't phone a doctor at random on his own. It was fucked from the start. Talk about double. Harry asked another friend, very directly, a dermatologist who specialized in Harry's problem. Tall order. His friend said his father knew just the guy. He gave Harry a name/address and he jumped directly into the car with his bodyguard. A bodyguard snuck Harry through a backdoor, into an office. Harry seen the doctor.    

Without looking up, Harry was asked to step behind the curtain, disrobe and he'd be with Harry momentarily. Harry went behind stripped & hopped onto the examination table. After 5 minutes, and recognition, Harry showed him his cockery, softened by Elizabeth Arden. The doctor didn't see anything. For whatever reason, Harry's particular case of frostnip manifested as a greatly heightened "sensation". Harry described the cascading dysfunctions: Everything was difficult: Sitting, Walking, Fucking; was out of the question. Worse, Harry's cockery felt like it was having sex. Or ready to. Harry was at a total loss. He made the worst mistake of researching his symptoms and read him the worst case scenarios. After being assured of relief, the doctor was going to rule out other things. The doctor gave Harry a full, more than evasive, examination with no stone unturned. Only to find out that Time Heals All Wounds. Which was a foreign concept in Harry's experience.

It was hard for Harry to see Chelsea at William's wedding. Jealousy had gotten the better of him, and Harry told her so, which made him feel worse. And a bit pathetic. Harry needed to move on. Find someone new. Friends tried to help. They organized a few. Nothing ever panned out. So, Harry was barely listening when they mentioned another name in 2011. After describing this date's attributes and single status, and she wasn't to be single long. Spike! At first, Harry rolled his eyes and chucked it off his back. Out of wonders-of-wonders, they did. They sat at a bar; chatted, laughed while the world rolled away. Harry then suggested the whole group went back to Clarence House for a nightcap. After the party broke up and gave Florence a ride home, he accepted a cup of tea in her flat. Having his bodyguard drive around awhile.

Over the first cup of Earl Grey. Harry wondered if he met the lady of his dreams? Their connection was that strong. Harry was also that maddeningly pissed. She could see it written in his face. They seen each other often, laughed at lot, and no one knew. Hope got the better of Harry. The press found out and she was upset, crying and Harry felt like crying, but of course he didn't. She was firm. She just couldn't deal with what comes from being in a relationship with Harry. Weeks later, Harry heard this lady was back with an ex. That only this lady would be hounded by the press.   

Harry stopped sleeping. He simply stopped. He was so disappointed, so profoundly dejected, that he stayed AWAKE pacing and thinking. Wishing he'd had a TV. Mornings on a military base, with zero sleep, Harry would try to fly like an Apache. A complete recipe for disaster. Harry tried herbal remedies. They helped a bit, Harry was able to get an hour-or-2 of sleep, but they left Harry feeling brain-dead most mornings. Then the Army informed him he'd be hitting the road - a series of maneuvers and exercises. It could snap Harry out of his funk or be the last straw. They first sent Harry to America in the Southwest. Conditions were said to be similar to Afghanistan. Harry became more fluid with the Apache, more lethal with missiles. Next, Harry went to Cornwall in January 2012.  

Harry had heard a word from his grandmother. She wanted him to go on a 2-week tour to commemorate her 60TH year as her reign in the Caribbean. Harry's first official royal tour of representation. It was strange to be called away so suddenly, with a finger snap, from Harry's duties. Harry's grandmother was after all, his commander. In March 2012, it began with a trip to Belize. From there, he visited a lost city called Yunantunich. In the Bahamas, Harry met ministers, musicians, journalists, athletes, priests. He attended church services,sheet festivals, a state dinner and drank to the crowded toasts. From there, Harry went to Jamaica, bonded with the prime minister, ran a footrace with Usain Bolt. At every step, Harry planted a tree, or several,. Royal traditions - but Harry did them his way. When Harry got home, the reviews were raves. Harry represented well. Reported back to his grandmother. 

Prince Harry & Rupert Murdoch

Parties, clubs, pubs, Harry went all out alot that spring. No longer caring where he went, paps were there/present. Becoming more ruthless and much more aggressive than other paps. They blocked his path, chased him in the security car. Blocking Harry's entryway to the car, then chase the car down the street. Not only was Harry hounded by the press; so was William.  Following Harry everywhere, tormenting him, getting rich off of him. They also liked to rub his nose in it. Many paps wanted a reaction, a tussle. But some seemed to want to fight to the death. Harry fantasized about punching them. After a few deep breaths reminding himself: Don't Do It. Just what they wanted. For a lawsuit and fame. Some kinds of fame provide extra freedom; but royal fame was fancy captivity. It was around this time that Harry found Rupert Murdoch's business pure evil. Firsthand. Harry didn't care for Murdoch's politics. Harry didn't like the harm done each and every day. What sickened Harry was Murdoch's ever prowing following.

The one goof thing about hounding press was it made Harry ready for war. They filled him with choking rage, always a good precursor for battle. They also made Harry want to be ANYWHERE but England. Once Harry begged for his orders, as it often does. . . Harry was at a music festival, and a cousin tapped him on the shoulder to introduce him to someone. Harry still had a broken heart. The situation could tell there were sparks abound. Soon after dinner, she told Harry about her life, her family and her dreams. Her ambition to be an actress. She was soft-spoken and shy, acting was the last profession Harry imagined for him. She confessed it made her feel ALIVE! Free. She made it sound like flying. Weeks later, at the end of another date, Harry gave her a lift home. He wanted to take it slow. Harry leaned in to give her a kiss, but his arm was off. In the midst of leaning in for a kiss and she turned. He tried again on a return trip that became peacefully awkward. The next morning, Harry phoned his cousin. Discouraged and lying about the outcome of the date. Leaving the ending to be desired. They were both in agreement.

They met days later for dinner. For their next date being drinks with friends, before Harry knew what was happening, they were a thing. Sadly, Harry could only see her on weekends. He was busier than ever, doing his final preps for deployment. Then, Harry got his official orders, his actual deployment date and the actual clock was loudly ticking. For the second time in life, Harry needed to tell a young woman he'd soon be going off to war. She was willing to wait. . . .but not forever. It was easier for Harry to confess the break-up and others the truth. He was grateful for its outcome. 

Due to the aforementioned war upon them, Harry's mates urged him to seize the day. Thinking about the events in his life, Harry seen it as a lesson to take advantage of Vegas. A year prior, after exercises in Gila Bend, Harry and his crew had rented Harley's, ridden them from Phoenix to Vegas. Most of the trip went unnoticed. He, now, after a farewell weekend, flew to Nevada to do it again. Then stayed in the same

hotel. Harry and his crew all chipped in on the same suite. That first night, or a blurry next, someone ordered food, someone ordered cocktails. Then, they loudly caught up shooting the shit. For dinner they hit a steakhouse and ate like kings. New York Strip, 3 kinds of pasta, really nice red wine.

Afterwards, Harry went to a casino, played BlackJack and Roulette, for which Harry lost. Tired, after awhile, Harry excused himself and went back to his suite, early. The next morning, they ordered a Bloody Mary breakfast. Next, off to enjoy pool season in Vegas by buying beach balls for everyone to break the ice. Harry and his crew felt that nerdy and needy. Harry was in it for his friends. He was taken care of thanks to comfort from his girlfriend, texting her several times from the pool for re-assurance. People kept handing Harry drinks. By the time the sun was at its HEAT; Harry was in rough shape and filled with . . . "ideas". He needed something to commemorate his sense of freedom, his sense of carpe diem: A tattoo? Yes! On the side of his foot! A symbol of his time in Botswana. Harry's friend's promised to physically stop him from doing this. Harry was not getting a tattoo on their watch. Least of all, a foot tattoo in Botswana. They would physically knock him out - whatever it took! After listening to their arguments, the tattoo could wait until the next day.

Around 2AM, after a game of Pool with his bodyguards, Harry returned following ladies to the BlackJack table. For which, they all competed in a game of Strip Pool after upping the betting ante. 10 minutes later, Harry was the big loser; being reduced to his underwear. Then, he lost them as well. It was harmless and silly. Until the next day, Harry found out and photos were released to the press. Harry as then naked before the eyes of the world. . . . seizing his "size". Harry berated himself wondering how could he let this happen? Harry's sense of guilt and shame made it harder at moments to draw a clean breath, Meanwhile, the press had released the photos. Harry thought of his superiors in the Army. While waiting for an outcome, Harry fled to Balmoral to reunite with family. Charles was bemused. He felt for Harry and his position; having been in Harry's shoes. Something that both father/son could eventually bond over.  

Harry's Army superiors - like his dad, never cared about what was happening in recent events. His status was unchanged. All systems go. Harry's fellow soldiers stood up for him too. Soldiers off all types posed naked, or nearly so, covering their privates with what's at their disposal, and posted their s online in solidarity with Prince Harry. Best of all: None of Harry's bodyguards were dismissed or even disciplined - mainly due to Harry keeping it a secret of them being on his accompaniment. But, the British papers, knowing that Harry was off to war, had a field day. It was a good time to leave. In September 2012, the same eternal flight; but this time Harry wasn't a stowaway.This time, Harry was a part of a team.  

Harry was the first in his squardron to pull the trigger in anger. After doing the job that he was trained for; Harry asked himself if he was callous, perhaps desensitized. Harry asked himself if his non-reaction has connected to a long-standing ambivalence towards death. Harry thought otherwise. It was truly simple math. Bad people doing things to good people. He was convinced by his mates to see/understand that those shooting at him were no different than the paparazzi who shot at him. Through that, Harry understood the assignments. Harry stuffed his Bergen full of dusty-old clothes, plus 2 souvenirs: a rug bought in a bazaar, a 30-mm shell casing from the Apache.

Before Harry could get on the plane with his fellow soldiers, he went into a tent and sat for an interview. The obligatory exit interview. Harry's answers surprised the interviewer. The conversation came around toward the press. Telling him he thought the British press were for shit, particularly in regards to his brother and sister-in-law; who had just announced a pregnancy. Harry thought they deserved to have their baby in peace. Admitting that he read the newspaper out of guilt and it made him complicit. Harry felt a bit of mixed emotions saying goodbye to Afghanistan; but he couldn't wait to say goodbye to this interviewer.

Harry flew with his squadron to Cyprus for decompression. He hadn't been allotted any mandated decompression since his last tour. So Harry was excited, though not as much as his bodyguards. Everyone was excited to finally have a cold beer. Everyone was issued only 2 cans per man. No more. Harry wasn't a beer man; so he handed his to a fellow mate who looked like he needed them more than he. The mate was overjoyed. They were then taken to a comedy show. Attendance was quasi-mandatory. The organizer had good intentions for a moment of relief after a stressful event. It was okay. But offputting.  They were unknowingly struggling. They had too much to mentally/physically process. There were people on-sight to talk . . .but no one was really going to talk to them.

So, they sat in a comedy show waiting. Harry felt bad for the comedians. He seen what they went through for their craft. Before leaving Cypress, word was out of Harry being in press papers. SHIT! He had completely forgotten about the prior interview. Apparently, Harry's words of killing people caused quite a stir. In war. He was criticized up/down for being a killer. In war. And being blithe about it. In truth, Harry was a killer in video games.

At this point, Harry seemed to be in an unhappy routine. He got up, went to the base, did his work and enjoyed none of it. And boring. Harry was bored to tears. For the first time in years, Harry was without a purpose. A goal. Harry asked himself. . . what was Next? He begged his C.O. to send him back to the war zone. They said no! In March 2013, it was announced that the Palace was sending him on another royal tour. His first since the Caribbean. This time: America. Harry was glad for the monotony. On the other hand, Harry was worried about returning to the events of what happened prior to Vegas. Palace couriers assured him it would be impossible. Time and the war in of itself. A goodwill tour to promote the rehab of wounded British/American soldiers.    

Harry phoned his friend whom had their brotherly quality they had each become to one another. These were friends whom had grown-up with William and Harry; knew their mother and reminisced about time gone by. Angry voices, a struggle. Harry put the phone on speaker, shot down the corridor, up the stairs, burst into the police room. It was at that point that Harry heard his friend being mugged. Several bodyguards, along with Harry, raced there and found his friend on the side of the road. Near Albert Bridge. Beaten. Shaken. They drove him to the nearest police station, where he signed a statement and drove him home. Along the way; they were gratuitous in coming to the rescue. What are friends for?

Harry was given a desk at Wattisham Airfield; which he hated. Harry couldn't stand sitting at a desk. Memories of his dad and what Harry seen; were never his life. Harry was also given a new task and reassigned to refine his knowledge of the Apache. Whatever task at hand, Harry didn't feel like it was his calling. Harry saw it as avenue in returning to war. Once again, the Army declined. At the end of each day, Harry left Wattisham, and drove back to Kensington Palace. He was no longer with his dad & Camilla. He was assigned to his own flat in the new halfway underground. The flat suite Harry's mood. Darkness at noon suited his mood. Plus, it gave Harry a chance to live on his own.

It was around this time that William & Kate welcomed their first child. Harry was now an uncle. Prince George. Harry couldn't wait to show him what he knew. Harry couldn't be happier. The baby moved Harry one link down the chain of succession, making Harry 4TH from the throne instead of 3RD. Reporters had a field day. In true honesty; Harry was delighted for his brother and sister-in-law. He was truly indifferent to his place in order of succession. Either way with ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with this situation; Harry was NOWHERE close to Happy.

In August 2013, Harry traveled to war-torn Angola, on an official visit. Wearing the same protective attire his mother had worn on her historic trip. Even working with the same charity that invited her: HaloTrust. What Diana had started was now stalled due to lack of resource.

This was Diana's most passionate cause at the end. (She'd gone to Bosnia 3 week prior to her trip in Paris 1997.) Diana's vision of a world rid of land mines seemed within reach. Now, the world was going backwards. Taking up his mother's cause, detonating a landmine himself, made Harry feel closer to his mom, and gave him strength, and hope. For a brief moment. But, overall he felt that he was walking each day through a psychological, emotional minefold. Upon returning to Britain, Harry took another dive into the research. He was desperate to find a cause, a treatment. He even spoke to their dad, took him into his confidence. Opened up to him. Charles sent him to a doctor, which was nice of him, but he was just a GP (general practitioner) with NO HELP to Harry's problem. He wanted to give Harry pills. Something Harry objected to! Not until he exhausted all other remedies. 

In Harry's research, he came across many people recommending magnesium, which at some point, had a calming effect. But, it also had alarming side effects - loosening bowels - which Harry learned at the worst inopportune time at a friend's wedding. Over dinner one night at Highgrove, father/son spoke at length about what Harry'd been suffering from. Harry gave him the highlights. Story after story. Towards the end of the meal, Charles tended to blame himself to help Harry that he should've received years ago. Harry discouraged otherwise but appreciated the apology. As autumn neared, his anxiety was heightened by an impending birthday, the last of his 20s. Harry began to question himself. His identity. His perceptions of life. Normal, Valid questions one asks himself, except it seemed that the press was mocking him in his search.

They dredged up past relationships. Speaking to anyone ever associated with him. Books were written on deviated subjects. Behind all of this being written about him were ACTUALLY more about the HISTORY of the Monarch. It was more of an adjourning name in marriage. As a confirmed bachelor, Harry didn't care about monarchy responsibilities entitled with wedded responsibilities. But, he did care about the respect. As a bachelor, Harry seen it as an outsider. If Harry wanted to change, he would have to get hitched. That simple. All of which made Harry's 29TH birthday a complex milestone, and some day a complex migraine. He shuddered to think of his next one: 30. Upon reaching this age, Harry'd receive a large sum of inheritance left by his mother.

Walking With The Wounded

Harry scolded himself to go there. It was just another reminder of her absence, another sign of the void left by her. To excuse his birthday, Harry ventured to travel to South Pole. Another trek to Walk With The Wounded. Due to the incidents of the previous direction, Harry ventured to prepare much better. Take precautions. Enough said! 

To prepare for an event such as an International Warrior Game, Harry flew to the Antartic, landed at a research station where the hosts were fabulous. They housed him, fed him and their soups were amazing. Harry couldn't put down their piping hot chicken noodle soup. Harry and his crew spent a week carb-loading, gearing up and throwing down Vodka. At last, they climbed into a plane, flew up to the ice shelf, and stopped to refuel. Harry quietly and serenely look in the atmosphere of his surroundings. He had never been anywhere half as peaceful. Overcome with joy, Harry did a headstand. Months & months of anxiety passed away . . .if only for a moment.

It was then that Harry had, in the event of, drinking, smoking and partying til dawn; breaking his toe by dropping a HEAVY Brass Chair with wheels onto his foot. So, inevitably, Harry could barely walk with his injury. But, no matter what, Harry was determined not to let his team down. Somehow, Harry kept up with his fellow travelers, walking 9 Hours each day pulling a sledge that weighed 200LBS. It was hard for everyone to get traction in the snow, for Harry, his main problem was the wind. If there was a point when Harry felt  the sense of complaining; he thought of his situation compared to those around him. He vowed that no whining would come from him. Harry told himself to stay present. Be the snow, be the cold, be each step. And it worked. Harry fell himself into a trance, and even when his thoughts were dark, Harry was able to stare at them and watch them float away. Thought-after-thought chain into some sort of sense. All factories of life connect. . . .Then came the crazies.  

The South Pole, counterintuitively,  had an altitude sickness that perceived a real danger. Starting slowly, and Harry brushed it off. Then, it knocked Harry on his ass. Head spinning, followed by a crushing migraine & brain pressure. Harry didn't want to stop. But, his body was DONE! His knees buckled and his upper torso followed. Harry HIT the snow HARD! Medics examined him, gave him some sort of anti-migraine injection. Could've been a shot of steroids in the ass. When Harry came to, he felt semi-revived. He then tried to get back to the group, and tried to find a way back to his trance. Be the snow. Be the cold. As they neared their location. they were in sync, all elated. They could see their destination through crusted eyelashes. They were instructed to stop and set-up camp with their destination really close. Camping in the shadow of the Pole, none of them could stop. They were too excited. And thus, they had a party. Drinking. Horseplay.

Finally, at first light, 12-13-2013, they took off and stormed The Pole. On or near the exact spot was a huge circle of flags representing the 12 signatures. They stood before the flags, exhausted, relieved & disoriented. Then, they hugged it out. Some press stories may have exaggerated some things; hell, Harry doesn't remember. Along with everyone else, Harry scurried along this ugly building to warm up, take a piss and drink some cocoa. There was a huge cafe and they were all starving. The cafe was closed. Only to be sufficed with a glass of water. A test tube with a tiny cork on the top. From there, Harry went directly from the South Pole to Sandringham. Christmas with the family.  

