His Queen - NIALL a.u.

Chapter 3

Niall's POV~

I entered the castle with a feeling of anxiety, Harold continued to walk behind me, whistling every now and then to kill the tension. The Princess surely hadn't figured out my lies, there was no possible way... unless Harold told her. My neck turned just enough so that I could catch a glimpse of his whistling figure behind me, his eyes peered over at me, his mouth still in the 'o' shape for whistling. For a second his mouths formation faltered into a smile, but then he turned his glance away from me and I was left again with a guilty feeling.

"No", I told myself. "Harold would never do that to me."

Harold was too much of a good family friend. He was the lad everyone could have a nice beer with, the one who laughed along with your stupidity, rather than judged it. When I was growing up, I remember he would tell me stories about how his dad and my grandfather would pick potatoes in a shared family garden. Our families had the greatest history of potato chips, believe it or not, but maybe that's how we came to work with royalty.

There's an urban legend my grandmum told me, yet she never was able to finish it before her passing.

"Niall sweet heart, why don't you let your little grandmum tell you a quick story then it's off t'bed!" Her sweet, thick Irish accent spoke with a playful but sincere love for her grandchild. "Yes grandmum, I love t'hear your stories."

"Come along now, sit on me lap, let me think..." He quietly climbed up on his grandmother's lap and sat in anticipation, he's eyes wide and staring at her facial complexion. "Did I ever tell you t'story of our potato farm?" He looked down at his fingers, before looking up and shaking his head once again. "No grandmum, tell me that story please."

"Oh alright... it started off like this." He watched her mouth move to the story, his mind collecting every word she said. "When I was just a wee younger than you my dear, I used to work out in the garden. Harold and I used to play among the growing potatoes, even pickin' a few here and there. We once picked out a whole basket full, taking them home t'our families. One time, your great great gran boiled them up so much, they turned into this crispy little thing... she even added a little salt top top them! Boy, did every lad in the land love them! The Queen herself, heard of what we all had done and sent a man of her's to come try one for himself. I still remember the day he came, he put one in his mouth and sent word to the Queen of pure delight! But now that I think about it, I-"

"Nan! Niall needs to get of't t'bed, he's still a growin' boy!"

"Oh alright, I'll tell you this later." She winked at him, carefully lifting him off of her lap.

The memory began to fade the more we walked within the castle's corridors. The view was familiar now, we were nearing the very ballroom in which I had first come in contact with the Princes. A gulp escaped my lips, but I quickly maintained my composure. Just a few more feet and my life would possibly be over...

"Ah, Prince Niall... lovely to see you again." The Princess exclaimed as soon as she had turned around to see Harold and I enter the ballroom's doors. "You as well m'lady, what is the pleasure that I owe to you?" I bowed casually, before looking back up into her eyes. She smiled at me, turning around and walking away in the process. What does that mean?

"I'd like to propose an offer to you."

Well that wasn't expected...

"Yes my Princess, what would that be?" You could hear the anxiety in my voice no matter how hard I tried to hide it, but the Princess didn't make it obvious that she knew. She encircled a chair before sitting down in it, her hands lightly clasped around a small hand-fan that she used to cool herself off with. Once she was in the chair, she turned to me, still fanning her face.

"How would you like to get married?"