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Chapter Text

Prolog

If half the people who ran their mouths in the tabloids about her and her opinion on pregnancy had been pregnant themselves, they would undoubtedly talk differently. Maybe then they would realise that even if pregnancy was displayed as all sunshine and the best thing to happen to a wife, it actually wasn't. And even if pregnancy itself wasn't difficult, in the end, there was still the birth. 

The reward for nine months of bloody hormones, morning sickness, swollen feet and whatnot was pushing out a human being the size and weight of a small watermelon through one's vagina. It was about as much fun as it sounded and fucking painful too. But woe betide a woman who admitted that pregnancy and birth were not her favourite pastimes in the world.

Anne wished half the men had to go through that at least once as another contraction took hold of her. Taking in slow and deep breaths, Anne gripped the book in her hands tighter, but this was a bad one and lasted fucking forever. Throwing the book aside, she grabbed the cushions on the sofa tightly until the contraction finally began to lessen. The last few contractions had been too close together for her likening. Whether Anne wanted to or not, she would give birth today, and she would definitely do so in a hospital and not at St. James Palace.

"Bloody hell, you better not make this even more difficult than it already is, or I'll give you an embarrassing middle name!" Anne murmured towards her belly as she waddled her way towards the desk and the phone to call her driver and lady in waiting. 

Her next call was to Gatcomb, and Anne wasn't surprised when their housekeeper, Julia, answered the phone. 

"Hello Julia, is Mark around?"

"Hello, Ma'am, no Mr. Philips left two hours ago," Julia answered, and this time, it was Anne's heart that clenched painfully. She silenced the voices in her head as quickly as they appeared; Mark wouldn't; he knew she could have the baby any day now; he had only gone to Gatcomb to check on his new horse. He was probably just doing some work on the farm. But there was still a tiny voice in her head telling Anne she was just lying to herself; this voice accompanied her for years now and kept telling her she knew exactly what her husband was doing. 

Anne did not want to ask, fearing the voice would be correct again, but she still did.

"Did he tell you where he was going?" Anne asked against better knowledge when she felt another contraction coming.

"No, Ma'am, he did not. Do you want me to try and get a hold of him?" Julia asked, but it took Anne a moment to answer through the contraction. The pain only partly worked as a distraction from what her housekeeper had said.

"Yes, tell him to get to St. Mary's Hospital quick. His child decided today is the day, and he better be there." 

"Oh! I'll do my very best to reach Mr. Philips, Ma'am. All the strength and luck to you, Ma'am. I'll pray for an easy birth and your well-being." Julia told her, she really was a blessing. Anne knew she would do everything in her power to get to Mark, and if she weren't in such pain, she would tell Julia a heartfelt thanks and that her kind and honest words were appreciated. At least Anne knew in the end that their personal staff was more devoted to her, not Mark since he was mostly indifferent towards them. 

But at that moment, Anne only managed to utter a quick thanks before slamming the handset down, groaning in pain. While Anne tried to breathe through the pain, her mind wandered back to her husband, back to the doubt. If he was fucking another woman while she was in labour with his child, Anne honestly didn't know if their marriage, hell, if their relationship, could survive that. 

There always came a point of no return, and if Mark was indeed such a stupid bastard, then Anne had reached hers. 

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and Fiona, her lady-in-waiting, walked inside.

"Ma'am, your bag has been put in the car, which is now ready to take you to the hospital." 

"Let's go then." Anne simply replied and made her way over to Fiona, only to abruptly stop beside the other woman as her water broke. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Almost six hours later, Anne was ready to tear the damn hospital room apart. She was exhausted, in pain, and she desperately wanted that baby out of her right fucking now. On top of that, her useless excuse of a husband was nowhere to be found; six fucking hours, and he was still not here. Nobody knew where he was. Fiona had spent the last few hours trying to find Mark, calling everyone who might know where he was, but with no success. 

She had thought that she couldn't think any less of him but that he was actually missing the birth of his own child. Even Anne hadn't thought he could stoop that low. She had never regretted marrying Mark as much as in that moment; the only positive from their six years of marriage was Peter and the baby. Anne had never thought it possible for Mark to hurt her this much, having thought his affairs were the worst he could do. 

As she entered the final stage of labour, Anne called for Fiona one last time to ask if she had reached Mark. Her companion of nearly ten years couldn't look Anne in the eyes as she answered. 

"Yes, he called back. He said he will be on his way soon but can't tell when he will be here." Anne couldn't believe what she heard. He would be on his way soon? Did he care so little about her and their child? Whatever their problems were, she had never imagined he would just not care about his child. He wasn't a bad father to Peter, so why?

"Get out!" Anne told Fiona through teeth clenched in pain from the latest contraction. Anne was never deliberately rude to her staff, and she didn't mean it, but she couldn't stand the look of pity on Fiona's face, who curtsied and left as she was told.

So, Anne gave birth to her daughter on her own, her sole support being a nurse she had never seen before and would never see again. She would never admit it, but the tears that gathered in her eyes were not because of the physical pain. 

Then, all thoughts of Mark and their marriage were gone, as was the feeling of relief and happiness, because instead of hearing congratulations and the first cries of her daughter, there was only concerned medical talk and silence. 

"What is wrong? Is she alright?" Anne asked but received no answer. She then tried to move to get a look at her baby, but the nurse next to her pushed her down, doing so even as Anne tried to shake her off. Anger and fear began to rise in her; what was wrong with her baby? And why the hell was nobody telling her what was going on? It had taken Peter a moment or two to cry, and they hadn't behaved like that. 

"You will tell me right now if something is wrong with my daughter!" Anne demanded, trying to put the usual authority in her voice, but exhausted from birth, it just wasn't the same, and she was still ignored, apart from the nurse holding her down. Then, her doctor handed a bundle to the nurse beside him, who hurried out of the room while all Anne could do was watch.

"Wait! What is happening?" she looked at the young nurse next to her, "Please." 

"She's not breathing on her own, Ma'am, but she's got the best people taking care of her." Anne didn't hear anything after the first few words. She wasn't one to panic; she didn't panic when a lunatic tried to kidnap her and shot four people. But now Anne did panic; when told her daughter was not breathing, a kind of fear and panic took hold of Anne she had never known before in her life. 

Before she had realised what she was doing, Anne tried to get up, her pain and exhaustion forgotten. Another nurse joined in to hold her down, and once again, Anne fought them.

"Ma'am, you must lay down; you need to rest."

"Stay, Ma'am, there is nothing you can do. Let them do their work."

"Ma'am, you still have to deliver the afterbirth!" Anne heard their words but couldn't care less. 

"I don't give a fuck, leave me the hell alone, I want to see my daughter!" Anne screamed at them, but her fight died down rather quickly as she just couldn't muster the strength. Feeling new tears of a whole other heartbreak well in her eyes, she pushed their hands away and buried her face in her own. 

This could not be happening. Why was that happening? Anne had believed that the miscarriages she had before and after Peter were the worst things she could go through as a mother. But this was so much worse. Apart from her general struggle with pregnancy, nothing had been out of the ordinary; she had always been told she and the baby were perfectly healthy! Had she done something wrong? Was this her fault?

The minutes until she heard her daughter cry from the other room would be etched into Anne's memory as the worst ones in her life so far. Anne looked at the nurse who had stayed with her the whole birth, and before she could say a word, the young woman nodded and left her side to look after her daughter.

When she returned with a smile, part of Anne's worry disappeared, hoping it meant her daughter was fine or at least not in serious danger anymore. 

"She's breathing on her own now and making good work of her lungs! They still need to keep a close eye on her and do a couple of tests to ensure she has no more trouble breathing, and then you can see her, Ma'am!" Anne let go of the breath she had unknowingly been holding. 

"Wonderful, now let's focus on you again, Ma'am; once we take care of the afterbirth, I'm sure they will bring her back to you," the other nurse next to Anne told her with a reassuring smile. 

Whether by luck or years of experience, the nurse had been right. Once the damn afterbirth was out and they had cleaned Anne up a little, her young nurse stepped through the door with her bundled-up daughter in her arms. After what felt like an eternity, she finally got to see and hold her daughter.

She was simply beautiful, just like her brother had been. Her daughter's eyes were closed, but Anne knew they were blue; her lips were pulled into an adorable pout, and there was a fine peach fuzz of white-blonde hair like Anne had at her own birth.

"Your daughter is doing well now, Ma'am. The doctor found no serious medical reason for why she wasn't breathing. Sometimes, those things sadly happen. However, the timeframe was thankfully one where no later physical or mental issues are expected. We will check on her a little more regularly before you are allowed to leave, but if everything stays like it is now, there's no reason for you not to go home in a few days."

Even if she didn't want to, Anne tore her eyes away from her daughter and looked at the young nurse. 

"What's your name?"

"What? Oh! My name is Elizabeth, Ma'am." Anne couldn't help but snort at the reveal, shaking her head in amusement, but she grew serious again a moment later. 

"Thank you for everything, Elizabeth," Anne said, and she meant it; as pathetic as it was, she was thankful this stranger had been there for her during the birth, and she hadn't been left all alone.

"No need to thank me, Ma'am. It was my pleasure, and congratulations on your beautiful daughter." 

"Thank you," Anne paused momentarily, seeking the right words. "Since you have been here from the beginning, you witnessed the whole drama around my husband. I- would like for that not to be public knowledge; in fact, I would like nobody to speak of it at all, no one, not even to the royal Family. Nobody. Could you see to that?" 

"Of course, Ma'am." Elizabeth left with a small smile and a clumsy curtsy, leaving Anne alone with her daughter. Gently stroking over her baby's soft cheek, Anne spent the time in awe of her daughter. After a few minutes on their own, the little one began to wake up in search of her first meal. 

"How come I did most of the work and you're the one who gets to eat first?" Anne teased as she successfully latched her on; at least that was easier than with Peter. It had taken her forever to breastfeed him; in fact, so long she had been close to giving up. 

"I recall telling you not to make this more difficult, sweetling, so I will think about an embarrassing middle name. Also I'm the stubborn one in our family, okay? We will have to find something else for you; being adorable will only get you so far. Well, it will certainly help with your uncles and grandfather. They'll try to spoil you rotten." Anne whispered to her daughter while the baby just stared back at her unimpressed. 

Once finished with nursing, Anne felt the exhaustion and tiredness taking hold of her. At the same time, she didn't want to let go of her daughter just yet, who had fallen back asleep in her mother's arms.

A knock on her door pulled Anne out of her thoughts; at first, she thought it would be a nurse, but then it struck her that it might be Mark, and fury rose inside her. But before she could answer, the door already opened, and the person who stuck their head in was the last Anne would have ever expected to be here. 

"Charles? What are you doing here?" Her older brother stepped inside and closed the door behind him before slowly moving towards her.

"Well, I'm here because my little sister had a baby," Charles answered with a smile before he leaned over her to get a first look at his niece. "Congratulations, Anne, so does Peter have a little brother or sister?"

"I'm afraid Andrew won the bet; it's a girl," Anne answered, watching as a big smile appeared on her older brother's lips as he looked at his niece again. 

"She is beautiful. How are you doing?" Anne debated if she should answer regarding her physical or emotional well-being, only to come to the conclusion she was a wreck regarding both. 

"I just spend a couple hours trying to push a damn watermelon out of my body, I'm absolutely knackered. While I appreciate it, why are you here, Charles? Even if you were notified that I was having the baby, it still doesn't explain why you are here." 

Her older brother remained suspiciously quiet, and Anne was about to ask if he had understood what she had said when he replied. 

"Your lady in waiting called. She told me that he wasn't there and that she had been trying to reach him for hours, but nobody knew where he was. So, I dropped everything and drove here. I'm sorry I was too late."

Her brother apologised for not being able to be at least a moral support and missing the birth of his niece, while her husband was probably fucking another woman, not caring about the birth of his child. That was the last straw for Anne. So, she did something she hadn't done in the presence of her brother since she was a little girl. She cried. 

"I married a fucking bastard!" Anne said with a humourless laugh as tears ran down her cheeks. Coming to face the downfall of her relationship with her husband and her own stupidity regarding her choice of men. Charles wasn't entirely surprised by the unusual emotional outburst of his sister; he had expected it a long time ago, but he still laid his arm around her and gently pulled her against him. 

"I had to ask Fiona to find my husband while giving birth to his child! He had six hours to get here! Six bloody hours! And then he calls and just says he will be here sometime like it was a bloody dinner he was late to! While he was sleeping with another woman, his daughter was born, and that bastard might have never even met her because she wasn't breathing!"

"What?" Charles had wanted to allow Anne to get everything off her chest but couldn't stop himself, shocked when he heard his niece hadn't been breathing. He had never liked Mark, and while Charles had often toyed with the idea of punching his brother-in-law for what he was doing to his sister, it took Charles a lot of self-restraint not to leave in search of Mark to deck him.

"When she was born, she wasn't breathing. They took her away to care for her before I could even see her, and no one would tell me what was going on. I thought she was going to die. They thankfully got her to breathe, but those were the worst moments of my life, Charles. And I was alone. I wanted him to be there, even if I was furious with him, he was supposed to be here. And he wasn't, not by accident or anything, but by his own will and choice." 

"The very best part is, I will have to stay married to him, and there is nothing I can do." 

"No, you don't," Charles told his sister, who wiped her tears away with her free hand before looking at him like he was daft. 

"There is no way in hell I'll be allowed to divorce him, Charles." She couldn't get her hopes up, only to have them smashed again. Anne knew everybody would tell her to stick it out, that many went through the same, just smile, stay quiet, and look the other way. What would his presence at the birth have really changed? He was a man; many men were absent from the birth; what was there to whine about?

"There would be a chance if you told Mummy what he has been up to, and if they find out he-" 

"They won't! It wouldn't be enough for them to let me divorce him, and I will not be humiliated like that in front of my own family; I won't be Margot 2.0. On top of that, sooner or later, something will reach public ears, as it always does with that kind of thing. What a surprise, the husband of the frumpy and dumpy Princess rather prefers half the Commonwealth in his bed. We always said she couldn't keep a man, nobody wants her after all." 

"Don't do that, Anne," Charles told her, part of his great dislike of the media were their merciless bashing of his sister's character and looks. Anne took a deep breath; and before he could say something else, she spoke up again.