Harry was given in a mini-room in a narrow back door; among the offices of Palace staff. Harry had never stayed there. He liked the notion of seeing and exploring  uncharted territory. Due to the living conditions, it made Harry feel underappreciated. For a place that was to be his home, Harry felt like a guest and a bit unloved. He assured himself to make the best of it. Harry, himself, kept it clean. His family had an infection in their hard drives Malware. It was largely due to the achievement records of everyone. At the end of the year, when the numbers were tallied, comparisons were in the press. It didn't create competitiveness in the family, but it surely weaponized it. It may not have been spoken about; but it; but it was felt in the air.

By the time the holidays rolled around in 2013, Harry was quite content in the back corridors, in his micro room, looking at the South Pole on his tablet/IPAD. Staring at his little test tube, Harry couldn't help but take in the cleanest air in the world. Taking it all in AT ONCE! 

Harry soon moved out of Nottingham Cottage. William & Kate had previously resided there. After their departure, they handed Harry the keys. It felt good to be out and neighbors with his brother and sister-in-law. Harry looked forward to popping in from time-to-time. But, it didn't turn out that way. Let's just say: Life gets in the way of making other plans. Harry seen their lives through their eyes.   

In March 2014, Harry suffered a panic attack walking onstage at a concert at Wembley Arena. He made his way to the center, clenched his fists gave his speech that commemorated We Day. Harry was mentally thinking the last time he gave a speech at this location, of this venacular. . . .at the 10TH anniversary of his mother's death. Harry had been nervous. But, not like this. He hurried off. Wiped the shine from his face, and staggered to his seat to join the others. When his friends seen them, he tried to catch his breath. The next morning, photos were in the press. After nearly 2 years of secretly courting under the radar, they were outed as a couple. Due to the events surrounding them, press really didn't care much for them.

A friend had asked Harry about his mother. This friend had the right blend of curiosity and compassion. Maybe it was the alchemy of physical fatigue and Swiss hospitality. The fresh air and alcohol. It could've been the snow; or the culmination of the past 17 years of suppressed grief. Either way, in the midst of answering questions, Harry broke emotionally. He was taken aback by the emotions his body released. This was the first time Harry was able to CRY about his mother since her burial. Wiping his eyes, Harry was GRATEFUL! He thanked her for helping him cross that barrier. Help him to unleash his emotions. It was cathartic. To reach the platitude, Harry was immensely grateful. He felt indebted for what occurred, and that was the reason why, when returning home, he felt miserable, due to not being a match to whom he thought. There was emotion; but not everlasting love. 

In the most inopportune time, on the slopes, emotions HIT Harry. It was CLEAR. Their relationship wasn't to succeed. After going home, Harry phoned a friend for advice. Without hesitation, he was advised to rip the band-aid off quickly. Without postponing the inevitable, little do they both realize. . . they helped each other release pent-up emotions. 

It was during a best friend's wedding and the occurring events, Harry shared in their joy. But, a small part of him wondered if/when it would be Harry's turn for love and marriage? Considering his life and situation, Harry couldn't see the fairness comparing his life to that of others. But, the universe had other plans for Harry. With the judicial times in London, his faith in the entire system took a serious hit when a renowned murderer was released scot-free. Harry needed a reset, a faith refresher. So, Harry went for it. He spent a few restorative days with his buddies. It truly helped when he returned to Britain. He barricated himself into Nottingham Cottage. Harry didn't venture out much at all. Maybe a pop-in at a dinner party. But, it wasn't worth it. It became a paparazzi Groundhog Day. But, times with his buddies proved stupidity among them when security's sensitivities were HEIGHTENED among the dumbass guys. 

Harry had gone to Australia for a round of military exercises. While there, Harry got word that William and Kate had their second child. Charlotte. Harry was HAPPY! As the press questioned Harry, they brought up the line of succession. At this time, Harry would've been 5TH in line. Better that than the spare. Harry seen the press' behavior acting like total assholes over this line of questioning. Harry answered their questions in a way that would make the reporter feel like an asshole.   

There was speculation that Harry was clinging to his bachelor status. If only they could see him in that particular state. Harry took care of himself. Aside from his own laundry, Harry accomplished his own cooking and his own food shopping. A supermarket near the palace that Harry ventured to, casually, at least, once a week. He would venture out at different times to throw off the press. He would disguise himself. Running along the aisles at warp-speed, KNOWING what he was getting. Harry memorized a map of the store. Then, he'd sprint to the checkout.

After honing in on his mission, Harry clocked his time down to 10 minutes. But, one night, Harry went to return to the store, just as he had done before, only to find out the store had moved and reshelved differently. Harry hurried to an employee to ask why? The truth was to keep people in the store longer and purchased more. Harry was truly gobsmacked at their actions. A bit frantic, Harry resumed his shopping up/down the aisles, filling his cart as fast as he could whilst keeping his eye on the clock, then rush to the checkout. The checkout was always the trickiest due to whom was asked. 

On top of that, the checkout stood near the newsrack with media magazines. On nearly every one stood pictures of Harry and his family. Or his mom. Or Harry himself. More than once Harry overheard the silent whispers of debate concerning him. There were times when he was tempted to bust up the gossip. One night, in disguise, watching some people discussing him and his life choices, Harry became aware of raised voices where he was. An older married couple were abusing the cashier. At first it was unpleasant, then it became intolerable. Harry stepped forward, showed his face, and cleared his throat. He tried to broker peace between them. The cashier was the verge of tears. The couple identified him. Not in least bit surprised. Just offended to be called out on this couple's abusive behaviour.

When they left, and it was Harry's turn to pay. The cashier tried to thank him as she bagged his avocados. Harry wouldn't hear of it. He encouraged this woman to STAY STRONG! and hang in there, scooped up his purchases and ran the hell out of there. Shopping for clothes was less complicated. As a rule, Harry didn't fundamentally believe in fashion and didn't understand why others would. From his viewpoint with the press, the writers went crazy with Harry's clothes.  

Each year, Harry received an allowance for clothing strictly for funeral wear. For daily attire, Harry hit up T.J. Maxx. He was fond of their once-a-year sale, when things were marked down. Harry had a system. Arrive 15 minutes prior to closing. Grab a bucket. Head to the top floor. Begin systematically rummaging the racks. If Harry found something of worth, he measured himself with the clothes in front of a mirror. He never cared about the substance/style, and he never went near a changing room. If it looked nice, and it was comfortable, Harry bought it. If Harry was on the fence about it, he'd ask someone. At closing time, they'd run out with 2 giant bags, feeling triumphant. The press would say these words. But, at least, Harry wouldn't have to think about clothes for 6 months.

Other than the occasional shopping, Harry stopped going out in 2015. Stopped entirely. No dinners. No house parties. No clubbing. Nothing. Every night, Harry would go straight home, eat over the sink, then catch-up on his favorite show, Friends, as background noise. Charles' chef would load/stock Harry's fridge and freezer. He was GRATEFUL to not have to venture out to the market as much . . though some foods would remind him of the Army.

After dinner, Harry would smoke a joint, trying to make sure the smoke didn't waft into his neighbors.  Then Harry would turn in early. Solitary life. He felt lonely; but lonely was better than panicky. Harry was trying to find remedies that would healthfully ease his panic, until he would come up with something better and felt on more solid ground, Harry went to this vice: Avoidance. Harry was agoraphobic. Which was nearly impossible given Harry's public role. After one speech, which couldn't be avoided or cancelled, during which Harry nearly fainted, William approached his brother, laughing. Harry couldn't fathom his reaction. William, of all people; who'd been there and present for Harry's first panic attack with Kate. William seen his brother red-faced and sweating. William asked his brother if he was okay? No, he wasn't. 

They were on a trip of several hours and every few miles, Harry wanted his brother to stop the car and pull over so Harry could jump out to catch his breath. All of this was on the verge of a public campaign to raise awareness around mental health. 

Harry went to East London, to Mildmay Mission Hospital, to commemorate the 150TH anniversary and recent renovations. Harry's mother once paid the place a famous visit. Diana held the hand of a man who was H.I.V. positive, and thereby changing the world. H.I.V. was NOT leprosy, that it wasn't a cure. Diana proved that the disease didn't disqualify people from love or dignity. Harry learned that his mother's FAMOUS visit was actually one of many. Diana would slip in/out of the hospital ward all the time. No media whatsoever. Diana would drop-in, make a few people feel better, then head home. Patients would regale moments with Diana with him and express GRATITUDE to Harry.

Harry had visited Botswana; and spent a few days with his buddies. He craved their company. To sit with his head in the accompaniment of their laps, and feel safe. Feeling home at the end of 2015. Taking his buddies into his confidence; telling them about his battles with anxiety. They were by a campfire where these conversations took place. Harry confided to them that a few things were working. So. . . . .there was hope! For instance, therapy. Harry had taken up William's suggestion, and while Harry hadn't found one compatible to his liking, simply speaking to a few opened Harry's mind to possibilities. One therapist off-handedly commented that Harry was clearly suffering from P.T.S.D.; and THAT rang a bell. It lit a fire under Harry's ass. Moving him in the right direction. Another thing that seemed to work was meditation. Meditation quieted his racing mind, down to a degree of calm. Harry isn't one for prayer. Nature was his higher power; but in his worst moments, Harry would HAVE TO shut his eyes and be still. Now and then, Harry felt the presence for an answer.  

Psychedelics did Harry some good overall. He experimented with them over the years, for fun, but now he'd begin to use them theraputically, medicinally. They didn't exactly permit Harry to escape reality for a while, they allowed him to redefine it. Under these circumstances of their influence, Harry was able to let go of rigid pre-concepts, to see there was another world beyond Harry's heavily filtered senses, a world that was equally real & beautiful. A world that was ONLY TRUTH! After the psychedelics wore off; Harry's memory of that world remained that This was not all there is. All the great seers and philosophers say our daily life is an illusion. Harry always found a fair amount of truthin that statement. It reassured him, after a hint of a mushroom or ayauasca, to experience it himself.

The only remedy that proved effectively was work. Helping others and doing some good in the world. Looking onward than in. That was the path. There were causes closer to his heart. But, he wanted to dig deeper. Over the years, Harry had spoken to various helicopter pilots, veterinary surgeons, rangers and informed him of a War On. A war-on? Sign him up. One small problem: William; being the Heir, had TOP dibs, and in his power to veto Harry's thing. And William had every intention to flex being big brother. The boys had brotherly fights about it. Almost coming to blows in front of their shared buddies. One of them suggested that both boys shared the princely responsibilities; but William had a HUGE pissy fit.   

William's pissyness was so obvious. He cared less about finding his purpose or passion than winning above Harry. Over several more heated conversations, it came out from William, that when Harry went to the North Pole. William was resentful. He was slighted that he wasn't the one invited. At the same time, William stated that he'd step aside, gallantly, also that he'd permitted Harry to go, indeed permitted his work with wounded soldiers. Harry vented to his buddies that he'd finally seen his path, that he'd hit upon what filled the void in his heart left by the military. William was blocking his way. With his buddies' encouragement, Harry embarked on a 4-month fact-finding trip, to educate himself on the truth of the war.

Harry had returned to America with his buddies in January 2016. They were thrown a welcoming party, with a small group of people. Typical Brit, Harry asked for a G/T (Gin & Tonic). After his friends harangued him to have a REAL drink, they thrust a tequila on him. Harry was familiar with tequila. Mostly Club Tequila. Late Tequila. What Harry was offered was a PROPER tequila. High-Falutin' stuff. Harry was being schooled into the many ways of consumption. He tried them all ALL! Every drop, and he began to feel real good. Loving the drinks. It was a strange time in the way of the world. The day of the Iraqi war announcement from politics; Harry floated on a pink cloud of tequila fumes. More like piloted the pink cloud, and after he landed it - Harry found it miraculous that he woke up with NO hangover.  

The next day, or the day after, they moved for some reason. They went from a friend's home of a friend's girlfriend to the home of Courtney Cox. She was traveling on a job, and didn't mind if they crashed at her place. No complaints from Harry. As a Friends fanatic, the idea of staying at Monica's was highly appealing. And amusing. But then. . .Courtney showed up. Harry was truly confused. Courtney didn't mind or care. There was plenty of room. Great. But, Harry was confused. Courtney was Monica and Harry was Chandler. Soon after arriving home, Courtney invited more people over. Another party began. Among those in attendance, Harry seen someone familiar. He knew this person. . .just couldn't identify them. It soon HIT him. Batman. By this time, Harry was into his 3rd or 4th tequila; so he was having trouble processing what was happening. Harry went back to the actor for conformation of identity. FUCK YES! Batman:Logo movie. Harry was fanning out and just couldn't stop.

Then, to get rid of Harry, this friend lost Harry to the fridge, to which he extracted a beverage. Withe door still opened, they spotted chocolate mushrooms. They were for everyone. So, Harry and his friends helped themselves and endulged to the chocolate & tequila. They weren't exactly the hosts' thing. Then, this guy sent these guys into the Batcave. They took themselves outside, sat by a fire pit and waited. Harry remembers needing to use the loo after awhile. It was hard to navigate the house. But, Harry found his way. Inspecting the bathroom. After being agape for a minute due to these amenities, Harry took a piss. He finished and flushed. He turned back to a silver bin, and threw away his cigarette. Harry went, left the bathroom - giggling, and walked into his friend. He couldn't wait to share in his joy of his newfound wonderment of the silver bin. Harry left his friend in the bathroom to get another tequila. Due to what was in Harry's system, one seen a dragon's lair that FREAKED them out. Harry was fucking sorry. His delight had been his friend's hell. 

The next day consisted of another in house party. More tequila. More names yelled at him. They got around to playing games, a Charades-type of game. Someone handed Harry a joint.  He took a hit while adoring the night sky. Soon, it felt like these parties ran into each other. It was night. Harry walked down some stairs to a party throwers' beachfront. He stood with his feet in the ocean; watching the surf go back/forth for what felt like ages. He soon directed his attention directly to the moon. Claiming the moon was speaking to him. The same way he felt with the toilet. The message Harry "heard" was of a good year ahead. A really good big year ahead was promised.

Harry was almost the age Charles was when he had gotten married, and Charles was considered a late bloomer. Harry was staring 32 in the face. Harry, in his state, pleaded to the night sky for a change in his future. 

Harry was sitting around Nottingham Cottage scrolling through Instagram. In his feed, Harry seen his friend, Violet. And another young lady. They were playing with filler apps. Harry took notice of the beauty behind the filter. Making him sit-up straight. Harry was in absolute awe. He could not put the phone down. After watching the video several times, Harry forced himself to put the phone down. After ALL that Harry has seen in his lifetime, what the world had shown him; this woman stopped him dead in his tracks. He had never seen anyone so beautiful. It was a feeling/sense that Harry was gotten. This was/is no better feeling for a man to have been gotten by the beauty of another. 

Harry had just returned from a trip with Charles, William & Kate to France. harry had read a haunting poem: Before Action. It was published by a soldier 2 days prior to his demise in action. Reading it ALOUD; it changed Harry's perspective. He wanted to LIVE! It shook/rocked Harry to his core. A staggering revelation for him. There was such an energy to this young lady, a wild joy and playfulness. Harry seen pure and true beauty. Confident. Free. She had the belief that life was one grand gesture. Harry seen her eyes luminate. He thought it would be a journey to join her. Harry picked all that up from her angelic face. He felt this lady was one for him. This one. Harry asked his other friends. . . . Who. . . in. . . the. . .hell. . .is. . .this. . . woman? She replied right away; unaware of others' interest in her. 

Harry wondered who she was? An actress. From the TV show Suits. This woman was in London for a tennis match. Violet was there for a fitting from Ralph Lauren. She offered to connect harry with this actress from Instagram. She asked if she could pass along Harry's handle info? Of course. It was July 1ST. Harry was due to leave London the next morning, heading to a sailing race on a yacht. Just as Harry was stuffing the last few of his things into an overnight bag, he glanced at his phone. A message from Instagram. From the American woman. Information was given from Violet complimenting Harry's Instagram. They had inheritantly studied each other's social media. 

They shared thoughts on various topics. Eventually, they exchanged phone numbers, and migrated the conversation to text, going late into the night. In the morning, Harry moved from Nottingham Cottage to the car, without a pause in the texting conversation. He texted her throughout the events of the day. Harry sat on a bed texting like a teenager until dinner with guests. Then, after dessert, , Harry resumed the texting. He couldn't type fast enough. His thumbs were cramping. 

There was so much to say. They had so much in common, though they had different backgrounds/worlds.

• She was American, He was British
• She was highly educated, Harry by choice was not
• She was free as a bird, Harry was trapped in a royal cage.

None of these differences felt disqualifying or important. On the contrary, it was organically bonding. Energetically. But then, came the contradictions one mentally puts upon themselves through. It occurred to Harry how uncanny, how surreal, how bizarre that this marathon conversation should have begun on July 1, 2016. Harry's mother's 55TH birthday.

Meghan Markle

Late into the night, while waiting for her next text, Harry GOOGLE'd this American woman. Hoping she was doing the same. Maybe not. Before turning out the light, Harry asked how long she was staying in London. DAMN! She was leaving soon. She had to get to Canada to resume her show. Harry asked if he could see her again before she left. He waited anxiously for a response. She agreed. Where to meet? Harry's living quarters. At first, she was put off. He didn't mean it the way it sounded. She didn't realize the trouble Harry goes through publicly. Reluctantly to go into detail. Harry didn't do a good job trying to explain. So, she suggested an alternative. Her place in London. She would reserve a table in a quiet room. No one else would be around. The table would be under her name: Meghan Markle. 

After texting throughout the night, into the hours til dawn, Harry groaned when the alarm rang. While grimacing, the days events were a distraction from his phone. Harry needed the distraction. To pace himself. A boat race was just the ticket. Harry never feared death before, and now he found himself hoping he didn't drown prior to his date. Then another fear took place. The fear of an onboard bathroom. Harry held it for as long as he could. Harry swung his body over the side, into the airy sea. . .and still couldn't piss, mainly thanks to stage freight. The whole crew on-looking. Finally, Harry returned to his post, and sheepishly pissed his pants. Their boat race won their class, coming in 2ND overall. Harry's only concern was jumping into the water, washing off the piss from his pants and then racing back to London, where a bigger race lie ahead. 

