emotional chapter ahead... beware xx
♕♕♕
They say all good things must come to an end eventually. I never really wanted to believe that, but reality is just that, reality, and sometimes you don't always get what you want. You have ups and you have downs and there are bumps in the road when you least expect them.
I decided on staying in London for a bit, avoiding my father as well as my duties. Finding out your father was, and probably still is, having people spy on you and your lover can put a real damper on a father-daughter relationship. There comes a point in a girl's life when the rebellious phase surfaces, apparently for me it's at the ripe 'ole age of twenty-six. Call me irresponsible to brush off everything in my life aside from my whirlwind romance, but this is something I deserve. There is some guilt that I took off without much of a word to anyone, but who can blame me. I can't help the positive mood I'm in nevertheless. The only way to mend a fractured heart is to eat, cry, and have sex, at least for my aching heart. Harry's been doing a wonderful job keeping me distracted, in more ways than one.
For instance, at this very moment we're seated in a nice bistro somewhere in the centre of London. Before today I don't think I'd ever been in a bistro, but I can't say I wasn't enjoying it. The food was delicious and the bistro itself quite beautiful. The space is quaint, filled with mahogany tables, dark wood chairs, and white leather booths. The interior, whilst dark in colour is rather inviting with the friendly faces of the staff and the accent wall behind me, lined with several flat-screen televisions to view sports games, the news, and even Peppa Pig.
"C'mon, try it!" Harry exclaims, holding his fork, with the dark, mushly looking food item on it, up to my pursed lips. I shake my head, practically shoving his hand away as I laugh obnoxiously loud. We can't help but to be that annoying, loud couple in the midst of a quiet and otherwise collected restaurant. "It's haggis; I can't believe you're British and you've never had haggis." He laughs, shaking his head. "It's not bad, I promise. See." With ease, he shovels the haggis that was on the end of his fork into his mouth, swallowing it happily.
"I believe you that it's not bad, but it looks absolutely disgusting." I turn my nose up at one of the breakfast foods Harry had chosen to order and then proceed to force me to try. I'm all for trying new things, but I have my limits when it comes to food items that looks like slop.
"Try it, for me, please." How do you say no to an overly attractive man giving you the best puppy-dog eyes the world has ever seen? Trick question, you don't.
"Fine. But if I vomit, you have to clean it up." With a roll of those precious emerald eyes, Harry lifts the fork back up to my mouth, offering the none too pleasing dish to my pallet. Like the baby I am when it comes to trying new foods, I shut my eyes and open my mouth, welcoming the haggis. The texture isn't something to write home about, but the flavour's not so bad.
"So? How is it?" I peek one eye open to see Harry smirking over at me.
"It wasn't awful; but it's also not that great." Harry smiles at my admittance, briefly hovering over his chair so that he can press a chaste kiss to my lips. He pulls away with an atta girl from those kissable lips before taking his seat again. I'm usually not one for PDA, but I almost wish his lips had been on mine longer. "I like you." I find myself saying, my cheeks heating immediately.
"I like you too, baby."
"No, I really, really like you." Harry's grin matches my own as I speak. My heart feels absolutely full and in the best way possible. If I could, I'd leave everything I've ever known, just to stay like this for the rest of my life. I'd give up the fortune, the status, my entire life for him, and if that's not the scariest yet best feeling ever I don't know what is.
"In that case, I really, really, really like you."
God, we really are that couple.
We spend the next twenty minutes sipping on mimosas and eating our food. The French toast Harry had ordered me was delightful, perhaps better than any French toast Jack has ever made my sisters and I growing up. And I won't deny that I stole a few bites of whatever it was that Harry had ordered himself, despite the texture of the dish.
"I feel bad that you're missing work today because of me."
"Nonsense." Harry shakes his and connects our hands on the top of the cleared table. "I'd much rather be here with you. Besides, I have a couple personal days saved up for occasions like this." It scares me how much I like Harry, those three relationship-changing words threatening to spill everytime he does something cute, say something cute, or just look so dåmn cute. "I have something to ask you." I swallow back the words I so desperately want to say and smile over at him; to others we must look like the most loved-up couple in here.
"You can ask me anything." You can even ask if I'm a princess, to which I may just spill my truth.
"Gemma and her husband are having this dinner party next week, well it's more like a small family gathering. And since I talk about you so much with her -"
"You talk about me with your sister?" I interrupt, clamping my mouth shut with an apologetic look on my face. Harry doesn't take it personally though, only smiling in return.
"Of course I do, you're my girlfriend." Again, Harry stands from his chair and kisses me sweetly, his hand cupping my bruised skin. I kiss him back before pushing him back into his chair. "Am I supposed to keep you a secret?" Harry smirks over at me and I don't bother hiding the playful roll of my eyes in his direction.
You're not supposed to keep me as a secret, but unfortunately, I do.
"As I was saying, they're having this gathering and I want to bring you with me." My heart thumps in my chest at a rapid pace. I feel so incredibly happy, but so angry with myself. "What do you say? Would you like to meet some of my family?"
