Regal [h.s au]

11. The art of hugging

HARRY

"C'est terrible!" (This is terrible!) Anton, the royal scheduler, exclaims, fanning himself. "It is impossible to make it on time!"

"Oh, that tickles." I chuckle nervously as I try to abstain from moving too much.

I am standing on a pedestal in one of the castle chambers with dozens of seamstresses swarming around me, taking last measurements considering the ball is tomorrow. Some of the servants are trying to clean the mess only for more items to get scattered around, Anton is having a panic attack considering my schedule is full with no time to take care of every single thing, and my trousers are so tight they are stuck in my posterior. In other words, this is a chaos.

But as a prince, I must endure these boring chaotic procedures for I have to look and behave impeccably every moment of my life. Being of royal blood has its perks for sure, but at a time like this, I cannot think of a single one.

Amelia suddenly enters the room, not even blinking as she takes in all the rushing people around me, giving me one of her bright grins. It's been almost two weeks since she became my adviser and when she walks into the room people tend to forget which one of us holds authority here.

"Your Highness." She sinks into a graceful curtsy. "Anton, sit down or you know another grey hair will appear. Mildred, you are choking the Prince with that measuring tape- no he does not need that puffy collar, you know that is so last century. You and you-" she snaps her fingers, pointing at two servants "-gather all that clothing because someone might fall, let's all remember what happened to Jeanette, she still can't chew solid food."

With each snap of her finger, everyone in the room obeys, the chaos slowly turning into an organised workplace. "Give me that, Anton." She takes the schedule from his hand, the scroll unfolding itself quickly, the ink filled paper reaching the floor. "He doesn't have his archery lessons today, it's his day off. The first forty-five things on the list are irrelevant." She tears the paper in two, causing Anton's eye to twitch.

"Cher Seigneur (Dear Lord), I am ruined!" Anton grabs his head. "His Highness cannot neglect his duties-"

"Suit fitting, speech practising, and dance lessons are enough for today, the Prince needs to be well rested for the King's and Queen's anniversary ball tomorrow," she says firmly as her eyes skim over the ripped paper, making Anton yelp.

"Deep breaths Anton, don't fret," I say amusedly, watching as he hyperventilates. "Go and rest, Lady Amelia is going to take care of my schedule, I trust her completely with it- ouch!" I jump up slightly as one of the seamstresses pokes me with a needle again.

"I am terribly sorry, your Highness, may the Lord strike me with lightning!" She exclaims, her pudgy hands grasping her face as the other seamstresses fan her with colourful cloths.

"No need to worry, I will find a way to sit on only one side of my derrière throughout the day," I say nervously, telepathically asking Amelia to help me. I've been standing here since six and now is well past eight o'clock.

"All right people, it is time for the Prince's special meeting, what's done is done." Amelia claps a few times. "Mildred I see you, put that measuring tape down."

"But there is no special meeting-" Anton starts.

"There is, see." She randomly points at the paper and drops it almost instantly, preventing him from reading it. "Now go." 

As soon as the little army leaves the room, I step down from the pedestal, a deep breath of relief being inhaled into my lungs, eyes focused on Amelia's grin. I suddenly step towards her, my arms enveloping her shoulders, making her body tense in surprise and my eyes widen as I realise what I've done. "Uh, thank you for your help."