It was a horrendous Sunday night; with a nightmare of traffic. Harry ran into every conceivable obstacle along the way. Again-and-again Harry's bodyguards , along with himself, would come to a full stop in the road and just sit. Groaning, sweating, mentally shouting at the mass of unmoving traffic. Finally, it couldn't be avoided. Harry made the dreaded call of lateness. Traffic lateness that was unavoidable. Harry apologized profusely. Her reply was O.K. He feared she would leave him. As they inched towards the restaurant, Harry texted another apology. They were moving, but slowly. He was jammed with no way out. There was no way around this stucky situation.

Texting wasn't the way Harry wanted to convey it, however. So he just. . .didn't answer. Which was irritating for Meghan. Finally. Harry arrived. Red-cheeked, puffy, sweating, 30 minutes late, he ran into the restaurant, into the quiet room, and found her at a small sitting area. She looked up and smiled. Harry profusely apologized. He settled in to the sofa she was sitting at, apologizing again. 

Harry was forgiven. Meghan was having an I.P.A. beer. Harry asked for a Peroni. He didn't want a beer, but it seemed easier. They both took in the silence. Harry didn't know shit about clothes, but he knew she was chic. She was heart-attacked beautiful. Harry was trying to take in her beauty. He was trying to process this, struggling to understand what was happening to his circulatory & nervous system(s). Harry's brain shut down due to the beauty before him. Everything from then on became a challenge. Meghan filled the gap with Harry's silence. Acting was Meghan's main job,what she was known for , but Meghan had several careers. She had a very busy C.V. All part of her plan. To help people do good and be free.

The conversation began to flow. The initial awkwardness was gone. They both felt the special thrill when there's too much to say and no time to say it. Before they knew it, their time was up! Meghan had dinner plans. If Harry hadn't been late for dinner, they'd still have time. Harry cursed himself..(Fuck Me!) After a brief goodbye, Harry took care of the bill. Soon after, she was gone.

Harry made plans with a buddy after. He called him, told him he was on his way. Harry arrived 30-minutes later. His buddy took one look at Harry's face and wondered What Happened? Harry tried to hold off telling him until he HAD TO say something and relieve his burden. Harry recounted the entire date. His end result was wondering what to do? Out came the tequila. Out came the weed. They drank & smoked whilst watching Inside Out. A perfect choice for Harry's state of being right then. Harry soon became peacefully numb with really good weed. Soon after, Harry's phone rang. Oh Shit! He held it up to his buddy. It was Meghan. She was actually FaceTiming. Harry seen Meghan's TRUE beauty in that call. They made plans to meet again. 4TH Of July. Back at SoHo House.

Meghan had spent the day at Wimbledon supporting/cheering on her friend, Serena Williams., from Serena's tennis box. Meghan texted Harry after the final set as she raced back to her hotel, texting Harry at various times. This time Harry was proud of himself for being prompt and ready! Meghan walked in and was all aglow. Harry arrived with a pink box of cupcakes in tow. Red, White & Blue design. In honor of Independence Day. Meghan appreciated the gesture. Their waitress from Date One appeared. Happy to see a Date Two. She could tell something was happening between Harry and Meghan. After bringing them a round of drinks, they disappeared and didn't return for a long time. When she did, they were in the middle of a kiss. Not their first.

Again the conversation flowed. Burgers came/went going uneaten. Harry felt the sense that he was ending one half of his life coming to a close. As the night came to a close, they had a frank discussion. There was NO way around it: Where was this relationship headed? Surely in the era of summer, they could find one spot of time. Meghan had been into the GREAT book: Eat, Pray, Love. Since Harry was not big on books; he had NO IDEA of the subject. He felt intimidated. Meghan was the complete opposite of Harry. She read. She was cultured. Meghan was just on her way to a trip with girlfriends. They both checked their phones. Harry found one small window. A castmate advised Meghan to not be so structured on her Eat, Pray, Love journey. Keep one week open and leave room for magic.  

Harry seen a doable week. Come to find out that it was the same week. Harry suggested they spend the same week in Botswana. Harry gave her his best pitch. The birthplace of all mankind. If Meghan was truly interested; she would join the magic and experience it with him. Everywhere. The next time Harry seen her, Meghan looked like perfection. More beautiful than Instagram. As Harry arrived on-location, he handed Meghan a chicken salad sandwich wrapped in cling-wrap. Harry felt like a dumbass wishing he'd brought more. They hugged. It was awkward, not because of the sandwich, but due to unavoidable suspense. They kept communication through social media countless times since their first few dates; but they were/felt new and different. And a bit strange.

Meghan joined Harry and his crew into a 3-bench truck and set off. Straight into the sunset. To make time go by faster on this hours long ride, Harry pointed out every flower, plant, bird. After a respectful time period, Harry joined in her hand. When the road got flatter, Harry ventured a kiss. Just as they both remembered. 

Harry's bodyguards pretended not to notice. As they furthered their journey, they saw a plethora of animals along the way. They started down a firebreak road and the birds were going crazy; which sent a shiver down Harry's spine. Shortly before dusk, they arrived at a small satellite camp their friends had set up. Harry carried their bags to a ball tent beside a huge sausage tree. They were on the edge of a big forest, looking down a gentle slope to the river, and beyond. Meghan - whom Harry had now shortened her name to M. or Meg - was stunned in the scenery. She had never seen anything as beautiful. A world before the world was made.

When Meghan opened her suitcase, he thought it would be filled with female B.S. Only to find out Harry was American stereotyping. Already feeling like shit for doing that, to Harry's shock and delight, he viewed a sight to see, other than Meghan, a few essentials to get by. Shorts, ripped jeans, snacks, and a yoga mat. They sat in canvas chairs watching the sunset and moon rise. Harry whipped up cocktails. They told stories, laughed a lot, and their friends cooked them a lovely dinner. They ate and sat around the stars. At bedtime, Harry escorted Meghan to the tent. They lay down inside, on their backs being in the moment. With separate beds, Harry & Meghan pushed them together, laying shoulder-to-shoulder. They stared at the roof, listening and watching the night sky. Then a loud munching sound bolted Meghan upright. It was an elephant eating peacefully from the shrubs around them.  Soon after, they heard the LOUD roar of lions. A frightful Meghan lay her head on Harry's chest. She trusted him to keep her safe.

Harry had awakened early just before dawn, unzipped the tent quietly, tiptoed out. Harry took in the quiet of the world. As the sun came up, Harry gave gratitude for the day, then walked down to the main tent for a piece of toast. When he returned, he found Meghan stretching out for yoga beside the river. When she finished, she noticed a ready breakfast. After they ate, Meghan awaited what was in-store. Harry's surprises. Beginning with a morning drive. They came upon a large group of giraffes. They nodded good morning. Not everyone was so friendly. Strolling by a vast watering hole, they saw a cloud of dust up ahead. They were confronted by a grumpy warthog. He retreated when they stood their ground.

They soon went for a swim off the river, keeping their distance from the animals. Harry told her the crocs' water was the purest in the world, because it was all filtered by the papayrus. The anniversary was only weeks away. At dusk, they lay across the bonnet of the truck, watching the sky. When the bats came out, they ventured to find their friends. They turned on music, laughed, talked, sang and ate dinner around the fire. Meghan detailed bits/pieces of her life from this point therein. From personal to professional. In her free time, Meghan did philanthropic work. Her base was women's issues.

Harry was fascinated. Hanging on to every word and intently listening, while in the background Harry heard a faint heartbeat. His inner voice was telling him that Meghan was ABSOLUTELY PERFECT! PERFECT! Friends often mentioned Harry's Jekyll-and-Hyde  existence. Harry'd never been able to synthesize the 2, and it bothered both of them. But with Meghan, Harry thought he could be Happy Harry all the time. By this point, Meghan had taken to calling him Haz. Every moment of that week was a revelation and a blessing. Every minute they dreaded saying goodbye. There was no way around it: Life drew them in other directions. As they said goodbye, Meghan began to cry. Friends promised to look after and take care of her. There was one last wave. Goodbye. . . For now. It broke their hearts to depart.    

Harry and his crew of boys met up together in Maun. They loaded 3-silver flat-bottomed boats and set off. Days of floating, drifting, fishing & dancing. In the evenings, they got loud and naughty. Harry drank brush cocktails, African beer, and ingested "certain" chemicals. Harry learned a lesson when being a dumbass with your boys can cost you your phone. He had immense gratitude to hear from Meghan. Harry felt enormous pressure to write his next letter to her. A paralyzing case of writer's block. He just couldn't find the words to express his excitement, his contemptment, his longing. Harry's hopes.

By means of improvisation, and sheer determination, Harry managed somehow, throughout this boys trip, to stay in constant contact. When Harry returned to Britain, he felt a huge sense of accomplishment. Harry didn't let anything stop him. In this conversation, Harry wondered, in this environment, if he had found THE ONE! Meghan was a shining exception to ALL rules. They KNEW each other. She KNEW the TRUE Harry. It might've been rash or illogical, but its true. For the first time, Harry felt he was living in truth.  

Through a frenzy of texting and FaceTiming, Harry and Meghan were thousands of miles apart; but they were never apart. Harry would wake-up to a text. Instantly reply. Keeping communication through chats and texts. And it still wasn't enough. They were desperate to see each other again. They circled a day in August. 10 Days from their text meeting. They agreed it would be best if Meghan went to London. On the big day, just after her arrival, she called as she was walking to her room at SoHo House. Harry was occupied with his Uncle Charles at Althorp. He had to explain later. They didn't get into THAT yet.   

 

Harry was sure Meghan hadn't Google'd him due to her love of questions. She knew nothing. It was refreshing. He seen it as a first step in surviving royalty. He loved that Meghan was an empty slate with royalty; rather than misinformation. After William & Harry lay flowers on their mom's grave, Harry nonchalantly phoned Meg without outing their relationship to his brother. A friend agreed to usher Harry in through SoHo House. When he finally reached the door, Harry knocked and suspended breathing while he waited. The door flew open. Her smile awaited him. Meghan pulled Harry inside and thanked her friend in one fluid notion, then slammed the door before others caught on. No time for a Do Not Disturb sign.

By morning, Harry & Meghan needed sustenance. They called for room service. When service knocked at the door, Harry frantically looked for a place to hide. The room had nowhere for Harry to hide. So he laid flat on the bed with a duvet over his head. Meghan quietly tossed Harry into the bathroom. But, he preferred his original spot. Their room service order(s) were brought by an acquaintance of Meghan's that knew her leading to small talk whilst Harry's hiding in the room. Unbeknownst to the staff of Harry's presence. When they finally left, Harry sit-up gasping for air. Soon after, they were laughing hard at the situation. Harry & Meghan decided to have dinner that night at Harry's place and invited some people over. They'd cook and make a night of it. First things first, they had to shop for it. They had nothing but grapes and cottage pies.

They decided to shop in parellel segments and in disguise to avoid the press. Meghan arrived before Harry in cover-up clothing. He was surprised that Meghan wasn't recognized due to many Brits watching Suits. No one paid attention at all to Meghan. Only Harry caught the press' attention. Equally anonymous, Harry grabbed a basket, and casually walked up/down the aisle(s). They kept mental and non-verbal communication from one another. Meghan had cut out a roasted salmon recipe from Food & Wine magazine. With that, they shopped for that recipe. When they finished their list, Harry paid the checkout, then texted Meghan where to meet at their previously disclosed location. Moments later, their shopping was in the clear. They roared out of the parking lot heading for Nottingham Cottage. Harry watched as they passed along the city.  

Harry was excited to welcome Meghan to his home, but also embarrassed. Nottingham Cottage was no palace. It was palace-adjacent. To Harry's relief, Meghan had pre-conceived notions. Until she got inside. She wasn't far off when Meghan stated it looked like a frat house - which she wasn't wrong. It was more of a place for Harry's belongings. It was also constructed by smaller people. The rooms were tiny and the ceilings were doll's house low. Harry gave a 30-second tour. He never really took notice of the appearance in his home and the shabbiness of it all. The salmon turned out perfectly. Guests complimented Meghan on her culinary talents. They took in and devoured Meghan's stories; wanting to hear about Suits. Her travels. Harry was grateful it went off without a hitch.

After dinner, they moved onto drinks. The wine was as good as the company. Afterward, they moved onto music and dancing. Then, they got into tequila. They were all welcoming to Meghan. Harry remembers thinking: If meeting the rest of his family went as smoothly. . . they were home free. Harry noticed Meghan had felt poorly. She complained of an upset stomach and looked horribly pale. Harry thought she was being a lightweight. Meghan took herself to bed. After a nightcap, Harry saw their guests and tidied-up. Harry got into bed around 12A. and crashed out; only to awaken at 2A. to hear Meghan awfully sick. Something was going on with Meghan. Come to find. . .it was Food Poisoning from British calamari. Harry rubbed Meghan's back in the essence of her projectiling and eventually put her to bed. Weak, near tears; she envisioned a very different end to Date Four. They were proving that one could care and genuinely love for one another.    

Just before Meghan returned to Canada, they went to Frogmore gardens for a walk. It was on the way to the airport and a favorite spot for Harry. It also co-incidentally spoke to Meghan. They spoke of family, each other's work. But, mostly they talked the status of their relationship. . . .thus far. They talked their way to the airport, where Harry dropped on the sly. They agreed if they were to be serious; they'd need a serious plan. Making a vow that no more than 2 weeks went by without communications or seeing each other. Due to their history of failed relationships, theirs had to take serious effort & planning. Fighting and defeating the distance. Meaning: LOADS of travel. Alas, Harry's movements triggered more attention & press. EVERYONE was on HIGH ALERT! 

The burden would fall on Meghan. Spending time on planes, crossing the ocean while working full-time on Suits within the early days of courtship. It wasn't fair for Meghan to take the burden. . . but, she was up for it. The alternative was not any better. . . Distance and not seeing one another. Unbearable. Or Unfeasible. For the 100TH time; since July 1ST, Harry's heart cracked open before departing from one another again.   

Soon after that particular day, William & Kate invited Harry for dinner. They knew something was up with Harry and wanted to know what. Harry wasn't ready for them to KNOW! As they sat in front of the TV room, the moment felt right. Harry casually mentioned there was . . . . a new woman in his life. They were intrigued. Harry swore them to secrecy. Their mouths fell open with each detail. William turned to Harry and said to Fuck Off! William thought it was impossible. Harry was baffled, until William & Kate stated they were fans of Suits. Great. Just when Harry thought they would hate Meghan; they may end up hounding her for an autograph or show gossip. They barraged Harry with questions. Going into detail about their meeting, about Botswana and more. Harry was truly smitten. He didn't want to give away too much.

Harry couldn't wait for them to meet Meghan. He couldn't wait for the 4 of them to meet and spend time together. This was a lifelong dream for Harry - to join William & Kate with/as an equal partner. To become a foursome instead of a lonely trio. Harry wanted to move forward with Meghan although William advised him to slow down. Harry stated that: Anything Could Happen.

When Meghan returned to London a week later, they had lunch while he introduced her to a few good friends. All good. Everyone loved her. Emboldened, Harry felt the time had come. . . to meet the family. Meghan agreed. First stop was to Royal Lodge to meet Fergie due to her acquaintance with Fergie's daughter. .  . Baby steps. As they neared Royal Lodge, Harry received word on his phone. Meghan thought it'd be fun for her to meet his grandma. Harry seen his grandmother. Meghan seen The Queen. Harry tried to warn her of royal etiquette. Not for his grandmother. But, The Queen. 

They pulled in and were met by Harry's aunt, Fergie, and immediately asked about the curtsy. Fergie demonstrated. It intimidated Meghan. There wasn't time for a more advanced tutorial, They couldn't keep Her Majesty waiting. As they walked toward the door, both Harry and his aunt whispered quick reminders into Meghan's ear. They entered a large front sitting room and there she was. Granny/The Queen. The Monarch. Q.E.II. Meghan went straight to her and dropped a deep, flawless curtsy. Everyone around acted quiet, proper with a blow-off attitude. Pure British tactics. Harry's grandmother was dressed for church. Fancy. Harry could see Meghan regretting her jeans and black sweater attire. Just as Harry was regretting his shitty attire choice as well. He was occupied to see his grandmother. . .not The Queen. Harry's grandmother busied herself asking Meghan about her visit. Harry's grandmother even asked Meghan her opinion of those in American politics? Meghan personally seen politics as a no-win game, so she switched the conversation topic(s) to Canada. After 20 minutes, Harry's grandmother announced her departure. 

With the family following suit, they began to escort Harry's grandmother out. Before reaching the door, Harry's grandmother locked eyes with Meghan, gave a wave and a warm smile. As Harry's grandmother departed, Meghan dipped into a curtsy again. After she left, everyone resumed their prior selves. Drinks all around. Everyone complimented Meghan on her curtsy. She asked about the person with whom she thought was his assistant. Completely unaware it was her second son and Harry's uncle, Andrew. From there, Harry knew Meghan hadn't Google/d them.   

Next was Harry introducing Meghan to William. Harry knew there would be friction if they waited any longer. So, they both popped over one afternoon, shortly before going on a shooting trip. Walking up to the home location, under the huge arch, through the courtyard, Harry was more nervous than the meeting with his grandmother. Harry was in conflict asking why with no answer in mind. After a minute of waiting, there was Harry's big brother, a bit dressed up. Harry introduced them. Meghan leaned in and gave William a hug, which completely freaked them out. They took it very differently. William didn't hug many; whereas Meghan was used to it. Talk about a culture clash. Harry didn't warn Meghan ahead of time. He just saw it as though his brother was meeting his girlfriend from Suits.

Soon came the acquaintances. William got over it. They were soon interrupted by a barking spaniel. Kate was out with the kids. Then, it was time for goodbyes. They each had other priorities which contended with their departure. Meghan gave Harry a kiss. She told the boys to enjoy their outing, off they went to spend her first night alone in Nottingham Cottage. Over the next few days, Harry was a man in love. He couldn't stop talking about her. Now that their relationship was out and public, Harry truly had so much to say. William listened, his attention was attentive, always thinly smiling. Harry couldn't help it. He was like word vomit. To William's credit, he didn't criticize. Harry seemed like he truly wanted validation from his brother on his choices.

Weeks later, Harry and Meghan drove through the gate, into the lush gardens of Clarence House, which made Meghan gasp. Harry informed Meghan of the history of the property. Harry mentioned that he had previously lived there from ages 19-28. After Harry moved out, Camilla turned Harry's bedroom into her dressing room. He tried not to care. But, the first time Harry saw it, he cared. The door opened and they were greeted by Charles' butler and long-time house manager, who also worked with the family. On the landing of the creaky staircase of 12 steps, on the landing above them, stood Charles. Beside him stood Camilla. Harry & Meghan rehearsed this very moment several times. They all went into a large sitting room. Along the way, Charles asked if Meghan truly was the star of an American soap opera! Meghan corrected them; informing them of Suits. Charles found it Splendid!

