Work Text:
December 1987
Shortly after Lieutenant Commander Timothy Laurence, recently promoted to Commander, began his term as Equerry to Her Majesty the Queen, he started a close friendship with her daughter, Princess Anne.
Over the past few months, they regularly met, initially discussing much-needed advice on charities. This gradually evolved into deeper conversations about Anne's failing marriage, her family, and, most importantly, Tim filled a loneliness in her life. He gave her a shoulder to cry on when she needed someone to tell her troubles to. She felt extremely comfortable around him, and they enjoyed taking picnics in the Balmoral heather and going on long strolls, talking about anything and everything whenever they had the opportunity.
Tim can vividly recall the first time they talked about their shared love for sailing, a common interest unique to the two of them. They would have lengthy deep conversations about the potential journeys they could embark on, just the two of them on the vast open seas. Tim recalled a holiday he took with his family when he was just three years old to Dungeness, when his Father showed him the ‘shiny’ boats at the lifeboat station. It was a cherished memory for him, and Anne would often share stories of her adventures sailing in Cowes with her Papa.
She even confided in him once, saying, 'Sailing on a sunny day with a fresh breeze blowing, with perhaps someone you truly care for (and he knew she meant him) is the closest thing to heaven I will get to on this earth.' When she declared this to him, his heart swooned, he felt the exact same way for her. He had waited a very long time to find someone who loved sailing as much as he did.
On some occasions, she would feel a sense of sadness. She had never had deep, meaningful conversations like this with Mark, not even at the beginning of their marriage. Anne would ask him about his day, and he would respond with short, blunt answers like 'Fine, thanks. How was yours?' She would recall her day, whether it involved visits to her patronages or adventures with their children when he was away, but he seemed uninterested. All she longed for was someone to listen to her, understand her, and, most importantly, support her. She had put so much effort into their relationship, but the sentiment wasn't reciprocated.
The year before, in January 1986, a few months before Tim started his term as equerry, Anne, Mark, and their children decided to take a skiing holiday to France. Anne saw this as a make-it-or-break-it opportunity. They could spend time alone, relax, and talk, or so she thought. During the day, they would maintain a facade for the children, enjoying the slopes.
On their last night, with the children playing board games with their nanny in the chalet, Anne and Mark had a chance to chat on the balcony. She talked about their next steps, expressing her desire to make their marriage work, not just for appearances. Sadly, but not surprisingly to her, Mark showed no interest.
Anne went inside to find a board game to break the ice. She chose 'Scrabble' and brought it back outside. They laid out the board, each drawing seven tiles. As they placed words on the board, Anne kept score. Mark was winning at the moment, thanks to a double word score. Anne replaced her tiles on her rack and felt satisfied with her choices, ready to place them on the board.
Anne looked at Mark dead in the eyes as she placed each letter on the board: C H E A T E R. '12 points, oh, would you look at that, triple word score, 36,' Anne said, raising a single eyebrow at him. She knew exactly what had been going on when Mark went away on those so-called equestrian training courses in the States and New Zealand. Mark thought he had a neutral expression, but his face turned bright red; he was caught. Anne didn't need words from him; nothing he could say would resolve this.
She folded the board in half without a word, put everything in the box and swiftly went inside. She hid on the other side of the door and shed a tear. She didn't know if it was for her failed marriage or a yearning for what could be. All Anne wanted was a supportive husband, a rock to lean on when needed and space when necessary.
Anne composed herself and entered the living room to see what Peter and Zara were doing. They were engaged in little drawings; Peter drew boats, and Zara drew farm animals and horses. They sat on the floor cross-legged, and Anne joined them at the table, sitting between her children. She hugged them tightly, and in unison, they asked, 'Mummy, why are you crying?' She pulled back, smiled at them, and marveled at their innocence, her daily source of happiness.
