The opulent palace ballroom is adorned with shimmering chandeliers, casting a warm and enchanting glow over the room. The air is filled with anticipation as guests, dressed in their finest attire, make their way into the lavish space. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of the kingdom, showcasing the noble lineage of the royal family. A symphony orchestra plays a melodic tune, adding to the atmosphere of elegance and sophistication. The room is filled with the aroma of exquisite floral arrangements, carefully placed throughout the room.

The ballroom reminds me of a bygone era. Oh, the bygone era that is simply enchanting. It's an era that takes me back in time, an era I love to read about. It takes me to a time of grandeur and elegance, where lavish balls were held in the manor's grand ballroom, an era I plan to bring back when I am Queen. The events held now, are not what I want to see while I am Queen. What we adorn now doesn't live up close to the older times. It was a time of tales of forbidden romances, hidden scandals, and daring adventures. A captivating world of the past, long-held secrets that have the power to change everything but stay hidden.

Imagine elegant ladies in their exquisite gowns, adorned with pearls and lace, gracefully gliding across the ballroom floor. The gentlemen, dressed in tailored suits, engage in witty conversations and charming dances. The manor itself is a sight to behold, with its grand architecture and lush gardens that invite exploration.

I take a deep breath and look towards Oliver who is anxiously tapping his foot waiting for my grand entrance to be over with. "At least you're not adorned in a heavy dress expected to play the role of a Queen," I smile towards Oliver. He side-eyes me and shakes his head.

"You're right, he just has to make sure you're safe," Harry comments as he takes me by surprise, startling me, "And by your reaction, you didn't notice I was behind you, he did," Harry gestures towards Oliver. "Now, do me a favour, don't torture him with being a smartass, let him do his job without issues," Harry informs me, causing me to roll my eyes.

"You act like I am hell to deal with."

"You are," both men say in unison, "I'm sorry, I wasn't meant to reveal that," Oliver instantly apologises, causing me to chuckle.

"Then I am doing a swell job if you hate being on my service," I grin, "It's an honour, really."

Harry sighs and stands in front of us, looking us up and down, "I look ravishing, go ahead and tell me," I joke, trying to break his stern look as he goes over Oliver's attire, making sure he looks immaculate.

Harry ignores me and gestures towards Oliver's cuff links, "Your left cuff links are not hooked. Hook them," Harry instructs and turns to look at me, "As for you, you're missing an earring," Harry comments.

I take a moment and frantically look around the floor, hoping to find the sparkling piece near me. Harry chuckles, shaking his head, "You're fine, I'm joking," He informs me, "You look lovely, as always," stepping closer and kissing my cheek, exposing us to Oliver who has questioned Harry's relationship with me previously.

"Good luck, I will meet you in there later," Harry smiles, stepping towards the large doors. I give him a nod, allowing him to open the doors for me to make my grand entrance.

As the doors open, I step into the ballroom resplendent in my regal attire, entering the ballroom. I am instantly greeted by a thunderous applause that causes my heart to race and my anxiety suddenly spark, but I hold my composure... The event is a celebration of the kingdom's rich heritage and a testament to the grandeur of the royal family. It's a night of enchantment, where dreams come true and memories are made—- At least, that's the picture we are trying to portray to the people.

The reality is, that dreams are not coming true, it's a nightmare, with no enchantment and the only memories being made are the ones filled with fake smiles and laughter.

I swallow hard, taking slow and steady steps into the room, smiling and holding my head high, doing what I have been told to do for the last few days as we have prepared for this event. This is my first orchestrated event that I am flying solo on. My mother is here, but she is not the centre of attention, she is not the Queen everyone wants to see and interact with, it is me— the soon-to-be reigning Queen once my Father abdicates. This will be my life. Extravagant events, fake smiles and rooms of dignitaries I have to enchant. Despite everything looking pristine and perfect, I feel like this is a feeding frenzy and I'm the one about to be fed on.

I look around the crowded ballroom, unfamiliar faces staring back at me as I clear my throat, grappling to find the courage to start my welcoming speech. My eyes dart around the room, finding every set of eyes besides the ones I'm looking for to calm me down. My heart sinks as I fail to locate the set of eyes that keeps me grounded on most occasions. I smile at the people before me and stand tall as I begin to welcome them with a pleasing smile and kind voice.

As the night progresses, the ballroom transforms into a mesmerizing spectacle. A magnificent dance floor takes centre stage, where couples gracefully twirl to enchanting melodies. The walls are adorned with intricate golden accents, reflecting the grandeur of the occasion. Elaborate ice sculptures glisten in the corners, showcasing the kingdom's unique artistic prowess. Delicious aromas waft from the banquet tables, where an array of delectable feasts awaits the guests. The sound of laughter and joy fills the air, as guests mingle and share stories of the kingdom's rich history— a history they know so little about— a history that is tainted and following me around every corner.

My heels sound against the delicate flooring and the hem of the dress bunches in my hand as I make my way to Harry's sister who's holding two glasses of champagne in her hands. She greets me with a smile and hands me a glass instantaneously, "I have to say, this is quite the event, even though I'm working."

"Well, have you found a good story yet?" I question, taking a sip of the champagne.

She shakes her head, "No, I have a few good photos though. My brother has told me I can't report anything after nine."

"Oof, such a bore," I chuckle, "I have to go, if you see your brother, have him come and find me, please." I politely request before moving on and making my rounds around the room.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, revealing a mesmerizing fireworks display, illuminating the night sky with a kaleidoscope of colours. The royal event is a true testament to the kingdom's splendour and the unity of its people. Even if it's a fake and forced unity, it's still a unity.

I grace the grand ballroom with my presence as the fireworks come to an end and I smile as Harry finally emerges through the gold doorways and makes his way towards me with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Coffee? Seriously?" I question.

He nods his head, "With a shot of whiskey," he responds.

I raise an eyebrow playfully, accepting the cup of coffee from Harry. "Well, I guess a little whiskey in the coffee won't hurt," I say with a mischievous grin. As I take a sip, the warm liquid and the hint of whiskey send a comforting warmth through my body. "Thanks for coming down tonight, I know your shoulder is killing you," I say, appreciating his unwavering support. I know he had no desire to attend the grandeur of the royal event, and savouring the moments of joy amidst the complexities of ruling a kingdom that is not yet mine.

