Chapter Text
The first time it happened was after a formal dinner. Buckingham Palace was hosting a reception in aid of the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award, and it was one of the first big events Tim was attending since becoming an Equerry to the Queen. Anne was in attendance too, a show of support for her father’s beloved scheme; the Award was like his fifth child.
Usually Tim would remain at the height of professionalism and stay completely sober, but given the merry occasion, the Queen gave her express permission for him to enjoy himself. He’d somehow allowed himself to get slightly tipsy, making the schoolboy error of mixing his drinks. Even after a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, Tim was loath to decline when the Duke offered a rather generous dram of one of his best whiskeys.
And of course all it took for Anne was her customary one glass.
The Queen retired not long after dinner, not wanting to prove too much of a distraction at her husband’s big event. They caught up as Tim was bidding good evening to the Duke; with the Queen gone, he didn’t have much cause to be there.
“I’m off to bed too, Daddy. I already know I’m going to have a sore head in the morning,” Anne said with a grimace.
Philip smiled fondly at his only daughter. “Goodnight, sweetie,” he said, kissing Anne on the cheek before turning his attention back to his wife’s equerry.
“Commander, could you please see to it that my daughter makes it back to her rooms in one piece?”
“Of course, sir,” Tim answered, giving his usual bow of the head. This time it made him a bit woozy, and he hoped the Duke didn’t notice.
Considering the smirk on the older man’s face as the pair left the ballroom, Tim was out of luck.
“He always thinks I need someone to babysit me after these things,” Anne complained, albeit halfheartedly, as they made it to the hallway. “I’m 36, I can hold my drink!”
Tim snorted. “No, you can’t!”
Seeing the Princess furrow her eyebrows and open her mouth about to protest, he quickly continued. “But I’m not much better, so perhaps we should find someone to escort me escorting you.”
Anne came to a halt and glared at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky I like you, because you’re talking bollocks.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds before sharing a cheeky smile.
“I do apologise, Your Royal Highness,” Tim murmured wryly as they continued their journey.
When Tim joined the Household, he and the Princess struck up a near-instant friendship. Tim was a decent sort, and Anne couldn’t help but gravitate to his gentle, warm personality. She struggled to find people like that in recent years. And Anne was just the type of person Tim liked—hardworking and curious about the world around her, with a charming combination of an easy laugh and a dry wit.
They grew closer over the Christmas holidays, and had since been spending more and more time in each other’s company, their conversations becoming less work-related and more of a friendly tea break. Tim was quite sure he’d never drunk so much tea in his life.
Anne suddenly made a strangled noise as she almost lost her balance (she knew wearing these new heels was a bad idea), but somehow she managed to right herself before Tim could move to catch her.
“I’m fine!” she declared, pre-empting him again. “I just haven’t worn these shoes before.”
“I didn’t say anything…” Tim replied innocently, but he gallantly offered her his arm anyway. He half-intended the action to be a joke, but she accepted and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, a silent admission that she did in fact need a bit of assistance.
Looking down at her feet to steady herself, a glint caught Anne’s eye.
“Your shoes are very shiny.”
“Oh, thank you,” he replied proudly. “Nice to know the weekly appointments with all my dress shoes and Match Of The Day aren’t going to waste.”
“Christ, your Saturday evenings sound about as thrilling as mine,” she snarked.
Tim glanced across at her. They shared plenty of common interests, but football was not one of them. However, she had been quite open with him about the problems in her marriage; she confided she barely even saw her husband anymore and that their relationship had soured irreparably over the last few years.
He sensed her comment was an invitation; perhaps she needed to vent this evening.
“No Captain Phillips again tonight?” he asked cautiously.
“Ugh, no,” Anne growled, disgust in her voice. “He’s probably off shagging some unfortunate young thing.”
Tim could only sigh sympathetically before she continued.
“I suppose that happens at my age—you stop being interesting enough for him to even bother to show up and play pretend.”
Their steps slowed, and he turned to face her. Her vitriol was usually aimed at Mark, but on occasion her hurt manifested as self-criticism. Her dejected tone and downcast eyes made it clear this was one of those times.
“Please don’t talk about yourself like that,” he began. “You’re very interesting, in every sense of the word.”
She looked up at him timidly, obviously unconvinced. Tim was naturally quite a reserved person, but once he was in the right company — and especially after he had a drink — his inhibitions went out the window. That, alongside his overwhelming need to reassure her she deserved far better than her dreadful husband, led him to continue.
“And, for all it’s worth, I think he’s mad. I mean, look at you! You’re so lovely and funny and clever, any man would—”
He was stopped abruptly by Anne pressing her mouth to his, her hands on his face.
When she pulled away after a few seconds, he was staring back at her in shock.
She didn’t know why he was looking at her like that; with him standing there in his uniform, looking so handsome and so tall, and saying such nice things about her, what else was she supposed to do but kiss him?
She merely looked at him innocently and shrugged, as if asking that very question.
And all of a sudden he was kissing her, his hands on her waist to draw her closer, one of her hands tangled in his hair as the other clutched tightly onto one of his lapels.