"Promise me you won't tell anybody that he wasn't here for the birth. He will come eventually; we will do the stunt for the public and leave together. Nobody will know." The tone of his little sister told him she was serious about this and asking for his support. 

"Fine, as long as you promise me, I can have a talk with whatever is left of Mark when you are finished with him," Charles said, and Anne smiled. He then reached out to stroke over his niece's tiny hand. She was absolutely adorable, and Charles swore to himself that he would never let anybody hurt her, least of all her useless father. And if Anne wanted to or not, he was going to spoil his niece rotten, like any good uncle was supposed to.

"Do you have a name for her?" 

"We haven't decided," Anne replied, shifting her daughter a little in her arms. She and Mark had decided to wait until the baby was born to settle on a name.

"Zara."

"What? Where did you get that from?" Anne asked; in a family full of traditional names that were reused every couple of generations, the name Zara would stand out like a sore thumb.

"I like it. It has multiple nice meanings: bright as the dawn, bloom, flower, brilliant," Charles paused, "Princess," he added with a smile. 

"Pick what you like best." Anne remained quiet for a while, looking at her daughter. The longer she thought about it, the better she liked the name. Zara.

"Zara." Anne tried the name out loud, and at the same moment, her daughter grabbed a hold of her uncle's fingertip. They had already teamed up against her, it seemed, but at the same time, it somehow just felt right; she was her daughter, her new dawn. 

"Zara it is then." Even if he had suggested it, Charles hadn't thought his sister would just agree to his name suggestion, certainly not that quickly.

"Really? Since when do you just agree with anything I suggest?" he asked and received an elbow to his ribs. "Are you sure he will accept it as well?"

"Zara is my daughter. I carried her on my own, I gave birth to her on my own, and I feared for her life on my own, so I damn well will name her on my own. He did forfeit the right to decide anything regarding my daughter when he chose to miss her birth." 

"While he is my husband and will likely stay my husband, that doesn't mean, as we well know, that we have to be in a relationship or that I have to forgive him or even listen to him." 

"I will have a front seat on the day he tells you that you must listen to him. Though I reckon that spectacle won't last a minute." Charles joked before he got up and looked down at his beloved sister.

"I'll let you rest now. I'm proud of you, and I will always support you, Anne." 

"Thank you." For the second time that day, Anne meant these words more than she had before in her life. With a last smile for his new niece and a kiss on Anne's cheek, he left her alone. 

Looking back down at her daughter, Anne knew that she certainly didn't need Mark to be a good mother to their children. Anne would be fine on her own.

"We'll be fine, sweetling. You, Peter and I will do fine on our own."

Thank you for reading, thoughts and criticism are welcome !

Chapter Text

If there was a price for most spectacularly failing marriages, her family would undoubtedly be nominated. Anne had been sure to claim first place until her older brother had come along and pushed her down to second. Charles' marriage had fallen apart even quicker than hers, having thought seven years was a new record; it had taken Charles and Diana just two. 

However, it wasn't surprising for people remotely close to the royal family in the case of her brother and his wife. While Anne's own marriage was no longer that interesting in the eye of the public since Diana came along, its failure was more of a surprise to people who knew them. Then again, that was because people tended to be surprised to learn that her seemingly quiet and shy husband was fucking everything with a heartbeat. 

Anne shook her head to get rid of the thoughts about her philandering husband. She wouldn't let Mark ruin her time with her family on the Britannia, especially with her children, when he wasn't even there. 

She had barely seen Peter and Zara in the last two weeks; her schedule had been brutal, but it allowed her to stay clear of Mark for the most part, which was a great advantage. A downside was it also cost her time with her children. But now she had the time and freedom to make up for that without the press's constant judgement and prying eyes. 

Arriving at the Britannia, Anne thanked her driver and made her way onto the Royal Yacht as quickly as possible. Stepping onto the Britannia, she was greeted by a few high-ranking officers, under them a new face. Knowing that Naval Officers serving on the Britannia changed quite regularly, what sort of surprised Anne more was the excellent looks of the Navigating Officer. He was tall and well built, had dark hair, and striking green eyes, from what she could see. Rightly so, it was the abilities of the Sailor who counted rather than his looks, but it was a nice change that Second Navigating Officer Laurence had the skills as well as the looks. 

Not letting on that she thought the Navigating Officer was quite handsome, she politely thanked them for the welcome before being led to where her family was waiting for her quite unnecessarily by her mother's equerry. Like she hadn't spent a good part of her life on the yacht.

Anne had barely stepped out onto the deck when excited cries of "Mummy!" reached her ears, and a blonde whirlwind in the form of her five-year-old son crashed into her legs. With a grin, Anne crouched down to greet one of her favourite people in the world. Peter was already telling her about everything they had been up to at a speed that made her wonder how he was able to breathe at all. 

Looking up from her son just to see Zara running at them as fast as her little legs could carry her, Anne's mother instincts kicked in just in time to hold out her arm as Zara jumped. The two-year-old almost had enough force behind her to tackle her mother and brother to the ground. Swaying dangerously, Anne couldn't help but laugh. Pressing kisses on the cheeks of each child, she hugged them close again. 

Anne would forever hold the time dear until they grew older and the typical rebellion and resentment of one's parents began. She would cherish the time when her children still thought the world of her until they came to understand that she was just another flawed human—until they could read just how flawed she was in every paper. 

"I missed you too, my wild monsters! Let me say hello to Granny and the others real quick, okay? Then you can tell me about all the trouble you have been up to." 

Anne got up and approached her mother with Peter and Zara in tow. She smiled and kissed her mother's cheek, followed by a quick but perfect curtsy. 

"Mummy. Good to see you." 

"Hello darling, it is good, now the family is complete. I was worried Peter and Zara would jump overboard! Your timing saved your brother; I fear poor Edward was close to capitulation." Anne looked at her baby brother, who seemed quite exhausted, sending him a smile that was half apology and half amusement; she only received a glare in return.

"Well, it'll be some nice training for when he has kids on his own, and as long as the two don't jump overboard to get away from me, I'll take that as well," Anne answered as she lifted Zara into her arms, who had tried her best to climb up her mother's leg the moment Anne came to stand in front of her own mother.

"You're working too much, Anne. You should take it easier and spend a little more time at home!" While Anne was able to bite back a comment that this was quite ironic coming from the person who had left her children regularly for the better part of their childhood, she feared she couldn't stop her right eyebrow from shooting up.

"You know better than most that it's not that easy, Mummy." Anne simply answered, and before the conversation could turn to the dreaded topic of Mark and their marriage, she went to greet the rest of her family. Sometime after all the hello's and how do you do's, Anne ended up sitting in a chair with Zara in her lap and the lively child babbling away while playing with a strand of her mother's hair. Peter was close by playing UNO against his grandfather. 

"Of course, we will go and see the horses when we are at Balmoral, sweetling, I promise," Anne told Zara when the two-year-old paused her babbling, not realising she really didn't have to convince her mother to spend time together and share her passion for horses with her. 

"Promise?" Zara asked with a contagious glee in her eyes.

"Yes, and we keep our promises. Now go and help your grandfather; I think he needs help winning against Peter." With a rather wet kiss on her mother's cheek, Zara jumped down and ran towards her grandfather. 

Smiling at her children, Anne suddenly felt like she was being watched. Looking around the deck, it took her a while, but then she caught a glimpse of deep green eyes from where the Queen was talking to Rear Admiral Greene and two Officers. Their eyes met for maybe a second over Greene's shoulder before Officer Laurence averted his eyes and focused on the Sovereign again. 

Anne had no time to think about why this man was watching her when, to her honest surprise, Charles came to stand in front of her. 

"Eeyore, I thought you said you wouldn't join us on the Britannia?" Anne questioned her older brother with a broad grin on her lips at the use of the nickname he found so annoying.

"You won't ever stop with that ridiculous nickname, will you?"

"Fat chance." Charles rolled his eyes before he sat down next to his sister, though not before pinching her arm.

"Ouch!" 

"Oh, like that hurt you." Deciding to be the adult for once, she did not pinch him back; instead, she pressed on as to why he was even here.

"So, how come we are graced with your presence? Are Diana and William here as well?" Against popular belief, she did not hate or resent her sister-in-law, and neither was Anne jealous. Did she think of her as silly and somewhat annoying at times? Yes. Would she ever be close friends with her? No. Was she annoyed about the media portrait of their relationship? Definitely, but that had more to do with the media than Diana. They were very different women, and if Diana hadn't married her brother, she and Anne would have hardly ever spoken to each other despite their close aristocratic circle. That didn't mean they couldn't maintain a civil, if not at times, friendly relationship with each other.

Anne also adored her nephew, and when together, Zara and William were practically glued together, they behaved more like siblings than cousins. 

"No, you know Diana isn't that fond of sailing, and having to share a close space at the moment would not be the best of ideas. It will be difficult enough at Balmoral." Anne clicked her tongue; it seemed that, more often than not, the Prince and Princess of Wales being alone together was a bad idea.

"If you want my full sympathy now, I'm afraid that won't happen. I already have my own fucked up marriage to deal with."

"Then you should understand me better than most, Anne," Charles said, with that tortured expression of not being understood, which he had adopted over the last months and which Anne had come to dislike so much.

"I do because I actually understand both of you. I know Diana is not the easiest person to be around, despite what people might think, but let's not pretend that your commitment to this marriage is anything but abysmal. And I'm actually really not in the mood for a conversation like that right now." Anne answered honestly, she loved her eldest brother dearly, but there was no denying that he was greatly contributing to his marital problems.

"I am committed, I-" but Anne interrupted him. 

"You're my brother, and I love you, but just because you don't sleep around doesn't mean you're committed to her. And it doesn't matter how much you wish for it, Diana won't magically turn into Camilla, so it might be helpful to not always put her up against standards she can never achieve." Charles frowned and kneaded his hands in his lap rather forcefully.

"I can accept your opinion, but I won't take a lecture about marriage from you when one can't keep track of all the women your husband sleeps with!" 

"You're such an arse, and just for the record, you wanted to talk about this, not me!" 

"Anne, wait." Charles tried to hold her back, but she pushed his hand away and was on her way to her cabin. It wasn't like he had said something that truly upset her; hell, if somebody knew about Mark's infidelity, then it was her. Anne just didn't want to talk about either of their marriage problems. Her marriage to Mark only existed on paper since Zara's birth, but his sleeping around wasn't the main issue. 

It was definitely an issue, but Mark's general behaviour towards her was worse. For some weird reason, it had deteriorated since she told him that she couldn't care less with whom he slept, as long as he was discreet and there would be no scandals because one of his bed companions cried to the press. Also, that he could certainly forget having sex with her ever again.

Since then, Mark's more indifferent behaviour had turned into downright nastiness, comparing her to his affairs; every argument turned into a sport of degrading her and generally taking every opportunity to tell her what an awful person, wife and mother she was. 

Not that anyone in her family knew about that, and they certainly wouldn't learn from her.

Having been deep in thought, Anne was roughly pulled back into reality when she collided with what could have very well been a wall. Before she could fall flat on her bottom, two large but surprisingly gentle hands caught her. Despite the firmness, it turned out it wasn't a wall she had walked into, but Officer Laurence. 

His hands released her the second he thought her steady on her feet and bowed his head. 

"I'm incredibly sorry, Your Royal Highness! Please forgive me; I wasn't paying enough attention." He said, and his voice was a deep, smooth baritone that seemed to resonate with her whole body. Anne was taken totally off guard and just stared at him, realising too late she was looking like a fool. 

When the expected telling-off didn't come, Officer Laurence looked up, and a slight frown appeared on his face. Much like their first meeting only two hours or so earlier, she couldn't help but be amazed by his eyes. 

"Are you alright, Ma'am?" fitting for the frown, Officer Laurence's tone was laced with a bit of worry. 

"What? O-of course I'm alright. I- nobody paid attention, so just forget about it." She replied hastily, tearing her eyes away from him, hoping he hadn't caught on to the rising blush she could feel. Anne quickly continued her way to her cabin before she could make an even bigger fool of herself. 

Officer Laurence remained where he was for a while longer, looking after the princess a little surprised. Tim had expected something totally different. For a moment he had feared he could pack his bags immediately, but she just left him standing there. He didn't know what it was, but he was just fascinated by her from the moment he saw her, and that wasn't only because she was unbelievably beautiful. 

After the awkward collision with Commander Laurence, Anne managed to reach her cabin without another incident. As Anne lay down on her bed, she tried to forget the interaction, his eyes and his hands on her arms. Scoffing, she buried her face in her hands. She really had to get her act together, feeling like that because of what? Some pretty eyes and a brief touch of hands, it was absolutely pathetic.

Deciding that she would spend the time banishing Officer Laurence from her thoughts and generally just having a little time for herself, which she really hadn't for over a week, Anne just lay there on the bed. That worked for maybe twenty minutes, then Edward barged in with the words "Get her!" and her kids in tow, who jumped on top of their mother, Zara, with Edward's help. 

The rest of the day, Anne just tried to keep up with her children, and without too much self-praise, she did a damn good job. The two only spend half the time like a pair of hooligans who had switched their brains off. They actually behaved really well at dinner, with the food ending up in their bellies rather than on them. And against general expectations, bedtime was an easy affair as well. Thanks to Edward's and Anne's efforts to tire them out, Zara had already fallen asleep in Anne's arms on the way to bed, and Peter was out like a light the moment he lay down. 

After dinner, while most of the others were enjoying a drink and a laugh, Anne slipped out on deck, deciding now was the best time to have a moment to herself, especially since her children wouldn't crash it this time.

Though her thin jacket didn't keep Anne from shivering in the cold night wind, she enjoyed the moment of solitude; the only sound to be heard was the waves, and looking up, there were only stars. She finally got to breathe a little. Much like her mother, Anne loved being on the Britannia; they had never felt as normal a family as here. They had been together and away from it all, and some of her fondest childhood memories had taken place on this yacht. 

Anne leaned on the railing and closed her eyes. That didn't change when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Would it be possible to be on my own for one damn minute?" Anne asked without turning around, suspecting a member of her family approaching.

"Apologies, Your Royal Highness, I was just taking my evening stroll." Whirling around, Anne realised it was not anyone in her family but Officer Laurence. It seemed like she couldn't have a normal interaction with that man.

"I'll leave you at once." 