I take another sip of his coffee, taking a moment to savour the rich flavour of the coffee with a hint of whiskey, letting its warmth spread through me for the last time. As the music swells and the crowd dances around us, Harry leans in closer, his voice barely a whisper. "There's something I need to tell you," he says, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination.

My heart skips a beat, sensing the weight of his words. "What is it, Harry?" I ask, my voice barely audible over the lively music.

"I stumbled upon a hidden chamber in the castle, filled with ancient artefacts and mysterious writings." My curiosity piqued, I lean in, eager to hear more.

"It seems to be a forgotten part of your monarchy's history, holding secrets that could change everything we know."

I look at Harry with a perplexed glance, "Are you serious?"

"No," Harry chuckles, "I'm joking, I'm going to go back to monitoring the cameras downstairs, do you need anything?" Harry responds.

I shake my head with a small chuckle escaping my lips, "No. I'll see you in my headquarters?"

"Possibly," he responds, "Depends how long it takes for us to get everyone out and sweep the grounds. I might just crash in the security chambers," Harry continues.

I nod my head in defeat but offer him a smile. He leans closer and whispers in my ear, "I love you, goodnight," causing me to softly smile, the secrecy of nobody knowing about us making it more enticing and charming.

As the grand ballroom doors swing open with a resounding crash, shrouded in a cloak of darkness strides in, commanding the attention of everyone present. Harry's hands grip my hips and pull me into him. Gasps fill the air as the room falls silent, all eyes fixed on this captivating entrance. The atmosphere crackles with anticipation, and whispers of intrigue ripple through the crowd.

My heart races as fear grips me. The man's sudden appearance sends chills down my spine as I'm unable to tear my gaze away from the ominous presence.

With a sinister grin, the man begins to speak. "I'm going to reveal a shocking truth about the queen's lineage, casting doubt on her rightful claim to the throne," the man announces. Although his figure is concealed, the voice sounds familiar.

The mysterious figure's revelation hangs heavy in the air, my eyes widen with a mix of shock and determination. The announcement sends shockwaves through the crowd, causing whispers and gasps to fill the air. I try to maintain composure, the sudden urge to confront the dark-cloaked man, and the secrets of the family past he's willing to divulge. I take a deep breath, my voice steady yet filled with an unwavering resolve.

"I may not know what royal lineage you're speaking of, but I have proven my worth through my actions and my lineage has no doubt over my claim of the throne. I'm sure it's a misunderstanding concept you speak of," I declare, my words echoing throughout the grand ballroom.

The crowd falls silent, captivated by my sudden unwavering spirit. With grace and poise, I continue, "My family has dedicated their life to serving the people, and it is their unwavering support that makes us who we are."

With a determined spirit, I boldly address the crowd, emphasizing the importance of my family's dedication to serving the people. However, a sudden shift occurs as Harry, wearing a stern expression, interrupts my speech. "Oliver, take her!" he growls, forcefully pushing me towards Oliver. He then marches through the crowd, heading towards the enigmatic man with an unwavering resolve. Within a blink of an eye, Harry is dragging the man out, closing the gold doors behind him, and leaving the ballroom in silence.

"We can now get back to our event," I announce, holding up Harry's coffee cup I managed to get a hold of before he stormed off with the unknown man.

"Oliver, how the hell did someone manage to get past security?" I question as the chatter of the room begins and the orchestrated music plays.

Oliver clears his throat, "I don't know, I don't know where the rest of our team is."

"Don't you think you should find them?" I raise a brow, and Oliver shakes his head, "I think it would be a good idea."

"Princess, let Harry do his job. Right now, you're my priority. Either you continue this event or you go to your headquarters."

"Did Harry tell you to say that?" I mutter, and Oliver grows withdrawn, refusing to answer. "It sounds like an ultimatum that he'd give."

"You're making my job difficult, please turn around and do your job as an upcoming Queen."

I roll my eyes and mournfully listen. I turn around and begin my journey through the room, assuring everyone the man who entered was just a case of someone having one too many to drink. Harry's sister makes her way towards me this time holding a plate of small desserts in her hand. "Well, I guess you found your story," I begin, "And I don't think it'll cover the desserts."

"Quite a story, would be better if there was some truth to his words; however, I'll have to take what I have."

"Mhm," I hum.

"If I don't run the story, you know someone else will, right?"

I nod my head with a sigh, "I know. I'm tired of being in the media headlines."

"Comes with the territory."

I lean closer to her, "Especially when I'm with a man whose sister is a lead journalist," I whisper. "I guess it could be worse though," I shrug my shoulders.

"Oh, it can always be worse," Gemma responds with a smile before stepping away from me...

As the night continues to unfold, I gracefully mingle with the crowd, engaging in captivating conversations and leaving a lasting impression, hopefully. However, after some time, I discreetly slip away, leaving behind an air of mystery as I walk across the marble flooring of the hallway, Oliver heavy on my trail. I look over my shoulder to see him jogging towards me with a grim expression across his face. "Princess, slipping away is not acceptable."

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, "It took you six seconds to notice, that's a pretty good record," I smile at him without a care for how hard I make his job. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go to the security chambers."

Oliver blankly stares at me before he shakes his head. I raise an eyebrow, playfully challenging Oliver. "Come on, Oliver, We need to check the security chambers for any potential threats. It's better to be safe than sorry, right?" I give him a mischievous smile, hoping to convince him to join me.

"Harry has it covered."

I let out an exasperated sigh and cross my arms, my frustration evident. "Seriously, Oliver? You're going to make this harder than it needs to be?"

"You're the one making it hard."

I give Oliver a determined look, my eyes narrowing slightly. "Look, Oliver, I understand you have your orders, but I'm going." ... "I will walk the tunnels myself."

"No," Oliver responds. "It's cold down there, the temperatures have dropped and I have orders to take you to your quarters."

I huff in frustration, my footsteps echoing with determination as I storm off towards Harry's location. Oliver's protests fade into the background as my determination fuels my steps.

The coldness seeps into my bones, causing a shiver to run down my spine. The air feels icy, biting at my skin as I navigate the dark tunnels. It's as if the very temperature reflects the tension and uncertainty that lies in the words the ominous man spreads through the ballroom. I wrap my arms around myself, seeking warmth and resolve to push through the frigid feeling of the tunnels. The dim lighting casts eerie shapes on the brick walls that I pass before I finally make it to the steel door Harry is behind.

