For isabellarandolph All the love. K haha I just noticed I have this photo framed on my bedside table. god I'm weird. -------
My mom is going to kill me. It's bad enough she has a complete hot mess for a daughter as the princess, but now I'm going to be late to meet the man I'm arranged to marry. It's a stupid law, but I'm very excited. There are so many suitable men out there that I don't get to meet, being only 16 and never allowed out of the castle. I'll be 17 in a month, before we're married, and that's the age future queens are supposed to get married, so courting begins now.
I always knew I was betrothed to someone, they told me when I was little. So during schooling, which was mostly proper etiquette and how to rule the country and stuff like that, I was taught how courting works and what will happen during the first meeting. They never told me anything about him though, just his name, Harry Styles, and that he's from England. His father is the Duke of Cheshire, and we've been betrothed since I was born. They came to my awakening ceremony, which is when a new royal is introduced to the people, and that's when everything happened.
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I grab the black stilettos that were picked out to match my white meeting dress, and bolt out the door of my bed chamber, racing toward the meeting room. I'm only a few minutes late but that's like a lifetime in the Queen's eyes. I turn the corner sharply, hopping on one foot while pulling on one shoe, and bump right into someone.
I fall on my bum with a gasp, one shoe on my foot and the other in my hand. Pain shoots up my spine but I hardly have time to worry about that. I quickly scramble to my feet, an apology leaving my lips.
"Oh my gosh! I am so sorry," I rush out, not even looking at the person. Instead I'm pulling on my other shoe and situating my dress.
"That's quite alright your highness," a deep, husky British accent says.
"Where?" I turn and look for my mother, then realize he's talking to me. "O-oh-"
The words are caught in my throat as I gaze upon the gorgeous man in front of me. He's got to be older than me, but no more than 19 years of age. Chocolate curls sit atop his head, pulled back into a quiff type hairstyle, eyes the color of the ocean during a storm gaze into mine, and plump pink lips are formed into a dimpled smile that makes my heart race. He's wearing a black tailored jacket and a black dress shirt underneath that wraps tight around his chest, his long thick legs are hugged by tight black skinny jeans. There is a gray flower in his jacket pocket and gold boots cover his feet, making make me smile. He's definitely the most beautiful man I've ever seen, probably in the whole world.
"Are you alright Princess?" He asks with concern, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Yes!" I shout by accident, my eyes widening. "I'm fine, sorry. I'm just incredibly late, my mum'll have my head if I dally any longer. I'm terribly sorry sir."