After they parted again, Anne immediately took hold of his hand to lead him the final few yards to her apartment door. When there were just a few steps left, she looked over her shoulder to check he was still as enthusiastic as he had been in their embrace a few moments before.
She needn’t have worried.
With her cheeks reddened and an enticing gleam in her eye, Tim thought she could lead him off the edge of a cliff and he’d let her. Maybe that’s what she was doing now.
He followed her anyway.
They both stared up at the ceiling, breathing slowly returning to normal. By now they had sobered up almost completely, and were trying to comprehend what they had just let happen.
That was… unexpected.
Anne decided that if she was the one who had to ease the tension, she might as well go all out.
“Perhaps we could… do this again?”
She felt the mattress shift slightly as he tensed beside her.
“Wh— Sorry?” Tim spluttered, thinking he couldn’t possibly have heard her right.
She turned her head to look at him.
“Don’t worry; it doesn’t have to mean anything. I just thought, you know, you’re not seeing anyone, and I’m apparently the only woman in the Commonwealth my husband isn’t sleeping with… And I’d say we both enjoyed ourselves tonight.”
He didn’t answer right away, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Oh god, please say yes, she thought. I don’t think I could live down the embarrassment of being rejected. And to be perfectly honest, I haven’t had an evening this exhilarating in years. Why should Mark have all the fun while I get all the heartache?
Tim tried to form an answer as the events of the last couple of hours flashed through his mind.
Eyes meeting across the bustling State Rooms.
Laughing against each other’s mouths as they stumbled towards the bed. Shoes kicked across the room, his tie dropped somewhere along the way, and her pretty emerald dress flung carelessly on the floor.
How dark her eyes were when she was under him. The sound of her gasping his name.
This was definitely a bad idea.
But the way she had made the unusual request so matter-of-factly was so typical of her, and she was now nervously biting her lip — let me do that — awaiting his answer.
It doesn’t have to mean anything.
“Alright.”
The second time it happened was another late evening, on her return to the Palace following a dinner held by one of her own patronages. Both were sober as judges when Anne knocked briskly on his office door long after the rest of the staff had left for the day.
Tim was on the sofa working on some admin he’d been putting off (even the most fascinating jobs had their pitfalls) when she let herself in, and he got to his feet to give her the customary bow and greeting.
“Good evening, Your Royal Highness. Is there something I can help you with?” he asked, suppressing a sigh at his choice of phrasing. Don’t go there.
“Just thought I’d pop in, see if you were busy,” she replied, punctuated by a little bounce on her feet.
“Well, I’m… here if you need me.” Stop it! Control yourself!
Anne smirked as she inched slowly towards him. “Do you ever think about how you work in the very room where my aunt stole away with one of your predecessors?”
He couldn’t answer, but his mind was racing at the implication. Oh my god. She’s really doing this again.
He was sure he was gawping at her by the time she stopped barely a foot away, looking up at him with a coquettish glimmer, and speaking in a low voice that would be his undoing.
“Must be something in the air down here.”
Within moments they were kissing hungrily, their hands roaming hurriedly to undo buttons and zips. Tim pulled away and tried to move around her to lock the door, but she stopped him with a hand on his bare chest.
“Leave it,” she said in a sultry whisper, pushing him down on the sofa and clambering on top of him, any concerns about potential intruders instantly forgotten.
Later that evening, Tim lay alone in his bed contemplating the agreement he and Anne had reached. Almost two weeks had passed since their first encounter, so he assumed she had decided not to pursue things, that in the cold light of day she had come to her senses. He even wondered once or twice if he had been a disappointment, although she certainly seemed like she had a good time.
They had seen each other on a few occasions since then, but she didn’t mention it and he was not going to be the one to broach the subject. He tried to forget about that night when it appeared she had changed her mind, but it proved impossible, the memories invading his thoughts any time his focus waned even slightly.
And as if on cue, she waltzed into his office a few hours ago and that was that. Confirmation the first time wasn’t a one-off, or a mistake, or a very realistic dream. It was the start of… something.
This wasn’t the type of thing he did. He wouldn’t usually be so cavalier as to take a woman to bed without some kind of commitment between them, but…
Oh, who was he trying to fool. He was in serious danger of falling in love with this woman, if he hadn’t already. She bewitched him without even trying when she offered a hand for him to shake as she welcomed him aboard HMS Buck House. He’d had a silly crush on the Princess for as long as he could remember, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing her brilliant smile up close, or her eyes which were a lovelier shade of blue than anything he’d ever seen during all his time at sea. As he got to know her, he started longing to make her happy and to treat her the way she deserved — exactly the way her husband wasn’t treating her.
But if this arrangement was all Anne wanted and he could make her even a little more contented amidst the turmoil of her private life, then he could push his feelings aside. He would know his admiration for her ran deeper, even if she didn’t. His conscience would be clear. Mostly.
He began to think again of that unlocked door and the echoing hallways beyond. Not to mention that sofa he would never be able to look at the same way. And the pile of crumpled paperwork he’d have to get typed up again.
A married woman.
The Queen’s daughter.
Anne.
Fuck.