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Niall loved spending afternoons on the castle balcony. Looking out from the marbled parapet, he could see Irelandia stretched out before him. It boggled the mind to think that one day, he would rule over the rolling hills, quaint cottages, stone quarries, and crashing seas. It was a task that seemed most daunting. He would feel less nervous if there were someone by his side...
Gentle steps sounded behind him.
“Niall, darling.” It was his mother, Queen Perrie. Even in age she had not lost her grace, which caused men half her age to swoon before her. Her carriage was regal, her manner soft. Her voice carried the wisdom of a woman who had seen and loved many.
Niall bowed. “Mother darling.”
Perrie stepped forward, leaning her elbow on the balcony. “Amazing, isn’t it. I never imagined Irelandia could be so beautiful when I first married your father.” She smiled softly at the memory of the day she first arrived in a golden carriage from Brittania twenty some years ago, to be married to a prince whose beauty she had only heard of from afar.
“Your father and I hope you’ll find someone at the ball who will make you just as happy.”
Niall swallowed. Why did those words make him wince so? “Erm, yes, mother. In a fortnight’s time.”
“Yes, a fortnight. You’d better prepare your dancing, now.” With those words, Perrie floated away.
****
“Hyah!” Niall felt the muscles of the chestnut mare tighten beneath his legs as the pace picked up to a quick trot. Riding always cleared his mind, leaving him only to focus on the terrain of the land, and the steady pace of the animal beneath him. But what was he trying to run away from? The ball was not news to him. This was how royalty found each other and maintained the purity of the royal bloodlines. But it all felt so cheap, so false, so confining.
“Hyah!” Niall rode faster. Through the thicket and round again, leaping over logs and sidestepping around creeks. Far off, he heard the church bells strike four. Time to go get cleaned up for supper. He brought his mare to a slow walk as he headed toward the stables.
The stable-hand took his reins from him. “M’lord,” he nodded shyly. Harry was around Niall’s age, but their upbringings could not be more different. Niall remembered that Harry was orphaned at an early age, and sent to work in the stables by the family who had taken him in. They had grown up together, Harry first apprenticing with the current stable-hand and then stepping into the position himself.
Harry’s soft brown curls fell over his green eyes as he undid the saddle from Niall’s horse. “You’ve been riding a lot today, m’lord.”
“I got a lot on my mind,” Niall replied. He could always talk to Harry about anything and trust that the quiet stable-hand would not tell a soul. He liked that about Harry.
“About the food shortage, m’lord?”
Niall turned his head. “Food shortage?” It was certainly nothing that he had heard of, his meals never lacking in their splendor.
“Em, yes, m’lord. The crops aren't doin’ too good this year. There’s some families that don’t eat as good as ol’ Firebird here,” Harry fed the mare a carrot.
Niall was deep in thought. “You’re very attentive, Harry.”
Harry smiled bashfully. “I keep up, y’know. Read the papers and such. Listen to what they’re sayin’ when I go into town.” He patted Firebird and led her into her stable.
Niall smiled. “That’s good. The kingdom needs more men like you.”
The supper bell rang. Harry bowed.
“Have a good supper, m’lord.”
****
“Niall, you aren’t eating,” King Zayn reprimanded from the head of the table.
Niall picked at his stew. He looked at the display of roasted quail, shepherd’s pie, and myriad delicacies stretched before him. Harry’s words from the afternoon rang in his head. Some families don’t eat as good as ol’ Firebird here...
“Niall,” Perrie insisted, “Chef Liam made a special recipe just for you. He’s trying it out for the ball. Please, taste it.”
Niall brought a spoonful of stew up to his mouth. Liam had outdone himself as usual. “Delicious,” he said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. Liam, who was standing by the door, beamed. But Niall kept on staring at the quail before him.
“Father, what happens to the food after it leaves the table?” he asked.
Zayn arched a perfect eyebrow. “I don’t know, son.”
“I was thinking,” Niall said hesitantly, “We could take it out back and send it to the poorhouses. You know, ‘cause of the food shortage and everything.” He poked at the shepherd’s pie in front of him.