"No, please, you can go on, don't mind me. I just thought it was a family member trying to have a conversation." At least now she managed to form a normal sentence and wasn't blushing like a schoolgirl. 

"I believe not minding you or anyone in your family would cost me my job, Ma'am," was Officer Laurence's reply, and Anne raised her eyebrows at him, and if she wasn't entirely mistaken, then now there was a faint blush on his cheeks.

"I apologise, Ma'am, that was entirely uncalled for." He bowed and tried to leave, but Anne stopped him. 

"That might be correct anywhere else, but not here. Also, don't apologise for speaking your mind when no one else is around. I don't like obsequious people who only speak what they think we want to hear." Anne said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and leaning back against the railing. 

"I was merely trying not to be disrespectful, Ma'am."

"Disrespectful or not, it was the truth, Officer Laurence. But while I might appreciate it, I warn you that it would be the wrong thing to do in the presence of other people in my family." Anne paused momentarily, "Most of them, actually, minus my father and Edward, maybe. But beware the Queen Mother, Princess Margaret and Prince Andrew."

Officer Laurence couldn't fight a smile, and Anne found that his smile was quite contagious. Once the first awkwardness was overcome, she thought he might be quite the interesting interlocutor.

"At ease, Officer. How long have you been on the Britannia, if you don't mind me asking?" Officer Laurence stepped a little closer and clasped his hands behind his back. The gesture weirdly reminded her of her father. Was that a Navy thing?

"I don't mind at all, Ma'am. I was asked to fill in this position on the Britannia three months ago," he answered truthfully. 

"And before that?"

"I was commander of the HMS Cygnet patrol boat off Northern Ireland apprehending gunrunners. Before that…I was on the HMS Sheffield, and before that, I was on the HMS Pollington, HMS Vernon and HMS Aurora." Tim told the princess. He hesitated momentarily before telling her he had been on the Sheffield; he didn't like telling people about it. More often than not, it led to quite uncomfortable conversations with people prying into the war and the sinking of the Sheffield.

Anne realised immediately that Officer Laurence was not keen on speaking about the Sheffield. She assumed as soon as people heard, they would bombard him with questions, much like with Andrew, the difference between them being that her younger brother loved to tell and boost his ego, retelling his acts during the war. The man before her would also have to recall the day 20 of his comrades and friends had died. 

"That is a very impressive naval career, Officer Laurence. I have nothing but respect for the people who served in the war or the conflict, and here stands a man who did both. Is being away from active fighting a reason you accepted the position here?" Anne watched as the naval Officer across from her seemed to be at a loss for words. 

"I hope the question wasn't disrespectful, Officer Laurence. I-"

"No, please don't apologise. I admit I was a little surprised. When most people find out, they want to know everything about that day, even if recalling it might still be painful." A small, understanding smile played around her lips, and Tim was sure his heart had skipped a beat there. 

"I'm not most people." 

"No, you're definitely not. To answer the question, yes, I suppose for myself and my mother as well. She deserves some peace of mind for a while." Tim replied, hoping she had paid little attention to his first words. While he couldn't exactly say he was a virtuoso of words, especially around women, he usually wasn't quite so bad, definitely not as bad as right now. 

He really couldn't explain what it was, but the Queen's daughter held a spell over him. She was nothing like he had expected and certainly not how the press had described her. This made Tim wonder if they had ever met her at all. 

Suddenly, the wind picked up, and he saw the princess shiver noticeably in her thin jacket. 

"Ma'am, would you-" 

"If you offer me your coat, I will throw it overboard!" the princess interrupted him while trying to prevent her teeth from chattering and looking longingly at his uniform coat's thick material.

"I was about to suggest you might get back inside, but now I fear I have to insist on giving you my coat, even at the risk of it going overboard," Tim answered. Before his mind could warn him that this was entirely against protocol, overstepping boundaries and totally reckless, he placed his coat around her shoulders. 

Anne was too surprised to react when Officer Laurence got out of his coat and placed it around her shoulders. She hadn't thought he would actually do it, and the moment he did, only three things were on her mind. First, she must look like a child in their father's coat; it could almost count as a dress. The second thing was how good it smelled; it was woody and sweet but not overpowering and a little bit like the sea. Third, how unbelievably warm it was. 

"Since when do these things come with built-in heaters?" Anne blurted out, and Officer Laurence couldn't help but chuckle. He had expected her to throw the coat back in his face, if not overboard, and ask him if he had lost his mind. This had not been an option in Tim's head.

"They don't, Ma'am." 

"Are you a combination of a human and a radiator?" 

"Ah no, I just have a high body temperature. It's practical in cold weather, a curse in summer," Tim answered, wondering if he wasn't oversharing. 

"How do you survive summer?"

"Occasionally in a cool box." Anne couldn't help but laugh, a genuine laugh, as she pictured this very tall man in a cool box, and only a moment later, Officer Laurence joined her. For a moment, the two of them just stood there laughing, close to midnight, on the deck of the Britannia and her in his oversized coat, alone under the stars. 

After a while, their laughter faded away over the water and left them standing on deck. Anne wasn't sure she had ever met a man with whom she enjoyed talking so much, and there hadn't even been a mention of a horse. It had also been a while since she had laughed like that with someone outside her family. Sadly, it was time to end the encounter with the Naval Officer, despite her not really wanting to. However, others might get the wrong idea if they were seen alone together at night, and that was the last thing she needed.

"It's quite late. It might be a good idea to head back inside. I better get a few hours of sleep before my kids decide that getting up at the crack of dawn is just the best thing, and they want to share that with their mother," Anne said as she slowly began walking to the door leading back inside with Officer Laurence beside her.

"They're lovely children, Ma'am." 

"In small dosages, they can be, most of the time, they are barely able to sit still," Anne said with a smile.

"Well, lovely doesn't contradict active, Ma'am, but as far as I have seen, they minded their manners according to their age." Tim told her truthfully, and while they were undoubtedly active children, they definitely weren't tantrum-throwing brats.

"It's a relief to know they just don't behave around me then. Thank you for both your kind words and the nice conversation. I hope there is an opportunity to do that again," Anne told Officer Laurence, who smiled back at her, and the gesture made her heart beat a little faster. 

"It was a pleasure, Ma'am, and I would welcome any opportunity to do it again." 

"Good night, Officer Laurence."

"Good night, Ma'am." He answered before bowing his head. Only when Anne reached for the door handle did she realise she was still wearing his coat. 

"Officer Laurence!" she called out as she quickly turned around, and the handsome Navigating Officer did the same. 

"Yes, Ma'am?" a little reluctantly, she slipped out of his coat and handed it back to him. 

"Your coat. I will still ask around if heaters are permitted." He chuckled again as he reached out to take it from her, and their fingers touched briefly. There was something between them, but Anne couldn't name it, and at the moment, she didn't want to either; she was just relishing it. A fleeting moment was all she would ever get. 

Soon, it would be over and forgotten in a matter of days, and nothing would ever happen anyway.

"Thank you, and I wish you good luck with that. Good night, Ma'am."

"Good night." With that, Anne disappeared inside. She went to bed almost immediately, and while she wouldn't remember the following day, her dreams were filled with a man with green eyes and a charming smile. 

Thank you for reading, thoughts and criticism are welcome !

Chapter Text

When Tim had accepted the post of Second Navigating Officer on the Britannia transitionally, he had expected it to be a fairly relaxed and easy work experience that would serve as an opportunity for a bit of calmness in his life. Something he couldn't claim had been present in his life for the last few years. 

In a way, Tim had never truly returned from the war in which he had witnessed many of his friends dying. The guilt of surviving had made him return to duty as fast as possible; in his mind, he didn't deserve to simply live his life. He tried to earn that right by working, though he didn't really know when he had cleared his debts with his friends for surviving when they had not. 

So when Tim couldn't stand being on a "real" navy ship any longer, but also not on land, the offer of the Britannia seemed like the perfect solution.

Tim had also been unsure what to expect from the royal family and what the time on the yacht with many royals would be like. Snobby people treating everyone else around them patronisingly? A family where most of the members didn't get along in reality, at least according to some tabloids? He had to admit he had been a little curious.

What Tim had witnessed instead was a family that, at least in his book, was as normal in their interactions as any. There was the family matriarch around whom most things revolved, the supportive patriarch, the volatile aunt, both fun and irritable, the tradition-conscious grandmother and the children and grandchildren. With a surprising similarity between the characters of the older and younger siblings of each generation of the Queen's children. 

Tim was enjoying his time on the Britannia more than expected, and he had to admit that, as a silent witness with an insight into the royal family not many had, he had taken a liking to them. Well, most of them.

There really was only one thing or rather someone that troubled Tim: Princess Anne. And it was for all the wrong reasons. 

The moment Tim had laid eyes on the Queen's only daughter, her married daughter, he had been intrigued by her. But since their nightly conversation on deck, he was hopelessly enamoured. These feelings grew each day he interacted with her; Tim had never met a woman like Princess Anne. 

Even in this relaxed atmosphere around her family and without forcing it or seemingly trying, she was able to display elegance, and Tim had no better word, royalty. How she talked to everyone around her with respect and even kindness, her intelligence and humour. God, it was impossible to recount all the times Princess Anne and her father had others around them in tears of laughter. Also, it was absolutely beyond him how anyone could ever claim she was anything but a wonderful mother. Just because she wasn't gushing over every child she ever met didn't mean she didn't love her own children; one just had to watch them interact for a moment to know how much she loved them and they loved her. 

Tim knew it was ill-fated from the very beginning, but he still wanted to learn more about her and get to know her despite knowing it would lead nowhere. She was married with two great kids; he wouldn't ruin both their lives just because of a silly little crush. But despite knowing it could end his career, Tim found himself out on deck each night talking to the Princess. 

Their first meeting had definitely been an accidental encounter that was likely to never happen again. But the next day, they happened to come across each other again, and from then on, they met each other every night on the deck of the Britannia to talk in the security of the night. 

And while Tim looked forward to their conversations, it confused him a little bit that the Princess seemed to do the same. Tim's explanation to himself was that she probably just found him an interesting partner for conversations about sailing. On their second meeting, he found out that the Princess's interest did not only lie with horses and anything related but that she was equally knowledgeable about sailing and loved being out at sea. Tim figured he was also a person with whom she could have regular conversations outside of her family but still in a private environment. 

Any other thoughts or hopes about why the daughter of the Queen might meet him every night were banished from his mind. It was ridiculous. What could this beautiful and witty Princess see in him, a Naval Officer and commoner with no title, land, or wealth? Nothing, simple as that. 

"Can you make the yacht go anywhere you want?" a voice suddenly asked next to Tim, and he turned to his right and saw Princess Anne's son Peter standing there. He was barely able to see over the charting table, trying to pull himself up higher to get a better look at what Tim was doing. 

"No, I'm afraid not; I'm here to ensure the Britannia stays on course and gets to her destination on the best route. Now, may I know how you got in here?" Tim couldn't help but ask as the navigation room was located behind the Bridge, and not everyone could just walk in there, much less a child. He wasn't angry, just curious. Peter also seemed to realise that he wasn't really in trouble, so while he had been caught doing something or being somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, he stayed where he was. 

"I asked nicely." Peter tried to distract Tim from the apparent lie with an expression that oddly reminded Tim of a puppy. He couldn't help but think that this face had gotten the boy out of trouble a few times already. Tim had to bite his tongue momentarily to stop himself from laughing.

Instead, he raised his eyebrows for a moment before comically narrowing his eyes at the child of the Princess who had constantly been on his mind for days. 

"You sneaked in behind one of the Yotties, right?" Tim asked once again, and this time, Peter looked down at his fingers grasping the wood of the table while his ears turned a little pink. 

"Maybe…but I just wanted to look real quick! I'll be good, promise!" Peter argued his case, and Tim couldn't help but smile. He looked a lot like his mother in that moment. That also reminded Tim that Peter wasn't here with permission from his mother or anybody else, and his absence would be noticed soon if it hadn't been already.

"Your mother doesn't know where you are, does she?" Peter shook his head. "Well, then we must get you back to her first. Your mother is going to worry if you are nowhere to be found. But if you want, we can ask if you're allowed to have a look tomorrow; I can show you around a little if you like."  

"Really?!" Peter asked excitedly. 

"Really, but your mother has to allow it," Tim answered him and got up. He quickly told the captain where he was going and then accompanied Peter back to his mother. 

"So why did you want to sneak up there in the first place, little man?" Tim questioned, and the next moment, he was surprised when Peter took his hand to pull him along. With the prospect of someone showing him around the Bridge, Peter was in a hurry and would not wait for the naval officer.

"I like boats and ships! Grandpa said up there, you make the ship go everywhere, so I wanted to see." Peter explained, and Tim was a little surprised. 

"Aha, boats and ships. I thought you would like horses more like your mother and father."

"No, horses are smelly and boring. And they bite! I was nice and gave it a carrot, and my pony bit me!" the outrage from the five-year-old at the scandalous behaviour of his pony made Tim chuckle. 

"That really wasn't nice of your pony. I prefer boats and ships too; they don't bite, and the only thing smelly are the feet of the Yotties." Tim added with a wink, and Peter giggled. 

"You're fun! What's your name?"

"My name is Tim." 

"I'm Peter." 

"Nice to meet you, Peter," Tim answered the boy, pretending he didn't already know his name.

They were just walking towards the door to the sun lounge when said door opened, and Princess Anne came rushing towards them. Peter let go of Tim's hand and ran towards his mother, who wrapped her arms around him when he hugged her. 

"There you are, Peter! Where have you been?" she asked her son. 

"I'm sorry, Mama, I-"he threw a glance at Tim, who immediately stepped up. 

"I found him near the Bridge, Your Royal Highness. He wanted to have a look, but we agreed to go back to you and ask for permission first." Tim figured a little white lie wouldn't hurt anybody.

"Right!" Peter added with a bright smile, "Tim said he would show me tomorrow, but you have to say yes first. Can I go, please?" Peter rambled on, and Anne looked at the Navigating Officer who had been on her mind for days. For a moment, she thought it was a surprising, though not unwelcome, coincidence that it was Officer Laurence who brought her son back to her when she had honestly started to worry he might have found a way into the dangerous parts of the yacht and could've hurt himself. 

Anne tore her eyes away from him and looked down at her son.

