Every morning at around 9, if I am not already awake, I am woken by the sounds of the Piper to the Sovereign. My father has a Piper, he hates it but he keeps it around, not only because it is part of the Royal arrangements but because my mother seems to love the morning wake up calls.

The Piper principal duty is to play every weekday at 9 am for approximately 15 minutes under His Majesty's window when he is in residence at Buckingham Palace.

The piper rang fifteen minutes ago, which only indicates one thing for the day. My parents are soon to be leaving, which means I get to leave soon as well and spend alone time with Harry.

After Harry dancing with Harry last night, I excused myself from the event and found myself wondering the Palace. With 775 rooms, it is easy to get lost and aimlessly wander the palace for quite some time. I weaved my way in and out of rooms, purposely attempting to lose Harry's trail. He wasn't too thrilled with me, but I desired to be left alone. I didn't care if there was a threat or if someone was in the palace after climbing a drain pipe; all I wanted was to be alone with my thoughts. Eventually, I carried myself to my quarters, where Harry let me be, he stood outside my door waiting for my signal to come in, unfortunately for him, I never gave him a signal to come in and kiss me goodnight and to leave security mode.

I bounce down the staircase with glee, and my father rolls his eyes at me the moment I come into his view, "Your mother and I are about to leave for Belgium, I need to know you'll keep to the itinerary of the royal engagements," my father informs me, once again reminding me of their Belgium tours that will allow them to continue a relationship between two Royal Families by meeting The King and Queen.

I nod my head with a heavy huff; I don't want to keep to my schedule, but I don't have a choice. "Yes. I'm going to Hillsborough Castle and I will do everything from there," I notify my father.

"Have you told the head of security?"

I nod, "My shadow is coming with me," I flick my head over towards Harry who is standing with his back to the wall, observing with his nystagmic eyes that miss nothing.

I'm already aware of what I'm likely to have to do for my father while I'm in Northern Ireland.

Some of the things my father does when he isn't on royal tours is answering letters, doling out knighthoods, having meetings with the staff and greeting diplomats, bishops, judges, and military chiefs in engagements across Britain.

"I want you to stick to this list, I'll send you one daily," my father's hands me a piece of paper for today, a hard copy of what he wants me to do.

"Read the newspaper," I raise a brow when I glance up at him.

My father is Head of State of 16 governments, and leader of the Commonwealth of 53 nations, he needs to read the newspaper and have an understanding on what's going on in the world, but I don't think it's necessary for me to do so. This is not the stone ages, there are other ways to get the information that is needed, perhaps the use of an electrical device may work, but according to my father, that is absolutely ludicrous.

"Yes. The letters for the week will be sent to my lady-in-waiting, but I want you to answer your letters and follow the lists I send you," My father insists, and I can't help zoning out for a moment. I keep eye contact but my gaze becomes glazed.

"Okay," I nod, agreeing to my father's requests.

"Will you be in Ireland the entire time?"

"Yes," I answer my father honestly, "I was hoping for some alone time. Minimal staff, just the Chef and some security. Very minimal though."

"Consider it done," my father nods, "Have you made a decision on whom you'd like to date?" My father questions.

I grant him a lacklustre smile, "I don't want any of them."

It's the truth. I don't want any of the men that were picked out and placed on a list for me. This isn't like the adoption centre where you go into a room and pick which Dog you'd like to save and adopt. This is a marriage, a marriage that I never thought would be forced upon me. A marriage is meant to be between a loving couple, two individuals who want to spend the rest of their lives together because of love, not because of a monarchy.

My Father inhales a sharp breath, "Anastasia, you can't take over the sovereign if you do not have a partner. A Queen simply doesn't rule without a King."

My father is wrong, a Queen can rule without a King, unfortunately, he is stuck on old fashioned ways and isn't too fond of the idea of me ruling without a King.

"Queen Elizabeth Ⅰ never got married and did just fine," I mutter, reminding my father of an ancestor who was successful without a King beside her.