Perrie looked at Niall with an encouraging smile. “Then it shall be so.”
****
“Y’know, this bloke Niall’s not too bad,” Liam said, covering up the last of the night’s leftovers, “We used to throw out perfectly good leftovers and now he’s all gone and given it to the poor.”
“Prince Niall, Liam. They’d gut you if they ever heard you speak of the Prince like that.” Harry lay back on a sack of flour, eating an orange. Liam was his closest friend in the castle. Harry would always come by and keep Liam company after hours, intrigued by Liam’s tales of the royal family. Plus, Liam would sneak him extra food every now and then. “And he did what now?”
“The Prince, Harry, decreed at dinner time that all royal leftovers should now go to the poorhouses. Something about a food shortage…” Liam loaded all the leftovers onto a cart for the footman, Ed, to send out in the morning.
Harry looked thoughtful. “Hmm, a food shortage, you say…” He fell quiet and a pleased look momentarily flitted across his face. Niall had taken his advice. Niall had listened to him seriously and thought that Harry had something worthwhile to say. Perhaps next time Harry could suggest...
“And he liked my stew too! Oh, I’m going to whip up something legendary for this ball!” Liam was beside himself, happily measuring out the flour for the next morning’s bread. “That’s a lucky lady who will land the Prince’s heart.”
The pleased looked disappeared from Harry’s face. Right. He and Niall were still worlds apart, Niall destined to share his life with a princess and Harry destined to share his life with… old Brigida the three legged mare?
“Oi, what’s that over there!” Liam put down his measuring cup and pointed into the doorway of the pantry. Harry broke his train of thought and squinted.
“What the--?”
Something blue and pale pink was shimmering in the doorway of the pantry. It was about the size of a globe, and it emitted little bursts of light every now and then. Harry could have sworn he heard the tinkling of small bells.
Harry rubbed his eyes. “Liam, are you seeing--”
And just like that, it disappeared.
“Oi, I must be seeing things.” Harry hopped off the sack of flour. “I’m gonna turn in, mate. Got an early morning tomorrow.”
****
Harry could not stop himself from watching Niall’s equestrian exercises the next day. Liam was right, Niall was not bad at all. The sunlight glinted off his blonde tips and seemed to follow his body around as he handled the horse with ease. Laughing, whispering to the horse, giving the horse just the right amount of encouragement. And slowly squeezing the horse with his thighs to urge it on. Niall was spirited while regal - a good combination, Harry thought to himself, before realizing that he had bridles to polish.
Niall came back from the ride, cheeks flushed red. “Good day, Harry.”
Harry nodded. “G’day, m’lord.” Then, unable to stop himself, he blurted out, “Liam told me about the leftovers.”
Niall grinned, “He did? That Liam. It was a good idea, mate. Hopefully it helps.”
“Well, maybe for a while, m’lord.” Stupid! Harry had once again spoken without thinking. What was he doing, challenging the Prince’s decisions?
Niall looked concerned, “What do you mean?”
Harry shook his head, “I meant nothing by it, I didn’t mean t’ speak out of turn.”
“No, go on, I want to know what will help my people,” Niall pressed. Harry could tell by the intense look in Niall’s blue eyes that Niall was being sincere.
“Well,” he started hesitantly, “Part of our food shortage is the deficit in trade, you see, ‘cos of the embargo with the East. But I think if you were able to negotiate with them, some how, maybe that would help. And then there’s also the wealthy families to the north controllin’ the lands and makin’ it hard for the small farmers to grow food…” Harry trailed off. He had never said this much to the Prince before. But Niall seemed interested in what Harry had to say.
“Harry,” Niall said, after spending a few minutes deep in thought, “Would you like to advise me?”
Harry’s mouth fell open, stunned. “Me, my lord?”
“Yes, just for a few hours a week about the things you read and hear. It’s high time I learned something about governance, and less about dancing for the royal ball.” Niall mimed a very bad minuet.
Harry laughed. “As you wish, my lord,” he replied shyly.