A month before Christmas, the Queen requested to meet Tim in her drawing room to discuss the upcoming festivities at Sandringham. Similar to the previous family holiday at Balmoral during the summer, he would perform his Equerry duties in public but would be invited as part of the family in private.
One evening, shortly after his conversation with her mother, Tim told Anne that he would be joining her family for Christmas, much to her excitement. They discussed their plans leading up to the big day: Tim would visit his family in Wiltshire from the 19th to the 21st and then join the Queen and Prince Philip at Sandringham on the morning of the 22nd to help prepare for the rest of the family's arrival the next day. Anne told him that she would be one of the first to arrive the 23rd with Peter and Zara, uncertain if Mark would join her, and the rest of her siblings and their families would follow soon after.
One of his duties was to welcome the family as they arrived, helping them to their rooms. Tim spotted the dark blue Land Rover pull up the drive. Tim awaited Anne and her children at the front door, gave Anne a small hug, and softly said, 'Merry Christmas.' He wished to hold her tightly, but not in public, at least not yet. He then crouched down to shake little Peter and Zara's hands. Zara, still young, jumped at him to mimic her mother and gave him a hug. 'Merry Christmas to you too, Zara,' he said with a big smile.
Tim passed the car keys to one of the porters to park the car and welcomed them inside, but Mark was nowhere to be seen. The children eagerly ran off to find their grandparents, each carrying little festive gift bags. Anne and Tim walked closely down the corridor, catching up as if they hadn't seen each other just a few days prior.
~ the next day, Christmas Eve ~
When all of the family had arrived, they all joined at the festively dressed table, prepared for the Christmas Eve meal. Anne and Tim weren’t sitting next to each other but they gave each other a subtle smile as they all sat down. They enjoyed starters and a traditional turkey dinner, with all of the trimmings. After the final course, a homemade Christmas pudding with brandy sauce, Tim quietly slipped away to his room.
Queen Elizabeth had a special task for him; he was to play Father Christmas on Christmas Eve and give out small gifts to the children, continuing a German tradition.
After tea and coffee, Anne noticed Tim's absence from the table and wondered what was happening. A short while later, her mother gathered everyone in the Crimson drawing room, which graced by a beautifully decorated Christmas tree.
In the corner of the room, a chair was placed, and Elizabeth announced a big surprise for the children. They all jumped with excitement. Once they settled down, she asked them to sit around the chair, next to a big red sack. In walked a figure dressed in red and white, and all the children, along with the adults, cheered.
Upon closer inspection, Anne realized that the Santa was Tim. He wore the traditional red suit trimmed with white fur, a long red hat with a white bobble, and a big, fluffy white beard. He didn't need blush to replicate Santa's rosy cheeks; it came naturally.
Once the children sat back down, he began calling the children in age order: Peter, Zara, William and then Harry. He sat each child on his knee and asked them if they had been naughty or nice. Of course, they all claimed to be nice.
He then asked each of them what they wished for Christmas. Ten-year-old Peter asked for a Hawkeye GI Joe, six-year-old Zara asked for a Cabbage Patch Kid doll, five-year-old William asked for an Optimus Prime, and little three-year-old Harry, with help from his mother, asked for a Teddy Ruxpin.
After his brief chat with each child, he handed them a small, neatly wrapped gift, carefully prepared by the Queen on the previous day.
Anne watched with her heart swelling with love. How could one man be so lovely? Once Tim had finished his festive duty, he gave a quick glance to Anne and saw her eyes glistening with happy tears. She was trying to deny it, but she truly believed he was the man of her dreams—so thoughtful, compassionate, with a heart of gold. Plus, it didn't hurt that he was very handsome too.
Each child skipped to their parents in glee, seeking help with opening their presents. First, Peter and then Zara bounded toward Anne, eagerly anticipating the opening of their gifts. Across the room, there were squeals of excitement as Charles and Diana helped William and Harry open their presents.