"Open the door," I instruct as I peer over my shoulder at Oliver who is reluctant to my requests. He heavily sighs and swipes his card before punching in a code and pushing the door open for me. "Thank you," I smile as I walk into the dimly lit room and see Harry swivel around on a desk chair.

Harry raises a brow and Oliver puts his hands up in defence, "I had no choice, she wouldn't listen to me and stormed down here."

"Anna, those tunnels are cold," Harry disapprovingly shakes his head, standing up and taking his jacket off the back of his chair, wasting no time with sliding it up my arms. "I watched you from the cameras. Why are you down here?"

"Can we talk? Privately?" I softly question and Harry's eyes glance towards Oliver.

Harry sighs, "Oliver, go scout the floors with Matthew, I have Anna from here." Harry instructs and Oliver promptly ambles away, leaving the two of us.

"Hmm, he listens to you, and not me."

"I have a little bit more power over him."

"Whatever," I roll my eyes, walking into Harry and forcing his arm to wrap around me, giving him no option but to embrace my hug.

I feel a soft kiss on the top of my head and his hand rubs my back in the silence before he places space between us and lifts my chin with his finger, "What is it?"

"I lied to the crowd. What I said about my lineage having no doubt over my claim of the throne... I have doubts. I don't want any of this and I have no choice but to handle it." I softly inform Harry, "These events aren't who I am but they're all I'll ever be. This is what we have to get used to."

"I think it's been an interesting and slightly tough night for you and you're tired."

"Don't dismiss my feelings as being tired."

"Anna," Harry begins, "I don't have the words to make you feel better about becoming queen when your father decides to pass down the crown. I don't have the words for the corruption or the utter bullshit that is happening."

I shrug my shoulders, "Do you have the words as to how the fuck someone got past security?"

"They somehow used Pippa's badge and scanned that to get in. They calculated it at the right time for a shift change so nobody would be checking identification."

"How'd they get Pippa's badge?" I curiously ask.

"I'm not sure but she said she'd handle it." ... "She probably set it up, she keeps referencing the line to the throne being altered."

"And you trust her?"

Harry shakes his head, "No, but I have other things to worry about," Harry responds, his eyes glancing towards a monitor before he steps away from me and takes a seat. "I'm pretty sure your Father set it up for publicity," Harry informs me and I roll my eyes.

"It was Syrus," I sigh heavily. "The mystic cloak, the voice, the slithering in without being noticed. Wreaks of Syrus."

"Syrus wasn't the man I dragged out," Harry responds.

"I never said my fathers brother was the man you dragged out. Syrus orchestrated it but nobody will believe me because I'm just an insane royal."

Harry doesn't respond, he just sighs and shrugs his shoulders not too concerned about the events of this evening.

The walls are lined with monitors, displaying surveillance footage from every corner of the Palace. The sound of alarms and the hum of electronic equipment fills the room, and Harry's quick to silence the alarm, typing in a code that disables the sound coming from one of the monitors.

I lift my dress and sit down in the chair beside him, swivelling around until Harry offers me his attention. "Baby, what is it you want? You're distracting me."

I offer him a smile, "I'd like for you to come to bed with me."

"Anna, I can't."

"You can," I respond, not wanting to take his response for a solid answer, "I'm tired of the inconsistency and not being able to sleep with you. Getting together was meant to make things easier."

"Need I remind you that we are still together in complete secrecy because we can't let the monarchy know?"

"Maybe we should alert the monarchy," I shrug my shoulders, "How much worse can it possibly get?"

"Have you had too much to drink?" Harry questions, "We cannot announce this while your father has a lineage of men who you should be with." ... "men that are of royal title."

"I don't care," I respond, "Please, come to bed with me."

"I'll escort you to your quarters."

I shake my head and stand to my feet, "Don't worry about it," I mutter, storming out and leaving him behind.

*** *** ***

There's a crisp morning air circling the gardens this morning, the sun barely peeking through the trees at the mere hour of five-thirty. After last night's incident, I went to my headquarters and went to bed alone, forced to dwell on my decision to keep our marriage a secret. At times, the secrecy comes with the potential to benefit both of us, other times it hinders our relationship in ways I don't desire. Harry never came to bed, I assume he stayed in his apartment or he stayed in the security chambers, either way, I wasn't pleased.

I heavily sigh as Oliver explains another safety measure to me, "Oliver, can we call it?" I softly ask, tired, sore and exhausted from the last two days of safety training. Today is meant to be my last day for a while but I don't have it in me to continue to physically do this.

Oliver doesn't give in, he shakes his head with no remorse.

I'm forced to fight back and manoeuvre my way out of the strong grip I've been thrown into, but I can't.

In a high-intensity training session, I find myself trapped in a body lock, Oliver having no desire to go easy on me. The body lock is a grappling technique where the opponent wraps their arms tightly around my upper body, restricting my movement and attempting to control me. It's a challenging position to escape from, but the determination and training are supposed to empower me to find a way out if I'm forced into this situation. With skill and agility, I use various techniques to break free and regain control of the situation.
With determination in my eyes, I attempt to recall my training and swiftly execute a series of counter moves, breaking free from the hold.

"Ah, you got me there," Oliver chuckles, "Harry had to have taught you that one, that's not part of our training."

I nod my head, "He does come in handy, sometimes," I joke, taking a moment to breathe as Oliver looks at his phone, deciding on what to force me to do next.

Amid the intense training sessions, I find myself trapped in a powerful position. Despite my best efforts, I struggle to break free, feeling my strength wane. Oliver's grip tightens, and my frustration grows as my attempts to escape prove futile.

His arm is pressed to my neck and my back is forced against a tree, I have no room to escape.

"Enough," I breathe out, struggling to fight with my body and escape, the torture of the last few days playing hard on my body. I've been determined not to give up, not to allow the satisfaction of being weak to overrule me. "I am tired."

"You can keep going," Oliver pushes. He's sounding more and more like Harry each day and I'm not sure I'm a fan of it.