My father is not impressed at all with my comment, and his lips purse like he has been chewing a lemon rind, "It's frowned upon," he bitterly comments. He knows that I have a valid point, but just as I am controlled by a monarchy, so is he, and at this point, the monarchy wants to stick to old traditions.

It may be frowned upon, but I refuse to allow barriers to stand in my way. Well, in theory, I'd like to say that I am breaking down the barriers of the monarchy, but I'm not. I'm sadly forced to side with them.

"It was also frowned upon for Queens to rule. England was ruled by Kings until the second half of the 16th century when the crown passed to two Queens. These silly rules need to change. I don't want to date someone just because he is royal."

My father arches a sly brow and sighs, "Anastasia–"

My brows bump together in a scowl towards him, endeavouring to defend him for aspiring to overpower me to wed just so I can rule the monarchy the way everyone desires me to. "No, it isn't fair. Did you marry Mum just because she had royal blood?" I question with frustration.

My parents married for love, not for royalty.

The only problem is, my mother was royalty before she married my father, she had her title. Unfortunately, I fell in love with a man without a royal title. To me, his title means nothing; I love him for who he is, for his personality and for the way he makes me feel. I love him for his devil-may-care outlook and stellar smile. He gives me that sense of normal that I have been craving for years, he keeps me grounded, he is the man I want to marry, with or without a title.

"No," my father shakes his head, "Just give one of them a chance?"

"I have a flight to get and so do you," I bitterly grouse, ready to end this conversation that isn't going to get me anywhere.

I am tired of being governed by a monarchy and living up to the expectations of everyone else. I have had expectations bestowed upon me from a young age, it gets tiring and bothersome to continuously live up to them. I want to break free of the chains they hold me down with.

"We will be back Saturday, the 16th of April," my father informs me and I nod.

My parents' leaving give me a few days of having some normalcy in my life. Minimal royal services, nobody to wait on me hand and foot, nobody to force me into always looking immaculate.

It will be just me and my bodyguard — Harry— and the walls' of the castle.

There won't be a Piper to the Sovereign, there won't a maid service dressing me or an assistant following me around and making sure that I am completing all my tasks.

For a few days, all I require to do is follow my father's list of conditions while maintaining a balance of common circumstances.

I can run around the fields and allow the wind to swirl through my hair; I can stay up and bounce all over the beds without anyone judging me. I can step outside without worrying about whether my outfit will be a hit or miss in the public eye. I won't have anybody touring the castle. The next few days will be just me and Harry, perhaps a few staff but not a lot.

No worries and no Princes'. Just me.

After saying my goodbyes to my mother and father, I can't help but feel a breath of relief escape from my lips. "Princess," my assistant, Estelle, grabs my attention as I walk towards the stairs where Harry is waiting. "You have a waiting chauffeured car, Lyrebird has landed on the grounds of Hyde Park and is ready to take you to the airport. You need to make sure you are wearing a dress or a two-piece suit," she informs me, reminding me that my Princess duties must stay in tune until I am inside the walls' of Hillsborough Castle.

I nod my head with a smile, "Yes, I have. What airline am I on?" I question, needing the information that I left her in charge of.

"The 600 G-Huby plane. The Queen signed off on a chartered jet for you."

"Thank you, I appreciate your help."

"You're welcome, do you need someone to bring your bags down?"

I shake my head and look towards Harry, "no, Mr Styles said he would help me," I grin, amused by his expression.

Estelle glances over at him, and I can't help chuckling as he raises a brow, "seems like you volunteered him," she laughs.

"The same thing," I lift my shoulders into a shrug, "I will be ready to leave in a few minutes, keep the guards updated, please," I inform her and she nods, dismissing me to wander closer to Harry.

Harry stares at me with his typical relentless gaze, "Volunteering me to carry your bags, are we?" Harry challenges, and from the small smirk on his lips, I know he's only joking. I quite frankly don't think he cares that I volunteered him.

"What else are you good for?" I wink, stepping closer to him.

Damn. I want to kiss him and wrap my arms around him right now, but I can't.