"That's really nice of him, but I'm not sure I want to reward you for running off on your own when you know you're not allowed to. The Britannia is not a playground; there are places where you can seriously hurt yourself, Peter." Her voice was calm but serious, and Peter, to Tim's surprise as he had expected a protest from the boy, just looked down at his feet.

"I know." 

"If you know, why did you run off?" Anne asked. 

"I really wanted to see the stuff Grandpa told me about," Peter confessed, still looking at his feet. 

"Then you should have asked me or your grandpa to show you." Anne knelt down to be on a level with her son, "Look at me, sweetling. If you behave for the rest of the day and there is no arguing at bedtime, Officer Laurence can show you around the Bridge tomorrow." Anne offered her son, whose head shot up, and another bright smile appeared on his face. 

"Yes, I promise! Thank you, Mummy!" He threw his arms around her in a big hug, and Anne returned the hug with a smile of her own. Tim noticed that the smiles she seemed to reserve for her children only, oddly enough, came close to those she shared with him at night. Those smiles were of carefreeness and unadulterated happiness, which one rarely saw around her family, but every now and then, he saw the same things during their private conversations. 

"Now, say thank you to Officer Laurence, and then run back to the others and tell them what you have been up to." 

"Thank you, Tim!" Peter said with a wave, and in the next moment, he had run off. 

"I'm sorry, I was in a discussion with my brother, and I didn't notice Peter had run off. I really hope he wasn't bothering you." Anne confessed, but Tim waved it off. 

"No, it was fine, really. He just wanted to have a look around, but when I noticed he was alone, and nobody knew where he was, I took him back here." Tim told her, and Anne nodded. 

"Thank you." 

He wanted to ask her if they would meet again tonight; he suddenly wanted to tell her he was looking forward to these meetings all day. That those conversations with her at night made him feel more alive than he had felt in months, and he had never really felt like that just talking with another person before in his life. But Tim didn't say anything like that; he forced himself to give her a smile and then bowed his head.

"You're welcome, Ma'am. I better go back to work now," Tim said, and the Princess in front of him nodded in return. 

"Of course, have a good day." With a smile and another short bow, Tim turned around and hurried back to his work before he could say anything stupid and what they both might come to regret. He didn't know that Anne looked after him until he disappeared from her sight. 

They had only met twice outside of their nightly encounters, and Anne couldn't help but notice how different these meetings were. She dearly hoped that the only reason those encounters were so different from their nightly ones was because of all the people around them and their work-related nature. Not because she gravely misinterpreted what was happening between them when they were alone at night. 

Anne was unable to recall when she had such conversations with someone outside her family. She didn't even know if she had ever talked with Mark the way she was talking with Officer Laurence. Something about him made her naturally at ease; she wasn't thinking, and she wasn't guarding herself around him like she did with other people, including her husband. Anne had never opened up like that with another person in her life; she had told him things nobody else knew. 

On the one hand, it scared her; it scared Anne because she had been burned terribly, and those doubts tried to gain the upper hand constantly. Trying to tell her she was setting herself up to get hurt again by being herself, by opening her heart and mind to him. 

On the other hand, it excited and intrigued her. It was like he possessed a magnetic field Anne couldn't escape from, and neither did she want to; she felt so comfortable in his presence. Talking to him was like breathing. They talked about everything that came to their minds, everything that mattered to them, matters that were out of their comfort zone, playfully arguing about rugby and sailing. Not once did he devaluate her opinion; he didn't fall back on nasty comments to make a point. He wasn't sucking up to her; if he knew he was right, he stood his ground and explained without being patronising. And he really listened to her. 

This inner voice that sounded so much like Mark kept telling her that it was only because Officer Laurence felt obligated to do these things. She was the Princess after all; more often than not, people said and did things to gain the favour of Princess Anne, and not the person Anne. 

This voice also reminded her that the conversations, that the time with Officer Laurence was limited, and their time was running up. Two nights was all there was left for them; after that, they would probably never see each other again. He had told her he wouldn't extend his time on the Britannia; soon enough, he would be back on another ship, doing his duty for the country and doing what he loved. Anne would be back in the world of a working royal and her destructive marriage. 

She would have to carefully wrap these ten days of bliss up and put them away in her mind, some beautiful memories to come back to remember when life caught up with her again. Anne knew she would never forget those days, the ten days that had been enough to make her fall in love with a man she hadn't even called by his first name yet. A memory of ten days which would be a blessing and a curse, there to remember in fondness and there to torture her of what could have been. A taste of what could have been if she hadn't let herself be pressured into marriage at twenty-three because she feared she would never meet someone better than Mark. 

She had agreed to marry Mark to shut them all up; at the time, it had seemed like the best choice, and she had loved him, even if she had always known deep down that he wasn't the love of her life. He had been fun to be around; they loved horses, and he wasn't interested at all in the fame that came with being a royal. But maybe Anne should have insisted on spending even more time with him, as they had arguably been apart a lot in their relationship. 

Maybe then she could have seen that this life wasn't suited at all for Mark, that this life would change him or bring out a Mark she didn't know or like that much. Suddenly, Anne wondered if their relationship and marriage failing was her fault because she hadn't prepared Mark for the role of a royal spouse and what that really meant. 

Maybe her life wouldn't have turned out that much different from her current one, even if she had met Officer Laurence earlier in her life. He didn't seem to have as many different opinions on all the royalty stuff as Mark did. Maybe he would have changed as well; maybe Anne just wasn't meant for love, and not everyone could have their happy ever after. 

"Anne?!" Edwards's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She had stood there for goodness knows how long staring after the Navigating Officer, who was long gone. 

"Sorry, I was thinking," Anne answered, and her youngest brother frowned at her. He had called her name twice before she reacted, which was very unlike his sister. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, and Anne debated over answering him at all and what to say if she did. 

"Not really. I hate to agree with Granny on things like this, but maybe she has a point about being against marriage between royalty and ordinary people." Anne said, and Edward's frown deepened. 

"What has he done?" 

"Nothing out of the normal, and it's not really about him," Anne replied. While Charles, as her older brother, had always been protective of her no matter how much it annoyed her, the age difference between her and her younger brothers mainly had prevented such a protectiveness from forming over her. But since Andrew and Edward were old enough to understand their sister was very unhappy in her marriage and they both towered over her, they had jumped on the protective brothers' train. Especially Edward.

"Not that makes anything okay what he does. But regarding the marriage thing, I'd rather finish university first before thinking about it. Also, it doesn't seem like marrying an aristocratic woman raises the chances of a happy marriage. See example C." Edward answered her, and Anne was forced to admit he was right. Maybe happy marriages tended to skip a generation or two in their family. 

"Touché. But really, if you find somebody you want to share your life with in this mess that is our family, then prepare them for it or you're in for a lot of heartbreak. And don't let them pressure you into marrying." Edward snorted. 

"I'm that far down the food chain that I doubt anybody would give a rat's arse who I marry. I'm the fourth child and the third son. They cared who you marry because you're the only daughter. Nobody cares who Andrew and I end up with, and you can bet I will have a field day when Andrew finally realises the same." Edward answered with a cheeky grin, and Anne couldn't help but smile; her baby brother always knew how to make her smile and feel better.

"I doubt the day when Andrew realises he's not the second or even third fiddle will come soon, if at all," Anne admitted unashamed, and Edward laughed. 

"Probably not." 

"Let's go back, I have to look after my kids before they decide to run away again." Anne already turned to walk past her brother when he reached out to hold her back. 

"Hey, does he blame you for what happened? You know it's not your fault, right? Nothing of what he does can be excused by your supposed wrongdoing." 

"It takes two to make a marriage and two to break a marriage, Ed." 

"True, but there is a difference if one party breaks down a door and the other tears down the house like a bloody demolition ball, Anne." Her brother countered. 

"Well, I married the demolition ball, so I will have to live in that torn-down house whether I like it or not!" Anne knew it was unfair to snap at Edward like that, but she was tired of the topic altogether. Without another word, she walked past her brother. 

Anne spent the rest of the day in silent anticipation of the meeting with her naval officer. Knowing this was one of the last encounters they would have, the day passed in a strange blur; time was passing not at all for her in one way and too fast in another. She couldn't recount if she ever anticipated something so much and didn't want it to happen so soon.

Almost feeling relieved when she stood in her cabin after bidding good night to her family, Anne, for the first time really, wondered what to say to him. There was so much left to say, to talk about, and to get to know about the other, yet so little time. 

A few hours would be all they had left. The very last thing that Anne had expected when she came on board the Britannia was dreading to leave the yacht so much, which was unusual when the destination was Balmoral. Even less had she expected the reason for that being falling in love with a naval officer.

Having thought she had learned her lesson regarding love and men, it seemed Anne liked making life difficult for herself and keeping the possibility of hurt and disappointment a loyal companion. It was pathetic, really. A few conversations were all it had taken, and Anne had thought herself smarter than this. 

Then, Anne's decision on what to say and what to do was taken from her by her own daughter. Zara had been a little petulant all day long. They had kept an eye on her, but when there were no more signs of anything serious happening, they hadn't intervened. But only two hours after her bedtime, Zara woke up crying, with a light fever and what seemed to be an earache. Nobody apart from Anne could comfort her and the two-year-old started crying again every time Anne even attempted to lay Zara down in her bed again. 

So, instead of talking to Officer Laurence, Anne lay on her bed watching over a finally sleeping Zara next to her, her right hand gently caressing her daughter's belly. While Anne would never even think about putting their meetings before her children, since she loved them more than she could ever love a man, she felt terrible for not being able to explain why she couldn't meet him. He deserved to know she didn't stand him up intentionally.

Anne was awake most of the night to watch over Zara. Unfortunately, she was also unable to take Peter to the Bridge so Officer Laurence could show him around as promised yesterday. Her father had taken Peter there, so she was also unable to talk to Officer Laurence then and explain to him what had happened. 

Anne then spent her day caring for Zara; she had taken her to the ship's doctor, who had examined her and confirmed their suspicion of a, luckily, mild, ear infection. Fortunately, they had remembered to stock up on medication for her children, so he gave her something against the fever and the pain and recommended warm and cold compressions. 

"Mama, it hurts," Zara told her mother in a quiet voice, almost like a whimper, as the two sat in the sunroom since Zara shouldn't be out in the wind longer than necessary. This was also an indication that her active child, unable to sit still most of the time, really wasn't feeling well and it broke Anne's heart seeing her little girl suffer. Zara hadn't spent that much time in her mother's arms since she learned how to walk, more often than not demanding to be put down rather than to be lifted into someone's arms. 

"I know, sweetling, but it will be over soon, I promise. And we will have lots of fun at Balmoral when you feel better." Anne tried to comfort Zara when her daughter climbed onto her mother's lap after abandoning her toys. Anne checked the time, but they had to wait a little longer before Zara could have her next dose of medicine. 

"With horsies." Anne couldn't help but chuckle. 

"Of course, we can't have fun without the horsies." She confirmed to her daughter, rubbing comforting circles over Zara's back while also pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead.  

The door opened, and her own mother walked into the room. A small smile came to lay on her lips when the Queen saw her daughter and granddaughter snuggled together on one of the chairs. 

"How's our little patient doing?" the Queen asked as she approached them and gently stroked over her granddaughter's head, who simply turned to look up at her grandmother but didn't say anything. 

"Better than tonight, but we're not entirely over the worst yet. Though she's well enough to start planning her time with the horses at Balmoral once she feels better." 

"Well, that is a good sign, darling." The Queen then sat on the chair next to Anne's, watching her daughter momentarily. 

"Do you want me to watch her so you can have a short break? You look positively exhausted, Anne." 

"Thank you for the offer, Mummy, but it's fine. It's not the first sleepless night Zara has caused me, and she's still a bit clingy. Maybe in the evening once she's feeling a bit better," Anne answered. 

"Well, for those sleepless nights, you and Mark could take turns looking after Zara, but if you insist on staying with her now, I do insist on watching her in the afternoon." Anne forced herself from telling her mother that it had been her and the Nanny taking care of Zara and that Mark had slept in the guest bedroom, not caring for his daughter once in the first few months. 

"If you insist." 

"I do." They shared a smile, and Anne shifted Zara, who had fallen asleep, in her arms. 

"It's been a wonderful few days with the family so far, and it's been even more wonderful to have you back, darling," the Queen said, watching as a frown appeared on her daughter's face. 

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you weren't really yourself for the last couple of months, Anne. I know people change, and everyone has to face challenges, but your father and I began to worry about you. But since we began our travel on the Britannia, you laugh again and talk and behave like you again, darling. I don't know exactly what changed, but I hope it is of a permanent kind." Elizabeth explained, and Anne couldn't help but tear up. 

Her mother had unknowingly just said the wrong things to her. Anne had changed because she was trapped in a desperately unhappy marriage. She had met a man she had fallen head over heels in love with, and ten days had been enough to erase the heartache of the last five years of her marriage. But it would not be permanent; in fact, it would be over in not even 24 hours, and she would never see the man who had stolen her heart again, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

"I apologise for making you and Papa worry, but I'm afraid it won't be of a permanent nature," Anne confessed, and since there was no way for her mother to know why Anne had been different, had been happy again, the Queen could only take the wrong conclusion. 

"Maybe it could be if you slowed down a little bit, Anne. You do work a lot, and it would do you good to find more of a balance so you get to spend more time with your children before they're off to school. And things with Mark can't improve if you are never around one another." 

Anne closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she was so tired of discussing her failed marriage with her family. 

"I work a lot, so I won't have to be around my husband because there is nothing left to improve on, and neither Mark nor I want to. I did try, Mummy. I truly did until I reached a point where I just couldn't do it any longer until I realised nothing would change and that I was fighting currents I had no chance against. So, I gave up, stopped wasting my time, and saved myself more heartbreak." 

"Oh, Anne, why didn't you come to me or your father and tell us it was this bad?" the Queen asked, and Anne only shook her head. 

"And what would you have told me if I did? Your solution might have been one that worked for yourself, but doing nothing, letting things take their way, looking the other way and hoping for the best might work if you care about each other. There is nothing you can do about it, Mummy," Anne explained to her mother, who gave her this awful lost look since she actually didn't know how to help her daughter, even if she genuinely wanted to. They both knew Anne had already brought up the advice she would've offered since it always worked in her own marriage to Phillip. 

"I'll see if I can lay Zara down." without another look or word to her mother, Anne quickly but carefully stood up, shifting Zara in her arms and leaving the Queen behind. 