As the future Queen, I am forced to undergo rigorous safety training with my security team. They ensure I am well-prepared to handle any potential threats or emergencies. From self-defence techniques to situational awareness, I learn how to protect myself and make quick decisions under pressure. The training emphasizes the importance of maintaining a strong security posture and being vigilant at all times. I'm expected to take these lessons to heart, knowing that my safety is paramount, but I despise it. It's hard, it's draining and time-consuming.

The sound of leaves rustle in the background but I stay focused on my task. The final task seems to be unbearable.

"Release her," I hear Harry demand and Oliver shakes his head

"Matthew said—"

"I said, release her," Harry presses, eyeing Oliver before his grip is released and I take a breath, exhaustion making itself known. "You need to learn when someone has reached their limits," Harry softly informs Oliver, "Read body language, she's done, Oliver. Give her a moment."

"Matthew told me I had two more hours."

"I understand, but she's not conditioned like we are."

"I can hear you," I point out, interrupting the two men for a brief moment. "I'm fine," I stubbornly reply, "Let's go." I gesture towards Oliver who looks to Harry for approval.

Amid my rigorous training, I push myself to the limit, determined to master the technique. However, my body is starting to give in under the strain, and fatigue sets in. Harry, concerned for my well-being, urges me to take a break and rest. But I don't allow myself to become subject to being weak.
My frustration boils over as I stubbornly insist on pushing through. "Anna..." Harry begins, knowing the importance of balance, wanting to gently remind me that rest is essential for progress. Reluctantly, he stops himself.

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, "If she says she's fine, go ahead." Harry takes a seat on the garden bench with his coffee in one hand, one arm draped over the back of the chair comfortably.

My body fights, each muscle doing its thing to prove myself of the task at hand.

As I train with my security guard, a chilly breeze cuts through the air, causing me to shiver. The wind whistles through the trees, adding an eerie soundtrack to the stormy clouds overhead. The surroundings feel charged with energy, mirroring our determination.

Harry sits nearby, sipping his coffee, his eyes fixed on me with unwavering attention. The steam from his cup mingles with the cold air, creating a mesmerizing sight. With every sip, Harry's presence exudes calmness, offering a sense of reassurance and support. It's nice to feel support and reassurance on days that I'm not quite sure I can handle. Despite this training being a relatively small task considering others, I find a sense of tranquillity with him silently watching.

My chest heaves, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I fight the urge to quit. The intensity of the training has pushed me to my limits, and every fibre of my being screams for respite. "Oliver," I breathe out heavily, shutting my eyes with great force and releasing all pressure I had held against his body, "Give me a break," I mutter, struggling against his strength

"You're doing well, keep going."

I take a step back, feeling defeated and exhausted. The weight of Oliver's words hangs heavy in the air. "I'm not making any progress," I admit, my voice filled with frustration.

But Oliver's response only fuels my anger. "Would the person attacking you care if you're making any fucking progress? No, they wouldn't, they won't give a fuck," he challenges.

My frustration turns to desperation as I declare, "I'm done."

Oliver remains firm, his tone unwavering. "If you give up now, you'll have to start over, and I'll have to fail you."

I press my hands against my hips, a mix of disbelief and frustration bubbling within me. "You can't be serious."

But Oliver's response is resolute. "Harry and Matthew are strict about this."

Feeling overwhelmed, I plead with Oliver, my voice filled with exhaustion. "Oliver, I'm tired... Can't you please cut me some slack?"

I look at Oliver, feeling defeated and frustrated. He points towards Harry, who seems indifferent. "Ask him," Oliver says, motioning towards Harry.

Harry approaches, his response lacking sympathy. "Keep going," he says casually. "You didn't listen to me before, so no sympathy now. You asked for it."

I stare at both of them, my jaw dropping. "You're being really tough," I protest.

Harry's tone remains firm. "We don't have time to restart this. And I don't have time to do it."

Feeling overwhelmed, I let out a sigh. This challenge seems harder than I thought.

I look at Oliver and Harry, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. The frustration and pressure build up inside me, threatening to consume me.

"You don't understand!" I shout, my voice filled with desperation. "I've been trying so hard, but it feels like I'm not enough. At this point it isn't just physical, it's mental. This is draining."

At times, the toughness feels suffocating, like a heavy weight pressing down on my shoulders. I grumble and protest, my muscles burning with exertion.

Oliver's stern expression remains unchanged. "We need results, Anna. We can't afford for you to not have the ability to protect yourself in unforeseen situations."

Harry's words cut deep. "You're letting yourself down, Anna. You're getting inside your head. In a real-life event, someone captures you, they won't care if you're tired, they won't care about anything besides using you as their hostage." Harry knows that the stakes are high, and he refuses to let me face them unprepared. And though his methods may be tough and brutal, he has a valid point.

I nod my head, "Fine," I reluctantly agree to continue.

It isn't long before I'm pressing on Oliver's body, forcing him off of me, using the last of my strength, "Stop," I breathe out, "Don't fucking come near me," I hiss, my head hanging low as I sink, needing a moment to rest.

"She's feisty, finally," Oliver declares as I glare at him.

Harry reaches out and pulls me up, his hand a lifeline in my moment of weakness. "You passed," he says with a hint of pride. He doesn't coddle or sugarcoat; instead, he challenges me relentlessly and will push me to my ends to make sure I have the ability to defend myself the best I can if things ever go south.

But the nausea overwhelms me, and I cough, my glare fixed on both of them. "I feel like shit," I mutter, my frustration still boiling within me. They didn't have to be such pricks.

Harry's response remains unwavering. "That's how you know you've pushed yourself and achieved something," he explains, trying to find the silver lining. "No pain, no gain."

I can't help but mutter under my breath, "There's nothing to be fucking proud of," my words laced with bitterness.

"Do you not have anything to do?" I bitterly ask, tilting my head to the side to look at him. "Like a plane to catch?" I respond unhappily.

"Lucky for you, my morning is clear for coffee and your training. Flight is later."

"Sounds riveting," I roll my eyes.

"Would you like me to walk you back?" Harry shrugs, offering his assistance.

I begin to respond, but the anticipation of nausea lingers, making me pause.

"Are you alright?" Harry asks, sensing my discomfort.

I raise my hand, signalling him to stop speaking, not wanting to hear any more.