They came to a round table. Beside them stood a trolley with tea: honey, cake, flapjacks, sandwiches, warm crumpets, crackers with creamy spread, shredded basil - Charles' favorite. Charles sat with his back to an open window. Camilla sat in front of him. Harry & Meghan sat between them, across from one another. Harry scarfed down a crumpet with Marmite; Meghan had 2 smoked-salmon tea sandwiches. They were both starving. Being nervous prevented them from eating. Charles offered pancakes. Meghan loved them. Camilla asked how Meghan preferred her tea. Meghan apologized for now knowing. She thought tea was tea. This brought on the discussion of Americanisms V. Britishisms. One conversation led to another. The conversations were easy, all 4 talking at once. Then Charles talked to Meghan as Harry conversed with Camilla, who seemed keener on eavesdropping than talking to her stepson but, alas she was stuck with Harry. Soon, they all switched. Eventually, it became an outbound conversation where everyone joined in. Talking about the arts & acting generally. Charles had questions about Meghan's career. He was impressed with her answers and her confidence and her intelligence. What Meghan shined at caught the family off-guard. Soon, their time was up. Charles & Camilla had other engagements pertaining to Royal Life. Harry explained the Royal schedule to Meghan later on. They soon stood up. Meghan leaned towards Charles. Harry flinched due to Charles not being one for hugs. Thankfully, Charles gave a royal cheek-to-cheek which he seemed to enjoy! As they left. . . .Welcome to the family!   

At the end of October 2016, Harry flew to Toronto to see Meghan in her life. Her territory. He was able to see it ALL! Every last detail. They explored the sparsely populated nooks/cranies of her neighborhood. Ever be cautious. Maintain the bubble. Keep up disguises. Harry informed Meghan he hadn't had great luck with themed fancy-dress parties, but Harry gave it another go. Fuck it. For help with his costume, Harry turned to his friend, Tom Hardy, prior to leaving home. Harry called Tom asking to borrow his Mad Max costume. The whole thing. He would lend it to Harry before he left Britain. Harry tried it on in Meghan's little bathroom. When he returned from the bathroom, Meghan laughed! The best part: Harry was unrecognizable. Meghan wore black shorts, a camo top with fishnet stockings.

The party was ideal. Several people did a double take as Meghan passed through the room. But no one looked twice at her date. Harry wished he could've used the disguise daily. He also wished he could've reused it the following day to visit her onset. . . .Then again, maybe not. Harry made the mistake of Googling and watching her love scenes online. You can't unsee what you already have. So, Harry FOCUSED onto Sunday. Everything was rendered moot, everything was changed forever, the news of their relationship broke WORLDWIDE! They had a heads-up that it was likely to happen that day. They were tipped prior to heading for the Halloween Apocalypse, that another apocalypse was coming. They feared but were ready for what headed their way. Both are scared for what lies ahead. Meghan reminded Harry of what he said in Botswana. He promised to keep her safe. She believed in Harry then and now. By the time Harry reached Heathrow. . . the story fizzled? It was the calm before the storm.

Harry'd braced himself for the usual madness, the standard liberals, but he hadn't anticipated this level of lying. Above all, Harry hadn't readied for racism. Both dog-whistle and in your face racism. The Daily Mail took the lead with their headlines. Other tabloids jumped into the fray. Harry's face froze. His blood stopped. He was angry. He was ashamed even more. He felt betrayed by his own country. To make matters even worse, the Mail went onto collaborating Meghan's skin color with the city of Compton. A place she'd never been to or visited. Alleging that Meghan would. . . do something. . .genetically. . . .to the Royal Family. Taint it's blue-blooded pale skin with rich & exotic DNA. Furthermore, inquiries reported on the history of Meghan's mother, Doria. This blasphemous bullshit was blasted to millions of Britain's. Stereotyping every step of the way. 

The Telegraph entered the fray about Meghan being a divorcee. Digging into Meghan's first marriage. Nevermind that the British family itself was wrought with divorce. Divorce in 2016 to the British press deemed a Scarlet letter. The press were becoming Meg-oligists. Mocking taunts with hot garbage: 

Harry & Meghan DIDN'T CARE! Harry huddled with lawyers, trying to work out how to protect Meghan from various attacks from all over. Harry spent most of every day, from the moment he woke up until long past midnight, trying to make it stop. Suing them didn't work. It was just what the press wanted. Harry felt wild with rage. And guilt. He felt he had infected Meghan & Doria with his daily life. Here, he promised to keep both mother/daughter safe; and he felt he put her in the middle of danger. 

When Harry wasn't with the lawyer, he was with Kensington Palace's communications advisor who urged them to do nothing. It would've given what the press wanted. Silence was the last option. They couldn't let the press continue doing this to Meghan. Harry pleaded for The Palace to Do Something. Say Something to the press. They were blocked hard. Nothing could/will be done. Harry accepted this as a final straw. Until he read an essay in the Huffington Post. The essayist stated the mild reaction of Britons to this explosion of racism was to be expected, due to the HISTORIC lineage heir of racial colonists. But, this was truly unforgivable. Harry's silence to the situation. Harry's. He showed the essay to those in charge. They needed a statement. No debate. No discussion. Within a day, there was a rough draft. Strong. Precise. Angry & Honest. Harry didn't see an end to the problem. But, a beginning to an end.  

By the time Meghan landed at Heathrow, Harry's statement was everywhere. And changed nothing. The onslought continued. It generated a new onslaught  from Harry's family. Charles & William were furiously pissed. They gave Harry an earful. They said Harry's statement made them look bad. What the ACTUAL fuck? They'd never put out a statement for their girlfriends or wives when they were being harassed. So, this visit wasn't like the ones before. It was the complete opposite. Instead of sitting in Harry's kitchen talking dreamily about the future, or getting to know one another, Harry & Meghan were completely stressed out meeting lawyers, searching for a way to combat the madness.

Meghan was smart to ignore the internet. She wanted to protect herself. But not sustainable if they were waging a battle for her reputation and physical safety. Harry needed to know what was truly fact, what was false. Sometimes questioning Meghan on facts from time-to-time. Meghan would often start to cry. Still. Despite all of this, Harry & Meghan remained calm with one another. Never taking the pressure or snapping at one another. They managed to protect their essential bond, never snapping at one another during their few days. As they came across the final days of her visit, they were a solid, happy and Meghan announced she wanted to make Harry a special goodbye lunch.

There was nothing in Harry's fridge, as usual. But there was a Whole Foods down the street. Harry gave Meghan the safest route of directions, past the Palace guards towards the direction of the Whole Foods. There was no way to miss it. Harry was occupied with a prior engagement but would be home soon. 2 Hours Later, when Harry got home, he found Meghan inconsolable. Sobbing & shaking. Meghan could barely speak. She did just as Harry advised her to. She ran happily, anonymously up & down the supermarket aisle. But, she was stopped and asked for the exit. She was recognized. . . for Suits.

Meghan politely declined gracefully and returned to the grocery shop. He threatened to get a picture one way or another. This asshole proceeded to whip out his phone and follow her to the deli counter, snapping away as she looked for the turkey. Fuck It! As Meghan hurried to the checkout, she was followed there as well. Before her were the various rows of paper media with HORRIBLE, DISGUSTING headlines. . .were her. The other customers noticed as well. They began to pull out their phones, like assholes. 

After paying for her groceries, Meghan walked out into a gaggle of phones/cameras. She kept her head down, rushed up to Kensington High St. She was nearly home  when a horse-drawn carriage came trolling out of Kensington Palace Gardens, hearing some sort of parade. The Palace gate was blocked. She was forced to go back along the main road towards paparazzi hell. When she finally reached Nottingham Cottage, Meghan called her girlfriends, in turn, and asked if Harry was truly worth it? He proceeded to put his arm around Meghan. Harry was GENUINELY Sorry. So very sorry. They just held each other, until Harry became aware of the smell of Meghan cooking lunch. She wanted to feed him before he left. 

3 Weeks Later, Harry was getting an HIV test at a drop-in-clinic in Barbados. With Rhianna. The occasion was the upcoming World AIDS Day. Harry asked Rhianna, at the last minute, to join him. . .raising awareness. To Harry's shock, she accepted. It was a truly important day. A vital cause, but Harry's head wasn't in it. He was worried about Meghan. She couldn't go home due to the press surrounding it. Alone. Adrift. Meghan was on-break from filming, and it was the Thanksgiving holiday. Harry reached out to a few L.A. friends whom were house-sitting empty, and generously offered it to her. Problem solved, for the moment. Still, with them being surrounded, Harry was feeling worried, and intensely hostile. The same royal reporters.

Therein, the needle went in Harry's finger. He seen the blood coming and remembered all of those  before; friends associates, fellow soldiers, journalists, novelists, classmates anyone whomever depicted Harry as a blue blood. . .a shorthand for aristocracy. Watching Harry's blood go into the vaccutainer. . . Red. . . .just like everyone else's. Harry sat and converted with Rhianna as he awaited the results. Negative. Afterward, Harry wanted to dash to the quickest Wi-Fi to contact Meghan. Life gets in the way. . .with a slate of meetings and visits - a royal schedule with not much wiggle room. Harry had to hurry back to the Merchant Navy ship; taking him around the Caribbean.

By the time Harry reached the ship, the Wi-Fi barely had a pulse. He was only able to text Meghan; if he found aways to do it. They were able to communicate long enough for Harry to know Meghan arrived at the destination safely. Harry was only able to text Meghan if he stood on a bench in his cabin, phone pressed against the porthole. Better yet, Meghan's mother & father had been able to sneak in and spend Thanksgiving with her. Her father had brought an armful of tabloids; which he inexplicably wanted to discuss. That didn't go well and he ended up leaving early. When Meghan was reciting the story to Harry, the Wi-Fi went out. The merchant ship chugged on to its next destination. Henceforth, Harry put his phone down and enjoyed the rest of the ride.  

Meghan was driving home from set. She noticed 5 cars following and chasing her. It was in wintry Canada on icy roads. She told herself not to panic and not to drive erratically. Not to give the press what they wanted. She called Harry. He was in his own car with bodyguards driving, and Meghan's tearful voice mentally took Harry back to Balmoral. To his childhood. Remembering the MOMENT Harry heard of his mother's demise. Harry pleaded with Meghan to stay calm and keep her eyes on the road. His air-controlling training took over. Harry talked her to the nearest police station. As she got out of the car, Harry could hear the sound of cameras flashing. Meghan told the police what was happening, begged them for help. They were insisting nothing could be done due to her public status. Meghan went back to her car with press swarming again. Harry guided Meghan to her home, through the front door; where she collapsed. Harry did too, a little. He felt helpless, and this was his Achille's Heel. He could deal with so much for so long as there was action to be taken. But, when Harry had nothing to do . . . He wanted to die! 

There was no respite afterward. Being indoors didn't stop the hounding. After midnight, when things quieted down, Meghan dared to peep through the blinds and saw men sleeping in cars outside. . .waiting. Neighbors were being harassed as well. Meanwhile, back in L.A., Meghan's mother was facing the wrath of the paparazzi daily. She was being libeled. There was a time when Meghan worked in pallative care. Travelling all over Los Angeles to help people end their lives. Paparazzi constantly flashed their bulbs. . .just like Harry's mother. 

Once they reunited, Harry & Meghan were preparing dinner together in 2016. They were sharing/discovering the same favorite food: roast chicken. Harry didn't know how to cook it, so Meghan taught him. Meghan was expanding Harry's horizons, teaching him about folk music/soul. Whether it was the wine or the press wearing him down; but for some reason, the conversation took an unexpected turn. Harry soon became touchy. Then angry. Disproportionately, sloppily angry. Meghan said something that rubbed Harry the wrong way. In truth, he was just overly-sensitive that night. Harry spoke harshly to her and snapped at her. as the words left his mouth, Harry could feel the room come to a stop. Meghan walked out of the room and disappeared for a full 15 minutes.

Harry went and found Meghan upstairs. She was sitting in the bedroom. Calm, but she said in a quiet, level tone that she would never be spoken to in this manner. Harry nodded in agreement. She wanted to know where Harry's tone came from. He was unaware that he grew up with it. Following him into adulthood. Meghan wasn't going to tolerate that kind of partner. Or co-parent. That kind of life. She wasn't going to raise children in an atmosphere of anger or disrespect. Meghan laid it ALL out. Super clear. They know that Harry's anger came from DEEP inside. Some place that needed to be excavated. It was clear Harry could use some assistance in getting that job done. He tried therapy. Harry didn't find the right appropriation of what he was venturing for. Meghan told him to try again.

Anytime Harry & Meghan went out in a dark car, they were so intent on not being late, watching the clock. They managed to elude the press for 5 months. The next time was leaving dinner with Doria, who'd flown down with her daughter. They got them; but were devoid of Doria. She returned to her hotel peacefully. Harry always feared meeting a girlfriend's mother, but especially when you're making her daughter's life a living hell. The dinner with Doria was wonderful. Looking back, Harry seen it as the beginning of the end. The next day, the paps were there and a new flood of stories followed. Racism, misogyny, criminal stupidity - it ALL increased. Not knowing where else to turn, Harry called his dad. Harry angrily explained this situation. He feared he might lose her to the press' poison. It had already begun to happen in slow motion. Death threats. Isolation. Harry explained more to his dad. He appealed to Charles' self-interest. Doing nothing was a terrible look for the monarchy. Charles was completely unmoved.  

When Harry arrived, the day was autumnal, yet he was profusely sweating. He apologized. Moments later after a woman returned with a green fan, she aimed it at Harry. It was refreshing. The woman wanted for Harry to begin. Since he didn't know where, he began with his mom. Harry feared losing her. The therapist already knew bits-and-pieces of Harry's life story. Harry went into detail of his emotional loss. The pain of that loss is what drives him. Some days, the pain is what holds him together. Without the pain. . .he might forget her. It might've sounded nuts. . .but there you go! Most memories with Harry's mother, with overwhelming sorrow, were gone. On the other hand, when Harry brought this up with William, he advised for his brother to go through old photo books. . . which Harry had already done. . .to no avail. What Harry needed to rid the heaviness in his chest was help to cry it out. 

The next session, Harry asked if he could lie down. After doing so, Harry spoke about the physical and emotional suffering. The painc. The anxiety. The sweats. It had developed 2 years prior; but it had only gotten worse. Harry talked about the time during a skiing holiday and emotions ran all over the place. Harry may have teared-up a little. But, it wasn't enough. He needed to cry more; but he couldn't. Harry got around to talking about the deep rage, the ostensible trigger for seeking her out in the first place. He described the scene with Meghan, in the kitchen. . . shaking his head. He vented about his family. Harry frequently gave himself pause mid-sentence due to traffic passerby's outside.

One subject led to another: The press. Harry let his mouth fly on that subject matter. He shared that Harry had shown such contempt, such vile disrespect to the woman he loved. Fuck the press. Harry had no right to take his problems out on Meghan. Everything they lived through. No one in their right mind would ask for. Meghan was having panic attacks for the first time in her life. The therapist could tell and seen how angry Harry was for what Meghan was going through. Shit. Fuck! Yes! Harry was angry! No matter how valid Harry's complaints were, he was stuck.  The yelling, angry and lashing out Harry wasn't him. It was more of a traumatized 12-yr-old Harry. A part of Harry is forever trapped in 1997. Harry didn't like hearing the truth. But. . . .there it was. The session lasted the allotted time. 2 Hours. The made a plan to reconnect and reschedule. Harry embraced her lightly with a hug. He spent the rest of the night mentally soaking in the day.

In another session, they talked about how William & Harry had often turned women into surrogate moms. Surrogate mothers made Harry feel better, and worse, out of guilt. Like Harry was cheating on his mom. Then they mentioned talking about guilt. They talked about Diana's parenting, how she could over-mother then disappear for stretches, An important discussion without disloyalty to his mom. More guilt. They talked about life inside the British Royal bubble. Assuming being a prince didn't involve being a HUMAN! That it was all a fairytale. Hearing the word Royal meant no problems in assumption. Harry gave the therapist an overview of the dehumanization playing out in his life. Now, it was the dehumanization of Meghan. More hate, more vitriol - plus racism to boot.     

At one point, Harry sat up on the couch, crocked his neck to see  if the therapist was listening. Oh Shit! She was. Her mouth was hanging open. Harry honestly thought this therapist would pick up on Britain's racism throughout their conversations. She truly didn't know. One thing was abundantly clear: Harry was in the oddest of situations. Harry wondered if he had an addictive personality. If it was one addiction: Harry was addicted to obsessing over the press.   

Harry always thought this therapist had performed a miracle, opened him up, releasing suppressed emotions. But, she only started the miracle, now it was been brought to fruition. All his life, Harry told people he couldn't remember the point, couldn't remember their mom, but he never gave anyone the full picture. Harry's memory was dead! Now, through months of therapy, Harry's memory twitched, kicked, sputtered. It came to life. Some days, Harry would open his eyes to find his mother. . .standing before him. 1,000 images returned, some so bright that they were holograms. Harry remembers bits-and-pieces of his mom on the day of her passing. Moments that Harry & William FOREVER cherish. In his memory flashback, the therapist urged Harry to break through. After asking about it, Harry brought her office a bottle of his mother's favorite perfume. At the start of their session, Harry lifted the lid of the perfume; took a deep sniff. . . .like a tab of LSD.

Harry read somewhere that smell is our oldest sense. That bodes well with what he experienced in that moment, from there, images rose to the front of his brain. Harry remembers a time when his mother stuffed outside sweets into his socks before school. Both of them laughed at the school's rules. Harry even remembered the brand of sweets. . .Opal Fruits. No wonder they were Harry's favorite candy. They brought back a plethora of memories for Harry. The sound of his mother's laughter that day, lost to him all these years, was truly back. Loud and clear. Harry cried with joy to hear it.

The Sun ran a correction for their porn story in a section small enough to not capture attention. What did it matter now anyway? The damage was done. Plus, it cost Meghan thousands of dollars in legal fees. Harry tried to discuss his frustration with his father, yet again. He cut him off. Harry wasn't trying to hear a bullshit excuse. He wasn't a boy anymore. Harry tried a new tactic. These were the same shitty bastards who ridiculed Charles his entire life. Where was his outrage? Harry couldn't get a straight answer for him. Their conversations went in circles. When they hung up, Harry felt abandoned with no help.

