This time, Prince Harry appears to have let slip what sounds suspiciously like regret over dragging his fame-hungry wife, Meghan Markle, into the Invictus Games—an event that was once his crowning achievement but has since turned into yet another Meghan-centric spectacle.
In a recent interview following the Invictus Games in Canada, Harry opened up about his concern for Meghan's safety at these events. He recalled a moment from 2018 when a fan gave him a bear hug, expressing his worry that someone might do the same to Meghan while she was pregnant. On the surface, it sounds like a loving husband's concern, but is that really all there is? Or is this Harry’s carefully coded way of admitting what we’ve all been saying for years—that bringing Meghan into Invictus was a massive mistake?
Let’s not forget what Invictus used to be about: honoring and supporting wounded veterans by giving them a platform to showcase their resilience and strength. Harry created something truly meaningful in 2014—a competition that provided injured and sick military personnel with purpose and recognition. But then came Meghan, and suddenly, Invictus Games coverage became all about her outfits, her jewelry, her staged PDA moments with Harry. The veterans—the true heroes of the event—were reduced to mere background props in the Meghan Markle Show.
In the interview, Harry awkwardly tried to emphasize that Meghan has been part of this community since shortly after the 2016 Orlando Games and has “loved every minute of it.” But why does he feel the need to keep reminding everyone of her supposed commitment? Because the backlash is real. The military community isn’t blind—they can spot genuine dedication versus someone using them as a PR opportunity.
Remember the Netflix cameras trailing them at the Netherlands Games? That wasn’t about showcasing the incredible achievements of the veterans—it was about generating content for their multi-million-dollar deal. The Sussexes turned what should have been a dignified event into a commercial spectacle, exploiting wounded soldiers for their own financial gain. And now, with the latest Invictus Games in Canada, we saw the same tired pattern: Meghan swooping in for a carefully curated four-day photoshoot before jetting back to California. She soaked up the media attention, enjoyed the glamorous red carpet moments, and then vanished when the real work began. Meanwhile, Harry stayed behind to fulfill his actual responsibilities.
And let’s talk about that Valentine’s Day Instagram post. “Beyond proud of my husband and what he’s created” — a subtle way of reminding everyone that she’s not trying to take credit (even though she constantly inserts herself into everything related to Invictus). Then, the saccharine “My love, I will eat burgers and fries and fish and chips with you forever.” Really? It felt like a scripted PR move rather than a heartfelt tribute. Even Harry’s response—calling it “very sweet and much appreciated”—read more like a hostage statement than genuine gratitude.
Watching Harry’s transformation is heartbreaking. If you compare footage from the first Invictus Games in 2014, you’ll see a man filled with passion, purpose, and genuine joy. Fast forward to today, and he seems like a shadow of his former self—constantly glancing at Meghan for approval, speaking in rehearsed sound bites, and trying to convince the world (and perhaps himself) that everything is fine.
What’s particularly telling is Harry’s recent comment about Birmingham being an “emotionally connected place” because many veterans woke up there after being injured in Afghanistan. That moment—however brief—was a glimpse of the real Harry, the one who once deeply understood military sacrifice. But those moments are becoming fewer and farther between, buried under layers of Hollywood fluff and Montecito PR spin.
Compare this to how Prince William and Princess Catherine approach their causes. They don’t need Netflix cameras following them around. They don’t turn charity work into a branding exercise. Catherine’s commitment to early childhood development is about real, impactful change, not media attention. William’s work on mental health and homelessness is driven by genuine concern, not marketability. Even as Catherine undergoes cancer treatment, she remains dedicated to her work, proving that true service isn’t about appearances—it’s about action.
So where does Invictus go from here? Harry’s subtle admissions suggest growing tension behind the scenes. Are donors and participants pushing back against the commercial exploitation of what should be a sacred space for veterans? Is the backlash too big to ignore?
I wouldn’t be surprised if we start seeing Meghan gradually distanced from future Invictus events—not overtly, of course, but perhaps she’ll suddenly have “other commitments.” Maybe the Netflix cameras will mysteriously disappear. Maybe Harry will take on more solo work with Invictus, framing it as a “division of labor” rather than an outright correction. Because the truth is, Invictus without Meghan would immediately return to what it was meant to be: a celebration of veterans, not a branding tool for celebrity ex-royals.
The saddest part? It didn’t have to be this way. Had Meghan approached Invictus with humility and a genuine desire to serve, she could have been a great asset. She could have used her platform to highlight the competitors, amplify their stories, and raise awareness about veteran issues—without making it about herself. But that was never the plan. Instead, she turned Invictus into just another tool for self-promotion, just like she did with her royal role, charity work, and even her family relationships.
You have to wonder—does Harry lie awake at night in Montecito, missing his military connections, his sense of purpose, the camaraderie he once had? Does he regret walking away from a life where he could have made a real impact without the constant pressure to monetize everything? Or is he too far gone, convinced that trading royal duty for Hollywood deals was the right move?
The cracks in the Sussex PR machine are starting to show. Harry’s concern isn’t just about Meghan’s safety—it’s about the damage her presence has done to his most meaningful work. The more the public sees through the act, the harder it will be for the Sussexes to keep up appearances.
As we look ahead to the 2027 Invictus Games in Birmingham, one question looms: will Harry have the courage to reclaim his legacy? Or will he continue down this path of commercialization and self-inflicted irrelevance?
One thing is clear: the veterans who compete at Invictus deserve better. Their resilience and courage should be the focus—not the royal soap opera playing out in the background.