It hurt to see one of her children unhappy; it always did, even if some people depicted her as an absent or even cold mother. However, she also had to admit that her empathy lay more with Anne than with Charles. At least she knew Anne would have tried her all to make her marriage work, if only for the sake of not failing at something, and not being the second daughter of the second generation whose marriage failed. 

She did wish she had a simple solution for her daughter, a clear direction for her to go and what to do, so everything would be well in the end. But she had nothing of the sort; there was no magical solution to everything. 

The door opened, and to the Queen's surprise, her grandson ran into the room. 

"Granny! I got to steer the Britannia all by myself!" the little boy told her excitedly, and behind him, Officer Laurence stepped into the room. 

"Your Majesty!" He greeted her, perfectly following protocol. "Apologies for disturbing you, Ma'am. I was told Her Royal Highness Princess Anne was here." The young officer said. The Queen smiled; she liked that one quite a lot and had already made a mental note to add him to the list of candidates for future equerry. 

"Oh, you're not disturbing anything. The Princess was here, but a few minutes ago, she left to try and lay her daughter down for a nap. The poor child caught an ear infection, and no one apart from Anne was able to comfort her. But now I must admit I'm rather interested in how Peter came to steer the Britannia!" the Queen answered, and while Peter began rambling on, Officer Laurence gave her a small, sheepish smile.  

Tim had to admit he had been a little disappointed when Peter was accompanied by his grandfather, the Duke of Edinburgh, and not his mother. Not that he had anything against Prince Philip; he was actually good company and very interested in everything new going on in the Navy and Tim's field of work. They could probably talk for hours, but Tim preferred being with Princess Anne, knowing their time was ending. 

He had been looking forward to meeting her again at night as well, and when she hadn't turned up, Tim, genuinely worried about her, had gone by her room. When he had gotten close, he had already heard the crying of a child and Anne's attempts to console her daughter. At the time, Tim thought Zara might have slept badly or had a bad dream. To his shame, even if it had only been for a moment, he had been irritated with the child for preventing her mother from meeting him in what would be one of their last chances. 

Tim had felt like an idiot the very next moment. Zara was two years old and clearly in distress, needing her mother. And here he was, being a colossal prick and being irritated with a toddler for needing her mother, simply because he wanted to see her. That feeling only worsened when he learned first from the Duke of Edinburgh and then from the Queen that Zara had fallen ill and needed her mother to care for her. It was rather pathetic, and Tim tried his best to forget these thoughts and feelings he had harboured at that moment. 

The young naval officer hadn't heard anything regarding the Princess and her daughter for the rest of the day, so when Tim went out that night, he tried his best not to get his hopes up. Despite this, his heart faltered when he stepped out on deck, and she wasn't there. 

Tim remained on deck and wandered over to the railing to look at the dark ocean, which provided the perfect mirror for the moon and a billion stars. If someone had told him even two weeks ago that he would fall in love with a married woman in the span of ten days, he would have laughed at them. Not to mention said woman was the Queen's only daughter. Until now, he had managed to rely on his excellent knowledge of human nature to avoid relationships that would only cause him pain and could lead nowhere. But everything was different with her. Tim had known from the very first moment that it was ill-fated, yet he didn't care, and he would cherish the nights they had spent together talking more than his past relationships with other women. 

"I'm glad you came." He turned around at the familiar voice and couldn't stop his heart from beating faster when he saw her slowly walking towards him. 

"I'm here every night, Your Royal Highness," Tim answered as he bowed his head; no matter his feelings, he would still show her the respect she deserved. A strange look flickered over her face as she came to stand next to him before she turned to face the sea. 

"I'm terribly sorry I wasn't able to come yesterday or even tell you I couldn't come. But Zara was nearly inconsolable; she got an ear infection and was crying most of the night; whenever I even tried to put her in her bed, she would start crying again. And-" Anne tried to explain herself, and to his dismay, Tim realised she had misunderstood his words as a slight against her for not meeting him. 

"I apologise for interrupting you, Ma'am, but you misunderstood me. I didn't mean it that way. I understood perfectly that there were more important things for you to attend to, and I don't mind. Your children come first, above all. How is your daughter?" 

A relieved smile appeared on her lips for a moment before she answered. "Better now, thank you. I think we might be over the worst; at least I was able to tuck her in, and so far, she hasn't woken up again." Anne answered.

"But I must confess that while you are right in that nothing is more important to me than my children, you underestimate what these talks mean to me. They mean a lot to me, way more than they should." Tim looked at her surprised, unsure if he was interpreting too much into her words or if there really was a possibility she might feel the same about their encounters.

"I'm aware that might not be the same for you, at least not to this extent, but these last few nights talking to you have made me feel happier than I was in a long time," Anne said, looking at him for a while before turning her gaze back to the sea. Tim could hardly believe his ears, so his feelings, which he hadn't dared to dream of being returned, might not be as one-sided as he thought they were. 

Tim couldn't stop the nervous chuckle from escaping him and promptly saw her shoulders tense, probably thinking he was making fun of her. 

"Please forgive me, Ma'am, I appreciate the honest words, but I think you are mistaken once again. In the last ten days, well, the last ten nights, I should specify, I have never felt happier. Talking to you has brought something back to my life, which I thought had been lost in the war. I never imagined it could be the same for you, Ma'am."

Anne turned to look at him in surprise; wonder and hurt also shone through her eyes, if Tim wasn't mistaken. Then she turned back to look at the dark sea before them.

"In a way, that is what I wanted to hear and, simultaneously, what I dreaded most. However, I have to be honest as well and admit I wouldn't have dared to hope it might be the same for you. It makes everything more complicated," Anne told him, and she took a deep breath. 

"I also have to clear a few things up because, for some reason, it is important to me that you know this. My marriage with Mark has only existed on paper basically since Zara was born. It started way earlier, but that was the point where it broke beyond repair. And while there is nothing between us anymore, I'm still bound to him by my vows, and I doubt I'll ever be allowed to divorce him. I have never attempted to seek a relationship of any sort with another man at any point in my marriage, not even when it was clear it had failed until now.

"But no matter how much I want or wish for it, nothing can come from this. We will probably never see each other again, but I'm telling the truth when I say I will never forget these talks with you; they made me feel something I had never felt before, and I thank you." Anne all but confessed to falling in love with him without using the words. Because she didn't know if she could ever forget it when she said the words.

"Ma'am, I-"

"Anne." 

"Pardon?"

"If we are doing this right now, you might as well use my name. At least that much I want to allow myself, so my name is Anne." 

"Only if you call me Tim," he answered, and she gave him one of her beautiful smiles. 

"If you insist, Tim."

"I insist, Anne,"  he replied, her name coming over his lips like the most natural thing in the world, and it made his heart beat a little faster, even if he knew as well as her that their story had already come to an end. 

"First, I'm very sorry to hear about your marriage. Even if I can't help but feel glad, I didn't fall in love with a happily married woman, and I wasn't ruining her marriage in my mind night after night. I'm a realistic person, I knew there would never be a chance for us; even in the unrealistic chase, you might feel the same.

"I'm still sorry I can't be any of the things you deserve, Anne. I wish I could get to know you even more, to be that person who knows you best, and therefore be there for you the way you need and deserve, your strength to lean on. I would like to erase all the hurt he put in your heart, and that I won't be able to do any of those things, and so much more will remain a big regret all my life." Tim told her, and when he glanced down and saw the tears shimmering in her eyes, he reached out and held his hand out for her to take. 

Anne did so without hesitation. Her hand was so small and delicate in his, warm and soft, yet her hold on his hand was strong. He tried to memorise the feeling of her hand in his so he would never forget the only time he had truly touched her. 

"I'm sorry." her voice was barely above a whisper, but Tim gently squeezed her hand. 

"I'm not. I wish you all the happiness in the world. I hope one day you are allowed to free yourself of a man who doesn't deserve you, and I then hope you find someone who is, someone who makes you truly happy for the rest of your life. Even if that someone can't be me." 

"Can you stop saying all the right and wrong things? Couldn't you just say you only tried to get into my pants?" she asked with a short, teary and rather humourless laugh. Tim also had to chuckle. 

"I'm afraid not. Haven't I told you a few nights ago I'm shit at lying?" 

"You did. But then this could be a lot easier, and we could've spared us all the heartbreak," Anne said as she wiped the tears away that had slipped down her cheeks.

"Maybe, but I don't take the easy way out, Anne. If I were that kind of man, I would have never met you and would now lie on the ocean bed in the South Atlantic with 19 of my friends. You made me remember the man I was and helped me live my life again, really living, not just working until I had worked off the debt for my friends because I survived."

"Then I have nothing to be sorry for either, if only to help you see you have no debts to settle and you deserve a long and happy life. I hope you also find someone to share that life with, someone that makes you happy." Anne answered truthfully, even if she wanted nothing more than to be that someone. 

"I wish I could at least spend the whole night with you, but I think it might be better to part ways sooner than later. I'm not confident Zara will sleep through the night, and with our luck, somebody will catch us on our last night together. I don't want you to get into trouble." Anne proposed, and though Tim didn't want to, he agreed.

"Right," Tim lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them against her knuckles,  "It was the greatest pleasure to get to know you and spend these nights with you." for a moment, the Princess before him seemed to be at a loss for words. Tim wondered if he had gone too far when she finally said something.

"Can I ask something of you that is incredibly stupid, selfish, hurtful and wrong?" 

"Always." 

"Kiss me."

Tim didn't hesitate, didn't need to be told twice, and before he could lean down wholly, Anne had already raised up to meet his lips halfway. 

The kiss was the best they ever had and would have in the future, better than anything they could have ever imagined. The taste, the feel of each other's lips was burned into their minds forever. Gentle yet longing for more, loving but full of regret for there not being a second kiss or anything more. Their first and last kiss to seal ten days of bliss, their beginning and their end. 

Only when they thought they might have exhausted their luck, when the two didn't dare to kiss each other any longer, did they part. Knowing she couldn't leave if she looked at him, not after this kiss, Anne turned around, only opening her eyes when her back was turned to him. Tim's hand slipped from hers, and though every fibre in his body screamed at him to pull her into his arms, he did not attempt to hold her back when Anne all but ran back to her cabin.

Tim barely had time to come to terms with what had happened when two Yotties came onto deck. They were luckily engrossed in a conversation, so they barely registered him. With a broken heart, Tim returned to his own cabin, knowing deep down there would never be another woman like Anne in his life again. 

As the Royal Family disembarked from the Britannia, the family members blamed another sleepless night with Zara for Anne's sombre mood. Not one of them even began to think there might be another reason. 

But when Anne, after a night she had spent quietly crying alone in her cabin, looked back at the Britannia and the lone figure on the Verandah Deck, she knew her heart would remain with her Naval Officer forever.

Hello,
To make up for the long wait, you get an extra long chapter. Just don't expect that every time because I fear I won't be able to.
Also, just a little note if you wondered, I know 20 men died in the attack on the HMS Sheffield, but only one body was able to be recovered, hence why Tim only mentioned 19.
I'll try my best so you won't have to wait so long for the next chapter. Though I can tell you it might surprise you what's going to happen then, there will be a little time jump. 

Chapter Text

It was dark and raining on the drive back to Gatcombe after her last engagement of the day, and that she wasn't driving herself was proof of how tired Anne was. She leaned back in her seat and watched the raindrops slide past the dark window next to her. Anne wasn't only physically exhausted after a long day of engagements spread over half the country. No, she was tired of it all.

She wanted to do nothing more than tell them all to shove it. To stay home with her children, take care of the farm and their horses at Gatcombe, and leave the rest behind. Anne was tired of the ongoing slander of her person in the media, of the questions that still didn't stop, the prying into her personal life, and her failed marriage.

What is it like knowing your husband fathered multiple children outside of your marriage?

What did the reporter think it was like? To learn just how big her husband's betrayal had been. To have her personal matters laid out in every paper and discussed on TV and radio shows? Free game for everyone to judge, comment, and speculate on. While it had truly surprised Anne that quite a few papers and people were on her side, that didn't mean it stopped the ones that weren't from having a field day of dragging her through the mud.

They took every opportunity to make fun of her or the situation. Given that her husband slept around with everything female, their favourite take was that Anne must have been such a horrible wife in the sheets that her husband was all but forced to share his bed with everyone except her.

Anne had known that this would happen when she received that phone call and the following letter. She thought about it intensely and waged the pros and cons, but there hadn't been enough to force herself to stay married to Mark. With the undeniable proof that he had fathered a child with another woman, all doubt, as well as all emotional attachment to Mark, had been severed.

"I got a phone call a little over a week ago," Anne had started the conversation when Mark sat down across from her in her office at Gatcombe that evening nearly a year ago.

"That doesn't seem important enough to have a conversation with you right now. I'm actually working, you know?"

"Trust me, that phone call was that important, even more for you, though I won't lie. It does come in handy for me as well. As does the letter that came yesterday." Anne answered, not responding to the slight against her and that she wasn't really working. Instead, Anne leaned forward and placed the copy of the letter and the attached picture in front of Mark.

"I believe you haven't seen your other daughter in a while. You can keep the picture of her; it was taken quite recently, so you won't forget what she looks like."

Mark first frowned at the letter and the picture of the little girl, who was only two months younger than Zara, then paled. At that moment, Anne knew with certainty that everything Ruth had told her was true, and Mark had indeed fathered her child.

"What the fuck is this? I don't know that girl, and I'm surely not her father."

"Oh, I'm aware you don't know her; you refuse to even acknowledge her to this day after all and at least be of some financial support."

"What the hell, Anne! A random mad woman calls and tells you I fathered her child, and you just believe her? Have you lost your mind?" Mark asked, outraged, his voice raising in volume but keeping himself from shouting at her and alerting anybody else to their conversation.

"I wouldn't have believed a word she said if I wasn't well aware you were fucking around everywhere you go. She described the situation you met, and it matched your calendar. She also described you naked in detail, which I dearly hope is not common knowledge, and she was also able to tell me about things in our lives at the time nobody outside the family knew. So don't sit here and pretend I'm the idiot!" Anne fought back.

"What does she think is going to come from this? Is she blackmailing you?" Mark asked, crumbling the letter slightly as he clenched his fist. Anne almost laughed, blackmailing her? He was the one who fathered a child outside their marriage, and he asked if she was the one blackmailed?