Niall placed a hand on Harry. “Good. 1 o’clock tomorrow, I’ll meet you here.” Niall walked off, once again mindful of the supper bell.
Harry stood, frozen to his spot for a few moments. It didn’t seem real. Prince Niall, asking him for advice? Harry could feel the warm touch of Niall’s hand linger on his arm. That pleased look flitted across his face again.
****
“How are things with the Prince?” Liam asked, taking half-eaten sandwiches out of a picnic basket. No one in the castle knew about Niall’s advising sessions with Harry except Liam, who Niall had instructed to pack a picnic lunch for each session.
Harry leaned back on his sack of flour. “Good, Liam, it’s good.” Niall had showed up every other day promptly at 1 o’clock, and they would ride to the creek and eat the best sandwiches that Harry had ever eaten, while Harry updated him on news from the kingdom. But pretty soon their conversation would wander to other things. Harry still remembered that one day when, lying next to each other in the grass, Niall had reached over and ever so gently tapped the silver horseshoe charm that Harry wore on a chain around his chest.
“What’s that about?” Niall had asked.
“Erm,” Harry replied, fiddling with the charm. “It belonged to my parents. It was one of the few things I have of theirs.” He had never told anyone about the charm before. No one had asked.
He turned over and smiled into Niall’s eyes, which were fixed on him. “I wear it for luck.”
Niall had nodded in understanding. They returned to the stables in silence, a new bond of trust formed between them.
Thinking back to that memory, Harry closed his eyes. He could still feel the warmth of that day and the smell of the grass.
“He’s absolutely amazing,” he murmured.
Liam gave his friend a pitying look. “Don’t get too involved now, the Prince would never be with a bloke like you. The ball is tomorrow, for crissakes.”
Would he though? Harry remembered Niall shaking his head, confiding to Harry, “I don’t know the point of this royal ball. It’s not how you find someone, you know, that you actually want to spend your life with.” His blue eyes had caught Harry’s green eyes, for a moment.
Then Niall turned away and laughed, “But I guess it’s my royal duty!”. And that was that.
“You’re right, Liam.” Harry twisted his lip in sadness.
Just then, both Harry and Liam heard the sound of tinkling bells again. Taken aback, they turned toward the pantry. The orb had reappeared and it was larger now, almost the size of a human being. It glowed pink and blue and was shooting out beams of light with greater intensity. The tinkling grew louder until a large flash of light momentarily blinded Liam and Harry and threw them on the floor. When they could see again, a figure emerged among the aura. He was compact and pert, with an upturned nose, kittenish eyes and perfectly coiffed hair, dressed in a loose fitting shirt, tight pink riding pants, and pointed blue boots. He raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the room from his cross-legged perch atop a levitating pumpkin.
“Bibbidy, bobbidy, boo-hoo,” he said pertly.
****
Liam was speechless. Harry waved a hand in front of his eyes, testing his vision. “Who… are you?” he asked.
The figure pursed his lips in indignation. “Who am I? I’m your fairy godfather, that’s who. But you can call me Louis for short.”
Liam looked quizzical. “Fairy… godfather?”
Louis rolled his eyes and stepped down from the pumpkin. “Listen, if we’re going to get loverboy here ready for the ball, you two need to stop asking questions and horsing around. Heh.” He laughed tinnily at his own joke.
Harry’s eyes widened. “...Ball?” he asked.
Louis rolled his eyes again. “Yes, ball. Listen. You like him. He likes you. I was sent to make sure you two get to kiss each other, and then some. OK then?”
“Uh…”
Louis waved his wand, a glittery riding crop that had appeared out of thin air. “Alright ladies, let’s see it. Clothes, Caroline!”
A woman dressed in a clinging gown and cape also stepped out of thin air. “Oh my my my. You are adorable,” she purred. “Now Louis, here are our options.” She waved open her cape.
Louis put a hand to his chin in thought. “Hmmm, not that one. So last season. Oh, but all the girls will be wearing that. Ah yes, well that’s the one.” He tapped his wand happily. “Thank you Caroline!”
Caroline disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.