I glare at Harry and Oliver, frustration bubbling inside me. The intense exertion has left me feeling nauseous and on the edge of sickness. I yearn for a moment of respite, a break from the relentless physical and emotional strain of the monarchy. The exhaustion weighs heavily on me, and the pain is almost unbearable. Is all this effort worth it?

Is the relentless pursuit I'm going to endure from this monarchy truly worth it?

I follow the garden path and wrap my arms around my stomach as the cold air whistles past me. "I never see you failing at this," I softly mutter, disappointed in myself for not living up to the expectation I needed for the morning. "Even with your arm in a sling, and your shoulder broken, you can still outperform me and Oliver."

"I condition a lot more than you, it takes time," Harry responds, his hand pressing to my back and beginning to rub soothing circles over it. "If it makes you feel better, I made Oliver throw up in the gardens the other morning, it was too hard for him."

"It doesn't," I groan, not amused by the comfort he is offering.

"I've been conditioning for years, darling. None of this is new to me." Harry responds with a reassuring tone, attempting to make me feel better about myself. His words carry a sense of familiarity, as if he's faced challenges far greater than this before. There's a quiet confidence in his demeanor, a hint of determination that speaks to years of rigorous training and discipline.

A nagging thought tugs at the corners of my mind, a sense that there's more to Harry than meets the eye. His training, his conditioning—it all seems too polished, too precise, as if he's been molded into something more than just a regular person who became the guard of a princess.

I push aside the thought, dismissing it as nothing more than a fleeting thought, "I have a meeting in 20 minutes." I sigh. "When is your flight?"

"I thought we agreed you would trust me?" Harry responds, reluctant to answer my question.

"It is a simple question."

"Flight is at four, don't go and google the four o'clock flights to see where I am going either," Harry mutters as I take the coffee from his hands. "You're not going to—"

"Ehhk, who drinks coffee straight?" I screw my nose up at his tasteless choice of coffee.

"I was about to warn you that you wouldn't like it," Harry responds.

"When shall I expect you back so I can plan accordingly?"

"You're going to make this really hard, aren't you?" Harry questions, taking his coffee back and sighing.

I don't plan to make it easy, it's hard to blindly trust people.

I nod my head, "Trust isn't my forte right now, darling."

"I can tell," Harry murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief.

Harry's pov.

As Anna leans against the handrail of the elevator, I ask if she's listening to anything. She responds with a slight smile and confirms that she is. It's my responsibility to ensure she's dressed and ready for her meeting in seven minutes, but her schedule doesn't leave much room for anything else. I help her slide on her heels and hand her coat, which she puts on silently.

Despite my attempts at conversation, she seems distant and unresponsive.

Noticing her quietness, I take the moment to pry. "Is something wrong?" I inquire.

Anna does not answer.

"Does this have to do with me leaving this afternoon?"

She remains silent for a moment, taking a deep breath before shaking her head and swallowing hard. "Are you nervous?" I ask.

Anna shakes her head again, her gaze fixed on the slowly rising elevator numbers. "Don't let the doors open," she instructs me. "I know you can control them."

I comply with her request and ask for a minute of privacy through my in-ear communication device.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" I ask Anna.

Taking a breath, she replies, "I have a meeting in four minutes."

"And staying in the elevator will solve that?" I question.

"I can't let dignitaries, parliament members, and others see me stressed," she explains, gripping the handrail tightly.

"Well, fuck, Anna," I sigh, "Have you ever thought about fucking cancelling?" I challenge.

"Have you thought about being sympathetic?" She questions, "You might want to try it," she coughs, compelling me to sigh. I rub my hand over her back, taking a breath and taking notes to adjust my tone. "I just- I need a minute" Anna informs me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"You could skip the meeting?" I suggest.

Anna shakes her head. "No, if I miss the meeting, Pippa will speak on my behalf, and I don't trust her to do what's best."

"But does it matter if she makes changes?" I question softly. "Your Father is the King, and Pippa has to report to him. He'll be back soon."

Anna sighs, "Pippa is cunning and manipulative. She exploits the King's vulnerabilities and insecurities, but nobody believes me." ... "As for my Father, he may never return at this rate.. One day, you won't either..." she trails off softly.

There it is. The unwritten words of her mind.

As I stand beside Anna in the elevator, I notice her leaning against me, her body trembling with what I assume to be exhaustion. "Nobody said anything about me not coming back, that is being a little overly dramatic." ... "Think we just pushed you too far this morning."

"Think I'm going to be sick," she mutters, letting out a sigh before silence fills the elevator. She leans back against the railing again, and I cock my head to the side to look at her, unsure of how to fix the situation. Anna looks up at the ceiling, the chandelier glistening against the tapestry.

As I stand beside Anna in the elevator, I can't help but admire the exquisite decor. The elevator is adorned with elegant vases, filled with vibrant flowers that add a pop of colour to the space. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries, depicting scenes of grandeur and beauty. I've never understood why the elevators are highly decorated. I don't really understand anything, I guess. "I'm coming back to you Anna... I always do."

Anna looks towards me and takes a breath, "They don't want me at this meeting. It has been made abundantly clear. They don't want me as Queen. I don't know why I bother... Well, I do but I don't" avoiding the topic of me not coming back. She's jumping from topic to topic like she doesn't know where to put her time.

"Since when have you cared what people want?" I ask Anna. "How do you know they don't want you to attend?"

"Pippa emailed me her dissatisfaction of me being in control of the meeting and informed me how children should not run meetings or foreign affairs." ... "Nobody supports me."

"Anna... Who cares? Whether she likes it or not, you're the next reigning Queen and commander in charge."

Anna lifts her shoulders into a shrug, "They don't take me seriously. They don't want me reigning. They think I'm incompetent."

"Well, first of all, you yourself don't want to reign, second of all, make them take you seriously. Walk in that room with confidence. The person standing in front of me that's scared and nervous is not the same person I have known."

Anna heavily sighs, her eyes meeting mine. This woman has always had a fiery fury to her, she has never been one to care what is said about her. Now, the woman who stands in front of me appears as though she has been beaten down and is taking every negative backlash the media and higher officials throw at her to heart. She's holding it close and deer to her as if it's what makes her who she is. The harsh words are defining her in her mind. She's creating her own illusion and once everyone figures out their ploys are working, they're going to feed off of it.