"Why would she blackmail me? I didn't get her pregnant, and whether you believe it or not, she didn't mention telling anybody once. What she wants is for you to take the bare minimum of responsibility and at least help her to keep a roof over your child's head and food on the table." Anne told him and watched as both realisation and defeat began to take hold of Mark. He threw the letter away from him and buried his face in his hands.

When she had been told about the girl and what Mark had done, Anne thought this might bring her satisfaction and that it would feed and sate the anger, humiliation and betrayal she felt. But while she still felt angry and betrayed, there were no real emotions regarding her next words. No great sorrow, doubts, or what she had once mistaken for love.

"There was also no need for her to blackmail me or you because it won't stay a secret forever. I will file a petition for divorce." Mark's head shot up so fast he ruined his hair, but he didn't notice nor care as he stared at her in shock.

"What?"

"I will file a petition for divorce, Mark. I can't go on like that. I don't want to go on like that. This marriage, our relationship, has failed. So, let's stop pretending and put an end to it before it becomes a farce, for Peter's and Zara's sake, as well as our own." Anne told him, and it took Mark another moment to regain his composure, only for a fury to appear on his face, which she had seldom seen before. For barely a second, Anne wondered if he would strike her; before banishing that thought, he wouldn't. There were a lot of lines Mark would cross, but not that one. If only because he had to know she would come down on him like a ton of bricks and his reputation could never survive it; cheating on her was one thing, violating her another.

"You can't be serious; you can't do that!" Mark hissed through clenched teeth.

"I can, and I will."

"Your mother will never allow you to divorce me," he scoffed. Anne already wanted to shoot back, saying she wasn't seeking permission or approval for this, but she held back. She knew it would only result in another shouting match, so she took a different approach.

"Do you love me?" as Anne had expected, that rightly took the wind out of his sails, and he blinked at her perplexed.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me, and I mean only me? Being tied to the royal family and the publicity? Do you truly want that, Mark?" She knew his answers to all of this; he didn't love her anymore and didn't want to spend the rest of his life with her, and he had always hated everything that came with being part of the royal family. Anne's own answers weren't entirely different from his, except for not hating everything that came with being a member of the royal family.

"Who's the other man?" That he even dared to ask caused Anne to snap.

"Don't you fucking dare, Mark! You've been close to fucking every woman you ever came across! That's a picture of your illegitimate daughter here, you bellend, whom you fathered while I was already pregnant with our second child! While I do several engagements per day all over the country, do real work for real charities in third-world countries, and try to be a good mother for our children and a decent wife, I had no time to look for a lover, unlike you!" Anne threw the letter and picture at Mark.

"So don't ask me if I have found another man! Just because you started to look for somebody else the moment, I wouldn't throw myself on my back and spread my legs doesn't mean I did as well." Anne shouted at him and felt angry tears prickling in her eyes.

For a moment, she was tempted to tell him she had found a wonderful man who had managed in a handful of days what Mark couldn't in several years. Make her truly happy, and with just conversations, no hugs, no kisses, except the one they parted over, and no sex. Just with regular everyday conversations, Tim made Anne fall in love with him effortlessly despite knowing they could never be together. So, unlike Mark, Anne hadn't betrayed him, even if she wanted to. She wanted to tell Mark she had never regretted marrying him more than when she met this remarkable man, who was everything Mark could never be.

"We will get a divorce even if it's the last thing I do, and if I must leave the damn country, then I will because I cannot stay married to you. And we will put an end to this now for the sake of our children before this gets any worse and any hope of decent parenting is lost. I don't want to drag them through an ugly war between us because it's not their fault we fucked up.

"You will move out, you can keep all your money, you can go look for suitable women to share your bed without scrutinisation and in general do what you want without anybody from the firm getting involved. We can figure something out regarding Peter and Zara, I won't keep you away from them, and we can share custody."

Looking properly defeated this time, Mark stared at her before he rubbed his hands over his face and sighed.

"You really think you thought this one through, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

"This is going to destroy our reputation." And whose fault was that? But Anne kept this thought to herself.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Ma'am? We have arrived." Anne had been so deep in her thoughts that it had taken her driver two attempts to get her attention. Quickly shaking off her thought of her soon-to-be ex-husband, she sat up straight and gathered her briefcase.

"My apologies! Thank you, and have a safe drive back; good night!" she said with a smile, and her driver returned the gesture with a smile of his own and a nod.

"You're welcome. Have a good evening, Ma'am," he replied, and with that, Anne got out of the car and hurried to get inside her home through the rain, which had picked up quite a bit during the last minutes of the drive. She went straight to her office to finish her work for the day and be able to enjoy the two days off that would follow.

Placing her coat on one of the chairs and dumping her briefcase rather carelessly on her desk, Anne sat down in her own chair and closed her eyes. While she was looking forward to spending time with her children, the same could not be said about everyone in her family. Anne knew her mother struggled with her divorce even if she was supporting her and came to an understanding as to why. Her grandmother still refused to speak to her since the day they found out about her intentions.

They sat together after finishing their dinner at Windsor Castle. Anne had planned a dinner with her parents under the disguise of discussing her plans regarding Christmas, to tell them about her separation and intention of divorcing Mark. She hadn't accounted for her grandmother, aunt, and two of her brothers spontaneously attending as well.

"Shall we go over your Christmas plans, Anne?" the Queen asked her daughter before looking at her sons, "If there are any possible changes to your plans, you're welcome to bring them up as well."

Anne had definitely not planned to tell almost her whole family. It was complicated enough to tell her mother and father; she wasn't worried about Charles and Edward, but her grandmother and aunt were another story. Especially her grandmother. Taking a deep breath, Anne faced her mother.

"Well, I wanted to let you know that Mark won't be at Sandringham with us this year. In fact, he won't be attending any official or private gatherings anymore. Mark and I have separated, and we will divorce." Despite her increasing heartbeat, Anne kept her head up and voice steady.

A shocked silence took hold of the whole room; nobody moved, and it seemed nobody even breathed while everyone stared at Anne.

"What?" the Queen asked, utterly bewildered. But before Anne could say anything, her grandmother had overcome her shock.

"You can't be serious! What is wrong with half the women in this family? There aren't many expectations for you; one is to find respectable matches, and you find them only to drive those men away! A marriage is not that difficult; it's a give and take, and you sometimes do things you'd rather not and keep your mouth shut. But most of all, if you find yourself inadequate for marriage, you don't shame yourself and this family in leaving and behaving like whores. You stay silent and married and just get on with it!" her grandmother was still shaking by the end of her rant, and Anne bit her tongue. She had expected something of the sort, but it still hurt.

"I tried to make this marriage work, not only for my sake but for the sake of our children and this family. I won't pretend I didn't make mistakes-"

"Well, that seems evident, and you couldn't have tried that hard if your husband prefers the company of every woman which isn't you!"

"Enough!" Surprisingly, it wasn't only her father speaking up but also Charles.

"I don't think you truly understand what that bastard has put Anne through!? Do you think he's just discreetly philandering? He's been treating her like dirt for years."

"Charles." Anne tried to interrupt him before he said too much. She didn't want the rest of her family to know everything that had happened. But her brother didn't stop.

"Do you know what happened when Zara was born?" Anne, previously still holding her grandmother's glare, turned to look at her brother.

"Stop it, Charles!"

"What is he talking about?" the Queen asked, her eyes shifting between her two eldest children.

"You all think Mark was there when Zara was born or was called and rushed there. Well, actually, Anne's staff tried to reach him for hours, but he was busy with another woman. Her lady-in-waiting called, she told me she had reached him, but he chose to stay with that woman instead of attending the birth of his own child or at least trying to get there! So, I drove there, I was there! And I felt sorry I was too late to let Anne know that somebody was there, and she wasn't all alone! He never apologised for not being there, even after he learned there had been a chance he never would've met his own child because Zara wasn't breathing when she was born!

"That still wasn't enough for him to change! He blamed her for what happened at Zara's birth, he belittles everything she does, calls her disgusting names, and Anne never once complained or even said one word to you! Why do you think she never told you any of this? Because she doesn't mind it? Or because she knew there would be little to no help from her own family?"

Once again, everyone's eyes were turned on her if they had ever left. Anne hated the looks they gave her, hated how she felt her cheeks burn hot with the shame she felt.

"You promised not to tell," Anne told her brother, unable to keep the anger and betrayal she felt out of her voice. She knew deep down he wanted to help her, and he was in her corner, but this wasn't his story to tell. Anne was also surprised that Charles knew that in their first argument following Zara's birth, Mark had blamed her for what had happened and that Zara hadn't been breathing. She had never told a soul about that, and she doubted Mark had told her older brother.

"If we going to go through every humiliating thing, then we might as well get to the reason I will divorce him. He fathered a child, his daughter, with a twenty-three-year-old riding instructor in Sussex is two months younger than Zara. Mark admitted it, I also doubt this is his only illegitimate child, so I will divorce him. If you may excuse me." With that, Anne stood from the table, and without another look or word to anybody, she left the room.

Anne wasn't sure if she had expected someone to come after her or if she wanted company at all. But when the door opened a few minutes later, the last person she had expected to come looking for her was her aunt.

"I suppose we might open an exclusive club, "Divorced Royal Daughters" What do you say?" Margaret proposed as she came to stand next to her niece in front of the window in Anne's room.

"That a club with only two members is quite a shit one." Anne simply replied, and her aunt chuckled. They stayed silent for a while, looking at the lights of Eton in the distance.

"They will come around eventually. Your father looked close to murder already, so you won't have to worry about him, and the fact that you're less to blame in this than I ever was, and she still talks to me, it won't take long for your mother to accept it as well. The opinion of your grandmother couldn't matter less."

"I really tried…and I might have managed to stay married to him, live with the fights and the insults. But he crossed that line over and over again, and I just can't. I won't do that." Anne said, not looking at her aunt.

"He was never the right one for you."

"Well, thank you for twisting the knife."

"No, darling. I mean that he was the lucky one to be married to a wonderful woman like you, and that blind fool not only failed miserably as your husband, he never even realised what he had. You deserve so much better," her aunt replied as she took Anne's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Aunt Margot had been right; her father, much like her brothers, had been on her side from the beginning. The day after her revelations, Anne told her mother and father all about her marriage in a private conversation. No matter how humiliating and shameful Anne thought them to be, she did not leave out one detail since her mother demanded to know the whole truth.

There had been tears in Anne's eyes for most of the conversation, but true to herself, she had been determined not to let them fall in front of her parents. They didn't, not until her father had embraced her and held her in his arms; only then had the dam been broken, and Anne allowed her carefully built walls to fall apart for once. 

After that, to her honest surprise, her mother had allowed her to divorce Mark, albeit not as enthusiastically as her father. They talked about how they would proceed with things; there had been conversations with her and Mark, with their lawyers and the press office of the palace. Followed by all that was the day they told Peter and Zara.

It had shocked Anne a little that, while they were certainly not indifferent or happy, they also weren't entirely sad. While they were both too young to understand what had happened, especially Zara, they had little fears and worries about their parent's separation. Anne did hope it was because their children knew they still loved them and would put what was best for them before their differences and problems. And not because their marital problems had been so obvious even to their children that they preferred their parents apart.

After the news had been made public, more women had come forward admitting to having slept with her husband, and a few had claimed to have a child with him. Not that Anne hadn't expected something of the sort. Though it made nothing better or even easier, only two of those claims were proven true. When it had been hurtful to learn Mark had fathered a child while she was pregnant with Zara, finding out one son was almost two years older than Peter had been devastating. Not the least because Anne had truly believed he hadn't cheated on her before her pregnancy with Peter.

"Ma'am?" For the second time that night, Anne was pulled out of her thoughts by a member of her staff. Opening her eyes, she saw Julia standing in the doorway to her office with a cup of tea in hand.

Since the day she began working for her, Julia had been the one to always ignore Anne's word to her staff that they could finish their day on time and didn't have to wait for her when she returned home late in the evening or at night. On nights like this, Anne was quite thankful for it.

"Yes?"

"Since I know it will be of no good to suggest you might turn in for the night, I thought you might like some tea, Ma'am," Julia said, and Anne couldn't help but smile.

"That might just be what I need. Thank you." Julia walked in and placed the cup and saucer next to Anne on the desk. "I hope my children behaved halfway decent today; I know they can get a little overexcited before a visit to their grandparents."

"From what I've seen and heard, they behaved well and were not unlike any other day."

"Better than nothing, I suppose," Anne answered, and both women smiled. Then Julia's expression changed as she appeared to remember something.  

"Oh, before I forget, Ma'am, there came a letter today…not through your office but here directly." Her housekeeper informed her, and Anne forced herself not to react much or appear too excited at the news. Even if a small part of her suspected Julia knew these were no ordinary letters from some friends or distant family, for whenever one of those mystery letters arrived, Anne's mood instantly lifted, and she was happy no matter what was written or said about her.

"Thanks' for letting me know, Julia. I'll try to work my way through some of this paperwork now. I doubt I'll be more motivated for that after coming home on Sunday."

"Understandably. Have a good night, Ma'am," Julia told her, and Anne smiled.

"Good night."

The second Anne was alone, she began searching for the letter. Only when she lifted her briefcase did she find the most recent stack of letters, and under them was the one addressed to Mrs A. Philips. She hated seeing that name written in his handwriting, and while it provided a lowkey address for anything not related to Princess Anne and her work, she just couldn't wait to get rid of that name.

The first letter had arrived only two weeks after they had returned from Balmoral, that time, of course, the official way. It was a short letter simply asking if she would like to stay in contact through letters and keep their friendship up. Anne had thought about it for a while and asked herself if it was wise to stay in contact with the man she was still in love with, even though she should have forgotten him.

But as much as her mind warned her it was stupid to indulge this, that it would only cause them pain, she couldn't bring herself to decline Tim's offer. And she was glad she did because even if Tim couldn't be with her, in more sense than one, he was a great support and a source of strength for Anne the moment she separated from Mark. Especially when it all became public.

While they wrote of personal matters as well as those of their work life, they never crossed a particular line and, without writing a word about it, knew these letters had to appear to anybody who might get their hands on them as only those of friendship. But it was more than enough for Anne, and through little unsuspicious things, they were still able to let each other know what they really meant to each other. That neither of them had yet forgotten their days on the Britannia nor given up on their feelings for one another.

