Aladdin
The heavy curtains of Elizabeth’s chamber remained drawn, blocking the early morning sunlight, and for a moment, she allowed herself to linger in the warmth of her bed, feeling the quiet of the castle envelope her.
It had been a long night of contemplation, an endless cycle of thoughts about Philip and the complexities of what had transpired between them.
She couldn’t push him from her mind.
His teasing words, his gaze, the strange sensation of being seen in a way that left her both flustered and intrigued.
She hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, and as the sound of hurried footsteps outside her door jolted her awake, she scrambled upright, the reality of the day suddenly rushing back at her.
She reached for the clock on her bedside table and cursed under her breath.
“Elizabeth! You are going to be late!” Margaret’s voice echoed from the other side of the door.
“Late for what?” Elizabeth’s tone was a mixture of disbelief and groggy irritation as she fumbled with the sheets. “What time is it?”
“Nearly ten!” Margaret replied, her voice tinged with amusement. “Mama and Papa are about to arrive any minute now. You must move quicker, sister!”
Elizabeth tossed the blanket aside and leapt out of bed, rushing to her wardrobe. “I thought they were arriving later in the day…”
Margaret entered the room with a smile, arms crossed “Well it seems like someone had a long night”
Elizabeth threw her hands up in mock defeat. “Well, I suppose I have been slightly preoccupied” She pulled out her morning gown, which was more a testament to comfort than anything else.
Margaret shot her a pointed look. “If you want to avoid Father questioning what exactly you have been up to” she teased “I suggest you hurry” She quickly set about pulling Elizabeth’s hair into some semblance of order, despite Elizabeth’s efforts to slow her down with playful resistance.
“Margaret” Elizabeth huffed, as her sister expertly tugged at the pins, “this is nothing short of torture…and what exactly have I been up to”
Margaret laughed. “You’ll thank me when you look presentable..and we can talk about that later” she laughed as Elizabeth scrambled to find her shoes and hurried into the hall, she couldn’t help but notice her heart was racing in a way it never had before.
Was it because of the excitement of her parents’ arrival? Or something else entirely, something in the pit of her stomach that still had nothing to do with duty or responsibility?
Once outside, she joined Margaret, who was already ahead of her, both of them waiting for their parents to make their entrance.
As the car came into view, the sight of their parents always brought a sense of calm to Elizabeth.
It was a sight she had seen countless times, but it never ceased to move her.
Their quiet dignity, the way they carried themselves, the comfort of knowing she could turn to them when everything else seemed uncertain.
As the car came to a stop, the king stepped out first, followed by their mother. The familiar warmth of their presence enveloped Elizabeth, and her tense shoulders relaxed.
“Ah, Elizabeth, Margaret, my girls” King George said, his voice rich with affection as he embraced both of them in turn.
“It’s good to be home. Windsor always feels like a proper welcome after a time away.”
“It’s wonderful to have you back, Father,” Elizabeth said with a smile, her heart swelling with pride.
Margaret, ever the playful one, gave a mock curtsy and spoke teasingly, “We’ve been surviving without you, but it’s been dreadfully dull.”
The king chuckled. “I’m sure the two of you have kept each other entertained. Philip’s here as well, is he not?”
Philip.
The thought of him again made her pulse quicken, and she found herself glancing over her shoulder before she could stop herself. There he was, a little distance away, standing apart from the others, a quiet observer of the family reunion.
“I believe so, Father” Margaret responded, eyeing her sister with a knowing look. “Would you like me to fetch him?”
“No, no need for that” the king said with a slight wave of his hand. “I’ll go see him myself. It’s good to catch up with the lad. He’s grown quite a bit since the last time I saw him.”
Elizabeth watched as her father made his way toward Philip, his steps deliberate. Her mind briefly flashed back to their earlier conversation, the playful moments, the subtle flirting.
A tension she hadn’t anticipated had settled over her, a longing that was both thrilling and uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she couldn’t deny that her attraction to Philip was growing by the second.
