Fairytale

Chapter Five: The Ideal Family

┌── •✧• ──┐

Family is supposed to be our safe place. Very often, it's the place where we find the deepest heartache.

└── •✧• ──┘

It's Christmastime and Anne is hiding in one of the unused bedrooms at Sandringham, playing chess with Edward. Neither of them is much good at it, but neither of them feels much up to socializing with the rest of the family, either. Anne has had about enough of the Princess of Wales, who is positively glowing with her unexpected expectancy, the latest twist in the melodrama of the Wales marriage that keeps everyone so enthralled. Edward has had about enough of everyone - it's not easy, after all, being the runt of the litter, the family joke, and though he usually plays it off with good humor, Anne knows even her youngest brother has his limit of being teased.

Edward has just moved his bishop cautiously away from her knight when the door bangs open and Andrew bursts into the room, spoiling their solitude.

"There you two are," Andrew says merrily, though Anne suspects it's the wine glass in his hand more than any seasonal cheer that has him in such high spirits. "I've been looking everywhere."

"Well come in and shut the door, before anyone else finds us," Anne replies without taking her eyes off the chessboard.

Andrew does as he's told, though Edward winces at how loudly the door slams shut behind him. "I've just heard the most scandalous bit of gossip," he announces proudly, and Anne rolls her eyes. Andrew can be as bad as Aunt Margot, especially when he's drunk.

"We all know about the actor cousin Sarah's seeing," Edward says by way of trying to take the wind out of their brother's sails. Somehow he never quite manages it as well with Andrew as he can with Charles - but perhaps Charles is merely an easier target.

Andrew, as usual, is undeterred. "No, not that," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, then saunters over and leans heavily on Edward's shoulder. Edward sags dramatically under the weight. "You'll want to watch out for that castle of hers," Andrew adds conspiratorially, pointing with the hand still holding his wine glass.

"Don't help him," Anne scolds. Andrew winks at her as he stands up straight again.

"Well, don't you want to know what I've heard?" he prompts, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

"I've a feeling you'll tell us either way," Edward replies, straightening his jacket and considering his next move.

Andrew grins even wider. "You'll never guess whose bed the Prince of Wales has been found in this time."

"You're right," Anne agrees. "I won't guess." She won't give Andrew the satisfaction, for one thing. For another, she knows that if Andrew's source on this gossip is in any way reliable, she'll hear it herself from Aunt Margot soon enough - though she rather doubts that it is, given how full Charles already has his hands between Camilla and Diana. She can't see her elder brother looking to turn that delicate balancing act into a juggling routine.

Edward, for his part, looks intrigued, though he's trying to hide it. Charles has always been something of an idol to him - not to say a hero, but certainly fascinating in everything he does, no matter how petty. It worries Mummy, that her youngest doesn't have a better example to look up to in his eldest brother.