I open my mouth to say yes, but find that no words come out when I do. I want more than anything to take this step with him, it's only natural with the amount of time we've known each other, but I can't do it. All the guilt of the last two months has finally caught up to me, either that or the breakfast we just ate isn't sitting well with me. I feel hot all of a sudden and my chest feels tight, like I can't breathe. My eyes immediately avert from Harry's as I slide my hand from his.
I can't keep lying to him. I can't meet his family under a false identity. He wants to introduce his family to Mary not Mabel, a princess not a solicitor, a truthful woman not a liar. I can't do that to him, to myself.
It's now or never, and I'd rather not have the guilt of my lies weighing on my chest for the rest of eternity.
"I'm so sorry, Harry." I can't bare to look up at him. If I see those soft eyes of his then surely I'll start to cry and I need to keep it together. The apology I've rehearsed so many times in my head now has it's time to shine, yet it doesn't come out; in fact I can't remember any of it. I usually excel at public speaking, yet now when I need to speak the most I simply cannot. "I can't keep doing this; I can't keep hurting you –"
"Oh my God." As much as I don't want to, I raise my eyes to look up at him despite being afraid to witness the hurt and anger, but I'm shocked to see he isn't looking at me. His low exclamation isn't in response to what I've said, but to something behind me. His gaze is trained over my shoulder and I find myself glancing back to see what he sees, but there's no one really there aside from a few patrons of the restaurant.
"What?" Why can't this be easy?
"The King of Weybridge is dead." I almost don't hear him at first, the words not registering in my brain as quickly as they usually would. I find myself wanting to laugh, thinking there's no way I can be hearing him correctly, that my mind is deceiving me.
"I'm sorry, it sounded like you said the King of Weybridge is dead, that can't be possible." I just saw my father yesterday, he most definitely cannot be dead, there's just no way. Harry's eyes scan back to me before ticking his head in the direction of behind me.
"The news, it says the King collapsed during a meeting with Parliament." Suddenly, it feels like I can't breathe as I realize that my brain isn't deceiving me, that he actually said those words. "Look." I don't want to turn around. I want this to not be happening. I want to be dreaming, no, having a nightmare. My hand subconsciously comes up to pinch the back of the arm, but I don't wake because I'm not sleeping.
I can already feel the overwhelming urge to scream and cry bubble up within me, but nothing comes of it as I slowly turn and gaze up at the multiple televisions across the side of the restaurant. They all mirror one another, playing the most popular news station in the London area.
My eyes take in the reporter standing outside Parliament, giving details to the news' stations hosts, the subtitles flashing across the bottom of the screen as her mouth moves but makes no sound.
Witnesses from within Parliament say that the King of Weybridge, King Hugh Armitage, seemingly collapsed during a meeting an hour ago. When emergency services arrived the king was taken to King Edward VII's Hospital, but would appear that it was already too late, the king passing at the age of 59.
"No." My words come out in a hushed whisper, the frog in my throat keeping me from screaming them. My hand trembles like my jaw as I raise it to cover my agape mouth, hoping to keep myself from making too big of a scene. "He can't be dead. I saw him yesterday. He was fine yesterday." The words tumble out of my mouth as I stand from my chair and approach the television screens. Despite the awful fight that resulted in hurt feelings and a bruised jaw, he is still my father and I do love him My eyes are welling with tears, making the televisions blur messily until it's just bright colours.
The king leaves behind a wife, Katherine Armitage-Winfield, and three daughters, Mabel, Gwendolyn, and Violet Armitage-Winfield. With the king now passed and the laws of their family, Katherine must step down as the queen, leaving eldest daughter, Mabel, to take the throne.
"No, no, no, this isn't happening." The words are rushed, but come out quiet, apparently not alarming anyone nearby. This is not how it's supposed to happen. I'm to take over the throne after my father dies of old age, not after something like this. I'm supposed to have years before I'm forced to worry over the throne. He's not even sixty; he can't be gone. A tear drips down my bruised cheek, reminding me of the events from yesterday and causing my mind to spiral.
What if we had not fought? Would my father still be alive? Is his death my fault?
"Mary, are you okay?" I jump when a hand comes in contact with my shoulder, but I don't dare pull my eyes from the television screens. "Hey, what's going on?" There's deep concern in his voice, but I can't bare to look at him now; in fact, I feel glued in this position. When I don't say anything nor do I move, Harry places his hands on my shoulders and turns me so he can look at me. "Talk to me, Mary. Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
I don't necessarily remember telling myself to go back to the table, but somehow I end up in my chair, eyes frozen down at the empty plate before me. In the back of my mind I know there's a protocol that I'm supposed to be following, but I'm too much in shook to do anything other than stare blankly whilst the world moves around me. I can vaguely hear Harry trying to talk to me, but his words do nothing to jolt me out of this trance I've been put in.
When a member of the royal family passes, there is strict protocol to be followed by the remaining family members, but even more so if you're next in line for the crown. There's protocols for expected and unexpected deaths, the thing there isn't a protocol for is when the next in line for the throne is MIA. I should be calling Niall, but I can't even blink so how am I supposed to find my phone.