“Um,” Harry cleared his throat, finally daring to speak, “that’s a dress.”
Louis looked at him with a bored expression. “I know. Do you think they’re gonna let a bloke like you dance with the Prince? No, no. We’ll have to do some work.” He held up the dress next to Harry. It was made of alternating panels of emerald colored velvet and silk, with black embroidery on the panels and black lace at the edges. Long black gloves completed the look.
“It goes with your eyes,” Louis grinned with self-satisfaction. “Now, watch and learn.”
Louis waved his wand three times. “Bibbidy, bobbidy, boo!”
Harry watched in amazement as his entire body was cocooned in a glow of warm golden light. Slowly, his stable-hand’s boots transformed into delicate black sandals, his patched and stained pants into a full and billowing skirt, and his work shirt into a corseted bodice with swooping sleeves and a low-cut neckline. Oh, and he blushed to see, he was now filling out the dress a little differently. His hips a little wider, his waist a little narrower, and his chest...
Louis smirked. “Those are on loan until midnight tomorrow night. What I like to call, midnight mammaries.”
Harry turned stiffly in his heels. It felt strange, certainly, but he wanted so much to see Niall...
Louis waved his wand again. “Lou! Hair and makeup!” A waiflike girl with silver hair appeared next to Louis. Raising his hand to his head, Harry realized that his chestnut curls had now grown until they were waist length.
Lou circled Harry with a mirror and a brush. “Oh yes, this will be fun. Hey, what’s this?” She picked up Harry’s horseshoe charm, which was still around his neck.
“Hey, I’m keeping that,” Harry insisted rather forcefully.
“Oh, no worries child.” Lou trilled. “We can use it in your hair. Now, let’s get out of the kitchen. This is going to take a while.” Placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, she turned toward the back exit.
Liam, who had been watching all this time dumbfounded, finally mustered the courage to speak. “Um, Harry. Can I touch them?”
Louis gave Liam a sidelong look.
****
Niall was in a particularly glum mood the day of the ball, though one would never tell as he stood tall in his double-breasted white jacket with gold buttons across the front. He had tried to find Harry earlier in the day to shake off some of his nerves, but no one in the stables had seen Harry.
“Probably taking old Brigida in to see the doctor,” they had told him. The old dappled gray mare had also gone missing.
Not even the antics of Grimshaw, the court jester, could cheer Niall up. Niall sat stone faced as Grimmy did impressions of everyone in the royal court. His mood improved vaguely in the receiving line, but that was only because King Zayn had nudged him and shot him a stern look.
Two of the nobles in the receiving line were especially insufferable. Niall had recognized them right away as Maxella Georgine and Natasha, sisters from the vaunted Wonted family. They were an old family, and carried themselves as if they owned everyone around them. Everyone except for the royal family of course, but Maxella Georgine and Natasha were determined to weasel their way into becoming royalty.
Niall made a face when he leaned in to kiss their hands. Maxella Georgine had taken the opportunity to slip him a rather suggestive note which he read once, and then tossed aside in disgust.
Niall spent most of the night by the banquet table, helping himself to pate and punch. He’d better pace himself though, the punch Liam made was strong. At some point in the evening, Queen Perrie sauntered over.
“Darling, do try to enjoy yourself,” she breathed. “It seems like the Wonted sisters have taken a liking to you. They’ve been asking after you all night.”
“I don’t want to dance with Maxella and Natasha,” he replied crossly. “I find them… wanting.”
During a brief intermission, Niall stepped out for air. The night was dragging on, much like his feet whenever someone asked him to dance. He could feel the weight of every eye fixed on him in the room, the whispers about who he was going to choose as his wife. It was too much.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in there dancing, my lord?” Liam interrupted his thoughts. He was outside as well, taking a break from his frantic kitchen duties.
Niall sighed. “No one I want to dance with.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Liam shrugged knowingly. “I’m sure the right person will show up.” He looked toward the entrance stairs of the castle, and Niall followed his gaze.
And there she was.