"Oh, darling," Harry chuckles through a whisper, "not like I am trained to take a bullet for you or anything," he comments and gestures for me to climb the stairs, "I am sure you will thank me later though," his voice is soft-sounding and has this narcotic power that sends the nerves in my body pulsating. My knees want to go weak.

"Don't get cocky, Mr Styles."

"After you, Princess," Harry allows me to step in front of him to walk up the staircase.

The second we reach my room, my thoughts of kissing him disappear when my maid services are double checking my bags, "Princess, you forgot a black outfit," one informs me with a smile, "Which one?" She holds up two black dresses, and I gesture towards the one on the left, "With the Alexander McQueen coat?"

"Yes, with the Gianvito Rossi pumps, please," I inform the ladies who nod and search my closet for the particular shoes.

Harry clears his throat, "Why are you packing an all-black attire, Princess?" Harry curiously asks as I turn on my heel to face him.

"I have to have a black mourning outfit in my luggage – just in case a family member dies while I'm away. If anything happens, I can't be seen in normal attire. Royal protocol." I inform Harry of just one of the many, many rules I have to follow.

A princess can't be seen hopping off a plane to tend a funeral in coloured clothes. Oh, no.

"That's rather sad to think about," Harry comments, "Makes me sad thinking about you preparing for death," he adds, watching the ladies carefully as they gather my mourning items, "Are they... are they pairing it with earrings?" Harry seems perplexed by the entire scene.

"Yes, it's a full outfit," I nod, not too phased by the whole thing. I'm used to it. Every outfit must be perfect and put together, even mourning outfits must be accompanied by earrings.

"Wow," Harry breathes out, "never knew this happened."

"Mhm," I hum, "Once they're done, would you grab the bag? I'll meet you at the aircraft."

"Princess," Harry begins, "I can't let you walk the grounds alone."

"Ha—, Mr.Styles," I correct myself, "I'll be fine," I attempt to assure him but he doesn't give in. He never really does. I can't be too mad though, it's a part of his job to be so damn... strict.

♔♔♔

Harry and some of the crew escort me through the airport to the awaiting private aircraft, and Harry caresses his hand into the small of my back as we both climb the stairs to board.

"I thought you weren't allowed to travel on a private jet unless it was business-related," Harry comments while he steps on board behind me, his eyes scanning the aircraft, "Uh-ah," Harry's voice echoes as I go to take a seat.

I turn to face him with a raised brow, "what? And it's paid from my expenses, not the people's."

For personal trips, the royals must pay out of the Duchy of Cornwall, which is to provide a source of independent income to the Sovereign. We are not permitted to use private Jets unless it is a business affair and if we do use a private Jet, we have to pay for it out of our own pocket. The public would be very pissed if they thought that their taxpaying money is being used for me to jet set to Ireland for some personal time.

"I have to check the seat before you sit, Princess," Harry informs me, causing me to roll my eyes. I guess my princess duties don't stop until the aircraft takes off. "Don't give me that look, it's my job," Harry mutters, and his hands pull on the seatbelt and he makes sure the seat hasn't been tampered with.

Harry grants me permission to take my seat, and I do so. While I get comfortable and take a few deep breaths, Harry double-checks the rest of the aircraft and takes the time to talk to the pilot to go over security measures. I'm sure Harry and his team have a devised plan for when the aircraft lands at our destination.

I watch Harry particularly, cocking my head to the side as he dismisses the pilot with a handshake and a small smile, a smile that is infrequently seen when he's working. When he's in work mode, Harry is as stiff as a board, especially when it comes to emotions.

"Are you all right, princess?" Harry softly asks while he takes the seat beside me and I sense the aircraft beginning to get louder, an indication the pilot is getting ready to start moving towards the runway.

I wouldn't say that I am terrified of aircraft and flying, but I can't deny the fact that after all these years of flying, constantly, I still get a bit uneasy at the thought of leaving my life in the direct hands of the pilot. "Everything was checked, and double-checked, Princess," Harry assures me, and I nod my head.