I've never lost someone so close to me before. I lost my grandfather when I was ten, but I was young and we were never really that close so it didn't really affect me emotionally. My father and I, we have our differences in opinion and lately aren't getting along like we used to, but he's still my father, or was.
"Can I get some more water over here?" Harry shouting startles me from my frozen state, but only enough to now hearing a ringing in my ears over the sounds of the world around me. He begins to say my name a few times, waving his hand in front of my face too, but I don't even blink. The one thing that does draw me out of my coma-like state is the familiar face of Niall suddenly standing at the side of the table. Part of me thinks he's just a figment of my imagination, that is until Harry starts addressing him too.
It's hard to explain the role Niall plays in my life to Harry. In the beginning he was just a worrisome friend coming to check on his best mate, and then there was the fiasco where my identity was almost blown and the two met. Luckily, the only identity discovered that day was the one of Niall's true career path.
"What are you doing here? How did you even -"
"Not now." Niall's voice is gruff as he speaks to Harry, the pitch enough to carry through the ringing in my ears. "Mabel," he starts, crouching down next to me so that he can look up at my bowed head. The fact that he just used my real name doesn't register in me either; the name goes straight over my head, "we have to go."
"Why are you here?" Harry doesn't seem to register the fact that Niall called me by a different name either, or maybe he didn't hear it.
"I'm here to take her home. I don't have time to explain it you. C'mon Mabel, let's go." Niall grabs my arm gently, but with enough force to shake me from my stupur.
"Hey, don't touch her." Harry is on his feet in a matter of seconds, hand on Niall's shoulder. It's like I've finally gotten my voice and control over my body back as I stand to my feet so we're all standing. I ignore Harry, turning my attention straight to Niall.
"Is it true?" Perhaps this is all just some sick joke or a misunderstanding. Mistakes like broadcasting the news of the Queen's death have been made in the past, so it's possible. I know deep down that Niall wouldn't be here unless the worst had happened, so there's no doubt that the news was right. The look of remorse on Niall's pale face answers my question and immediately I'm a mess, leaving Harry completely out of the loop as I start to silently weep.
"What the fück is going on?"
"Look, the less you know the better, mate. I need you to sit down and relax." Niall orders my boyfriend, which of course has the opposite effect than his words intended. Niall turns to me and grabs my bag from the back of my chair. "Mabel, let's go. I have to get you out of here." His hand wraps firmly around my bicep as he tugs me towards the exit of the restaurant.
I can hear Harry shouting after us, but Niall is good at his job and gets us outside in a matter of seconds, leaving Harry in a cloud of dust. Three town-cars sit idly outside the restaurant with palace guards waiting at the doors for my arrival. Anyone who knows anything about the Royal Family of Weybridge can tell exactly who these cars and guards belong to. There's already a group of strangers huddled together on the pavement as palace guards hold them back. Once they see Niall guiding me out of the restaurant they go crazy with their smartphones. It's as if the dark wig atop my head, fake glasses on my face, and normal, cheap street clothes do nothing to disguise my true identity anymore. Up until now they did a swell job, but add in a couple of palace guards and a breaking news story and that disguise is immediately void.
"Mary!" I peer over my shoulder just as Niall is shoving me into the back of the middle town-car. Harry comes running outside the restaurant, chest rising and falling heavily as he watches me get put in the car. "What the fück is going on?" He aks, this time shouting at Niall as he rushes towards the car as if trying to save me from a kidnapping, which only alarms the other guards.
"Don't." Niall orders the advancing guards. They freeze in their places, following Niall's next instructions to get in the cars. The glass may be bulletproof, but it's not soundproof, so I can hear everything going on. "Mate, I'm gonna need you to walk away now." Harry looks absolutely astonished, looking down at Niall before into the car at me. I can see the confusion through the blurry tears in my eyes, but I don't make a move to get out of the car and explain myself; I simply sit frozen.
"No, what is going on? I want to see her." Harry tries to push his way closer to the car, but only gets a shove backwards in return. Niall squares up to Harry and even though Niall is shorter by a few inches he makes up for it in demeanor and confidence.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that."
"What are you talking about?" The anger on Harry's face breaks my heart even more than it already is, if possible. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from verbally sobbing out at the scene before me.
This wasn't how I pictured the truth coming out. None of this was supposed to happen. I was supposed to tell him in a private environment and let him ask as many questions as he wants, even allow him to yell, but this wasn't what I had in mind.
"Mary!"
"Her name isn't Mary!" Niall shouts back at Harry, toeing up to the taller man. A look of something flashes before Harry's eyes when he peers into the town-car at me, but I can't distinguish it, I don't want to. "Can't you see that? Put two and two together, mate." Now Harry is in a frozen state, much like mine. He doesn't move; hęll, I can't even tell if he's breathing. "Now I suggest you take a step back, before I make you." There's a moment where I think Niall may strike the confused man, but he doesn't. Harry continues to stare at me and I cower away, unable to look at him anymore, unable to look at the hurt on his features.
This is all my fault.
♕♕♕
make sure to let me know what you think, share with your friends, and leave a cheeky vote xx