****
Harry slowly stepped out of the carriage, which had been Louis’ pumpkin just a few minutes before. He was starting to get accustomed to walking in heels. Lou had been good enough to even teach him a few dance steps (“You just lean on the man and follow, really,” she giggled). He handed the reins of old Brigida, who had been transformed into a silver stallion, to the footman and made his way up the stairs.
He could feel his heart pounding in his very exposed chest. But there was no turning back now, not after all the effort Louis, Caroline, and Lou had expended. Taking a deep breath, he saw Liam at the top of the stairs. Winking at him. And then Niall, dear Niall looking more handsome tonight than he ever had before.
Harry gingerly placed one foot in front of the other, and, carrying the train of his gown with his gloved hands, ascended the stairs. Niall watched eagerly as Harry’s chestnut hair, now gathered and braided into an elegant updo adorned with the chain with the horseshoe charm, came into view. At the top of the stairs, theirs eyes met. Niall held out a hand.
She was so familiar, Niall thought. Smiling for the first time that evening, he led her on his arm into the ball.
Murmurs shot through the crowd at the arrival of this mysterious beauty. Simon, the butler, approached.
“May I announce you, my dear?”
Harry blinked nervously.
“Your name,” Simon prodded.
“Oh, um,” Harry cleared his throat, trying to round out the rough edges in his voice. “S-s-sherry. Sherry de Stijl.”
Simon arched an eyebrow. “Very well. Sherry of the house de Stijl.”
The orchestra began playing the waltz, and Niall held out a hand to Harry.
“Sherry, may I have this dance?”
Harry’s bashful smile was made all the more coquettish by the loads of mascara that Lou had caked onto his lashes. He nodded.
Pressing Harry into his chest, Niall began waltzing Harry through the ballroom. The crowd parted and watched as Harry and Niall twirled through the room, eyes fixed on no one but each other. Maxella Georgine and Natasha sipped their punch dourly, and gossiped amongst themselves.
“Ugh, who does she think she is?” Maxella Georgine sneered.
“A nobody. I’ve never seen her before at any notable function.” Natasha squeaked.
But Niall and Harry couldn’t hear the din of the crowd. They danced silently, unable to keep their eyes off of each other. Every now and then, Harry would step on Niall’s toes and blush at his clumsiness. Niall smiled. He found it endearing.
After 5 dances, Harry was starting to find it increasingly difficult to dance in high heels.
“Um, do you mind if we take a break, my Prince?” Harry said shyly.
Niall shook his head in embarrassment. “Of course! I should have offered you some punch.” He looked toward the banquet table and saw the Wonted sisters stationed there, ready to pounce. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Liam gesturing with a tray near the corner of the ballroom. “Come with me.” He grabbed Harry’s hand.
****
Liam left them alone in the garden with the glasses of punch. Harry looked around him. He had never been to this part of the castle before. It was full of fragrant shrubs and marble statues. The moonlight shone through the foliage and made dancing shadows on the statues. Soft strains of orchestral music from the ball echoed in the background. Niall had walked with him until they had reached a bench by the stream. Harry was happy to finally sit down, and not have to walk any more in the shoes that were killing his feet.
“Um, so, Lady de Stijl,” Niall tried to make conversation. “I haven’t seen you around these parts before.”
“Oh, um, just in town visiting a cousin,” Harry sipped his punch nervously.
“Oh? What does your family do?” Niall asked gently.
“Um, salt mines,” Harry replied quickly. Another one of his stupid answers - he and Niall had just been discussing the economics of salt mines a few days ago.
Niall tilted his head. “You know, I know a bit about that. But I guess that’s not very romantic conversation.”
Harry laughed. “I don’t mind. I have a passing interest in the family business.”
Niall was looking at Harry again intently. Why did Sherry seem so familiar to him? It seemed like everything he could say to Sherry he had already said. “Salt mines… Salty Sherry…” he mused fancifully, the fourth glass of punch that evening starting to make him woozy.