"It never gets easier," I whisper with a sigh falling from my lips. There's always that thought in the back of my mind that something will go wrong. And it isn't that typical thought of the aircraft falling out of the air by some sort of freak accident, it's the thought of someone intentionally tampers with the aircraft. Every day for me isn't a normal day for others. I have to be aware of the fact there are some people out there who want nothing more than to hurt me and my family. I'm always at high risk. Most days, I tend to suppress my thoughts and concerns and carry on with my days.

I welcome Harry's warm hand press over mine as it rests on the armrest, "I know it doesn't get easier. I promise I won't let anything happen to you though."

"At what point do I get my boyfriend? The bodyguard is sooo... overrated," I playfully roll my eyes and his fingers intertwine with my own before he leans closer to me.

"Now I'm your boyfriend," he whispers just before his lips press to my warm cheek, "Relax, everything is okay," Harry assures me with an affectionate voice, "Take a few deep breaths, I'm right here and nothing's going to happen," he continues sweetly, his thumb grazing over my knuckles in a loving way.

"Reassuring," I sigh sarcastically. It isn't his fault, whether he is my bodyguard or my boyfriend, I will always have the lingering thoughts in the back of my head of all the things that could possibly go wrong. Sure, Harry is trained to take a bullet for me, literally, but do I really want him to?

I don't think I could live with myself knowing he put his life on the line to save mine. I may be the Princess or the future Queen, but my life is no more important than Harry's or anybody else's. Status doesn't mean someone should put their life down in order to save my own, that is just my thought process. Sadly, everybody else doesn't see it the same way, they see me as a future Queen; I still see myself as Anastasia, the girl who would rather run through open fields barefoot with the wind running through her hair on a warm summer evening.

Unfortunately for me, the days of rushing through fields laden with goldenrod-yellow flowers are over. I want to go back to the days of being somewhat normal.

♔♔♔

Hillsborough is enclosed by 100 acres of gardens, and each window of the Palace has a scene that is stunning and captivating in various ways. There is nothing better than watching the morning wildlife bouncing around the fields while the morning sun inaugurates to wake up the gardens, and in the evenings there is nothing better than the gold tones pouring in through each windowpane.

"So, is this the last tour before your father steps down?" Harry questions from behind me.

I shake my head, "No, they have the year of tours and then that is it." I acknowledge Harry while I make my way towards the window that harbours a beautiful landscape, from what I can remember.

It has been a while since I have roamed the manor, with various chambers and windows, it is difficult to remember which one has my ideal view.

"And then you take Queen?"

"Yes. I don't want to talk about it though, okay?" I softly sigh, inching closer and closer to the window that regularly grants me with a sweet serenity, but today it has the opposite effect.

"Harry... There are paps here," I acquaint Harry as I peer out the extended window that ordinarily provides me with a glimpse of nothing but serene nature. Today it grants me a flood of people.

It is a bitter disappointment, I had hoped to spend some time unwinding by the windows and observing the landscapes I loved as a little girl. I desired to follow the flowers swaying in the faint wind, stem by stem dancing together in unison, their satin-soft petals brushing each other ever so softly with love and grace.

"Step away from the window, sweetheart," Harry instructs with a stringent tone of voice.

I listen and I back away from the window, enabling him to peer out it and view the array of photographers outside, "I'll handle it, stay away from windows, yeah?"

"This isn't how this week was meant to be," I shake my head in bitter disappointment.

"It'll be alright," Harry assures me as he caresses his hands to my shoulders and massages them soothingly.

"No, I wanted time alone, just me and you where I can take care of royal duties in private. They weren't meant to find me. How did they find me?"

"Let me make some calls."

"Harry—"

"Anastasia, please," Harry laments as he runs his fingers through his hair, "Let me handle it. Go and relax," he instructs, gesturing towards the room across the hall that has no windows. If I had wanted to spend my day avoiding windows and under the constant eye of the press, I would have stayed at Buckingham. The purpose of getting away and coming to Ireland was to have the opportunity to decompress and be normal. However, normal is a rarity in my life.

I abide by Harry's commands, somewhat, and I take myself to a room on the opposite side of the palace where nobody should be able to see in.

