RUNAWAY PRINCESS /h.s./

Drunk

'Run away now, like we're supposed to do. Take you to the back now, I take a shot for you.'

dRuNk - Zayn

-day one-

"You did not!" I gasped, before covering my mouth and stifling laughter. I was now sat at the bar, talking with the other drunk patrons around me. Nobody seemed to know who I was, which I was grateful for.

"Yes, ma'am," the man slurred beside me. He was telling me a story about when he got so drunk at his sister's wedding, that he stood up when they asked if anybody opposed of the marriage. He declared his love for her soon to be husband, actually, and caused such a ruckus, his sister called security on him. They haven't spoken since.

"Did you actually love him? You know, her husband? Or were you just drunk?" I asked curiously, resting my chin upon the palm of my hand.

"No, 'course not. I was just being an arse, trying to ruin her big day. She didn't even invite me to the wedding, you know? I had to seek her out for a fucking invitation. Son of a bitch. Or daughter of a bitch, I guess. Wait, though, my mum's not a bitch!"

I chuckled at the drunk man's rambling, taking a sip of the drink in front of me. I had a bloody mary, and wasn't too big of a fan of it. It was much too bitter for my liking, so I requested a fruitier drink. Thank goodness, I did. I've drained three of them so far.

"That's terrible," I hiccuped, covering my mouth and giggling, "Whoops, sorry! But I can't believe your sister didn't invite you to her wedding. I was supposed to have a wedding today, wait, it would be yesterday now, probably. But I ran away."

I smiled happily, completely forgetting that's information I should not be divulging.

"The princess of Talia was supposed to get married today, as well. Funny that!" The man laughed with me, "She ran away, though, can you believe it? A princess, running away from her home."

It finally sunk in what I just told him, and my eyes widened, "Oh yeah, how terrible! I can't believe it."

"Did you hear the reward of finding her is a million dollars? What I would give to be that person," he shook his head, and I smiled at the fact that he was, but he was too drunk to be aware of it.

"What does your tattoo mean?" I asked, changing the subject and pointing to the bird he had on his hand.

"It's a swallow," he grinned. "I'm a sailor, and you get the tattoo once you've traveled five thousand miles."

"That's incredible," I smiled. "I want a tattoo, but I don't know what I'd get."

"What's something that means a lot to you?" He questioned, and I hummed in thought.

"Freedom," I responded easily.

"Dove's represent freedom," he nodded, taking a swig of his mug of beer. "Or a butterfly."

I nodded, thinking about it. That's actually really helpful.

"Where'd you get yours done?" I questioned, nodding toward his hand.

"We have a special tattoo artist for ours, but I know a guy. I could take you to him, if you'd like?"

I thought about it, trying to decide if I actually needed a tattoo. I wanted one, I wanted one so badly. But my mother and father would be absolutely furious if they ever found out. Nobody in the royal family was supposed to have any body art, and I wasn't sure what would happen if I was ever found adorning it. I also wasn't sure if I had the money to spare.

But then I thought of what Harry said. He stated that if given the chance, I wouldn't get a tattoo. And I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to show him that he had no idea the kind of woman I am.