I see her swallow hard and her eyes gloss over for a brief moment. She catches a crystal tear with her fingers, and I place an arm around Anna, holding her as she takes a breath. I don't say a word, instead I give her the silence that I think she needs. She doesn't need to be coddled right now.

Anna adjusts her dress, and looking at me as if nothing happened, begins to speak. "Let's go, open the doors," Anna instructs, heading towards the elevator doors. She glances back at me and adds, "I'm running late."

"You're not serious?"

I didn't expect her to rebound that quickly and efficiently.

"I am. I have places to be," Anna responds, "open." She gestures towards the doors.

I promptly inform the security team through my in-ear device to open the elevator doors for us. Once the doors open, I smile at Oliver, "I will be just a moment, wait here." I inform him before I guide Anna out of the elevator and along the hallway. Buckingham Palace has an impressive 775 rooms, including 188 staff bedrooms, 92 offices, 78 bathrooms, 52 royal and guest bedrooms, and 19 staterooms. However, the most significant room among them all is the 1844 Room.

I accompany Anna to room 1844 and she lingers outside the grand gold-trimmed doors, smoothing her coat and inspecting the crease. "You feeling okay?"

"Harry, we are not going to speak of what happened," Anna responds, "I'm okay."

I offer a reassuring smile and open the door for her. I follow her inside and quickly scan the room.

The royal meeting room is a breathtaking sight, with dignitaries from far and wide. The opulent decorations create an atmosphere of grandeur, while the exquisite tea foods tempt the taste buds. The room is adorned with an abundance of vibrant flowers, picked by Anna, adding a touch of elegance to the scene. It's truly a feast for the senses, a least for those who relish in the royal festivities and not those who live them daily.

The walls of the royal room are adorned with exquisite tapestries, elegant paintings, and intricate wallpaper that tell stories of the past. The decorations are a symphony of opulence, with golden accents, sparkling chandeliers, and ornate sculptures. The furniture is regal and comfortable, with plush velvet chairs, polished wooden tables, and gilded accents. It's a majestic setting fit for a Queen. It's a true shame the future Queen doesn't care for the majestic or the ornate sculptures.

The dignitaries in the room stand, growing impatient with the Queen's tardiness, exchanging glances of disapproval. Their expressions reveal their lack of impressed demeanour.

Pippa informs Anna that she started without her, causing Anna to frown. Despite this, Anna holds her head high, nods, and welcomes the dignitaries. "I need to go, Matthew will stand in on this meeting," I inform Anna, my eyes glaring at Pippa. "And yes, there has to be security personnel before you question it," I speak directly to Pippa.

*** ***

I walk in and see Anna sitting on one of the pieces of furniture, her ankles crossed and legs slanted with her hands pressed to the hem of her dress. She appears stressed. "From your expression, I take it as it didn't go well."

"She undermines my authority. She's a sneaky bitch," Anna mutters, unhappily. She's cunning and she does it so well that she appears innocent. I know how Pippa behaves, I've fallen victim to her charm before. "She's trying to say I have access to insider information. I'm the next fucking Queen; does she think I'm getting my information and knowledge from a bird?" Anna begins a rant. "She pointed out my past mistakes in meetings and threw all my perceived weaknesses on the table. Did you know that I don't have enough foreign leaders up my sleeve and I'd destroy all our foreign relationships and allies if I became Queen? She has all the officials convinced that I'm not emotionally stable." ... "fuck, maybe I'm not."

"That's... that's a lot to process," I stumble on my words, unsure of how to navigate the subject at hand. I feel like I've been thrown into a dark and raging ocean with no compass to guide me. One wrong word and Anna might fall deeper into a raging tangent.

"I should have just let her have the meeting on her terms. I need my father to come back and handle the Palace. I want out."

I shake my head, "Don't bow your head because of her. She's a manipulative woman who thrives off of being a bitch. Anna you threaten the existing power structure, Pippa is going to try to discredit you in order to preserve the current order and protect her own interests. She only wants your father to reign because it benefits her... somehow." I voice my opinion, something I tend to keep to mysel. Pippa is a person of political calculation, she is will calcualte every move she makes and her moves are always cetnrered around herself and her own benefits. You're either with or against Pippa's power and if you are against it, she will make sure you are on all firing lines until you retreat and bow down to her.

The lady's maids gently approach Anna, their footsteps barely making a sound on the plush carpet and our conversation grows withdrawn. With utmost care, they place a cold glass of water beside her and begin to adjust the room. The room falls into a hushed silence as Anna closes her eyes, allowing herself a moment of solitude. "Can someone please cancel my events until this afternoon? I just want to lay down."

"I'm sure we can figure that out. Let's walk to your headquarters," I suggest, helping her to her feet.

The ladies gently guide Anna to her room. They assist her in removing her heels and settle her onto the plush bed and she offers them a small smile, "I'm fine, you don't have to dote on me," she assures them as they wait for some guidance of what she wants. I think she finds it just as awkward as I do.

"Okay, I'll be back when my shift ends," I inform Anna. "Don't think you need me much further."

The lady's maids exchange curious glances, wondering why I'm suddenly showing such care and concern for Anna. I can tell from their expressions they can't help but question my motives, but they keep their thoughts to themselves.

"Okay, I'm already late. Goodbye." I mutter.

The lady's maids' eyes widen in surprise as they witness me tenderly kiss Anna's forehead. They exchange knowing smiles, realizing the depth of our relationship. Their silent approval is evident in their subtle nods and warm glances.

***

I glance at the monitors, observing my girlfriend navigating the tunnels dressed in a black hoodie and pants, trying to blend into the shadows. "Let her go," I say with a heavy sigh. "Once the silent alarm at the exit door goes off, don't stop her. I'll handle it when she returns."

"Are you sure?" Ryan asks, his tone reflecting his surprise at my decision.

"Can't cage a bird forever," I reply, my gaze fixed on the screen, watching Anna's figure move with a determined grace that both irks and worries me.

Ryan nods, although his expression tells me he's not entirely convinced by my reasoning. "Alright."

"Thank you, Ryan," I say, feeling the tension ease slightly with his reassurance. My focus returns to the monitors, my heart heavy with a mix of emotions. Trusting Anna is one thing, but knowing the risks she faces out there, especially under these circumstances, is another. The cold of the chambers suddenly seems more biting, mirroring the chill of worry that settles over me.