♔♔♔

Harry enters the master bedroom, and before he can say a word, I hand him my phone, "There's already articles, Harry," I inform him, his eyes gazing down at the screen of my phone. "I don't know who told them. They think I'm having a getaway with one of the possible candidates for marriage. How would they even know that?" I question, wanting— needing— answers.

Harry shrugs his shoulders and seems to avoid contact with me. He knows precisely what's going on, he always knows what's occurring, "Was it you?"

Harry stares at me, his body stiffening at the remark while frustration crinkles his eyes, "Bit offended you'd even ask that," Harry is swift to respond.

"Then why are you avoiding eye contact with me. You know who did it, don't you?" I challenge, observing his features that I have learned how to read to my advantage.

He inhales a deep breath and blows out slowly, "Anastasia—" Harry begins, and I swiftly cut him off.

"Tell me, Harry," I demand, not wanting to be kept in the dark like I normally am.

He's not my bodyguard at the moment, he's my boyfriend.

"Love, you don't want to know. It's best if you let it go."

"I'll just call my press team since you can't show me your loyalty," I murmur unhappily.

I'm tired of nobody ever telling me what's going on. I'm constantly treated like— well— I'm constantly treated like a princess, and not in a good way. I want to be enlightened about events that occur and I want to know when things happen.

Harry rolls his eyes at me before they narrow to crinkled slits, "Oh, the irony," Harry grumbles, "Sweetheart, you really don't want to do that."

My brows bump together in a scowl, irritation taking over every nerve that pulsates through my body, "Why?" I challenge, unsure as to why he is against me possessing answers.

Harry curls his lips with icy contempt, "Because they weren't loyal to you, that's why. Your press team are the ones who released the information."

"That's ridiculous," I shake my head, "They'd never, my father would have their heads."

"Anna, darling," Harry begins, his eyes softening on me, "It was your Dad who gave them the go-ahead."

"No," I shake my head, "He wouldn't."

Harry's lips set in a grim line before he nods, "He did, I'm sorry, Anastasia."

"It's not your fault," I mumble, disappointed my father would do such a thing, "What do we do?"

"Ignore the press outside," Harry responds, and he leans closer and kisses my lips before moving to trail a luscious line of kisses down my neck and across my collarbone, to my exposed shoulder before he draws away. With a sweet grin, Harry straightens my silky robe to cover my exposed shoulders, "Can't have the princess exposed now, can I?"

I glance at him for a moment, his eyes captivating me with their gleam of softness and the way they are as clear as a spring stream. "Did you just tease me? That's wasn't very nice."

"Mhm," Harry hums, "You've been teasing me all day wandering around the halls in this thing," Harry gestures towards the black silk robe, "I was thinking since we can't go outside right now, we can stay in."

I nod, "I like that idea," I respond, leaning closer and kissing him sweetly.

"Mmm, not that kind of staying in," Harry mumbles against my lips before he puts distance between us.

I heavily huff and stare at him, "Did you just turn down the princess?"

Harry sighs and rolls his eyes at me, "Sweetheart, do I need to remind you that we aren't alone and there are people outside trying to get info?"

"And?" I offer him a slow and sexy smile in the hopes I can work my charm on him. At this point, things can't get much worse; my weekend alone has been ruined. At this point, I don't give a damn if anybody sees the two of us being more than just a Princess and a Bodyguard.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips as he thinks for a moment.

Please, don't think too hard, darling.

"And as your security guard, I have to inform you that it's a bloody stupid idea to engage in anything when there's a swarm of media around."

"We have the curtains drawn."

"Anastasia, not loving on you until I know it's safe."

I smirk and toss my hair over my shoulder, sarcasm dripping from my lips as I speak, "So what are we going to do? Sit at opposite ends of the damn palace?"

Harry shakes his head, "Nope, we are going to play scrabble."

"Excuse me?" I arch a sly brow.

Scrabble? Did he turn down making love for a game of scrabble? Surely he has lost his damn marbles.

"Cheap wine and scrabble my dear. This is how us commoners pass time," Harry willingly announces with his a-twinkle with the 'joie de vivre' eyes and his affable smile that makes me dizzy in the most wonderful ways.

