Prince in the City [Harry Styles AU]

Chapter 1

HELLO, FRIENDS!

I'm so excited for this story! It's been a while since I've written an actual Harry Styles fan fiction, whether it be an AU or not. H has always had a special place in my heart, and I absolutely adore him so much so I figured I'd take all my lovely feelings for him and channel them into writing a fic about this sweetie. It's a work in progress and I've got some chapters already written, so it should be fun!

I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I've so far enjoyed writing it. It's strange writing Harry as a person who's "famous" but not in the sense of being in the music/acting industry. He's a prince of a country, but I'm gonna play around with the realistic-ness of it all. By that I mean I don't want his celebrity to be the obstacle/point of this story. If you don't get what that means, it's probably my fault because I don't even know how to properly word it. Just read on, and you'll get the hang of it! I promise it'll all make sense!

Without further ado, here is the first chapter of Prince In The City!

Harry's point of views are labeled as Prince's POV and our main girl's point of view (whose name you'll find out in the second chapter) is labeled as City Girl's POV.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 1

Prince's POV:

"Come on, H—a prince should know no elbows on the table."

Despite the teasing tone in my older sister's murmur, I sat up in my cushioned seat and dropped my elbow from the table, lips thinning out as I tried to refocus my attention on the plate of food in front of me. The untouched eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes stared back at me, looking delicious as always, even if I wasn't in the mood to eat. My head nursed a dull ache, remnants of a hangover thudding through my temples, as I had been using my fingers to gently rub at them. Fortunately, it had only been my sister to remind me of proper table etiquette—had it been my mother, I'd receive an earful.

However, the hangover was partially my mother's fault, if I was being honest. Had it not been one of her many galas that had been hosted last night, and forcing me to entertain some of the daughters of noblemen in presence. The alcohol I had consumed was to merely make the whole thing more bearable, if I was being honest. For young women who were said to be soft spoken, they could talk quite a lot. Not that I'd make a comment on that—it'd be terribly rude of me to do so, and unnecessarily hurting someone's feelings was something I just couldn't do, even if I wasn't part of the Royal Family.

Shooting my sister a grateful smile, I picked up my fork in time for my mother, sitting on one end of the terribly long table, spoke up, "How was last night, Harry? Did you get along with any of the noblemen's daughters?"

I suppressed a sigh, catching sight of my sister, Gemma, smirk knowingly into her glass of orange juice. "It was fine," I told Mum vaguely, breaking off a piece of a pancake. "They were all quite. . . Loquacious."

Gemma covered her laugh with a cough, prompting my own lips to tug slightly as I chewed on the pancake. Mum pressed, "Anyone in particular catch your eye?"

Before I could respond to further the same conversation we had over and over again, my father thankfully cut in from the other end of the table. "Leave the boy to it, Anne," he said, fortunately getting me out of the conversation. "You're always trying to get him to involved with some lord or nobleman's daughter, and it never works out. He's twenty-three, let him have his own fun."