Tim's letters was one of the few things that brought her genuine joy these days. So, Anne quickly opened the letter to read what Tim had written to her in his penmanship, which had become so familiar to her.

Dear Anne,

I hope you are doing well and that this letter reaches you faster than the last one and before I leave Australia. One thing I certainly won't miss is the constant sunburn. I'm afraid I will have to say goodbye to my best friend here, my cooling box; what a faithful and loyal companion it was! It will receive an honourable funeral.

I dearly hope things are finally quieting down and the tabloids leave you alone, giving you back some privacy. That, too, has been an advantage of Australia; the tabloid news from home rarely reach Down Under, and they have their own nonsense to write about.

How are Peter and Zara? Has Zara demanded a bigger pony already? She seems to be determined to walk in your footsteps. And I know I'm terribly late on it, but how did Peter's football game at his school go? I hope they won and that he has yet to lose his interest in ships, for I have found him a little gift (Zara as well), and I will mail them to you once I get back home. I don't want them to get lost as well.

I'm afraid I don't know when I'll be able to write again, and just to be safe, I suggest that you send any reply to my home address since I'm not sure how fast my departure here will proceed.

Looking forward to hearing from you again and wishing you all the best in the meantime!

Yours truly,

Tim

Like always, his words never failed to put a smile on her face, and her heart beat faster with joy and ached in pain that they could never be more than this. Anne read the letter a couple more times, almost knowing the words by heart at the end.

Anne played with the idea of writing a reply immediately but decided against it. She would probably fail to write an adequate answer now. She would also drive to Windsor Castle reasonably early the next day with her children, so Anne would better try to get a halfway decent night of sleep. Drives over half an hour went scarcely by without at least one argument.

Listening to the voice of reason, Anne went to bed instead, though not before putting the letter in the secret compartment in one of the drawers at her desk where all of Tim's letters lay. But sleep did not come quickly with the letter still heavy on her mind. When Anne finally did fall asleep, she did so with a slight smile on her lips.

"I'm sorry for letting you wait!" the Queen called out as she approached Anne in the gardens, who was watching her children play with the Corgis. Anne quickly curtsied before she placed a quick kiss on her mother's cheek.

"It's fine, really. We have all the time, and I think it's rather good the two have some time to get some of that energy out. It's like an equation with the two; half an hour of sitting still equals one hour of activities."

"Much like you then," her mother teased, and Anne huffed.

"Yes, but you only had one of that kind." At precisely that moment, Peter and Zara noticed their grandmother and came running over to greet her and tell her about everything they had been up to since they last saw her.

"Give your grandmother time to answer, you two!" Anne said in a rather half-hearted attempt to slow them down. Her mother tried her best to squeeze in an answer or two between her oldest grandchildren, barely able to hold in a laugh at their antics.

Once Peter and Zara had passed on their reports on everything important that had happened, they soon ran off to finish their game with the dogs before lunch was ready to be served.

Mother and grandmother continued watching over them and catching up on everything on their own.

"What kept you occupied anyway? It's not like you like letting people wait, even if those people are only your grandchildren?" Anne asked curiously.

"They are not only my grandchildren, Anne! They are my grandchildren, and I love spending time with them, and that makes it even more important for me to be on time." knowing she had hit a nerve there and that she hadn't meant to imply in a way that her mother didn't value time with her family, especially with her grandchildren, Anne apologised.

"I'm sorry. I know you do, and they do too. I worded that wrong." The Queen nodded in acceptance before answering the question.

"The new junior equerry arrived a week ago, and we were still going through the plan for the next engagement, on which he will accompany me. Those things tend to take a bit more time until they get the hang of it, but I'm sure he will learn fast." While the general animosity between her and her mother's staff during her teenage years had disappeared, Anne still wasn't very keen on being on more than polite terms with them.

"Mhm, I'm sure he will."

"And how are…the proceedings with Mark going?" Anne sighed; it was like the word divorce did not exist in her mother's vocabulary.

"Our court appointment is on Thursday. So, by this time next week, we will be divorced, and I will be Anne Mountbatten-Windsor again."

"Don't you want to wait with that until after Christmas?" the Queen asked.

"No. I won't wait longer than necessary, and it's not like we would've spent Christmas together if we were to push the divorce into next year. I won't play pretend; I have done enough of that for a lifetime. We already talked about it. I'll take Peter and Zara to his parents' house on the 28th, and they will spend the rest of the holidays with him," Anne told her mother, who let out a small sigh of her own.

"I know that is not what you want to hear, and I'm sorry. I know you're ashamed of me, but I want to be free of him before he can take everything that's left of me."

"Why would you think I'm ashamed of you, Anne? There's still a lot left you would have to do before I am ashamed of my daughter."

"Because I'm ashamed of me," Anne confessed, refusing to look at her mother. She felt her mother wanted to say something, but they were interrupted by a member of staff.

"Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness. Lunch is ready to be served." The man said with a bow from the head.

"Thank you. We'll head inside in a moment," the Queen answered him, and with another bow, he retreated. Before she could attempt to continue their conversation, Anne called her children.

"Peter! Zara! Lunch is ready; let's go inside!" as it had been a while since they last ate, there came no resistance or complaints from the two, and they came running back instantly. Though it was a bit unfair, Anne lifted Zara into her arms as she tried to run past them and after her brother, but Anne knew her own mother wouldn't resume their conversation when Zara was in her arms.

"Got you! Hmm, if they serve nothing good for lunch, I could eat you!"

"No! Mama, you can't eat me!" Zara giggled and laughed as Anne pretended to bite her before blowing a raspberry against Zara's neck, causing her to squeal and giggle even more.

"Oh, I can, and I will have your big brother for dessert!"

"No, Granny, help!" Zara laughed and reached out with one hand towards her grandmother, who had to smile and play along despite the seriousness of the previous conversation.

"But Granny would like a bite of the Zara roast too!"

Just as they walked through the door, Peter came running back to her with a big, beaming smile on his face, pointing behind him as he came to a stop in front of his mother and grandmother.

"Mama, it's Tim! Tim's here!" Peter told her excitedly, and for a moment, Anne didn't understand what he meant until she looked up and down the hall and froze.

There he was, in uniform, tall and handsome as ever. A twinkle in the beautiful green eyes that had hunted her thoughts and dreams for over a year and a small smile on his lips. The man she was secretly in love with, no matter how hard she tried to banish him from her thoughts and close off her heart. He was indeed here, her Naval Officer, her Tim.

Thank you very much for reading! I'd love to read your thoughts on this in the comments; it's much appreciated! And a happy birthday to King Charles!

Chapter Text

"Yes, I remember. He was the Navigating Officer on the Britannia who showed you around the Bridge," Anne said, her voice nearly betraying the mix of emotions she was feeling. She quickly looked at her son and smiled, trying to mask her inner turmoil. She had never dared to hope to see Tim again, least of all as her mother's Equerry, which meant she would see him regularly. She thought back to his letters, wondering if he had hinted at it, but she couldn't recall him mentioning anything of the sort.

Setting Zara down on her feet, they walked over to Tim, where her mother, unbeknownst to her, unnecessarily introduced Anne to the man she was in love with and had been corresponding with via letters throughout the past year.

"Indeed, he was. This is Lieutenant Commander Laurence. I thought he would be suited for the role of Equerry while we were on the Britannia, and I'm glad he accepted on such short notice," the Queen said, genuinely pleased with his acceptance, noting his potential.

"It's an honour, Your Majesty. It's nice to meet you again, Your Royal Highness," Tim said, bowing his head and offering a polite smile.

"Likewise, Lieutenant Commander Laurence, congratulations on your promotion as well. I hope the transition to your new role here has gone smoothly," Anne replied with a small smile of her own, her heart still racing in her chest. Luckily, her daughter saved her.

"Wow, you're tall! Why are you so tall?" Her three-year-old daughter asked wide-eyed. Anne suspected taking in Tim's height was the reason Zara didn't start talking sooner, as she could talk like a waterfall, even with people she had just met.

"Zara, we say hello before we ask questions," Anne quickly reminded her daughter. Contrary to tabloid opinions, she was genuinely trying to raise well-mannered children. Zara paused for a moment, glancing up at her mother with a puzzled look on her little face that was quite adorable, before turning back to Tim.

"Hello! Why are you so tall?" Anne closed her eyes momentarily, knowing her three-year-old had outmanoeuvred her. Great.

"Tim is just tall, you oaf! Granny is short, and Tim is tall. That's just how it is!" Peter interjected, quickly followed by a displeased "Peter!" from his mother and grandmother.

"Your sister is not an oaf! And you will not call her that again. She was just asking a question. Nobody calls you an oaf for asking questions, Peter," Anne scolded her son, who did appear to be sorry.

"Sorry, Mummy."

"You don't have to apologise to me," Anne replied, and Peter looked at his little sister, who had not truly understood what he had said about her but knew it wasn't nice.

"I'm sorry, Zara. I didn't really mean it," Peter apologised, and Zara quickly accepted.

"It's okay."

"My apologies, Lieutenant Commander. Their manners come and go," Anne said to Tim. Even though her mother was still next to them, Anne swore she saw him fighting back a smile. It made her heart flutter, and for a moment, she had to bite her lip to prevent herself from suggesting he give the gifts he had bought for Peter and Zara to children who knew how to behave.

"No need to apologise to me, Ma'am. But it's good that you apologised to your sister, Master Phillips," he then looked at Zara. "And to finally answer your question, I don't know why I'm this tall. My father was also tall, so I think that's something I inherited from him, though I'm now taller than him and my big brother."

Upon hearing that, Zara quickly turned to her mother again. "Can I be taller than Peter, too?" she asked.

"I don't know, sweetie, but judging by my height and that of your grandmother, I don't think it's very likely," Anne told her honestly. "Alright, say goodbye to Lieutenant Commander Laurence, or your lunch will be cold." Anne feared that if they stayed together any longer, they might inadvertently reveal that they knew each other personally. No matter how much she wanted to know what he was doing there, how he was doing, and why he hadn't mentioned accepting the job as an Equerry. Now was not the time or place to talk.

"Goodbye!" Zara said with a smile and a wave, walking over to her grandmother as if she had lost all interest in Tim after he answered her question.

"Goodbye, Sir," Peter said rather glumly, barely looking at Tim before approaching his grandmother. Anne frowned but decided against asking Peter right away, in front of everyone, what was going on and why he seemed almost sad all of a sudden.

"It was nice seeing you again, Lieutenant Commander. Again, best of luck in your new role," Anne said to Tim, who gave her another small smile before replying.

"Thank you. It was nice meeting you again, Your Royal Highness." Tim gave a little bow of his head before turning to the Queen to say goodbye according to protocol before getting back to work. Anne's thoughts still revolved around Tim as her mother led the children towards the small dining room, where they would be served lunch. Anne couldn't help herself but throw a quick look over her shoulder. The hope of one tiny moment, one look, between themselves, and not under the Queen's watchful eye, was quickly smothered when she only caught a glimpse of Tim disappearing through a door.

There was the tiniest pinch of hurt in her heart, which Anne quickly brushed off. Tim was busy. He had to adjust to a new and demanding role quite quickly, and they had probably interrupted him, so it didn't mean anything that he hadn't turned around to look at her. And she really shouldn't have expected it. This was the real world and not some cliché movie romance, but deep inside, the disappointment still lingered.

They hadn't seen each other in over a year, hadn't spoken, only communicated through letters. What if, upon seeing each other in person, they realised that letters hadn't been enough after all? What if they had changed and were no longer the people from their memories? What if Tim, presented with the opportunity, was more focused on his career and didn't want to jeopardise it with silly rumours about knowing the Queen's daughter better than he ought to?

Anne quickly pushed these thoughts aside; she didn't have time to dwell on the "what ifs" and "maybes" regarding her relationship with Tim. She really couldn't do anything about it now, anyway. Her divorce was only a few days away, and she couldn't afford any negative press right now. Anne had to wait until her divorce was finalised before even attempting to talk with Tim. If someone caught them together and jumped to conclusions, whether right or wrong, it could end badly for both of them.

Their small family lunch went by smoothly. Both her mother and her children enjoyed their time together, and when their grandmother offered to take the dogs for a walk, the kids didn't need to be asked twice. Anne declined, claiming she needed to look for some documents in her room. In truth, she feared her mother might try to pick up their earlier conversation, and Anne didn't want to discuss her divorce any more.

What she wanted was for that miserable chapter of her life to be finally over so she could wrap it up and put it away—far away—hoping it would stop hurting and haunting her. Tim's presence only complicated things even more, and she wanted to be alone for a while.

Watching her children play with the dogs as they walked towards Windsor Park with their grandmother trailing behind, Anne turned and fled to the privacy of her room. She tried her best to occupy her mind with other thoughts; she even attempted to write a speech for an engagement the following week. But after crossing out yet another sentence, Anne had to admit defeat.

Seeing Tim unexpectedly had thrown her off balance. Suddenly, something that had offered her an escape—for her thoughts and feelings—had been thrust into reality. The letters had allowed her to keep the fantasy alive that what had happened on the Britannia was still real, that nothing had changed, and that they hadn't changed. Anne couldn't deny that the thought of pursuing a relationship with Tim after her divorce had crossed her mind once or twice. She imagined that, after some time had passed and the inevitable "scandal" of being seen with another man that would definitely follow them being seen together had faded, they could explore what they once had.

In her fantasies and dreams, it was all so easy. It would have been as if no time had passed; they were still the same two people who had fallen in love on the Britannia. Their feelings hadn't changed; neither had their positions. But that dream shattered when she saw Tim in his role as Equerry to her mother. Being involved with a random navy man wasn't a problem, but it would be a huge issue if he happened to be the Queen's Equerry. A relationship would not only damage her reputation and that of the family but also Tim's; his entire career could be jeopardised. Anne couldn't risk that. She wasn't worth it. They couldn't gamble both their professional lives on something that might not even suffice for a long-term relationship.

Then, a sudden thought struck Anne: Tim might no longer be interested in her at all! She had been sitting there, arrogantly assuming she needed to talk with him about them and that there was no chance for a romantic relationship when the reality could be that Tim wanted nothing of the sort.