Harry gets off the bed and wanders towards the closed doors that lead to the hallway, he opens them and wastes no time with wheeling in a Monahan Golden Plated and Black Glass Serving cart that is meant to be for tea.

"Two things," I begin as he steps back into the master bedroom and closes the doors, "One you do know that is meant for tea? the Queen would have a fit... Two, where in the bloody hell did you get scrabble and 'cheap' wine?" I curiously ask, intrigued by him and his gatherings.

Harry gives me a stellar smile and lifts his shoulders into a shrug, "It's amazing what the staff will do when you simply say the Princess requests this," Harry responds, "This my darling is a cheap Moscato," Harry wraps his hand around the neck of the wine bottle, "Now, it isn't the high end you're used to, but us commoners prefer the cheap Moscato."

"Way to go in making me sound like a privileged brat, Harry," I sarcastically smile over at Harry as he hands me a glass of wine.

"Don't even go there," Harry rolls his eyes as he crawls on the bed with a box of scrabble, "I can't tell if you like it or not," Harry comments while I take a sip of the white wine.

"Tastes... cheap," I trail off, observing as Harry stares at me unamused by my comment, "I am joking, relax," I assure him, delivering him a soft smile, "I like it, honestly."

"Mhm," Harry hums, "Okay, do I need to explain how scrabble works?"

"Harry, sweetheart, I may not be a commoner, but I am aware of how to play the game. Don't insult my intelligence."

"I'd never," Harry shakes his head, "I am aware you can speak about three different languages and are highly intelligent."

"Four," I correct him, "French, Welsh, German and sign language." I smile towards Harry. I tend not to speak too much about my education, due to the fact I was very privileged in that area. I was tutored at home as a child by my governess and Mother. I have heard the stories many times; my Father wanted me to attend Willcocks Nursery School, the only modern tradition he seems to have wanted to participate in. But, it was my mother who wanted me at home at the young age of two.

I was lucky to have the best of the best when it came to education; I attended the most prestigious private schools.

"You know how many languages I can speak?" Harry questions as he hands me the bag to pick a tile from.

"Two?"

Harry shakes his head, "You must think highly of me," Harry chuckles, "One, went to a public school, remember?"

"I do think highly of you," I nod, "You're intelligent, now let's play," I smile, peering over and seeing the tile in his hand that is an N, "You're closer to A, you start," I comment, placing my A tile back in the bag before he can notice.

Harry nods and starts his turn by drawing seven tiles from the Scrabble bag, "Fuck, I have shitty tiles," Harry complains as his brows furrow and he concentrates on the tiles he has. I can't help but smile to myself at how endearing he looks.

♔♔♔

Harry won our game of Scrabble, it's really no surprise at all, he is a lot better with his way of words; to be quite honest, I have always wondered why he never got into writing or poetry. The way he converses and the way he genuinely listens to what people have to say intrigues me. Part of me wonders if he has this enigmatic part to him where he writes down his thoughts into a small journal, for his eyes only. Other times I wonder if I'm just making up a version of Harry that doesn't exist. Harry has a lot of potential, but it is dismally dwindling away as he watches over me.

While Harry settles everything back into its box, I take it upon myself to peer out the window of the master bedroom. I grin to myself, observing how the fields are Elysium-green and the way the golden shafts of the sun are casting down on the flowerbeds that are beginning to sway from side to side, unhesitant to fall asleep as the moon rises. By morning, countless glint-silver dewdrops will blanket the fields like a fresh winter snow. "Princess Anastasia Annette Leanor, Duchess of Edinburgh, you are stubborn, please get away from the bloody window," Harry's voice distracts me, and I profoundly sigh before I step away from the windowpane.

I glance up at Harry, my lips curling into a pout, "What's the matter, my love?"

"I want to go outside. I came here to escape everything and to run through the gardens and just breathe."

"I know."

"Can we please go outside? We can go to the pond."