Meanwhile, Philip stood just a little too still, his face carefully neutral as the king approached. There was a faint sense of discomfort in the way Philip shifted his weight, but there was no mistaking the warmth in his voice as he greeted the king.
“Your Majesty, it’s an honor to see you again.”
King George smiled warmly, clasping Philip’s hand in both of his.
“The honor is mine, Philip. I trust you’re settling in well?” He then looked the young man over, clearly impressed. “You’ve certainly grown into a fine young man. I dare say, you’ve surpassed the young lad I remember from all those years ago.”
Philip gave a modest smile, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ve learned a great deal since then.”
The king raised an eyebrow at the mention of family, though his expression softened with the thought. “We could all stand to learn more from our families. Family is everything, after all.”
Behind them, Elizabeth tried to shake off the distraction of her thoughts. She couldn’t focus solely on Philip, not when her parents were present.
Yet, she couldn’t deny the subtle shift in her chest whenever she looked his way.
Later, after the royal introductions were made, they all gathered in the sitting room.
The warmth of the room, the smell of fresh tea, and the sound of quiet conversation made the atmosphere feel comfortable and homey.
There was laughter as Margaret playfully teased her father, and Elizabeth felt the familiar sense of belonging she hadn’t realized she’d missed.
But for Philip, the sense of familial warmth was something foreign.
His gaze flitted across the room, observing the easy camaraderie between the royal family. As he sipped his tea, a quiet sadness tugged at him.
His own family, though well-intentioned, had never felt this cohesive, never this warm.
He had never known this ease, the comfort of long-standing relationships where bonds weren’t built on duty but on love and affection.
He glanced over at Elizabeth, who was conversing with her mother, laughing softly at something she said.
There was a lightness to her that he couldn’t help but admire. But then, his gaze wandered, and his thoughts turned inward.
The weight of what they had both been told the previous night hung over him. They had their duties. He had his responsibilities. And in the end, they both had choices to make.
Elizabeth caught him staring, and for a brief moment, their eyes met.
There was something in the way she looked at him that made his heart quicken, but it was quickly followed by that pang of hesitation.
What did all this mean? Was it possible for them to move forward together without betraying their families, their duties?
For now, at least, all he could do was watch.
Watch as she belonged in a way that he never had. And wonder what would happen when everything finally came to a head.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, felt the same turmoil. As she turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, her thoughts were still consumed by the delicate tension between her and Philip, the unspoken words, and the promise of something more.
They both carried the weight of their responsibilities. But deep down, neither could forget the pull they felt toward each other, no matter how much they tried to bury it.
-
The evening air at Windsor Castle was crisp, carrying with it the weight of impending winter, but inside, warmth and laughter filled the grand sitting room.
It was the night of the family’s annual play, a tradition that had always been an outlet for the royal family’s playful side.
This time, it was Aladdin, and the roles had been decided with a sense of both humor and perhaps a little unspoken competition.
Margaret, as ever, was cast as the Genie, her role always a playful one, filled with comedic quips and magical gestures.
But tonight, the spotlight fell firmly on Elizabeth, who, for the first time in their lives, was the lead. As Aladdin, she would dance and charm her way through the scenes, a far cry from the quiet princess she had once been.
Philip sat in the front row, surrounded by the royal family, his eyes flicking between the stage and the people around him. He couldn’t help but admire the way Elizabeth had come into her own. The playful grace she exhibited in her role was something he hadn’t expected—something he hadn’t quite noticed until now. There was an ease to her, an energy he hadn’t seen before, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
“Oh, I say, this is rather… entertaining,” Philip remarked to his cousin, David, who sat beside him. Philip chuckled at the sight of Elizabeth, in her makeshift costume, performing with an intensity that made her seem almost unrecognizable.
David, who had been watching the performance with an air of indifference, raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually enjoying this, Philip?” he asked, though there was a teasing note in his voice.
Philip shot him a grin. “It’s quite the spectacle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lilibet so… animated.” He chuckled at his own words. “She’s a natural.”
David snorted. “Well, I’d hardly call it natural. But she’s certainly holding the stage, isn’t she?”