Doubt filled her mind, and suddenly, Anne was unsure if she had even interpreted the letters correctly; she wondered if they were truly meant to convey only friendship and nothing more. Maybe she had read something into the letters that had never been there, or that had been there in the beginning, only to disappear over time. And stuck in her fantasy, Anne had never noticed. A lot could happen over the course of a year, especially when there was no way to see each other. Tim was a young and attractive man; if he wanted to, he could easily find a new young and beautiful woman to be with every few weeks. He didn't have to wait around for a soon-to-be-divorced mother of two who was also five years older than him.

Anne almost didn't hear the knock at her door. Even if she had, the person knocking didn't wait for her to answer before coming in. Just as she opened her mouth to ask what the hell they thought they were doing, she realised it was her aunt Margot.

"You know you're supposed to wait for the person to tell you to come in, right?" Anne said, but Princess Margaret shrugged it off.

"Why are you in here anyway? And where are the two energy bundles?" her aunt asked as she walked over to greet Anne properly with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Outside with their grandmother. Hopefully, running around with the dogs will drain some of their energy." Anne glanced at the clock and realised they would be back any minute. She had spent over half an hour lost in thought about her predicament.

"And how come you aren't with them?"

"I fear that while Peter and Zara make the dogs work for their treats, my mother will use the opportunity to pick up our earlier conversation about my divorce. Maybe she would even try to convince me to push it back into the new year. Like that would make a difference, and I don't want to stay married to that bellend for a second longer than necessary." Anne explained.

"In that instance, I can't blame you; that might be exactly what she had in mind if only to have more time with the children over the holidays," Margaret answered her niece as she sat down next to her. "And that is the only reason you're hiding in here?"

"I'm not hiding," Anne argued.

"You're talking to the one who invented hiding in these halls, dear. I know what it looks like, and this—"she waved her hand up and down in the direction of Anne, "looks like hiding minus the cigarettes and the gin."

"Think what you want."

"So that you are in here has nothing to do with that very handsome new Equerry, who happens to be the man you spent your nights on the Britannia with?"

Anne stared at her aunt in utter shock. How could she possibly know? No, it was impossible; they had been careful not to get caught. She couldn't know. While her heart was racing in her chest, so much so that Anne thought her aunt could surely hear it, outwardly, she quickly regained her composure.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, but I assure you, men are the least of the things I have on my mind right now," Anne answered resolutely, but her aunt only chuckled, shaking her head amused like Anne was just a silly little girl.

"Oh, Darling, you might be able to fool everyone with that act but me. I watched the two of you talk almost every night from above on the royal deck. I kept the others from catching you more than once." Margaret revealed, and when a second before Anne's heart had been beating fast, it had come to an abrupt stop now.

Too much had happened in the last hour; too much had changed. Tim was here; there were not a thousand miles or even continents between them for the first time in over a year. But he was still further from her than ever before, pushed forever out of reach. And now her aunt revealed that she had seen them, and Margaret wasn't stupid; she would have seen and realised what had happened between them.

"That was over a year ago—" Anne paused, looking into the blue eyes of her aunt, the eyes that ran in the family, the same blue eyes of her grandmother and mother. And it felt like all of them were staring at her right now. Steeling herself under the knowing gaze of her aunt, she continued. "It was nothing." Anne heard herself say, and her heart broke a little as the words left her mouth.

Yes, it was nothing. It had to be—to mean—nothing. Nothing but memories.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me, Anne." Why couldn't she just stop? Why did she have to say anything in the first place? It was none of her aunt's business. So Anne did what she did when her emotions got the better of her when her control slipped, and she didn't want to admit, even to herself, that she was hurt. She lashed out.

"I couldn't care less how anything looks to you, and it wouldn't be the first time you got something wrong! It doesn't even matter as nothing happened and never will happen! Now, leave me alone; I have work to do!" Anne hissed through clenched teeth, the look in her eyes hard and unrelenting.

Yet Margaret saw the pain Anne tried to hide. Her niece was so much better at hiding her emotions than she had ever been. But Margaret still saw right through her. Even from a very young age, Anne had hidden her emotions by being loud, wild and bold, always speaking her mind even if it got her in trouble and pretending words didn't hurt. Margaret had witnessed how she was pushed aside first in favour of her older brother and then her younger brothers. Funnily enough, even if he remembered it differently, most people around them had always favoured Charles apart from their parents. It was only natural as he was the eldest, the first son, the heir. Anne was none of these things.

Anne quickly understood that nobody would ever notice her if she was quiet, meek, and obedient. Because her brother would always be better at these things than she was, she understood she had to be a wilder child, determined and strong or be forgotten in a system that had no role for her to fill. And it had become her shield.

A shield she had perfected when public scrutiny had begun. When her husband tried to break the woman she was and force her to be the wife he wanted to have, not with his hands, but with his words and his actions. When she had refused, he had been determined to hurt her for the sake of seeing her hurt, for some form of control over her. Once again, when her sister-in-law began to play a game with the press and the public, a game Anne had never prepared for nor wanted to participate in, but which still, and quite unfairly, determined the parameters by which she would be judged.

Anne had perfected and changed the shield, swapping the wild and determined child for a hard-working, dutiful woman trying to prove her worth to the world. Adding a sword of no-nonsense and quick-witted humour. Margaret had watched Anne living her life with her sword and shield, if not raised, then always within reach, until a night on the Britannia over a year ago.

In the presence of that one Officer, Margaret had seen her niece like she had never seen Anne before, apart from with her children. Like she had hoped to see her with her husband but never did. Carefree and happy, her sword and shield forgotten; it was like not one bad thing existed in the world.

Anne deserved a chance to be with a man who made her happy; she didn't deserve to end up alone and bitter like Margaret did. As Margaret apologised and got up to leave her niece alone, she swore she would try her best to give Anne and that Officer a chance to find their happiness.

"Are you ready?" Anne asked as she walked into her son's bedroom.

After a long day at Windsor spent playing with the dogs, their grandparents, and their uncle Charles, the three of them had arrived home quite late. Zara had fallen asleep during the car ride, and with the inevitable sleepy tantrum that followed waking her up, it took a little longer to get her bathed and into bed. Anne had considered skipping the bath and just putting her to bed, but since both children were covered in dirt and she had removed half a bush from Zara's hair, it had been unavoidable. Not to mention, she would have regretted skipping the bath in the morning.

"Yes!" Peter replied as he slipped under his duvet and smiled at his mother.

"Alright, make a little more room for Mummy," Anne said as she grabbed the "Frog and Toad Are Friends" book and tried to sit on the side of Peter's bed so they could read together. But Peter reached out to stop her.

"No, Mummy, you're all wet!" he said, pushing against her thigh, which was still damp from bathtime. Anne really had to ask Patti how she managed to bathe her children without flooding the bathroom and making it look like she had taken a bath with them.

"Well, I wouldn't be all wet if you and your sister had left the water in the bathtub where it belonged!" Anne defended herself as she nudged his hand away to sit down, making sure to sit a little lower so that if she got anything wet, it would only be the duvet.

"But it was fun!" Peter cheekily replied with a giggle.

"Very fun indeed. Next time, the two of you will clean up your mess in the bathroom; let's see how much fun you have then. Now come here, let's read your book." Peter quickly complied and snuggled into his mother's side so they could read together. They took turns reading for Peter to practice before Anne took over to read to him.

Noticing that Peter grew tired and leaned into her more with each passing minute, Anne finished the last sentence of the page before closing the book. "Alright… that's it for tonight. Time to sleep." She placed the book on Peter's nightstand, got up from his bed, and fixed the duvet around him.

"Mummy?"

"Yes?"

"Why does Tim not want to be friends anymore?" Peter's innocent question made Anne freeze, grabbing the duvet tighter as she looked at him. She had expected many things, but not this. She had almost managed to push all thoughts of Tim aside, having done her best to enjoy the day with her family, but Peter's question brought everything back at once. Sinking back down on the bed, Anne needed a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Anne asked, only to remember Peter's unusual behaviour when they said goodbye to Tim. Was this the reason? Did Peter think he couldn't be friends with Tim anymore? Even though they were technically never really friends to begin with?

"He said, 'Master Philips.' Only people working for Granny call me that; my friends call me 'Peter'."

"That's right, but Tim is working for Granny now, so he has to call you Master Philips or Master Peter when others are around. It has nothing to do with being friends or not; those are the rules. You'll see Tim more often now, but when you do, he'll be working for Granny, so he won't be allowed to call you Peter, and you will have to say 'Sir' as well. But if you want, I can ask him if it would be okay for the two of you to use 'Peter' and 'Tim' when nobody is around," Anne said. As the words left her mouth, a rush of guilt overcame her.

Was she really going to use her son as an excuse to talk to Tim? What kind of mother was she? The kind who was pathetic enough to use her son to speak with the man she was in love with but whom she should forget altogether.

"Please, can you?" Peter's eyes lit up despite his sleepiness, and Anne felt even worse.

"I will try my best, but I won't make any promises, okay?" Peter nodded with a smile. "Good, and now sleep; I love you," Anne whispered as she got up again and placed a kiss on Peter's forehead.

"I love you too," Peter answered before closing his eyes, oblivious to the chaos of emotions he had stirred up inside his mother.

Anne quietly left Peter's room, the day's events weighing heavily on her heart and mind. She momentarily leaned against the hallway wall, taking a deep breath to steady herself. After gathering her thoughts, she pushed off the wall and walked down the hallway and the stairs.

For a brief moment, Anne contemplated going to bed, but her feet carried her past her bedroom and down to her office. She didn't turn on the light; instead, she navigated through the dark room until she reached her desk, where she switched on the small lamp.

Sitting down, Anne opened the drawer where she kept Tim's letters and pulled them out from their hiding spot. Removing the pink ribbon that held them together, she began to reread them one by one, even the ones she knew by heart.

She couldn't quite understand why she was putting herself through this, what she was searching for. It wasn't as if there was a hidden code in the letters that she would suddenly be able to decipher. No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, there was no secret love message waiting to be revealed.

The things Tim wrote to her were similar to what other close friends had shared with her in various conversations. He offered words of understanding, encouragement, and genuine support. They had talked about sailing; Tim had made her laugh with anecdotes from his time at sea. He inquired about her love for horses, Eventing, and what it took to compete. They wrote about the most trivial and random details of their lives—hardly worth mentioning.

Was the reason they had censored their letters truly due to caution and fear of potential exposure? Or was it because there wasn't a substantial relationship between them? After all, they hardly had much in common. Perhaps neither of them had more to share than these casual exchanges. They had never attempted to discuss more meaningful topics, nor had they tried, in over a year, to slip in something that only the other would understand—a sign that they still felt more for each other.

Sitting alone in her dimly lit office, Anne understood deep down why she was rereading each letter. She was searching for anything that would change her mind—some indication that Tim still felt the same way about her, that he had any feelings for her at all, and that she didn't have to end what had become so precious to her.

Tears escaped her eyes for the first time that day, and for the first time in a while, they weren't hastily brushed away. Anne felt the painful weight of her realisation as she came up empty-handed and had to admit one final defeat.

Tim had been staring at the TV for a while, but he had no idea what he was watching. It was some boring documentary since there weren't any interesting football matches on. But he couldn't have been less interested in the program; it had been a futile attempt to distract his mind from her since the moment he came home.

He felt like the biggest coward in history. Tim knew it was foolish not to tell Anne that he had been considered for the position of Equerry to the Queen, especially since he had ended up being chosen much earlier than expected. He should have informed her, allowing her to prepare for their reunion rather than catching her off guard. After all, when they had parted ways, they believed they would never see each other again.

He had witnessed the shock on Anne's face when she first saw him before she quickly regained her composure and put on a polite mask. Tim could only guess that his return might be an unwelcome surprise for her, especially with her divorce from Mark just a week away. He imagined this was the last thing she needed in her life right now—extra chaos and, if they took one wrong step, more fodder for the tabloid vultures.

But he was a weak and selfish man. Given the opportunity to see the woman he was in love with again and who had been on his mind for over a year, Tim hadn't been strong enough to decline. In fact, his desire to accept the position had been driven more by the chance to see Anne again than by any career benefits.

From the moment he laid eyes on her, he had struggled to focus on his duties. While she had been a constant presence in his thoughts over the past year, now she flooded his mind completely. Anne was even more beautiful than he remembered, breathtakingly so. Hearing her voice again made his heart race; she could read the telephone book for hours, and he'd hang on to her every word. Tim just wanted to be near her.

He had fallen for her all over again. For a fleeting moment, Tim wanted to pull Anne into his arms and kiss her. He didn't even care that her children and her mother—now his boss, and not to mention the Queen—were right there with them.

However, seeing Anne again came with a high price, one he had willingly ignored. He was brutally reminded of it when they met; they could no longer talk, hug, or touch in the same way they once had. He risked ending his career, losing everything he had worked for, and even more severe consequences for simply thinking about kissing her again.

Tim's thoughts wandered to the letters in the drawer upstairs in his office, and he remembered how happy he felt when Anne had responded to him. Initially, he had been certain he had lost his mind and would never receive an answer after sending the first letter. Yet, she surprised him, and what followed was a correspondence that meant the world to him.

He had never dared to express his true feelings in writing, not only because it could lead to a scandal that would ruin them if the letters ever fell into the wrong hands. More importantly, Tim couldn't bear the thought that what had been between them on the Britannia no longer existed. What if her feelings had changed? What if those moments of connection were merely fleeting illusions, crafted by longing and the distance between them?

Anne might face a divorce soon, but he felt he was still not good enough for her. Nobody would accept another commoner by her side after that idiot, Mark Philips. Why should she waste her time on him? Moreover, Tim was now part of the palace staff. He couldn't do that to her; Anne deserved someone who could truly make her happy—someone better than he could ever be.

Tim would settle for a professional work relationship and perhaps some form of friendship, if possible. He had to hope that his feelings for her wouldn't grow any stronger and that he could keep them to himself. There were worse things in life, and who knows? Maybe someday Tim could find someone else too—even if the thought that this someone wouldn't be Anne felt like a stab to his heart.

The ringing of the phone pulled Tim from his thoughts. He would have ignored it, but since it was unusual for him to receive calls at this hour, he reluctantly got up from the sofa to answer. Maybe it was his mother; they hadn't spoken since his first day as Equerry.

"Laurence?"

"Hello, Tim. It's Vanessa Deggler. I don't know if you remember me, but we went to Durham together."