Harry looked at Niall questioningly. He wondered if Niall could see him, Harry, underneath the layers of makeup and the green velvet dress. He wondered if Niall would like him for him, and not when he was just beautiful, dolled up, and… a girl. He wondered if he wanted Niall to see him, or if he could only declare his feelings for Niall while wearing a disguise.
What Niall could see was Sherry’s clear green eyes, rimmed with thick lashes, and Sherry’s wide pink lips which stretched so easily into a smile. They reminded him so much of someone he knew. Someone he had not seen today.
“Harry,” Niall murmured, drunkenly leaning in to kiss Harry.
And Harry welcomed his kiss, which was soft, a little wet, and a little off the mark due to Niall’s inebriated state. Still, it felt so good to know that Niall had seen through the costume. Had seen him. Harry kissed back slowly, savoring the moment with Niall. Niall placed one hand in Harry’s hair and the other around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer. Harry leaned in closer, his hand gently landing on Niall's thigh.
And then the bell rang.
Midnight! Harry leapt up with a start. He could feel his shoes turning back into his boots again. All the better, because he had to run. Carrying his diminishing dress in his hands, he ran through the garden as his curls returned to normal and his extravagant gown slowly melted into his everyday clothes.
“Wait! Sh-Harry!” Niall yelled. He chased after Harry, but Harry was too fast and had disappeared into the night. In his haste, Niall tripped on one of the rocks in the garden and found himself face flat on the ground. As he looked up in a daze, he saw something small and silver glinting in front of him.
****
Harry awoke in a bed of hay with his head and his feet throbbing. A pumpkin lay beside his left hand, Brigida calmly chewing hay on his right. That had been a horrible idea. He had to leave the castle, immediately. There was no other foreseeable choice. Either Niall did not know that Harry had been the mysterious beauty at the ball, and Harry would have to live out the rest of his stable-hand days in secret pining, or Niall did know and who knows what the royal family would do to him, a commoner, for daring to crash the royal ball in disguise. No. He knew a tradesman in Brittania. He would spend the last of his silver to buy passage on a ship and sail away toward a new life.
An hour later, Harry had gathered his belongings in a neat knapsack and had cleaned off the dirt from last night. He looked at the castle in the distance. Memories of days spent by the creek flashed through his head. He couldn't leave without saying goodbye. So he steeled himself and made his way towards the castle, for only the second time in his life.
****
Niall was writing in his study, a missive to the King of Tristania about acquiring some salt mines, when Simon interrupted.
"The stable-hand is here to see you, my Lord. Said it was important."
Niall looked up. His eyes danced. "Send him in."
Harry walked in, his eyes nervously scanning the floor. He couldn't look Niall in the face. "My lord."
"Harry," Niall nodded. Simon left and closed the door.
"My lord, I have come to tell you that I must take my leave of Irelandia. I thank you for your generosity to me. I think you will make a fine King. Good bye." With that, Harry turned to leave.
Niall reached in his desk drawer. "Wait! Come here. I think I have something of yours."
Harry turned around, and his eyes grew wide when he saw what Niall was holding. The horseshoe charm, hanging on a chain. It must have fallen out of his hair when he ran away from the garden.
"I, um, think you left your 'shoe at the ball, Lady de Stijl or shall I say Mr. Styles."
Harry was absolutely mortified. He couldn't think of anything to say. He fell down on his knees and bowed his head. "Please, my Lord, forgive me," he stuttered.
Niall walked over to Harry, and got down on one knee before him. He lifted Harry's chin in his hands.
"There's nothing to forgive," he whispered. He took the chain and placed it gently around Harry's neck. "I found the one I was looking for at the ball. Stay here. Be the person by my side."
Harry lifted his head and looked at Niall's blue eyes. He threw his arms around Niall and kissed him in relief.
****
Harry had never slept in a royal bed before. Or... done other things in one. Niall rolled over and leaned his head on his chest.
"Hey," Niall said, absentmindedly stroking Harry's chest, "these are different."
Harry laughed sheepishly. "I was uh, under a spell."
Niall looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Any chance of those ever coming back?"
"Never."
Outside the window, in the shady canopy of a tree, Louis and his two helpers smiled.