Philip nodded, unable to look away as Elizabeth, dressed in a simple, flowing costume that left her graceful and poised, played her part.
Her portrayal of Aladdin was as charming as it was funny, though there was an underlying grace to the way she moved. Margaret’s performance as the Genie, for all its comedic exaggeration, was a perfect complement to Elizabeth’s more grounded performance.
As Elizabeth readied herself for a particularly comedic moment in the play, she threw a playful wink at the audience, making the men laugh.
Philip’s eyes widened with admiration as she captured the crowd’s attention. But it wasn’t just her charm—it was the way she executed each line, each movement, with such ease.
She was confident.
Bold.
Beautiful.
“Quite the shot, that one” Philip muttered under his breath, his lips curling into an amused grin. His eyes flicked between her and the audience, watching as she delivered her lines with such charisma. “I do think she’s outshining the rest of the cast.”
He wasn’t just admiring her acting—it was how she commanded attention.
The way her body moved, effortlessly, almost as if the stage were meant for her. Every step she took was fluid, deliberate, and unmistakably confident.
As the scene progressed, Elizabeth’s Aladdin was tasked with making a dramatic escape.
She dashed across the stage, ducking and dodging, all the while exuding a strength that Philip found irresistible. The whole room laughed at Margaret’s exaggerated antics as the Genie provided Aladdin with “magical help,” but Philip’s focus never strayed far from Elizabeth.
The way she threw herself into the role, the way she made each line her own—it was as though the entire play had been written just for her.
“Look at her—absolute precision” Philip whispered to himself. He couldn’t help but laugh when Elizabeth pulled off a particularly dramatic move, leaping onto a stool in a flourish of grace, her form perfectly balanced.
It was playful, endearing, and very much unexpected.
“Oh, she’s got quite the shot for the dramatic arts, doesn’t she?” Philip laughed quietly, but there was a hint of admiration in his tone that he couldn’t hide. It was impossible to deny—Elizabeth had become the star of the show in his eyes.
The rest of the play seemed to fade into the background as he watched her with newfound appreciation.
Philip’s laughter was not the typical mockery often reserved for royal performances but a genuine reaction to her ability to entertain.
He found himself enjoying the show far more than he expected, and more than that, he realized he was watching not just the future queen of England, but the woman who had, somehow, captured his full attention.
When the play concluded with the familiar royal bow, Elizabeth’s face glowed, her cheeks flushed from the excitement and the energy of the performance. Margaret, too, had her own radiant smile, though it was one of mischief, as though she had relished in making the audience laugh.
The applause rang out through the room, and the royal family stood, clapping. Margaret made a grand gesture, bowing low to the crowd, while Elizabeth stood with a modest smile, her head bowed slightly in acknowledgment.
The Queen Mother turned to Philip, a sharp look in her eyes.
Philip’s smile was rueful.
He had not realized just how captivating Elizabeth had become.
The way her costume clung to her, accentuating her long, elegant legs, had caught him off guard.
The fabric of her Aladdin costume swirled around her as she moved, but it was the curve of her calves, the graceful arch of her feet, and the lithe strength in her posture that drew his attention the most.
His gaze drifted down to her legs, admiring how they seemed to carry her effortlessly across the stage, the way her movement made them appear even more graceful and powerful than he remembered.
He swallowed, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. He didn’t want to acknowledge how his admiration for her beauty had grown into something much deeper.
The Queen Mother, noticing the direction of his gaze, stiffened slightly.
Her eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, she seemed to be holding her breath.
She had always been sharp, always aware of what was happening around her, and she wasn’t blind to the way Philip was looking at her daughter.
Though she did not speak, a hard look passed over her face as she absorbed the moment, aware of the subtle tension now growing between them.
Her eyes flicked toward her husband but she didn’t lean toward him for comfort.
Instead, she remained perfectly still, her gaze never leaving Philip and Elizabeth.
She could sense that something had changed, something she hadn’t quite expected.
Her attention shifted back to the two young royals.