Why does she have to do this alone? Why didn't she trust me enough to tell me her plans? These questions haunt the back of my mind, but deep down, I know the answer. Anna has always been fiercely independent, often taking matters into her own hands. It's one of the things I admire most about her, yet in moments like this, it's also the most terrifying.

I return to my paperwork, my hands mechanically moving from one document to the next, but my attention remains divided. The monitor with Anna's image becomes a constant lure, drawing my eyes every few minutes, tracking her every step as she navigates through the shadowy corridors of the tunnels.

Minutes pass like hours until the silent alarm finally signals. Anna has reached the exit. My chest tightens.

Ryan looks at me, an unspoken question in his eyes. I nod faintly, reaffirming my earlier decision. He disables the alarm, allowing her passage without further barriers.

"She's out," he confirms.

"I know," I murmur, barely audible. The weight of my role here, the necessity of maintaining control over the chambers and everything else, clashes painfully with personal concern for Anna. For a fleeting second, I wonder if I should have handled things differently, gone after her, shared in whatever burden she's shouldering.

But the die is cast, and now all I can do is wait, hope, and prepare for her return, whenever and however that may be. In the meantime, the cold of the chambers feels just a bit colder, the solitude a touch more profound.

****

Anna's POV

***flashback***

I watch as Harry leaves the bedroom and when I hear the door shut, I wait a few moments.

"Okay," I sit up on the bed, wasting no time by forcing myself to my feet and touching the lamp, dimming it. "Politely, you're both off my service for the moment," I instruct, moving around the room and pulling my dress off of me, throwing it to the floor. The women look at me with bewildered eyes, unsure of how to react.

"But, you—"

I shake my head, grabbing a pair of jeans and pulling them up my legs, "I'm fine. Neither of you will speak a word of this to Harry." I instruct as I walk out without looking back.

***

The parliament official's office is a grand space filled with rich mahogany furniture and adorned with portraits of influential figures. The room exudes an air of authority and importance, with shelves lined with law books and documents. The desk is meticulously organized, showcasing the official's attention to detail. Sunlight streams through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the room, creating an atmosphere that commands respect and signifies the weight of responsibility held by the official. What a shame Pippa deserves no respect or importance, she deserves nothing.

This office is a space where decisions are made, where laws are crafted, and where the destiny of the nation is shaped. At least, it's meant to be. Now, this office holds nothing but evil ties and manipulation.

With a steely gaze, I confidently confront Pippa, asserting my dominance as I burst through the glass doors to the office, catching Pippa off guard as she stands on her heels. "Look what the cat dragged in." Pippa raises a brow. "Finally decide to act as a queen or?" She half smiles, trying to conceal herself.

"You have a lot of nerve," I mutter, taking a breath to find the right words. I want sharp words that show intelligence and strength.

"I'm the one with nerve? You barged into my office."

"The best thing for you to do is to resign from parliament."

Pippa cackles like a hyena ready for its prey, "You're playing in waters that are over your head, little girl."

"So are you," I respond.

Pippa possesses a captivating gaze that could make anyone fall under her spell. Her darling eyes held a magnetic charm, capable of persuading others to do her bidding effortlessly. With a mere glance, she could command attention and sway even the staunchest of opponents to her side. Pippa's irresistible allure and influential presence make her a force to be reckoned with.

Pippa's blue eyes are like shimmering sapphires, enchanting all who look into them. They hold a depth and intensity that could draw you in and make you feel like you are the only person in the room. Her eyes sparkle with intelligence and determination, reflecting her unwavering drive to succeed with all her plans moral or not. Her eyes are the windows to her soul, revealing the villainous role in the political landscape. A role that nobody sees besides me.

Her cunning strategies and manipulative tactics make her seem quite wicked. But remember, in the world of politics, things aren't always as they seem. There may be hidden motivations and complex webs of power at play. I don't trust any of her motives or tactics, whether they're nice or not. I believe she's a snake and she will stop at nothing to get what she wants. Power. She has the charm and the looks to fool anyone. She's young, attractive and has daring eyes that can be seductive.

"I think it's cute you want to play tough, but I think you should go back to your palace where you get to play Princess, while the rest of us work like adults."

"Being condescending isn't going to get rid of me. Stop the games and pettiness."

Pippa heavily sighs, "What will? Because you're a pain in my ass. You don't have what it takes to have the crown."

"Whatever your plan is with my Father, end it. Whatever plan you have with the monarchy, end it." I instruct, firmly. She is up to no good within the monarchy and my Father is wrapped around her little finger. For some reason, he hangs onto every word she says. "You will not force me out of meetings and undermine me. I will be Queen whether any of us like it or not."

"Or what?" Pippa questions, not taking me seriously.

"You know that secret embezzlement scheme?" I question. "The one where you're siphoning off funds from the government for your gain. I will expose it."

Pippa shrugs her shoulders without much of a care, "You don't have the power of credibility." ... "Did you get that from your undisclosed sources?"

"I will make sure the evidence is undeniable, and I will strategically expose your financial misdeeds to the public. The revelation will shock the nation and destroy your credibility, ultimately leading to your resignation. It's a scandal that keeps on giving."

Pippa steps closer, a sly smile on her face. "And I will leak to the press that I fucked Harry and the monarchy has been altered. A scandal everyone will love to read. The public won't take too kindly to your little fling with the security detail."

I meet her gaze, my eyes filled with determination. "Don't you dare utter one word against him," I warn, my voice filled with a fiery resolve.

"Ouch, does that get under your skin? The idea of us fucking?" Pippa taunts. "He's damn good in bed."

I take a deep breath, my patience wearing thin. "Don't test me, Pippa," I say, my voice dripping with a steely edge.

"Or what?" she sneers.

I narrow my eyes, my grip tightening on my emotions. "I won't stoop to your level, but I will come for you," I reply, my voice laced with quiet strength.

Pippa's smile falters for a moment as she realizes the seriousness in my tone. But she quickly regains her composure. "You don't have the balls," she retorts, trying to provoke me. "I will tell the media how fucking good he is in bed with grave detail. I can still feel him."

There it is. A veil of deceit I never thought  I'd come across.

At that moment, something inside me snaps. I swiftly move forward, pinning Pippa against the wall with my arm pressed against her windpipe. Her eyes widen in surprise, gasping for breath.