Santa Tim reminded the children to be good until next year and exited the Crimson drawing room with a 'ho, ho, ho.' It was getting late, so Anne and Charles decided to take their children to bed. Anne tucked Peter and Zara into bed, even though they were hyper after meeting Santa and indulging one too many yuletide treats.
Tim rejoined the family a little later, having changed into his smart casual attire for an evening of carol singing and gift exchanging between the adults. Prince Philip started making festive cocktails, continuing his yearly tradition.
After a couple of hours of singing, Elizabeth and Margaret and their mother, perhaps singing a bit too merry from one too many sherries, the family started retiring to their rooms. Just before Tim was about to head to his room for the night, he quietly pulled Anne to one side and asked if she would like to join him for a small drink, just the two of them. She looked up at him, gave him a soft smile, and nodded in anticipation of what might come.
After she accepted, Tim went to his room, and Anne joined him shortly after. Anne softly knocked on the door, a distinctive knock he had heard many times. She slowly opened the door, and Tim welcomed her into the room with a soft kiss on her cheek and a subtle hand on her shoulder. The fire was crackling and a single table lamp which created a perfect glow in the room.
He gestured for Anne to join him on the settee, he looked slightly nervous. Anne noticed Tim's distracted look and asked, "Is something on your mind, Tim?"
He took a deep breath and replied, "Well, Anne, there's something I've been wanting to give you, but I thought it might be best to wait for the right moment. With it being Christmas, I couldn't think of a better time."
Tim reached around to the side of the settee and retrieved a small oblong package. It was neatly wrapped in paper decorated with anchors and tied with a pink ribbon.
She looked at him in anticipation as he handed her the gift. Pulling lightly on the bow of the ribbon and unwrapping the present it revealed a book of poetry, specifically about sailing around Scotland. Their dream place to go together, it also reminded her that Tim mentioned once that he occasionally wrote poetry when he was younger.
"Tim, this is so thoughtful and beautiful, more than you could ever know, I can’t thank you enough” Tim gestured for her to turn to the inside of the back cover.
Inside Anne found a piece of paper carefully glued to the page. She read the first few lines, tears started to roll down her cheek. It was a poem handwritten by him, specially for Anne.
Amidst Scotland's rugged, coastal grace,
Love's journey found in a wild, open space.
With sails aloft on the windswept sea,
Two hearts collided, their spirits set free.
Amidst the Highlands' grandeur and lore,
In the embrace of the Hebrides' shore.
Two souls found solace, a bond so grand,
Love's adventure in Scotland's gentle hand.
He thought he was being a little bold in his approach but from Anne’s reaction he could tell she adored his gesture. Anne was astonished that someone so wonderful would do something so meaningful for her. She was speechless, all she could do in that moment was to lean in and give Tim a kiss on the cheek, a silent acknowledgment of her feelings for him. Tim carefully put his hand, palm side up, on her lap, he was unsure of her reaction, she placed her hand in his. They sat together, hand in hand, looking into each other's eyes, by the crackling fire, sharing stories and laughter late into the night.
Tim entered her life at a time when she needed him the most and least expected it. Some might call it fate. He understood her in a way Mark couldn't. It was more than physical attraction; it was much, much deeper than that.
It was past midnight on Christmas Day, so they decided to bid each other good night as they had a long day ahead of them. Standing close to the door, with her hand resting on his shoulder, Anne gave Tim a lingering kiss on his cheek. As Anne took a step back, they exchanged longing looks. Tim couldn't resist anymore, and he whispered, 'Anne.' They both knew what this meant; Anne simply nodded with a subtle smile and leaned in for a kiss, the first of many. "Merry Christmas, Tim," Anne said softly, and Tim replied, "Merry Christmas, darling." She left for her apartment, and Tim, besotted, couldn't wipe the smile off his face, and neither could she.
Little did they know that this Christmas gift would mark the beginning of their love story, a Christmas neither of them would forget. There was no looking back.
Who knows where their relationship will take them exactly five years from now, or even thirty?