Meghan went to Camilla, whom tried to counsel her by saying the press' treatment was common for newcomers. It would pass in due time. In desperation, Harry went to his brother. He took advantage of the first quiet moment with him in years. It was the end of August 2017; the 20TH Anniversary of their mom's death. Harry gave his brother a quick summary of what he & Meghan were living through. William didn't have a satisfying answer for Harry's dilemma, so they remained silent. It was then that William expressed the same feeling of his mother's presence. . .among them. They both felt spiritual messages from their mother. Harry felt his mother helped his way to Meghan. William took a step back. . .He wouldn't go that far.

Meghan came to London in September 2017. It was during this trip that Harry nervously asked Meghan to elevate their relationship to her moving into Nottingham Cottage. They talked out the logistics of uprooting their lives. It would've meant an end to Meghan's job. She said Yes! Afterward, they sat down to dinner. After Meghan fell asleep, Harry analyzed himself. In a roll of emotions, there was a steak of relief. Meghan expressed her love for Harry in return. Part of Harry readied himself for the worst case. Fear of her fast-departure and run to Toronto. Part of him thought she would've been smart to do so. By pure chance, The 2017 Invictus Games were going to be in Toronto. It was the perfect occasion for their first official public outing. They were both nervous. But, they had to bite the bullet. They'd hidden from the world enough. Once they had a public date, it might slow down the paps. They tried to make the entire affair as normal as possible. Watching the wheelchair tennis front row and focused on the games. They managed to have fun and make jokes with others around. The following day, the press and photos were sweet. Just comments on Meghan's ripped jeans. Other than that, it was pretty safe.     

Harry told his buddies his plans to propose. They gave their congratulations. Before doing anything, Harry had to ask his grandmother for permission. He wondered if this rule was legit or fallacy; due to not knowing of other family members asking permission. It suddenly hit Harry that Charles asked permission for Camilla from his own mother. The rules stated that the first 6 in-line asked for permission. With a heart full of fear, a mouth full of dust, Harry turned to the calendar. With a friend's help, Harry circled a date in October. On a day that would enlighten and bring a smile to his grandmother, with his father and brother in tow, Harry wondered if he should tell of his intentions. But, he soon thought against it. William already warned him not to. He was pretty discouraging about Harry courting Meghan. 

Charles always seen Meghan as "that actress". Actress sounded like a "convicted felon". William tried offering his brother advice. The conversation between them landed on finances. Harry turned to his brother completely taken aback at what their father was saying. William's face was completely blank. Charles didn't support his boys out of langesse. He supported his boys with loyalty for payment for the Monarchy. Surrender their autonomy and remain in a golden cage of captivity at all times. Charles hinted that Harry & Meghan were at a higher cost than the Monarchy could afford. Harry tried to appease to the situation. But, it suddenly HIT him that this situation wasn't about money. It was more about someone now dominating the Monarchy. New popular favorites outshine the Monarchy just as his mother had. Charles & Camilla had no interest in living through the memories of the past. Harry couldn't deal and had no time for petty jealousies and Palace intrigue. He was still trying to work out exactly what to say to his grandmother, and the time had come.    

Harry's mind was all over the place. But shooting on the property alleviated his mentality. Focusing on the next step, rather than the BIG SHOT Harry was about to take. Focusing and hitting his targets. They broke for lunch. Harry tried, repeatedly, but he wasn't able to get her solo. So, Harry ate and bided his time with a classic royal shooting luncheon. A little tea, a drink or 2 then back to shooting. Throughout the day, Harry kept a mental check on his grandmother. She was good and locked in.  After the final drive, the party scattered out and so did everyone else. When there was no security, Harry tried his shot.

Harry tried catching up to his grandmother, While they scanned the ground for dead birds, Harry tried to engage in light chat and loosen up the situation. Not helping the situation was Harry's popping subconscious. Overthinking the situation and possible outcome. Harry couldn't imagine being without Meghan. Nor could he be openly disobedient to those in CHARGE! If she withheld permission, Harry's heart would break. His grandmother wasn't known for changing her mind. So, this moment would either be the beginning of his life or the end of it. It would all depend on Harry's verbal delivery. If that wasn't enough to make Harry tongue-tied, there was plenty of press reports, sourced to "the Palace", that some of Harry's family didn't exactly "approve" of Meghan. Didn't fancy her directness. Didn't feel comfortable with Meghan's strong work ethic.

They didn't appreciate Meghan's occasional questions. Natural and curious inquisitiveness deemed to be of impertinence. There were quiet and quaint whispers with pervasive unease regarding Meghan's race. Whispers and "concern" about whether Britain was "ready". Whatever that meant. Harry wondered if his request would make him the next Margaret. He thought of all of the moments Harry needed permission. His life seemed like an endless parade of permission. All leading to this one. Harry soon quickly-stepped after his grandmother and her dogs. His mind began to race.

Harry turned to face his grandmother. She seen a look on her grandson's face. Harry was anxiously terrified. She was impatiently waiting for him to speak. Out with it. So, Harry did! Asking his grandmother, The Queen, permission to marry Meghan.  Harry stood motionless... waiting. His grandmother's face was unreadible. She felt she HAD TO say Yes! Why HAVE TO? It soon hit Harry that, in her own way, that his grandmother said Yes! Granting permission. After seeing her in the Range Rover, Harry marched back to his father and brother.  

Harry took a ring from Meghan's jewelry box and gave it to a designer was also the keeper of his mother's bracelets, earrings and necklaces; Harry asked for a ring to be created from one of the bracelets. He had previously cleared all of this in advance with William. William didn't even hesitate for one second, in giving it to Harry. He seemed to like Meghan. Harry recounted the times of dinner with his brother and sister-in-law on one of Meghan's visits, with Meghan cooking. Everything was good. William had a cold. He was sneezing and coughing. Meghan ran upstairs to get him some of her homeopathic cure-alls. Oregano oil and tumeric. William seemed charmed and unmoved. Although Kate stated she had never heard of said remedies. The evening went by smoothly. The only possible discordant note was the difference in which the ladies style of dressing. Along with the diamonds from the bracelet, Harry asked the designer to add a third - a blood-free diamond from Botswana. . . .for a very special occasion.

Harry opened a bottle of champagne - an old gift he'd been saving for an occasion. He led Meghan out to the garden. Cold night. They were wrapped in big coats. Harry set electric candles around a blanket. He wanted it to look like Botswana; where Harry first thought of proposing. Now, Harry knelt on his knees on the blanket. He eyes were full of tears. He brought the ring out of his pocket. Made his proposal. Harry was shivering; his heart was thumping, his voice was unsteady, but she got the idea. In this mixed-up world, this pain-filled life. . . they did it. Harry & Meghan managed to find one another. Joyous tears and crying along with laughter. They headed for the house. They hurried inside, and finished their celebration in their cozy kitchen. It was November 4TH. Press got word 2 weeks later.  

Ordinarily, Harry would've gone to Meghan's father first, asked for his blessing. But, her father, Thomas Markle, was a complicated man. He & Meghan's mother, Doria, divorced when she was 2, and thereafter she divided her time between them. Weekdays with Doria and weekends with Thomas. Then, for part of high school, she lived with Thomas full-time. They were that close. After college, Meghan traveled the world, but stayed in constant contact with her dad. In her 30s, she was still Daddy's Girl. She loved him, worried about him - his health and habits - often relied on him. Throughout her run on Suits, Meghan consulted him every week about the lighting; due to his Emmy-winning success as a lighting director in Hollywood. In recent years, he sort of disappeared and wasn't doing well at all after not working for a while. In every way, Meghan felt her father would never handle the psychological pressure that comes with being stalked by the press; now it was happening to him.

Westminster Abbey

It was hard for both Harry & Meghan, while dealing with all of that, to focus on the details of a wedding. Strangely, the Palace had trouble focusing as well. They wanted to get married quickly due to paps and papers. While waiting for a decree from on-high, from the royal decision-making apparatus, they went off on a ""traditional engagement tour" - traveling up/down the U.K. to introduce Meghan to the public. Crowds went wild for her. On their return trip, Harry called his brother, asked for advice on where to get married. Harry told him they were thinking of Westminster Abbey. William suggested otherwise. If Harry had it HIS way/if both of them did, they would've eloped. Barefoot in Botswana, with a friend officiating, that was Harry & Meghan's dream. But. . .it was up to the Monarchy.

The Palace returned with a date for Harry & Meghan's nuptials: May 2018. They were accepted for their location: St. George's Chapel. With that settled, the family/brothers & sisters-in-laws made their first public outing with William & Kate. The Royal Foundation Forum. February 2018. All 4 of them sat on a stage showing unity to the future of the Monarchy. Afterward, a journalist dubbed them The Fab 4. Here we go. . . Days later, controversy. Something about Meghan showing support for the #MeToo Movement, and Kate wasn't. . .by their outfits. It was a TRULY BULLSHIT! story. But, it had Kate on edge, while putting her and everyone else, on notice that she was going to be compared to Meghan. All of this stemmed from the awkwardness of Meghan's asking to politely borrow Kate's lip gloss. Meghan forgot hers, worried she needed some, she asked for help. Kate grimaced when Meghan squeezed out some and applied it to her lips. Kate's grimace was noticeable and left a mark in the press. Turning a small bit into something catastrophic, Here we go sorrowfully.

By royal decree, Harry's grandmother approved the marriage in 2018. Harry & Meghan were soon expanding their home responsibilities with animal adoptions from a friend's litter. They named her Pula. The Setswana word for rain. And good fortune. Many mornings, Harry found himself surrounded by loved ones, who loved him and depended on him. Harry thought he simply had no right for such good fortune in his life. Work challenges aside, this was happiness. Life is good. The decree of the wedding coincided uncannily with the airing of Meghan's farewell season of Suits, in which her character, Rachel, was getting married. Art imitating life from one another. Harry & Meghan seen it decent for them to send her off in that fashion. That spring,  the press was quieter. More focus on the intricate details of the wedding itself.

After all the stress of asking his grandmother for permission to marry Meghan, Harry thought he'd never have the courage to ask for anything else: permission to keep his beard for his wedding. A beard was a clear violation of normalcy and protocol. Beards were forbidden in the British Army. But, Harry was no longer in the Army and he desperately wanted to hang onto something that became an effective check on Harry's anxiety. Illogical but true. Harry's beard became his security blanket. A beard as a Freudian mask. Hiding what we don't want seen. Either way, it made Harry feel calm and clear as possible for his wedding. Also, Meghan had never seen Harry without it. Harry explained the special moments Meghan had of his beard to his grandmother. She understood. Harry was permitted to keep his beard. When Harry explained what happened to William, Harry gave him a quick history lesson of royals who were bearded and uniformed. Helpfully, Harry referred William to Google. When he informed him that his opinion not mattering, how Harry was pre-approved by their grandmother; William was PISSED & LIVID! He always thought their grandmother had a soft spot for Harry. She indulged him; while holding William to an impossibly high standard. The heir, spare irked him. The argument went on, in person, for more than a week. William wouldn't let it go. At one point, Harry was ordered by his brother, as the Spare to his Heir, to shave it. William was PISSED that he had to shave and didn't get to keep his beard. William was LIVIDLY PISSED about the differential treatment between the 2. Harry thought William was being ridiculous. But, William's anger worsened. Finally, Harry told him that his bearded brother was getting married. Like it or not.

Harry showed up at his stag ready to party. To laugh, to have a good time, to clear his mind of wedding stress. Yet, Harry also feared to be too drunk, too passed out and William, along with his buddies, would hold Harry down to shave him. William explicitly explained his plans. So, while having fun, Harry was also at all times. kept William in his sight. The stag party resided at a friend's house in the Hampshire northside. NONE of anywhere the press reported. Aside from his brother, 15 other buddies were in attendance. They were greeted with various boys toys: Giant boxing gloves. A mechanical bull. They rough-housed and painted their faces. After an hour, Harry was worn-out and relieved when lunch arrived.

When everyone was bored of firing rifles, they dressed Harry as a giant-ass yellow feathered chicken and sent him downrange to shoot fireworks at him. But, Harry offered to do it. It reminded him of being at war. He wondered if William thought the same. Had they truly drifted apart as brothers? Or have they? Maybe they could recapture it. Now that Harry was to be married.

Though the press was mostly laying off of Meghan, and staying focused on the wedding, the damage was done. After 18 months of trashing her, ever since they acknowledged being a couple, Harry & Meghan were flooded with racist taunts and death threats on social media. In pre-wedding conversations with police, Harry & Meghan learned they were the prized target for terrorists and extremists. Harry remembers being called a bullet magnet. Anyone near him would be unsafe. Especially next to the person Harry most loved in the world. 

On the eve of the wedding, Harry stayed at Coworth Park Hotel. A private cottage. Several buddies sat and joined in having drinks. Harry was distracted with business that pertained to the wedding. The constant worry of outside craziness was amok. - Best not to talk about it from Harry's viewpoint. The press asked about William. Harry gave a non-answer. Another sore subject.

William was scheduled to join for the evening. But, like Meghan's father, William cancelled last minute. He used Kate & the kids to get out of it. Harry reminded them of their traditions, having dinner prior to the wedding, and then off to visit the crowds. William held fast. He decided to do it. Harry pushed. He wondered why couldn't/wouldn't William reciprocate how Harry was there for him when William tied the knot. Harry asked himself: What was truly going on? Was William feeling bad about not being Harry's best man? Was William truly pissed that Harry asked another? Was it guilt between future sister-in-laws? William gave no indication. He kept saying no!

William asked why it mattered so much? Harry felt sick about it. Harry always believed that despite their brotherly problems, that their bond was strong. Harry thought the bonds of brotherhood would override everything else. No matter what. He thought wrong! Then, after leaving his grandmother around 6:00P, William texted changing his tune on coming. Harry showed heartfelt gratitude. Moments later, as they departed, people wished them well and blew kisses. As they left, Harry invited his brother for a dinner; maybe a sleepover. Dinner was doable. But, William's kids kept Harry delayed his staying the night. Harry stood at the alter, smothered in his Household Cavalry uniform, watching Meghan float towards him. Harry worked hard to choose the right music for her procession; ultimately landing on Handel's Eternal Source Of Divine Light. As the music played, Harry thought he chose well. As Meghan walked closer, Harry gave thanks for all of his choices. When she took his hand, the present dissolved and the past came rushing back. All of their first's since their relationship began. . . The first time they. . . And now, here they were. A finishing line that started a new one.

For the past few months, nothing went according to plan. But, then Harry took a step back and realized none of this were the plan. This was the plan. This love. Harry shot a glance at his father, Charles, whom walked Meghan down the last half of the aisle. It may not have been her father, but it was special just the same. Harry's Aunt Jane stood and gave a reading in honor of Harry's mother. Something Harry & Meghan both cherished: Song Of Solomon. Strong as death. Fierce as the grave. YES! Exactly what Harry was looking for. The Archbishop reached the official part; bestowing them the tales of setforth by his grandmother: The Duke & Duchess Of Sussex. While they were grateful for their public near & far, live and on TV, Harry & Meghan's love story began in private, and being public had been mostly pain, so they wanted the first consecration of their love, the first vows to be private as well. As magical as the formal ceremony was . . . they were terrified of crowds. Without underscoring this feeling, the first thing they saw upon walking back to the aisle and out of the church, other than smiling faces, were snipers. On the rooftops, amid the wall of streamers. Police said it was unusual, but necessary. Due to numerous threats picked up.   

Their honeymoon was a closely guarded secret. Heading to the Mediterranean for 10 days. Glorious to be away, on the sea, in the sun. But they were also sick. The build-up to the wedding had worn them down. They returned just in time for the official June celebration of Harry's grandmother's birthday; one of their first public appearances as newlyweds. Everyone was present. Good mood and upbeat. But then: Kate asked Meghan her thoughts of her first royal event. Meghan thought it was colorful; jokingly. Days later, Meghan nervously went on her first royal trip with Harry's grandmother. She was nervous, but they got along famously with their love of dogs. Meghan returned from the trip glowing. They had truly bonded. Discussing and thinking things would turn around. The papers pronounced the trip an unmitigated disaster. In truth, things went as harry's grandmother intended. If she said it, Meghan did it. 

In June 2018, William & Kate invited Harry & Meghan for tea to clear  the air. Meghan was taken aback with WOW! when they arrived. It was like a gorgeous museum. They informed them of it. Complimenting their lavish renovations, somewhat thinking about the differences in lifestyle. Lavish v. IKEA. What was handed to William & Kate; Meghan had to personally pay for on credit cards for their home. All 4 sat in on opposing sides of the living room. There was an array of tea & biscuits, shooting the shit for about 10 minutes.  Meghan then acknowledged the tension among the 4 of them and ventured that it might go back to those early days when Meghan first joined the family. Kate had thought Meghan wanted Kate's fashion contacts. But, Meghan had her own. There were things under the surface that Harry & Meghan both were unaware of what lied underneath. William & Kate were apparently pissed at not exchanging Easter gifts. Charles always made a big deal of holidays. This was a custom that Harry & William didn't grow up with. But, if William & Kate were so pissed, Harry & Meghan apologized.    

For their part, Harry & Meghan chipped in that they weren't too pleased when William & Kate switched place cards and seat changed at the wedding. Harry & Meghan followed the American tradition, placing couples side-by-side, but William & Kate were opposed to that, so their table was the only one with couples sat solo. They "insisted" it wasn't them. It was purely blameshifting. They'd done it before at prior weddings. Harry & Meghan were never ones to do that; as much as they wanted to do it. They never made a fuss and followed wedding protocol rules. This situation wasn't getting anywhere or any better. Kate then proceeded to announce she had hurt feelings from Meghan, whom was completely unaware of this. Kate had mentioned a phone call in which they'd discussed the timing of wedding rehearsals. She initiated that her memory was off due to baby brain. Meghan completely understood, for which Meghan tried to be comforting to Kate. For which, Kate rudely turned down Meghan's GENUINE concern for Kate's mental & physical health. Both ladies eyes WIDENED. Meghan was GENUINELY confused. She presumed she could speak to Kate just as she was speaking to just another one of her girlfriends. William, rudely, pointed directly at Meghan. Assuring her one of the rules of Britain. Meghan KINDLY asked for William to remove his finger from Meghan's face. Was this truly happening? Had things truly come to this? Shouting about some irrelevant bullshit subject matter. . . Meghan never intentionally would do anything do to hurt Kate. If she did, all she had to do was let Meghan know and she would've corrected it. They kind of hugged it out. Somewhat. From there, Harry thought they should exit the situation while they could.  

