The Prince's Secret (Prince Harry Fanfic)

Part 2 - "To Harry and Meg!"

Samantha Walden

I didn't really come to London with a plan.

My dad was kind of upset about my lack of direction, since he was partially bankrolling my adventure. I only knew I was not ready to apply to grad school. I had no idea what I was going to do with my degree in textile arts, other than make strange-looking clothes. When a late-night internet search informed me I could get a UK working visa that would let me stay for two years, I just thought why the hell not?

I didn't really think I would stay that long. A year, maybe. I was just going to take my time, find some kind of work, and see what happened. Maybe I could sell some of my weird clothing on the streets. Not many people in Vancouver wanted to wear my odd boho creations that were pieced together from old velvet curtains, antique lace, and thrifted bits of ribbon.

Luckily for me, Dad had a friend who knew somebody who was going out of the country for a year and was willing to let me rent her Notting Hill flat for a reasonable price. I didn't realize at the time what a great deal this was but I was happy to settle into the white-walled, minimally furnished place, promising to keep her plants alive until she returned.

I am not great with plants, so I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

I am good with horses, and within a week I chatted up a lovely lady who was a riding instructor at one of the riding schools in the area. A few days later she offered me a part-time job mucking out stalls. It wasn't a great job, but it was better than waiting tables, and the horses didn't care what I was wearing.

Soon my days soon fell into a kind of routine. Stalls in the early morning, a quick lunch, and maybe back at the riding school in the afternoon to saddle up for lessons and rides. Back to the flat in the evening for some sewing and on days off I traveled around, visiting museums and manor houses and pubs and boot sales and anything else that caught my fancy. I quickly made a few friends among the other girls working at the riding school and then I had company in the evenings and on my jaunts.

I sat in the neighborhood pub one evening with my new best friend Randa, having a few drinks after a long day of boosting school children and tourists up onto horses. Over Randa's shoulder I kept seeing the same video footage playing over and over—a smiling young couple standing in a garden.

"What's up with those two?" I asked, gesturing with my glass.

Randa turned to look and squealed with delight. "It's Prince Harry and Meg Moran. They're finally engaged!"

"Should I be excited?" I asked.

"Oh, it's been a big deal for months now. Everyone was wondering when he would pop the question—don't you know?"

I shook my head. "Sorry. Canada may be a Commonwealth country but most of us don't give a crap about the royals."

Randa laughed. "Well, you'd better get used to it. There'll be a royal wedding in the spring and it will be a very, very big deal. I want to go and watch the procession, wave a flag, and get roaring drunk. And you can come with me!"

I shrugged. "Sure, if you want me to."

"Are you kidding? You can't go back to Vancouver and tell them you ignored the royal wedding when it takes place practically in your front garden."

I didn't think most of my Vancouver friends would particularly care, but if Randa was so excited, why not? I was there to experience things, wasn't I? And royal weddings don't happen very often.

"Okay then," I said, lifting my glass. "To Harry and Meg!"

"To Harry and Meg!" she echoed, and the cheer was taken up by others in the pub.

"To Harry and Meg!"