Harry thinks for a moment. I can determine by the way his lips are curved slightly that he's uncertain, he's not too fond of going outside. I don't blame him, he is still on duty, he has to make sure any decision made is a safe decision. "Okay," Harry nods and I immediately take his hand, "love, can't leave this room without protection," Harry murmurs and I roll my eyes.

"Nothing will happen," I moan, hating the fact that even when it's just me and him, he still has to have some sort of protective weapon on him. I despise it. I truly despise it.

"Not taking the risk. You know it's meant to be on my person," Harry responds, stepping around me and grabbing the pistol where he securely left it when he changed his clothes. "Don't look at me like that, it's protocol," Harry instructs as he places the pistol on his person, disguising it so well that nobody would be able to tell he's carrying it.

"I know, but still."

"Jus' keepin' you safe."

"Or you're just saving your own ass with your job."

"I love you, you know that; I would protect you even if I wasn't trained and apart of the SO14."

"Mhm," I hum, "where's the radio and the first aid kit you're meant to carry on you."

"Anna, hush," Harry rolls his eyes, "Come on, Princess,"

Harry and I step outside of the palace and the second I sense the warmth of the sun on me, I feel at ease with a sweet serenity washing over me. I beam towards Harry and wander along the cobbled path towards the garden that I used to run around when I was a little girl. I'd spend hours roaming the fields, smelling the roses and at times, disappearing amongst the blossoms as if to form my own secret wonderland. I amble along the cobbled path with ease and grace, delighted to feel like a child again.

"Why don't you look happy?" I softly ask Harry as I turn to face him.

"I am, darling, I am," he nods, giving me a small angelic smile but his dewy, mist valley-green eyes tell me otherwise. His eyes are darting around and scrutinising every inch he can physically see.

I let out a meagre sigh, well aware of what's going to happen next.

Protocol.

If at any given point Harry recognises a threat to my safety, he must whisk me away to safety. I can read Harry like a damn book, I know when he's watching something as a threat compared to when he's just observing.

"Is it too much to ask to have just five minutes?"

Harry looks at me and sighs, "I'm not going to force you inside," Harry assures me, "But if I say we need to go inside, we need to go inside, do you understand?"

"Yes," I nod, "is someone on the grounds?"

"I don't know. The grounds will soon be guarded by active-duty members of the Army like at Buckingham, love. Don't need to worry, okay?" Harry grants me a petite smile and he leans in to kiss me, but Harry stops himself, "I can't kiss you, someone might see," Harry sighs, forcing himself to pull away while his nystagmic eyes continue to scan the area.

I take a breath and continue to walk along the gravel, leading my way towards my winsome serenity of satin soft petals while an amethyst-purple tint overruns the evening sky. I smirk and toss my hair over my shoulder as I glance over my shoulder towards Harry with eyes that are a-glow with love. His honey-sweet lips that are lilac soft, begin to curve slightly before he flashes me an amiable smile.

The further I wander into the garden, the more I feel the golden hour rays kissing my skin with a flawless, bronzed complexion and my opulent hair glittering in the beams of the sun. It feels rejuvenating to belatedly breathe in the mist of scents, the frill of flowers and the scent of the late spring breeze.

"You know what is fascinating, Harry?" I turn to Harry.

Harry gazes at me with his fulgent, smaragdine-green eyes that set my

heart a-thump, "you, my darling, you fascinate me," Harry responds sweetly.

I playfully roll my eyes at him, "charming," I grin, "no. Have you noticed how flowers can wither away during the winter and still come back to bloom in the spring?"

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, "I guess."

"Amazing, isn't it? They can withstand winter's suffocating skies that

strangle the fields, and then bloom in the spring-like they didn't endure a deathly winter."

"When you put it that way," Harry nods, "it is rather fascinating, my dear. Shall we?" Harry offers me his hand, taking me by surprise as I glance down at his hand longing for mine. His devil-may-care outlook and a stellar smile make an appearance, causing butterflies to rise in the pit of my stomach.

I grant him my hand before taking it upon myself to guide him further into the astonishing gardens I love to get lost in while followed by the flower blossoms wavering in the air.