Their team sensed the friction, read the newspapers, and thus heard the frequent bitching around the offices. Sides were taken Team Cambridge V. Team Sussex. Rivalry, jealously, competing agendas - all poisoned the atmosphere. They were only able to handle about 10% of the press. Nerves were shattering, people were sniping. Any feedback was seen as an attacked insult. For all of what transpired, more than one staff member slumped across their desk and wept. For all of this, William lead all the blame on Meghan. He told his blame to Harry several times, and he got cross when Harry told him he was out of line. The strife originated from outside staff from their offices that came between their brotherhood. In the midst of all of this, Meghan managed to remain calm. Despite the surrounding negativity, Meghan doubled down on spreading positivity. She sent out handwritten thank-you notes, checked on staff members who were ill, sent out food or whatever may be to whomever was sick or depressed or off sick. The office was dark and cold, so Meghan warmed it up with new lamps and space heaters, all bought with her personal credit card. She brought pizza & buscuits, hosted tea parties and ice cream socials. She shared the freebies she received; clothes, makeup with other ladies of the offices.

Harry stood in awe at Meghan's ability and determination, to see the good in people. There was a moment when Harry seen the size of the GENUINITY in Meghan's heart that she TRULY was GOOD PEOPLE LIVE! Harry felt GENUINE PRIDE in Meghan. He felt regretful about his family feuding with his wife.   

Harry & Meghan didn't want to wait. They were both wanting to start a family straightaway. They were both working crazy hours, their jobs were demanding their time, but their timing wasn't ideal. But, too bad. This was always their main priority. They worried about the stress of their daily lives, fear it might prevent pregnancy. The toll was taking up on Meghan. She was constantly losing weight, despite a healthy appetite. She still kept losing. A doctor confirmed that Meghan's weight loss contributed to a barrier of conceiving. She was instructed to gain 5LBS. to conceive.  So, Meghan ate, continuously, to put in the necessary weight, looking hopeful at a calendar. Toward the end of summer 2018, they went to Scotland, The Catle Of May to spend time with Charles.

Harry & Meghan talked during dinner about the job and stress they'd been under. If they could just convince the papers to back off.. . . for a little while. At tea the next day, the good vibes continued. They were talking and shooting the shit when the butler interrupted with a phone call. Charles was shocked when the call was truly for Meghan. They were all stunned. She tentatively reached for the phone. It seemed as though Harry's grandmother was calling to talk about Meghan's father. Harry's grandmother was responding to a letter Meghan had written, asking for advice and help in the press' situation. She suggested Meghan forget the press, go see her father and talk sense into him. Meghan explained that her father lived in a Mexican border town and she didn't know how she'd get away from the press and papers safely and quietly. In that event, a letter would safely suffice. 

Meghan was late. They bought 2 home pregnancy tests, one for backup and she took them both into the bathroom at Nottingham Cottage. Harry fell asleep whilst laying on the bed waiting for Meghan's results. When Harry woke up, there she was. . .waiting for them both to see the results. The sticks were on the nightstand. Harry only kept a few things there, among them was the blue box containing his mother's hair. Bringing them both luck. Harry reached for the sticks and seen the results. Blue. Both of them. Blue meant. . . Baby. 

Harry & Meghan were both overjoyed. Harry returned the sticks to the nightstand. Mentally thanking his mother for their miracle. Various family gathering connected to the wedding would give them a chance to pull aside family members one-by-one to expel their good news. In telling that Charles was going to be a grandfather for a 4TH time. Charles' wide grin warned him/Harry. After the drink reception, in St. George's Hall, Meghan & Harry pulled William aside. Harry whispered the news, and William smiled. Insisting they tell Kate. So, they did. Kate gave a big smile and a hearty congratulations.

Days later, the pregnancy was publicly announced. The newspapers tried to diagnose what they thought were Meghan's symptoms. Meghan was tired, but was otherwise dynamic. She felt grateful not to be suffering severe morning sickness; since they were soon embarking on a hugely demanding tour. All across the international tour, Meghan dazzled. After one rousing  speech, she got a standing ovation. Meghan was so brilliant that midway through the tour, Harry felt compelled to warn her. Harry was paranoid that his wife would suffer the same fate as his mother. Everyone knew of Diana's situation going from bad-to-worse when she showed the world and the family that she was better at touring, better at connecting with people, better at being "royal" than she needed to be. This was when things took a turn. Outlandish stories from all over from "sources" rolled in. "Sources" that always got it wrong. But, this felt more than wrong. Harry will never forget the look in Meghan's facial tone as she was infuriated by what was written.      

Harry & Meghan arranged a second meeting with William & Kate. This time on their home turf. The early evening of December 10, 2018. They all gathered in their front annex cubicle, and this time there was no small talk. Kate was in a NO B.S. mood. Acknowledging the stories in the press about making Meghan cry were completely false. Meghan appreciated Kate's apology, but wondered why William, Kate or their offices never stood up for them in the press. Kate was flustered with no answer. William chimed in with some very supporting surrounding evasions; but they KNEW the truth. what had truly happened between these ladies? What the world doesn't know could embarrass the future queen. The monarchy, always at all costs, had to be protected. They tried to find the source of the gossip. They went around/around. The list was getting smaller.  

Finally. Finally. William conceded that whilst, Harry & Meghan, were on tour in Australia, William & Kate went to dinner with Charles & Camilla. . .and alas, admitted he "might've" let it slip there was strife between the couples .. . 

Harry put out his hand over his mouth. Meghan froze. A heavy silence fell. So now they knew. Harry confronted William. William KNEW & SHOULD'VE KNOWN. More silence. It was time for them to go/leave. It just kept on-and-on. It filled Harry with intense rage. This same media recently swooned over Kate while having such disregard for Meghan. Someone had it in for Meghan. No matter what they printed. No matter what Harry and-or-Meghan did. . . they couldn't win. Harry & Meghan had outgrown their residence in Nottingham Cottage. It was charming. But small. And falling down around their heads. It was so bad that one day Harry had to phone his Grandmother. They needed a new place to live. Harry explained that William & Kate had previously been in the same boat prior to their present situation as them. They too had fled it due to all of the required repairs, and the lack of room and now they were in the same boat. With 2 dogs and a baby on the way. 

Harry explained that they'd discussed their housing situation at the Palace, and they'd been offered several properties, but each was $2,000. Too lavish. Too expensive to renovate. Harry's grandmother thought about it and came back to the conversation. She offered them Frogmore Cottage. Harry knew it well. Sort of tucked away. Part of Royal history. Harry & Meghan loved the gardens at Frogmore. They went walking there often and near. They went that day, and his grandmother was right. The house spoke to both of them. Charming. Full of potential. Harry rang his grandmother and profusively thanked his grandmother. With her permission, they got to work on what needed done. With the work-in-progress, they thought they could move into Oxfordshire full time. They loved it there.  Harry & Meghan were able to call upon the talents of Charles' long-time butler whom knew the Oxfordshire residence and how to turn a house into a home. Plus, he knew the history of the home with Diana. Meghan adored this man and vice versa. Harry thought it could be the start of something new/good. A much needed ally in their corner. Next thing you know, press got wind of the Oxfordshire plans, thus ending that dream. Shit!

Harry walked home from the office and found Meghan sitting on the stairs. She was uncontrollably sobbing. Harry met her on his knees. She choked out that she was feeling suicidal. Harry didn't catch her drift at first. He didn't understand. Maybe he didn't want to. Harry's mind couldn't  process it. The words. It was all so painful. To be hated in this manner. She truly wanted to know. Meghan just wanted to make the pain STOP! Not just for her, but for everyone. But she couldn't make it stop. So, Meghan wanted to disappear. Her perspective was that without her, the press would go away. Harry wouldn't have to live like this. Their unborn child would never have to live like this. Harry begged her to not talk in a suicidal fashion. He promised her they'd get through it. They would find a way. In the meantime, they would find a way to help Meghan. He asked her to be strong, hang on!

Incredibly, whilst comforting and reassuring Meghan, Harry couldn't stop thinking like a fucking royal. They had a pressing engagement they couldn't be late for. Slowly - too slowly - Harry realized that tardiness was the least of their worries. He assured Meghan that he would make a quick appearance and return home fast. No! Meghan insisted that she didn't trust herself alone with such dark feelings.  

So, they put on their best dressed, and Meghan applied dark, dark lipstick to draw from her bloodshot eyes. As they stepped into the blue flashing lighted escort of the police and the press' flashbulbs, Meghan reached for Harry's hand. She gripped it tightly. As they went inside, Meghan gripped even tighter. Harry was taken aback at how hard Meghan gripped his hand. Better to hang on rather than letting go. But, when they settled into the royal box, and the lights dimmed, Meghan emotionally broke! She couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She wept silently! Harry & Meghan spent the entire length of Cirque Du Soleil squeezing one another's hand. Harry promised to keep her safe.

Harry awoke to a text informing him that The Mail had printed a private letter Meghan had written to her father. The letter that Harry's grandmother & father urged her to write. February 2019. Harry was in bed. Meghan was still asleep. He waited a bit then broke the Daily Mail news to her. Softly. At the moment, Harry was decisive. About Mr. Markle., but also about the press. At that moment, Harry had had ENOUGH! The newspapers KNEW it was illegal to publish private letters. They KNEW that Meghan didn't have the staunch support of Harry's family. They KNEW Meghan was defenseless. They KNEW Meghan's only recourse was to sue, and she couldn't do that to the lawyer being under the tutilege of The Palace, and The Palace would never authorize him to act on Meghan's behalf. There was NOTHING in the letter to be ashamed of, A daughter wishing her father behaved appropriately. Meghan stood by every word. She knew the letter could've been intercepted by ANYONE! Anything was possible. But, she never saw/thought her father could've been the culprit. The way the press would cut and divy up the innocent letters and make them worse. The pain was confounded 10xby the simulations interviews with alleged experts who analyzed her letters.  

The look on Meghan's face as Harry told her about this rolling out. . .Harry knew his way around grief, no mistaking it, this was pure grief. Meghan was mourning the loss of her own innocence. Meghan whispered to Harry that she'd taken a handwriting class in high school, and as a result had excellent penmanship. People complimented her. She even used this skill in college to earn spare money. She inscribed various invitations for others to pay the rent. No one was ashamed or of consciousness to think first. . . then  write about Meghan later. If they didn't sue over this, what signal would they send? So, they conferred with The Palace lawyer. Harry & Meghan were given the runaround. He reached out to William & Charles. They'd both reached out to the press in the past over invasions and lies. Both of them were vehemently opposed to the idea of Harry & Meghan taking legal action. Harry asked Why? After they hemmed/hawwed, the only answer was that it simply wasn't advisable. You would think that Harry & Meghan were suing a friend of the Royal Family.  

William had asked for a meeting. He wanted to talk about everything, the entire ongoing situation. Just a meeting between brothers. As it happened, Meghan was out of town, visiting friends, so Harry invited William for some brotherly time. An hour after walking in Nottingham Cottage, William hadn't seen Meghan since they first moved in. William looked EXTREMELY PISSED! in his face. It was early evening. Harry offered his brother a drink. He asked him about the family. Everyone was good. William rudely, never asked Harry about his family. William just went all in. Laying everything on the table. Saying Meghan was difficult. William claimed Meghan was rude. Abrasive. Claiming that Meghan was alienating half the Royal Staff.

That wasn't the first time William parroted the press' narrative. Inciting Meghan was "Duchess Difficult", all that bullshit, rumors, lies from William's team, tabloid bullshit, and Harry informed him. Harry expected more from his older brother. Harry was shocked to actually see William this super pissed. Did William actually think Harry would not stand up for his wife and stand by her side? Harry told William to take a deep breath, and truly ask himself to take a look inside himself and the institution they both grew up in? Harry suggested they cut Meghan some slack. Maybe help her. 

William had no interest in a debate. He had to come to lay down the law. William wanted Harry to side with him and "do something" with Meghan. Harry didn't know how he was to respond to William's request. William didn't either. Nor was William's rationality correct. Every time Harry tried to slow William down. point out the logistics in William's words, William got louder. Then talking lead to shouting.  

Out of all of the emotion that William showed that afternoon, one truly jumped out at Harry. William seemed to imply that Harry wasn't merely disobeying him; defying him, denying his brother's knowledge that came from Royal Aides. Harry was audacious to not follow protocol. William was in FULL Heir mode, and couldn't fathom why Harry wasn't following suit of being The Spare. Harry was sitting on a sofa. William was standing over his brother. Harry wanted him to listen. William refused. Calling his brother, Harry, and EVERYTHING outside of Harry's name. William stated that Harry refused responsibility for what was happening. Stating Harry was careless about Royal Offices and staff. Harry tried to speak with William, and William was cutting him off, "saying" he was trying to help. Harry KNEW what William was getting at. That TRULY set William OFF! William sized Harry up. Swearing along the way.  

At first, Harry felt a bit uncomfortable, but now he felt a bit scared. Harry stood up, brushed past him, went to the kitchen sink. William was right on Harry's heels, bitching and shouting. Harry poured himself a glass of water  and one for William. He handed it to him. He sat his water down, called Harry out of his name again, then proceeded to come at Harry. William grabbed Harry by the collar, ripping Harry's necklace and knocking him on his ass. Harry landed right on the dog's bowl, which cracked under Harry's back; with the pieces cutting into Harry's back. Harry lay there for a minute, dazed, then he got on his feet and told William to get out of his home. William was insisting Harry fight back like they were kids. Only; Harry refused. Knowing it would only make William feel better to respond. Harry insisted on William's departure. 

William left the kitchen. Not Nottingham Cottage. Harry could tell William was in the living room. Harry stayed in the kitchen. William was regretful and deeply apologized 2 minutes later. William walked out the front door. This time Harry followed. William wanted to keep this fight between brothers and of William's personal physical attack on Harry. Harry stated he would keep it between them. William thanked him and left. A promise is a promise. So, Harry kept his word. But, he needed to speak with someone. So, he called his therapist. Thank God, she answered. Harry apologized for the intrusion. He had no one else to call. He informed his therapist of what went down with William and showed her the evidence. They'd fought before as brothers, but nothing like this. This was different. The therapist told Harry to take some deep breaths. Asking him to describe what happened multiple times. Each time Harry did, it seemed like a bad dream. And it made Harry a bit calmer. Harry felt proud of himself. He didn't respond and hit William back. He stayed true to himself. He never told this to Meghan. But, not long after she returned from her trip. She seen Harry coming out of the shower, and gasped. He couldn't lie to her. Meghan wasn't that surprised. She wasn't angry. Just. . . terribly sad.  

Soon after that particular day, it was announced that the 2 royal households; Cambridge & Sussex, would no longer share an office. They would no longer be working together in any capacity. The reaction was about as expected. The most disheartening response was from Harry's own family. Silence. They never commented publicly, never saying anything privately to Harry. He never heard from his grandmother. It made Harry TRULY THINK; about the silence that surrounded both he & Meghan. Harry always that that. Just because everyone in his family doesn't explicitly condemn press attacks, it didn't mean they condoned them either. 

It suddenly hit Harry. Everything Harry was taught growing up believing about his family, about the monarchy, about the essential fairness, the job of unity and not dividing was being called into question. If there was no actual family unity and/or defending one another. . . what were they? 

Harry & Meghan moved their office into Buckingham Palace and relocated their finished home to Frogmore Cottage. They loved that place. From the first minute. They felt destined to live there. What they thought were to have been forever homes. Toward the end of April 2019; days before Meghan was due to give birth, William called. Harry took the call in their new garden. Something happened between he, Charles & Camilla. Harry couldn't get the entire story. William was talking too fast, he was way too upset and Harry couldn't comprehend. William was actually seething. Harry gathered that Charles & Camilla were the catalyst as to why. William wasn't putting up with it ANYMORE! Give Charles & Camilla an inch. . . they'd take a mile. They'd done this to Willliam for the last time. Harry understood his brother's frustrations. But, it wasn't technically Charles & Camilla. It was their communications team assuring good press for them and negative press for Harry & Meghan.       

Harry believed the stories were being offered as a straight swap, in exchange for greater access to Charles, and also as a reward for the suppression of stories about Camilla's son. Harry was livid that this was happening to Meghan, but he had to admit it was happening much more often to William. And he was justifiably incandescent. William had already confronted Charles once about this situation, face-to-face. Harry went along for moral support. William laid it on to their dad. Charles instantly got pissed. He invoked that William was paranoid. They both were. Just because Harry & Meghan were getting bad press, and William received good press; it didn't mean staff was behind it. But, they indeed had proof! Reporters, inside actual newsrooms assuring them they were being sold out. Charles refused to listen. His response was curlsih and pathetic.

Harry was elated and glad that William could confide to him about their father and Camilla, even after what they recently went through. Seeing an opportunity to address their tensions, Harry tried to connect what Charles and Camilla had done to William with what the press had done to Meghan. William snapped: He had different issues with Harry & Meghan. In the blink of an eye, William released all of his rage of Harry. Harry didn't comprehend his brother's exact words, due to being beyond tired & exhausted from their fighting - and Harry was focused on the imminent birth of their first child. But, it was something Harry will NEVER FORGET! William was going on-and-on and Harry lost the thread. He couldn't understand and stopped trying. Harry fell silent, waiting for William to subside. Then, Harry looked back. Meghan was coming from the house, directly toward him. Harry quickly took the phone off speaker, but she already heard. William was being so fucking loud. The tears were flowing from Meghan's face & eyes. Harry tried to say something, but Meghan declined his help. Holding her stomach, Meghan turned back to the house. 

Doria was staying with Harry & her daughter, waiting for the arrival of the baby. Everyone stayed close and didn't stray far. Going on the occasional walk to excel the process. When Meghan was a week past her due date, the communications team and the Palace began pressuring Harry on the baby's arrival. The press was also bringing pressure for an arrival. DAMN! Meghan's doctor tried various homeopathic ways to get things going & moving, but to no avail. After waiting anxiously for a result, to make sure nothing was wrong; they decided to go to the hospital and be prepared for a just in case.  They got into a nondescript people-carrier and crept-away from Frogmore Cottage without alerting any of the journalists stationed at the gates. It was the least suspecting vehicle they'd be riding in. A short time later, Harry & Meghan arrived at the Portland Hospital and they were spirited into a secret life, then a private room. Their doctor walked in, talked it through  with them, and said it was time to induce labor.

