Royals [Harry Styles AU]

Prologue

My fingers push strands of my blonde hair behind my ears and I use my other hand to hold up my dress skirt as I run down the grand staircase. In some spots the marble is sunk from years of use, creating a dip in two spots in the shiny cream colored stone. As I near the ballroom the sounds of clinking glassware and chatter increases in volume. I slip my navy mask over my face before I round the corner, smooth my dress, and run my hands through my curly hair to tame a few stray pieces. Taking a deep breath I step around the corner.

"Bonnie!" I cringe upon hearing my mother's voice. "Where in God's name have you been?" A pair of claw like hands grip my gloved arm and pull me into a servant's corridor.

"Eliza had trouble with my corset." I lie, putting Eliza, my servant, onto the spot.

My mother muses over my answer. "I will have to speak to her then."

She will find out I have lied to her later on, but it's better then her finding out where I really was. Images of a lean curly haired boy flash though my mind and I clear my mind quickly, afraid to accidentally let the wrong words slip from my mouth.

"Come along then. The ball has already begun." She pulls me by the arm out into the main corridor.

Even though she is shorter then me, my mother walks more purposefully then I ever could. Her short quick strides match my longer ones as we walk down the hall, heels clicking on the tile floor. The doors to the ballroom are wide open and over the balcony I can see swirls of color from women's dresses and the men's dark suits moving around the dance floor.

The orchestra's melody floats up from down below. My mother releases my arm as we step onto the balcony and descend the grand staircase to the main floor. At the foot of the staircase a boy I do not recognize about my age greets my mother. His dark mask is much more elaborate then many of the other boys in the room. They speak briefly and gesture in my direction a few times. I pause halfway down the staircase. If this is one of my parents pathetic attempts to match me with another stuck up and snobbish bachelor I will pour a flute of champagne from the server's tray next to me onto his head. Damn my family and their out of date traditions. It was 1720 for fuck's sake.

"Bonnie, Dear, come say hello to Mr. Tomlinson." My mother holds out a hand and beckons me down the staircase.

"Hello, Mr. Tomlinson." I greet, curtseying.

"Hello, Miss Peyton. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." He nods and flashes a blindingly white toothed smile.

"Please, call me Bo. Might as well skip the formalities since my mother has obviously already taken the liberty of setting us up."

"Bonnie!" My mother scolds. "You have no right to speak to the t-the um uh." She hesitates.

"The what? Let me guess this one's the Duke of Wales? Or even better a prince?" I scoff in disgust and step off the last step.

As I angrily stomp away with as much drama as I can manage wearing a large ball gown I hear the boy speak to my mother. "Wait here. I'll go speak with her."

I know that backtracking to the grand staircase to exit the ballroom is not an option so I push through the crowded dance floor to an exit on the opposite side of the room. A few prissy women 'hmf' as I shove past them. Their large dresses make it hard to move through the crowd and I nearly trip over my own a few times.

"Bo! Bo, wait!" A hand clasps my arm and I whip around.

"What do you want? To tell me off for insulting you and your royal status? Who the hell are you anyways?"

"I'm Louis. The man of your dreams." He winks and I roll my eyes.

"You rich boys are all the same."