Howling laughter pervades the air while the two of us, clumsily dance our way within the gardens laden with goldenrod-yellow flowers. I welcome the flowers grazing against my every move, their buds swaying in the slight breeze, almost as if they're dancing with us, stem by stem, overflowing the silence between our giggles with their own delightful love song.

"Choose me," Harry breathes out, just for the two of us to hear while we stand in the middle of a garden, completely lost within each other.

"I do," I respond with a small smile, looking up to gaze at him.

I chose him the day I agreed to be with him, and I choose him every day.

Harry shakes his head, "No, choose me; marry me."

My heart sinks and leaves me with a dismal, heart-wrenching feeling, almost like a double inch blade is carving into my chest. I love this man more than anything, but I can't marry him. I can't marry him under such circumstances. He isn't trying to propose to me because he wants to, he is doing it because he feels obligated to.

I shake my head and muster up the strength to find my words, "I can't, you know it."

"You can, you just don't want to," Harry responds, respectfully stepping away from me and establishing distance between our bodies that moments ago were pressed together, felicitously dancing amongst the flowers.

"Harry-"

"We should go inside, Anna," Harry cuts me off, gesturing towards the palace that I have only managed to escape from for a small amount of time.

"You can't get mad at me for this, Harry."

Harry clears his throat, "I can, I have every right to."

"How? You don't even have a ring, you don't want to marry me, you feel obligated to," I bitterly respond, stepping around him and beginning the short walk back towards the estate.

Harry benevolently grabs my hand and draws me back, "Is that what you need? A bloody ring? Do you need a ring for me to prove to you that I fuckin' love you and want to be with you? You need a ring from me for you not to marry someone else?" Harry questions with hostility laced to his voice as he shakes his head, disappointed in me.

"Harry—"

Again, Harry cuts me off, "No," he shakes his head, "even if I had a ring, you still would say no. Let's just go inside," Harry mutters, letting go of my hand and stepping behind me as he does when he is 'the bodyguard' and not 'the boyfriend.'

The walk back towards the estate was filled with nothing but utter silence. It killed me, but what am I meant to do?

The monarch will never accept my marriage to Harry, he is my bodyguard, he isn't of any royal status, and he never will be of royal status.

"Can we talk, Harry?" I ask as he walks me to the master bedroom, not stepping outside of 'bodyguard' mode, not even for a second.

"About?" Harry questions blandly, having absolutely no enthusiasm to his voice.

He doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to be around me at this point, he just has no choice. It is what he gets for choosing to date the woman he is meant to be working for. This is the downside to our relationship, even when we want time apart, we have to stay around each other.

"Us. I can see you have more to say, you're just holding your tongue because God forbid you to snap out of hiding behind being the bodyguard instead of being my boyfriend."

My words strike a nerve in Harry, and he bites the inside of his cheek, "I'm not hiding. Princess Stephanie of Monaco memorably married her bodyguard Daniel Ducret in 1995, so why can't you?"

"Because you know I can't right now, please don't do this. I can't do this," I shake my head, "I love you, is that not enough?"

Harry's lips set in a grim line, "considering you have to choose a royal boyfriend, no," Harry shakes his head, "when we get back, your parents are holding a luncheon or one of those garden events where you will have to announce your choice. I hope you make the right choice, even though I know it won't be me."

"Harry—"

Harry shakes his head and cuts me off, "it is fine, Princess. I am going to sleep, if you need me, I will be next door," Harry gestures towards the room the shares a wall with the master bedroom.

I grow withdrawn for a moment, disheartened at his comment, "You're not sleeping with me?" I challenge, already knowing the answer.

I don't want to sleep alone; I want to sleep with him beside me, I want to sleep with him beside me knowing he still loves me, even if I can't marry him right now.

Harry shakes his head, "Not tonight, Princess."

I curl my lips with icy contempt, "Harry, please don't do this," my voice slips from my lips as a whisper, a plea, you could say.

Harry manages a deadpan expression, "Goodnight, sleep well," he responds, granting me a meagre and faked smile before he steps out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him, leaving me feeling desolate and empty.