Meghan was so calm. So was Harry. But, Harry seen 2 ways of enchancing, his calm. One: Nando's Chicken (Brought by their bodyguards) Two: A canister of laughing gas beside Meghan's bed. Harry took several slow, penetrating hits. Meghan was bouncing on an exercise ball as a way to excel her labor and laughing. Harry took several slow, penetrating hits. Meghan was bouncing on an exercise ball as a way to excel her labor and laughing. Harry took several more hits and now Harry was bouncing as well. When Meghan's contractions began to worsen and deepen, a nurse came and tried to give some laughing gas to Meghan. Both Harry & Meghan used it all up! The nurse could tell what Harry had done. Harry meekly apologized. Everyone laughed at the situation, and changed the canister. Meghan climbed into a bath. Harry turned on soothing music. In their overnight bag, they had the same electric candles =. Harry had arranged in the garden the night of his proposal. Now, Harry placed them around the hospital room. He sat a framed photo of his mother on a little table. Meghan's idea. Time passed with minimal dilation.

Meghan was doing a lot of deep breathing for pain. Then the deep breathing stopped working. She was in so much pain that she needed an epidural. The anesthetic hurried in. Off went the music, on went the lights. A total vibe change. The injection went to the base of her spine. Still the pain didn't let up. The doctor came back and did it again. Now, things are both quieted and accelerated. Meghan's doctor returned 2 hours later, slipped both hands into rubber gloves. Harry stationed himself at the head of the bed, holding Meghan's hand, encouraging her. The doctor gave Meghan a small hand mirror. Harry tried not to look, but he had to. Harry glanced, seen a reflection of the baby's head emerging. It was stuck. Tangled. Things were getting serious and Meghan needed to push. 

Harry didn't tell Meghan why. About the possibility of a C-Section. Meghan gave EVERYTHING she had. Harry seen the life of his newborn baby. It all truly begins a struggle for freedom. A nurse swept the baby into a towel, placed him on Meghan's chest and they both cried at the arrival of their baby boy. Their doctor had advised them that, in the first minute of life, a baby absorbs everything around them. Talk & whisper to the baby.

Harry doesn't remember calling anyone, texting them. He remembers watching the nurses run tests on his newborn 1hr-old son, and then they were out of there, and out of the hospital. Within 2 hours of their son being born, they were back at Frogmore. The sun had risen and they were behind closed doors before the announcement was released. . .Truth didn't matter. It was all the Show. After a few hours, Harry was standing outside the stables at Windsor, telling the world of his son's arrival. Days later, they announced the name to the world: Archie Harrison Mountbatten-Windsor. The papers were incensed. Harry & Meghan pulled a fast one. After what they lived through for the last 3 years, and the press expect kindness? In the end, the press showed what kind of people they truly were with their racist post - a man and a woman holding hands with a chimpanzee and an awful caption to boot:Royal Baby Leaves Hospital.   

Harry had a long tea with is grandmother, prior to her departure, for Balmoral. He recapped her on the latest in his life. She knew a little bit,  but Harry filled in the gaps. She was shocked and appalled. Harry's grandmother vowed to send scores of courtiers to consolidate the situation. Harry & Meghan were on the phone with Elton John and his husband, David. They confessed they needed help. Harry &Meghan were both on the verge of losing their shit. Elton invited them to their home in France in 2019. So, they did. For a few days, they sat on the terrace and took it in. The atmosphere and comradeie. Freedom of any kind, in any measure, had come to feel like a scandalous luxury. To be out of the fishbowl of royalty for even an afternoon felt like a release from prison. One afternoon they took a scooter ride with David, around the local bay, down the coastal road. Harry was driving. Meghan was in the back and took it in. They waved back to passersby and smiled at the environment on the job. The best part of the job was watching Elton & David and their 2 boys fall in love with Archie. Often Harry would catch Elton studying Archie's face and knew Elton could see his friend and Harry's mother, Diana, in Archie's face. Harry KNEW where Elton was coming from. . . .he saw it himself. Time and again, Harry seen an expression across Archie's face and seen his mother, and caught  Harry off guard. How much Harry wished his mother could hold her grandson. Harry felt it - or wanted to. Every hug tugged with nostalgia; every tuck-in touched with grief. On the last night they were all experiencing the familiar end-of-holiday malaise. 

They were just relaxing, drinking cocktails. David & Harry were chatting about the news. The sorry state of the press. They got into books. David mentioned Elton's memoir, for which Elton toyed with for years. It was finally done and Elton was proud of it, and the publication date was drawing near. Bravo! Harry had his precautions due to the press' treatment of Elton. After the way the press treated Elton, Harry didn't understand why Elton would put himself out there like that? It was a warm night, so Harry was already sweating. Harry reminded him of lies famously printed by him and how Elton dealt with the situation. Harry loved Elton. He'll always love him. But, the news of the book wasn't to spoil the holiday.      

It felt like glorious to watch an entire country fall in love with Meghan. South Africa. It was September 2019. Another foreign tour to represent Harry's grandmother. From around the globe, people wouldn't get enough of Meghan. They both felt confident, a bit more courageous. They were even introduced into having their own lawyer. Something Harry & Meghan had NEVER heard of. He was so conditioned to do as told. Harry called and advised his father and grandmother of their plans. Also shooting William a text. Giving advanced notice of the lawsuit and in handling of statements. In announcing the lawsuit, Harry made his case out to the world. The lawsuit wasn't pressly covered as it should've been. It was barely covered. Nonetheless, friends took notes. Others texted. In a few days, the privacy laws in Britain were going to change in the tabloids favor. It wasn't about good/bad press. It was about not letting people get away with abuse. And lies. Maybe Harry sounded self-righteous. But, shortly after announcing their lawsuit, Harry felt energized by a ghastly story in The Express. Never mind who and what parties were hurt in the process. . . including the innocence of Harry's young niece & nephew.        

Harry was called to Buckingham Palace for lunch with his grandparents. The invitation was contained in a tense e-mail from Anonymous. Harry was instructed to get his ass over there. He put on a suit and jumped in the car. When he arrived, Harry was ambushed. He thought this was a family lunch. Apparently not. Alone, without his staff and without Meghan, Harry was confronted directly about his legal actions. Charles warned about the damage to the family reputation. Harry tried to get them to see the reason. Harry tried to use logic  and examples for his stance. When he tried, Harry's response was . . . crickets. Silence. Harry stated that they had no other option. They wouldnt've had to do it if Harry & Meghan were protected from the press. The Palace was doing a complete & total disservice by not protecting his wife. Everyone had a stoned face around the table. Was everyone truly so deep in a bubble inside a bubble that they hadn't seen how bad things were?

From social media to on-air news to print. Some of the posts in the comments on the pages of all 3 Palace social media posts were and still never expunged. Things had gotten so out of hand, 72 women from Parliament, in both parties, had condemned the "racial undertones" of all newspaper coverage of The Duchess Of Sussex. None of these things had merited one comment, public or private, from Harry's family. The press tried to rationalize the treatment, stating it was different than what Kate or Camilla got. But it was different. . .this was HATE!      

Harry looked at his grandmother, looked around the room and reminded them that he and Meghan were coping with a completely unique situation, and doing it all for themselves. Their dedicated staff was too small, too young & grossly underfunded. Staff for Harry's grandmother and aides had blatantly lied about Harry & Meghan's request for support.    

Harry & Meghan attended the Well child Awards in 2019. Harry attended several times throughout the years, but it was always gut-wrenching. Various awards were given for inspiration, fortitude and Harry was presenting for resilience. He & Meghan were filled with hope, and worry, like all expected parents, and they have a healthy little boy at home. But other parents weren't so lucky. Gratitude and sympathy converged in his heart, and Harry was choked up. He's become emotional in a roomful of sick kids. He seen the heartache in these parents after becoming a parent himself - there was nothing right about it. 

After seeing/hearing from William, William could clearly see his brother was truly struggling. He was worried. Harry thanked him for his concern, assuring him he was fine. William said Harry wasn't well. Stating that Harry needed help. Harry reminded William that he was already in therapy. William recently told him he wanted to accompany him to a session due to fear of brainwashing. Harry took him on a dare to attend a session. He never came. William's strategy was patently obvious: Harry was unwell, which meant Harry was unwise. As if Harry's behavior was called into question. Harry worked hard at keeping their texts civil. 

Nonetheless, the exchange turned into an argument, which stretched over 72 Hours. Back and forth, all day, late into the night. Just fighting through text. It was just as though they were speaking different languages. Now and then Harry realized that his worst fear was coming true: After months of therapy, after working hard to become more aware, more independent, Harry realized his brother was merely a stranger he no longer knew. He was a stranger to his older brother. They could no longer relate-nor-tolerate one another. Harry still has the texts in his possession. He'll read them sometime(s), with sadness, with confusion, thinking: How Did We Ever Get Here? In his final texts, William stated he loved his brother. That he cares for him deeply. He would do anything to help his brother. Never feeling any other way. 

At some point, Harry & Meghan reached the decision to get away, but this time it was more than the usual outing with Elton. Harry & Meghan were talking about escaping. A friend knew someone who had a house they could borrow on Vancouver Island. It was November 2019. They arrived with Archie, their animals and their nanny; under covers of darkness; on a stormy night and spent the next few nights trying to unwind. It wasn't hard. Harry could take a bracing swim. The best part was that no one knew they were there. Harry, Meghan & Archie hiked, they kayaked, they played - in peace. 

After a few days, the family needed supplies. They timidly ventured out, drove down the road to the nearest village, walked along the pavement like expecting treatment like people in a horror movie. But, it didn't happen. People didn't freak. They didn't stare. They gave Harry & Meghan respective space and made them feel welcome. They felt like part of a community. They felt "normal" . . . for 6 weeks. Then, the Daily Mail printed their addresses. Within hours, they were invaded by the sea. Each boat was aimed with a photo lens of their son. Archie's parents grabbed him and pulled him into the house. They were shot through the windows while Archie ate. Pulling down their blinds.    

The next time they drove into town, there were no paparazzi along the route. They counted 40. At their favorite little general store, they were protected by a NO MEDIA sign in  the window. They hurried back to the house, pulled the blinds tighter, returned to a kind of permanent twilight. Meghan said she'd officially come full circle. But, blinds weren't enough. Security cameras along the back fence of the property looking for a way in. Taking photos over the fence. Brief as it was, the taste of freedom got them thinking: What if life could be like that all the time? What if they could spend at least part of a year somewhere far away, still doing work for Harry's grandmother? Freedom. Freedom from the British press, free from the drama, free from the lies. But, also free from the supposed "public interest" that was used to justify the frenzy. The question was . . . where to go?

Harry ran the idea by his grandmother once before. Even signing off on it. Charles advised that Harry put it in writing, which he'd done immediately. Within a few days, it was all over the press and caused a stink. So now, at the end of December 2019, when Harry was chatting with his dad on the phone, saying they were SERIOUS about spending the year away from Britain. Harry wasn't having it when he was told to write things down. Charles couldn't help Harry if it wasn't in writing. 

Harry tried to announce his plan to his father and their plans  were leaked to the press and scrapped. Charles announced that it wasn't viable unless it was in writing. They were a government issue. So, in the first days of January 2020, Harry sent Charles a watermarked letter broadly outlined with bullet points, and many details. Harry hammered the essential theme: they were prepared to make any sacrifice necessary to find some peace and safety, including relinquishing their Sussex titles. Harry tried to contact his father. Charles wouldn't come to the phone. Harry soon received a long email from him saying they'd have to sit down and discuss the entirety in person. Charles wished to have them back to A.S.A.P. But, not before the end of January. Harry hoped this wouldn't get out to a public domain and become a spectacle. Charles responded with an ominous threat.  

Harry alerted his grandmother of he & Meghan returning to Britain and would love to see her. He told her that they'd hope to discuss plans to create a different working arrangement. She wasn't pleased. Neither was she shocked. Harry's grandmother KNEW how unhappy they were, she seen this day was upon them. One good chat with Harry's grandmother. Harry felt this would bring an ordeal to an end. Harry offered for he and Meghan to have tea and then drive back to London due to plans the following day. She offered for Harry & Meghan to stay in Sandringham. It made things a lot easier. Harry accepted. He stated it wasn't possible to meet with his father due to being gone until the end of the month in Scotland. Harry HAD TO laugh. Days later, January 5TH, as Harry & Meghan boarded a flight in Vancouver, Harry received a frantic note from their staff that his grandmother couldn't see them. Harry informed Meghan of his being blocked by his grandmother. When they landed, Harry considered driving straight into Sandringham. Fuck Security.

When they reached Frogmore Cottage, Harry tried calling his grandmother again. He felt he had misunderstood her the previous day about the day's plans. She stated that things had come up without her notice. Harry tried to reschedule. But, she alluded to being scheduled/booked solid. But, there was an infliction in her voice. . . Harry could tell it was strange. He tried to reschedule. She wasn't having it; stating she was busy all week. In the meantime, Harry & Meghan received word that The Sun was about to run a story staying "The Duke & Duchess Of Sussex were stepping away from their duties to spend time in Canada." .  . But, this reporter was sure to get everything wrong. He was rushing a story on behalf of The Palace, whose courtiers were determined to get ahead of them and spin their story. Harry & Meghan would have to rush a statement.

Harry called his grandmother again, told her about The Sun and the situation. His grandmother understood and allowed it. .  ."as long as it didn't add on to the speculation". Harry gave his grandmother the gist and some of the basic details Harry outlined in the memo Charles had determined the wording would be precise and calm.  

They soon realized it wasn't possible to assign blame and rock the boat. But, they realized Harry & Meghan didn't have time to get their statements out first. So, they opened a bottle of wine to relax. The next morning, the story ran. As expected, the story ran differently than Harry & Meghan's TRUE statement. Depicting Harry & Meghan as ones to tap out, rather than self-preservation. The only truth in the article was the letter Harry wrote to his father that was confidential. To which only a small group had access to. Not even their closest friends. On January 7TH, they began to work on the draft of what to say, did a brief public appearance and met with staff. When more details were being leaked, on January 8TH, they hunkered deep down inside Buckingham Palace.  

Harry & Meghan received word that The Sun was to run a story stating The Duke & Duchess Of Sussex were stepping away from their royal duties to spend time in Canada. The editor was sure to get everything wrong, just as he'd done his last "exclusive". Harry & Meghan didn't want anyone else breaking their news. . .twisting their news. They had to rush out a statement. Harry called his grandmother,  told her about the situation. She understood and allowed it, as long as it didn't add to speculation. Harry didn't specify what was said. She didn't ask. Harry gave her the gist and mentioned some of the basic details Harry outlined in the memo Charles demanded and that they'd seen. The wording had to be precise. It needed to be bland. . .calm. They didn't want to stroke any fires. Add to the speculation. It became a formidable writing essay challenge. 

They soon realized that it wasn't possible. They didn't have to put their statement out first. So, they proceeded with a bottle of wine. Just as they suspected. . .The Sun posted their story on the front page. Completely opposed to THE TRUTH! The only TRUTH was the one document on Earth in which that detail was mentioned - Harry's private and confidential letter to his father. To which a shockingly, damingly small number of people had access. They never said A WORD! So, on January 7TH, they spent time on the draft, did a brief public appearance and met with their staff. Finally knowing more on the 8TH and getting things done. Harry began to see what once was with a different eye. A grateful one. It was hard to get the exact wording. They tried to be respectful with the right tone.  

Occasionally, one of them would stretch out on a nearby armchair, or give their eyes a rest by going out the windows onto the garden. When Harry needed a larger break. He sat forth toward the ocean. Harry underwent out to The Palace halls where there was a tall, beautiful Christmas tree, still brightly lit. Harry stood there; reminiscing. He removed 2 ornaments and returned them back to staffers. One each. Figuring no one would miss these ornaments. Late in the day, as they closed in on the final day, staffers began to feel anxious. They feared their employment if it was discovered from their involvement. Otherwise, they were excited. Knowing they were on the side of right. The staff KNEW of the pain inflicted upon Harry & Meghan for months on-end. At 6P, it was done. Harry & Meghan gathered around the laptop, proof-reading the draft on their time. One staff member messaged his family's private secretaries and alerted them. William's guy replied immediately. 

Harry KNEW that Britain would be shocked, and saddened, which made Harry's stomach churn. But, in due course, once they KNEW the truth. Harry felt confident his family would understand. Meghan & Harry were for sure up to this task. They had no other choice. They sent the statement to their social media person. Within a minute, it was on their Instagram page, the only platform available to them. Afterward, on their way home, Meghan & Harry heard the recent news on their car radio. On every channel. They listened whilst holding hands and shared a smile with their bodyguards in the front seat. Then they gazed and silently out the window.     

Days later, there was a meeting at Sandringham. On his way there, Harry got a text about a story in The Times. William & Harry were declaring that the brothers were now "separate entities". Harry has always been able to count on the arm of his brother all the time. He just couldn't do it anymore. Meghan had gone back to Canada to be with Archie, so Harry was on his own for this Summit. William looked at him as if he was planning to murder his brother. William sat across from Harry. Separate entities indeed.  When all participants had arrived, they shifted to a long conference table, with his grandmother at the helm. The subject of the press came up pretty quickly. Harry referenced their cruel and criminal behavior, but they had a ton of help. The family had enabled the papers by looking the other way, or by actively courting them, and some of the staff had worked directly with the press, briefing them,planting stories, occasionally rewarding and fretting them. The press was a big part of why they'd come to the crisis. Their business model demanded that Harry & Meghan be in constant conflict. But, they weren't the only culprits.   

Harry looked at William. This was going to be William's moment to jump in, stand up for his brother and agree, talk about his maddening experiences with Camilla & Charles. Instead, William complained and bitched about a story in the morning papers suggesting that William was the reason they were leaving. The private secretaries began to address their grandmother about the Fine Options. Everyone had seen them thanks to an e-mail sent with 5 different ways of proceeding. Option 5 was full severance, No royal title, No working for his grandmother and a total loss of security. Otherwise, a compromise was on the table. Close to what was originally proposed. Harry told everyone assembled that above all, he was desperate to keep his security. He warned about his family's physical security. Harry wanted to prevent a repeat of history; another untimely death like the ones that had rocked their family to its core YEARS earlier. For which they were still trying to recover.     

