Her Royal Highness

X

I stood outside the large, mahogany wooden doors of the library, staring at them as if they held some sort of answer for what was to come. I wasn't quite sure how long I had been standing here, staring at doors, but it was certainly long enough to be thought odd by anyone who may have been watching me.

Thankfully, no one had yet to come by this hall and catch me in my oddity.

I admittedly felt nervous. I wasn't usually a nervous person. I always knew my place in a crowd, or with other people. Spoken or not, I had an edge over them. It was something I never consciously acknowledged before this moment, but it had always been there. And now, as I stood here, I realized; my edge over Harry Styles was questionable.

He had thrown me completely off my game in our earlier encounter that morning. I had gone to him feeling confident and sure that he would be like any other male. Easily manipulated. I realize this is quite cocky of me, but that was my experience with the opposite sex thus far. With the exception of those older than myself, such as Ford or my Grandad, all men were the same. Distracted by charm and a pretty face. And I had both.

But, I learned quickly, Harry seemed immune to those traits. He was immediately no nonsense, launching in to his expectations of our time to come together. I didn't know how to respond to him, as I had never been spoken to so directly, without pretenses or games. Games were all I knew. My life, at times, was one big game.

I had spent the entire time between that first meeting, and now, pouring over every detail of the encounter. How he had looked at me. What he had said. I tried to pick him apart, trying to find a weakness or way to sway him. The harder I thought, the more frustrated I got. And the more frustrated I got, the more my head hurt.

I refused to give up my plan, however. He was on my turf. This was my home, my life. This was my reality, not his. I had to remember that I knew the ropes of Royal life. He didn't. Regardless of what control he felt he had, or had been granted him by the courts, this was still my world. And I ruled it.

The little pep talk only half helped as I finally pushed off my bed, trudging down to the library for my afternoon meeting with Harry. He said he wanted to go over what was to come, and what we could expect from each other. So far, all I knew I could expect from him was a challenge. And I was not fond of challenges.

Finally, after my third deep, cleansing breath, I pushed open one of the doors and stepped inside.

As I knew I would, I found Harry easily. He was seated on one of the plus sofas, still in his jeans and t-shirt. His long hair was wavy, falling over his face as he leaned forward, scanning pages he had set on the table in front of him.

Hearing my entrance, he looked up.

"Hello there," he greeted with a smile. It was a friendly, unguarded smile, which should set me at ease. But all it did was make me want to decipher it. As if it was merely a ploy. A trick to make me comply.

"Hello," I responded, stepping up to the couch along with him. Sitting at the opposite end, I turned to him expectantly, folding my hands in my lap. My back was straight, my posture perfect. Years of training made it so natural to me to sit this way. My friends would laugh, but they didn't understand. I had been literally schooled in this tiny aspect from an early age.

I watched Harry as he collected the pages in front of him. He seemed so relaxed, so completely at ease. Should he be at least a little nervous? I was fucking anxious as hell, and I lived here. I knew my role. He should be unsure, coming in to my life, expecting resistance. And yet, he seemed so completely calm as if this was nothing to him.