Philip’s admiration was palpable, but there was something more in his expression—something that made her feel uneasy. And as Elizabeth stood there, laughing and flushed from the performance, the Queen Mother’s instincts flared.
She saw how easily Philip’s eyes followed her daughter, how he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from her.
But rather than speak or act, the Queen Mother simply watched, her thoughts swirling in a private storm.
The dinner that followed would only further confirm what she had begun to suspect—that Philip and Elizabeth were growing closer, and it was no small matter.
As the evening wore on, the family moved to the dining room for dinner.
Elizabeth, glowing from her performance, took a seat at the table, her family gathering around her. The atmosphere was warm, familiar, and lighthearted, though Philip’s thoughts were far from the food and drink.
A small exchange of glances passed between Elizabeth and Margaret.
The younger princess, always a step ahead, nudged her sister toward an empty seat beside Philip. Margaret, ever the troublemaker, flashed Elizabeth a mischievous grin and then moved to sit next to her mother, leaving Elizabeth no choice but to slip into the seat beside Philip.
He looked at her, surprised at the change in seating arrangement, but his surprise quickly turned into a slow smile. “You seem comfortable here” he remarked, his voice low but not entirely teasing.
Elizabeth’s eyes met his, a subtle blush coloring her cheeks. She straightened in her seat, trying to maintain her composure. “I suppose I am” she replied, though there was something in her tone that told Philip she wasn’t entirely sure of how to handle this new dynamic between them.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the first course, but the small space between them, the tension that neither could quite ignore, seemed to linger in the air.
Under the table, Philip’s hand slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against hers.
The contact was fleeting, just a soft graze, but it sent a shiver through him.
He watched her closely, his breath catching when she didn’t pull away, but instead let her fingers rest lightly against his, as though allowing the touch to linger, without saying a word.
A subtle smile played at the corner of Elizabeth’s lips as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
Her hand, warm and inviting, stayed by his side, her fingers still loosely interlaced with his.
The soft, almost imperceptible gesture spoke volumes, and for the first time, neither of them seemed inclined to pull away.
Philip glanced across the table at Margaret, who was happily chatting with her mother, oblivious to the silent connection growing between him and Elizabeth.
As the dinner continued, his thoughts seemed consumed with her—the warmth of her hand in his, the blush that colored her cheeks whenever he made eye contact, the way her laughter had filled the room earlier.
The Queen Mother, ever watchful, observed the subtle exchange between them with a quiet curiosity.
Her eyes moved from Elizabeth to Philip, her gaze lingering on their hands, still resting gently against one another under the table. It wasn’t the first time she had caught a fleeting moment of their connection, but now, it was impossible to ignore.
While the conversation swirled around them, the Queen Mother remained silently attuned to every glance and gesture exchanged between the two.
Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed whenever Philip’s eyes met hers, and Philip, though maintaining his usual charm and stoic demeanor, could not help but soften whenever Elizabeth laughed or whispered something to him.
The Queen Mother, as ever, was perceptive—too perceptive.
She did not need words to understand what was happening. She could see it in the small, tender gestures between them, the subtle touches that were laden with unspoken promise.
As the meal continued and the evening wore on, the Queen Mother’s gaze flicked toward her husband. She saw that he was caught up in the conversation with the others at the table, but her attention never wavered from Elizabeth and Philip.
It was clear to her now—her daughter was more deeply involved than either of them likely realized.
When dinner finally ended, the family made their way toward the sitting room for tea, but the Queen Mother stayed behind for a moment, her thoughts heavy.
She didn’t need to say a word; the subtle shift in the air, the tender quietness between Elizabeth and Philip, told her all she needed to know.
As Elizabeth and Philip exchanged a few more glances before leaving the room, the Queen Mother remained seated, her expression contemplative. Her eyes followed them, knowing that what she had witnessed tonight was no small matter.
The bond between them, still unspoken but undeniable, was growing stronger with every passing moment.
And in that moment, the Queen Mother knew that she would need to watch them carefully, for whatever was unfolding between Elizabeth and Philip, it was a thread that could weave together or unravel their futures in ways none of them were prepared for.