"You underestimate me, Pippa," I say, my voice firm and unwavering. "I won't let you destroy me with your bullshit. Consider this a warning."

Pippa's defiant smile fades as she struggles to speak. My actions have caught her off guard. I release my grip, stepping back, but the message is clear—I won't back down.

Pippa stumbles back, her eyes filled with shock. "You think you can intimidate me? You're nothing but a privileged fool!" she spits out.

I stand tall, my voice steady. "I may have grown up privileged, but I won't let you belittle me. This isn't your monarch, you're in the wrong territory," I say, my words laced with determination.

Pippa scoffs, trying to regain her composure. "You think your fancy education and designer clothes make you better than me?"

"It's not about being better," I reply, my voice calm yet resolute. "It's about standing up for what's right. And right now, I won't let you tarnish my reputation or hurt the people I care about."

Pippa's face contorts with anger. "You're not fit for the crown, you don't deserve it nor want it."

I take a deep breath, refusing to let her words get to me. "This isn't about what I want... It's about integrity and loyalty. Something you seem to have forgotten along the way." ... "You will have respect for me as a person and you will do your job as a prime minister and consult with me and back me up with all matters."

Pippa's eyes narrow, her voice dripping with venom. "You can try to play the innocent princess, but I know who you are."

I meet her gaze, my eyes filled with unwavering resolve. "You don't know me at all, Pippa. I'm not a scared little girl who will let you win."

Pippa shakes her head, "You've met your match, I'm not going anywhere."

I nod my head, and I lock eyes with Pippa, my voice dripping with icy determination. "I suggest you stay away from my Harry or you'll regret it. That's not a warning, that's a threat."

Pippa smirks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, honey, threats and warnings? How original. I'll be sure to lose sleep over it." ... "You know, right after fucking him."

My blood boils but I shake my head, "leave him alone."

Pippa smirks, her voice filled with snark. "Secretly together, huh? Well, I must have missed the change of rule for you to be with a commoner. How scandalous!" ... "Sadly, you are more interested in me fucking your man than the fact the succession to the throne has been altered," Pippa chuckles, amused by the lack of information I have on the alteration.

"What do you mean?"

"For someone who holds so much power, you know jackshit about this monarchy. Ask your father about how it has been altered. You're not the last reigning monarch," Pippe informs me.

"You're just placating me. Goodbye."

With that, I give Pippa a cold look as I turn and walk away, leaving Pippa to contemplate the weight of my words. Leaving me questioning the succession of the throne.

*** End flashback***

I walk through the tunnels, one foot in front of the other, doing my best to keep track of the time. I look down at my watch— 3:00. Harry should still be occupied with Oliver or catching a flight, and I should have time to sneak back in without being noticed.

I've never quite understood what hold Pippa has over my father, why he continues to employ her despite her dubious decisions that serve no clear benefit to our nation. Her influence extends too far—already, there are whispers of her diverting government funds, yet these allegations mysteriously never lead to any consequences. It's as if her misdeeds are deliberately ignored, and for reasons beyond my grasp, my father not only tolerates but facilitates her actions.

Pippa's power is unnerving; the wrong people in power tend to drag everyone down with them. If and when my father decides to abdicate and I am handed the reins, it appears I will be forced to retain her as the prime minister due to some inexplicable contract. This is a position she should never have been in, and yet, here we are.

What's even more troubling is the growing suspicion that she is not acting alone. Syrus, my father's brother and a character with his own shadowy past, seems too intertwined with Pippa's decisions. There's a pattern suggesting that it's actually Syrus behind many of Pippa's directives. If Syrus is indeed pulling the strings, this complicates matters further. How to extricate Pippa without tipping a domino that leads straight to Syrus—and potentially back to my father—is the puzzle I now need to solve.

"So, do you want to tell me what happened?" Harry questions as he emerges from the shadows of the tunnels, taking me by surprise.

Fuck. He's always around and watching.

"I don't know what you are referencing."

Harry hums, "I'm referencing the fact my girlfriend thought I wouldn't know if she decided to sneak out of the palace."

Harry's voice cuts through the tension, his words laced with anger. "So, spill it. What happened? It must have been important for you not to tell me. We have silent alarms now, honey."

Caught off guard, I stumble for a response. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," I stammer. "Funny how now you refer to me as your girlfriend."

Harry's eyes narrow, his frustration evident. "Don't play dumb with me," he retorts. "You thought you could sneak out without me knowing?"

I try to maintain my composure, meeting his gaze. "If you knew, why didn't you stop me?" I challenge.

Harry shakes his head, his voice firm. "I let you go, but don't think for a second that it was without my knowledge." ... "Are you out of your mind? Putting yourself in danger like that?" Harry's concern is palpable in his words.

"You're being dramatic, there was no danger," I dismiss Harry's worry.

"What the fuck did you do, Anna?" Harry's frustration grows.

"What everyone else is afraid to do, stand up to Pippa and leave the damn palace without an entourage," I respond defiantly. "I don't need people up my ass all the fucking time."

"And how far did that get you?" Harry sneers, revealing a potential consequence. "Because there was a video already sent to Matthew of you pinning her against the wall. If she sends that to the media, you will look like someone unfit to take the crown." ... "you're giving them ammunition to get rid of you!"

"Maybe I am unfit for the crown," I admit, frustration evident in my voice. "But I won't let her walk all over me. You're mine to fuck, not hers," I assert, stepping closer to Harry and kissing him passionately.

The intensity of the moment lingers in the air, leaving us both breathless. But deep down, I know that this is just the beginning of the storm that's about to unfold.

I can feel the tension building up between Harry and me. Our emotions are running high, and in a moment of fiery defiance, I step forward closer, pressing my body against his. Without hesitation, I press my hands to his shirt, our lips colliding in a passionate and intense kiss. It's as if the world around us fades away, leaving only the raw intensity of us. The raw reality of heightened frustration is being used to divert the attention of our disagreement.

As his lips lock in a fiery embrace against mine, time seemed to stand still. The blissful moment becomes shattered by the sound of a door creaking open. Panic surges through me as I realize we may have been caught in the act by someone who could expose our forbidden affair before we do. Then suddenly and all at once, I don't care. "Bedroom, anywhere, actually," I whisper, keeping my hands on his chest as his arm drapes down my lower back.