Harry consulted with several Palace veterans, people who knew the inner sanction of the Monarchy and the history involved. . .Stating they all said Option 3 was best for all parties. Harry & Meghan had been living elsewhere part of the year, continuing their work, retaining security, and returning to Britain for charitable purposes. A sensible solution and imminently doable. But the family pushed for Harry to take Option 1. Barring him from taking Option 5. They discussed The 5 Options for about an hour. Before any discussions, a draft was written. . .which confused Harry. In other words, the fix was in, the whole time. Everything else was just for show. Other options were available. But not to Harry's disposal. Harry thought this situation was a colossal joke. Harry took a moment for breathable air.

At this point, the entire situation was always giving Harry a fucking headache. They were wearing him down. Harry didn't care anymore at this point, as long as security remained in place. Harry pleaded for a continuance of services. Although Harry was the most popular member of the family; now he was the target - along with his family - of unprecedented hatred. It was saddening. Harry offered to defray the costs of security from his very own pocket. Harry wasn't sure how. . .but he DAMN SURE would find a way. After making one last pitch that seemed simple and persuasive, as the meeting came to a close, there was a basic general agreement that would be sorted out over a 12-month transitional period, during which they'd continue to have security. After his grandmother left, Harry was left with one more piece of unfinished business. Harry went off to find the appropriate offices. A few steps later, he saw his grandmother's assistant at work printing out documents. Harry properly declined help with his paperwork. As Harry went further down the corridor, memories flooded him abound. As he walked away downstairs, someone suggested that Harry step outside with William to cool their heads. They went up/down the hedges on a freezing day. Harry was wearing only a light jacket and William was in a jumper, so they were both shivering.      

Harry braced himself for a lecture that never came. William was subdued. For the first time, in a long time, William HEARD his brother out, and Harry was SO GRATEFUL! He informed his brother about a former staff member sabotaging Meghan and plotting against her. Taking payments for leaked stuff to the press about both of them. Harry's sources on this were above reproach, including several journalists. William "agreed" to to look into it as the brothers kept up communication. Harry jumped into the car and was immediately told that a strongly worded denial had been put out by The Palace, squashing that morning's bullying story. The denial was signed by none other than . . . Harry and William. Harry was shocked!   

Harry returned back to Frogmore. From there, remotely, over the next few days, Harry took part in the drafting of a final statement, that went out on January 18, 2020. The Palace announced that The Duke & Duchess Of Sussex had agreed to "step back" that they'd no longer "formally" represent his grandmother , that their H.R.H. titles would be an "abeyance" during a "traditional" year - and that they'd offer to re-imburse for refurbishments to Frogmore Cottage. Harry flew back to Vancouver. A delicious family reunion with Meghan & the family. And yet, for a few days, Harry didn't feel completely back. Part of him was still in Britain. Harry spent HOURS glued to his phone, monitoring the fallout. Newspapers had a field day with misappropriated propaganda. Among them were his grandmother's press security, who concluded that Harry &Meghan  were to expect "NO MERCY".What the hell? Clearly, this was more than anger. Everyone included began to see Harry as an existential threat. If their leaving posed a threat to the monarchy, then it posed a threat to all of those covering the monarchy for a living. Henceforth, Harry & Meghan HAD TO be destroyed.

Harry's grandmother announced falsehoods with unfaltering certainty and thus her version of events quickly became "the truth" in many circles. Harry could feel the lies perpetuating the generational history books. Harry sat up late, asking and brooding on all of it. Asking himself. . . how? Was it always like this? What was being said for years is making Harry think of certain possibilities. Money sits at the heart of every controversy about monarchy. Everything always had a financial back-end. One back always scratches another. Could anyone truly deny it? This put Harry in an awkward position. . .but his bottom line wasn't. He'll always support his grandmother and the Monarchy. Harry loved his country and his family. He always will. His problem was with the press and their sick relationship with The Palace.  

Now, the question was Where do Harry & Meghan live? They considered Canada. By-in-large, Canada had been good to them. It had already felt like a home there. They had felt like home. Canada may be the answer. Meghan had gotten in touch with a friend from Vancouver, whom connected them with an estate agent, and they began to look at homes. They were taking the first steps, trying to be positive. It didn't matter where they lived - as long as The Palace fulfilled their obligations - and what Harry felt like was an explicit promise - to keep them safe. Meghan wondered about the status of their security? Harry assured her that with the climate of hate and the result of his mother . . . plus other family scandals, no one suggested they lose their security. It was February 2020. Harry scooped Archie from his nap and took him out on the lawn. Father & son took in their surroundings. Harry kissed Archie's soft baby cheeks, tickled him and then realized a call came in from security. Needing a moment alone with Harry.

Harry carried Archie across the garden and handed him to Meghan, then across the grass to the cottage housing bodyguards. With the waves rolling gently in the background, Harry was informed that their security was being pulled. The entire team was ordered to evacuate. So much for the year of transition. The threat level for them was higher than any other royal, equal to that assigned to his grandmother. Once word came down, there was to be no arguing. So, there they were. . .the ULTIMATE nightmare. The worst of all worse-case scenarios. They were able to be easily found. Harry called Charles. He wouldn't take Harry's calls. Just then, Harry received a text from William on availability. . .Harry was sure that his older brother would surely have his back, after their walk/talk in Sandringham Gardens. He was sure his brother would step up for him. William hid behind it being "a government decision". Nothing to be done. 

As of March 31st, the decision was made. Harry & Meghan were by themselves. Harry scrambled to find new security. He spoke to consultants, gathered estimates. Harry did his math and research . . .filling a notebook in the process. The Palace directed Harry to a firm, which quoted him a price. $6,000,000/annually. Harry slowly hung up. During this time, Harry received word that his dear friend, Caroline Flack, had taken her life. She couldn't take relentless abuse from the press. Year-after-year. Harry felt awful for her family. What Harry & Meghan were dealing with themselves was indeed a question of life & death. And time was running out. In March 2020, the beginning of a global pandemic was upon them. Meghan & Harry needed to figure out where to go . . . and get there. 

Tyler Perry generously offered his L.A. home to house Harry & Meghan at his residence.Tyler wasn't going to be there due to work; so the house was empty. They graciously accepted. Tyler's reasoning was from a mother's love. Tyler's mother loved Harry's. Harry was caught completely by surprise. They both had a bond of trauma loss of losing a mother so young. 

They spent the last days of March 2020 exploring and unpacking. Trying to get their bearings. Meghan introduced Archie to their new environment and surroundings. She introduced him to EVERYTHING to offer. Within a week, Tyler's estate felt like home. Archie took his first steps in the garden a few months later, at the height of a global pandemic lockdown. They cheered and gave Archie affection. For a moment, Harry wished to share in the news with his father and brother. Not long after Archie's first steps, he/Archie marched up to his favorite painting in the front hall. Archie stared at it, made a gurgle of recognition. Meghan leaned in for a closer look. She noticed for a 2ND time. She noticed for the first time; a nameplate on the frame. Goddess Of The Hunt: Diana. It gave everyone chills. 

Late at night, with everyone asleep, Harry would walk the premises of his home, checking the doors and windows. He would sit on the balcony on the edge and roll a joint. Taking in the nightly air and mentally place himself in Botswana. Harry & Meghan reconnected with his contacts in world conservation. Things were under control until the press spotted their location. Paps would cut the fences. They (H & M) would patch it up. They stopped venturing outside. Soon after, they would have to find somewhere new, and soon that meant paying for their own security. Harry went back to his notebooks, and started contacting security firms again. He & Meghan went over their finances to use what they could afford in stability. It was right then, while revising their budget, word came off: Charles was cutting them off. Cutting him off was more of a firing, without redundancy pay; casting Harry into the void after a lifetime of service.     

Harry felt fatted for slaughter. He never asked to be financially dependent on Charles. He was forced to participate in a never-ending Truman Show in which Harry never carried any money never owned a car, never carried a house key, never ordered anything online; never ordered from Amazon. The newspapers called Harry a sponge. But, there is a big difference between being a sponge and being prohibited from learning  independence. For decades of being infantized, Harry was now abruptly abandoned and mocked for it. The question of how to pay for a home and security kept both Harry & Meghan awake at nights. Spending some of his inheritance from his Mother was a last resort.They seen that money as belonging to Archie. And his sibling. It was then that they learned Meghan was pregnant. So, they seen what Harry's mother left was a generational inheritance to her grandchildren.

Harry & Meghan found a place priced at a steep discount just outside of Santa Barbara. They took a tour. The place was a dream. They were advised to buy it. So, they pulled their resources for a down payment, took out a mortgage, and moved in July 2020. Everything they owned fit into 13 suitcases. That first night, Harry & Meghan had a quiet drink in celebration, roasted a chicken, and went to bed early. But, there was still a pressing issue with Meghan's legal case against the tabloids. Meghan did everything she could and was determined to prevent anonymous friends from reading official court documents. Now, on their first morning in the new house, Meghan reported abdominal pain. And bleeding. Then, she collapsed onto the floor. 

Harry & Meghan raced to a local hospital. When the doctor walked into the room; Harry didn't hear one word. He just watched her face and body language. They already knew. . .They both did. . .There was so much blood. Still hearing the words was a blow. Meghan grabbed Harry and they both wept. In Harry's life, he only felt totally helpless only 4 times.

•  In the back of a car while his mother and brother were being chased by paps
• In the Apache above Afghanistan, unable to set clearance to do duty
• At Nottingham Cottage when Meghan planned to take her own life

                . And now this!

Harry & Meghan left the hospital with their unborn child. A tiny package. In a secret location only they knew, Harry & Meghan went to a place under a spreading banyan tree. While Meghan wept, Harry dug a hole with his hands and set the tiny package inside the ground. 

Five months later, Christmas 2020. Harry & Meghan took in the joy of celebrating the season with Archie and festivities. Tree decorating in a new home, a healthy boy and a positive cash flow. They were able to resume their work and spotlight causes they care about. Tell stories they felt were vital. Ad pay for their security. It was during Christmas Eve. They FaceTime'd several friends, including ones in Britain. They watched Archie running around the tree. Keeping the Winsdor family tradition. Starting your own traditions may be weird at first, but you soon get into the spirit. The Palace announced that a review was conducted by their roles, and their agreement reached in Sandringham. 

Henceforth, in February 2023, Harry & Meghan were stripped of everything but a few patronages. They were stripped of everything. It was taken all away. Including Harry's military association. No matter what they stripped him of; Harry's real uniform or military status could never be taken away. Furthermore, Harry & Meghan would no longer be doing ANY service whatsoever for his grandmother. They made it sound as if there was a reached agreement between them. There was nothing of the sort. Harry & Meghan pushed back in their own statement, released the same day disputing. The Palace's statement. Their new slap-down from The Palace was like a petrol in a bonfire. Harry & Meghan were under media attacks. Non-stop since leaving. But, that official severing of ties set off a new wave, which felt different. 

Harry & Meghan were vilified every minute of every day, on social media, and found themselves the subjects of fictional stories in the newspapers. Stories clearly spoon-fed by Palace staff - and presumably sanctioned by his family. Harry paid no attention. He avoided the internet as much as Possible. He kept his phone on silent. Not even vibrate. They asked friends not to report any "news" on them. Harry wasn't surprised that The Palace cut ties. No matter what Harry tried to do, he was denied in every corner.

Harry went to see someone whom claimed to have "powers". He sensed a feeling of bullshit upon him. But, this woman came with strong recommendations from trusted friends. So, Harry thought . . . Fuck It. Then, the minute they sat down together. Harry felt an energy around her. He thought there was something in the environment. She felt an energy around him. Harry felt where she was going. She said the presence of his mother was there. Harry felt his neck grow warm. His eyes watered. They stated that Harry's mother knew he was looking for clarity. His mother feels Harry's confusion. She knew Harry had many questions. The answer would come in time. One day in the future. Harry was to have patience. The word Patience caught Harry in the throat.

In the meantime, this woman said, Harry's mother was truly proud of him. And fully supportive. Diana knew it wasn't easy. Harry was informed that he was living the life his mother couldn't. Harry wanted to believe every word this woman was saying to be true. But, he needed proof! A sign. Anything. Harry's sign was a Christmas ornament that Archie, so cutely, tried to fix.  

Hours after his grandfather's funeral, Charles & William were still claiming not to know why Harry fled Britain. Denying to know anything, Harry was getting ready to walk away. Then one of them brought up the press. Asking Harry about  his hacking lawsuit. They didn't ask about Meghan, but they were keen to know how Harry's lawsuit was going,because that therein would affect them. Charles seen it as a suicide mission. Harry seen it was WORTH IT! Harry set out the press were more than violators; they were in fact lawbreakers. Harry was going to see some of them jailed. That was why they were attacking him so viciously. They KNEW Harry had HARD EVIDENCE!  

This time, it wasn't about Harry, it was a matter of public interest. Shaking his head, Charles allowed the journalists that badmouthed Harry & Meghan. But. There was always a but with Charles. Dr. Phil McGraw always says: Forget everything else on what is said prior to But, . . .But, is what I mean in what is being said. Charles hated the press' hate; but, Oh! how he loved their love. A problem with Charles seeding back decades. Charles had been deprived of love as a boy, bullied by schoolmates he was dangerously, compulsively drawn to the press' love. It was something Charles inherited from his father. Speaking of taking things personally, Harry assured he had to endure the press, and forgive the abuse. He might, but his own family's complicity would take longer to get over. Charles & William's offices were not collaborating. 

The lies orchestrated were so shocking, so egregious that even Meghan & Harry demolished The Palace's lie with a 25-page, evidence-filled report to Human Resources. Harry was going to simply shrug it off. William & Charles were trying to convince Harry that he was delusional. But, it was the complete other way around. OKAY! Charles & William had never done anything against Harry or Meghan - but their silence in accomplicement . . said it ALL! It continued and was heartrending. In turn, Charles sided with the press in what he was saying.

William saw it was a double-edged sword in cooperating with the press; therein is why William brought up the Oprah interview that Harry & Meghan participated in. Since leaving Britain, the attacks on Harry &Meghan had increased exponentially. They HAD TO do something to make it stop. Being silent wasn't working. It only made matters worse. Harry & Meghan felt they had NO CHOICE!  

Several close friends and beloved figures in Harry's life chastised him for Oprah. Harry explained that he failed to see how speaking to Oprah was ANY different than the family and their staff had done for decades - briefing the press on the sly, planting stories. The only difference was that Meghan & Harry were completely upfront. They chose an interviewer who was above reproach, and they let people see the words out of their own mouths. Not some source speaking for them. There came a point when Harry thought to realize: What's the point? His father & brother weren't hearing him. Neither one of them was HEARING the other. There was NEVER a satisfactory explanation for their actions/inactions, and never would, due to no explanation at their disposal. Harry wanted to say goodbye, good luck and fuck off! but William was REALLY STEAMING, SHOUTING that things were worse for wear. Then, blame-shifted it all on Harry for never asking for help. Fuckers! Since they were kids, William always seen that little brother should come to big brother. Harry must come to him. Bend the knee. Otherwise, no aid from ''the Heir''. Harry wondered why he should have to ask his brother to help while he and Meghan were in peril. Harry mentioned the Sandringham Agreement. Harry asked for William's help with that, when the agreement was violated, shredded, when they were stripped of everything; William DID NOTHING to help his brother. William continued to blameshift it to their grandmother. Take it up with her!

Harry waved hand in disgust, but William lunged at him, grabbed his shirt and tried to force him to listen. Harry pulled away, refusing to meet William's gaze. Forcing Harry to look into William's gaze. While they both wished the other the best of love and happiness. . . but, William's stubbornness. . . was extraordinary. Harry counteracted his argument. He pulled away again, literally twisting his brother's arm again to maintain eye contact. William swore he wished only for his brother's happiness. . . on their mother's life. There! Harry stopped! William stopped. Charles stopped.  

William had gone THERE! He had used the secret code, the universal password. Ever since they were boys, those 3 words were only to be used only in times of crisis. On their mother's life. For nearly 25 years, brothers reserved that soul-crushing vow for times when one needed to be heard, to be believed quickly. For times when nothing else would do. It stopped Harry cold, as it was meant to. Not because William used it, but because it didn't work. Harry simply didn't believe him, nor did he trust him. And vice versa. William seen it too. William seen it that they were in a place of such doubt and hurt that even those sacred words couldn't set them free.  

What had truly happened to their brotherly bond? How much damage is needed repaired? All because of media interference tormenting one very large, very ancient, very dysfunctional family. William wasn't quite ready to accept defeat: William swore on their mom's life. . . he only wanted his brother's happiness.Harry's voice broke, as he softly stated his disbelief in his brother's words. Harry's mind was suddenly flooded with memories of their brotherly relationship. Some, in particular, were crystalline. It was such a transcendent moment that they turned and did the rarest of things - William &Harry hugged. REALLY, TRULY hugged it out. But, even in their finest moments, their best moments, they somehow involve death. Their lives were built on death. Their brighter days were shadowed by it. Looking back, Harry didn't see spots of time, but dances with death. Harry seen how they steeped themselves in it.  

Father & brother continued to over talk over another., and Harry HAD TO tune it out. He seen himself, already gone, already to the pleasantries with California. A voice in Harry's head had declared. . . . ENOUGH death already! ENOUGH! Somehow, it was somewhat slightly easier. Maybe it was because Harry & Meghan were an ocean away from old chaos and stress. 

When the BIG DAY came for relocation, Harry & Meghan were both calmer and steadier. A blissful feeling to not worry about timing, protocols, journalists at the front gate. Harry & Meghan drove calmly, sanely to the hospital, where their bodyguards fed them In-N-Out meals. And fajitas from a local Mexican restaurant for Meghan. Nothing but love and joy in the room. This time, while watching, Harry left the laughing gas ALONE! Harry was FULLY PRESENT! He was with Meghan through every push. They knew they were leaving a daughter. It was during the delivery, it HIT Harry. The past and the future were suddenly one. It wasn't that the past didn't matter and the future didn't exist. There was only one intense present. With that, Harry helped hand deliver his daughter into the world. Surrendering her to Meghan. Skin-to-skin.

Later, after bringing their daughter, Lilibet "Lili" Diana, home, after their dissension into a family of 4, Harry, Meghan and their newborn were skin-to-skin. There was so much unequivocal love in that room.  Meghan jotted some thoughts in a kind of journal. Which she shared. Harry read them as a decree:

The 4 of them are EVERYTHING!

No Spare in sight.

Just a loving and accepting family. 

       

 

In the events of this book, while it is duly noted that this tell-all is a one-and-done deal, there is a BIG DIFFERENCE between slanderous allegations and FLAT-OUT TRUTH-TELLING. Harry's point of recognition on behalf of the Royal Family decrees largely within its ranks.  As you get older, you sense to try to find a world view. That Harry has.