#andrew parker-bowles

[blackswaneuroparedux]

The artist and the soldier: the unlikely friendship of Lucian Freud and Brigadier Andrew Parker Bowles

The painter makes real to others his innermost feelings about all that he cares for. A secret becomes known to everyone who views the picture through the intensity with which it is felt.

- Lucian Freud

Lucian Freud’s majestic The Brigadier, painted between 2003 and 2004, is a powerful, intimate, portrait of Brigadier Andrew-Parker Bowles, a dashing cavalry officer and ex-husband of  Queen Consort Camilla, and thus a venerable member of the British establishment and aristocracy.

Steeped in the traditions of military portrayals, Freud’s painting of a British army brigadier is transformed into a resolutely contemporary painting by his legendary attention to detail and lucid brushstrokes. It evokes the spirit of the grand military portraits that populate art history, yet in Freud’s hands the lucid brushstrokes produce a portrait that captures the contradictions of the modern world in a very contemporary way.

But the portrait also tells a story of a most unlikely friendship struck up by an artist and his subject. They made an unlikely pair: the roguish painter in his eighties, who famously enjoyed a flutter and a fight, and the highly decorated soldier with impeccable royal connections.

Although Freud died in 2011, Parker Bowles is always ready to share his story of his friendship with the uncompromising and difficult late artist. He most famously tells of one story when, “‘At one stage a group of Americans were taking flash photos, which Lucian hated, so he threw a bread roll at one of them. The man complained,’ recalls Parker Bowles. And how did you react? ‘Well,’ he pauses. ‘I was just a tiny bit embarrassed.’ Luckily, the proprietor was on hand to mediate. ‘He came over and said to the American, “I’m terribly sorry but Mr Freud is allowed to do that.” That was it.’ That always gets a bellyful laugh out of the ex-brigadier Andrew Parker Bowles (APB as he’s often tagged).

If you visit Parker Bowles’ cottage in the Cotswolds, you’ll see many interests bits of memorabilia. The last British Union flag that flew in Rhodesia, where he served, is resting on a radiator. Nestled on a shelf amidst medals and trophies is a small bottle of stitches preserved in brine – wrenched from Parker Bowles’ back after he broke it during the hurdle race at Ascot. In another is a lump of cartilage extracted from his knee and pickled for posterity (the culmination of rugby knocks and jumping out of a plane). All, in their own way, are emblems of the rugged masculinity and swashbuckling adventure he exudes even at 83 years old. One can see why the irascible Lucian Freud liked him.

But in the corner of one room are photographs of his old friend, Lucian Freud. They hang next to a bronze bust of Freud’s head and a framed letter: ‘My dear Andrew, since even your more foolish actions have their reasons – why is it that I haven’t seen you for so long? Can we have a ride, a drink, a jaunt or a fight? Please write. Lucian.’

The pair first met in 1983, when Parker Bowles, then Commanding Officer of the Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment, received a request from Lucian Freud, who wanted to paint a horse. Parker Bowles chose the horse he thought was best at staying still and Lucian painted away. ‘When he finished, he gave the trooper holding the horse a sketch and said, “Don’t just throw it away, if you want to sell it, go to my agent and he’ll buy it off you.”’ With the money, the trooper bought a house. ‘A rather nice start. I got nothing as a result,’ says Parker Bowles in mock dismay. ‘Except I got to know him.’

Before long, a friendship blossomed. Together, they’d go riding, galloping around Hyde Park, Freud’s scruffy suit covered in paint, his white silk scarf billowing in the wind. ‘Freud wouldn’t wear a hard hat. So it would be me chasing after him, trying to slow him down. Him going flat out.’

Over the years, they’d visit the National Portrait Gallery at night, which would be opened especially for Freud. They went to Paris for an exhibition and to Ireland to see Freud’s bookmaker, who had accrued more than 20 pictures in lieu of gambling debts. They watched the Ascot races, and ‘as I recall, he lost a million pounds betting.’ Eventually Freud stopped gambling. ‘When I asked why, he said, “Well, now I have enough money.” The joy and fun was being short of money and losing it and having people hammering on his door.’ Those debtors, it was said, included the notorious East End gangsters, the Krays.

And yet, amongst all the liveliness, Freud also found the time to work prolifically. He painted well into his eighties, burning through sittings - a nude mother one morning, her nude daughter in the afternoon. Perhaps it was only inevitable that one day the bell would toll for Andrew Parker-Bowles.

It was 2003. At first APB said no. he said, “Look, I have things to do.”’ He had recently left the army and was putting together a few business prospects. No matter, said Freud: “It will only take a few months. It’s a head and shoulders.”’

They’d talked about James Jacques Tissot’s glamorous portrait in the National Portrait Gallery of Colonel Fred Burnaby, a moustachioed war hero who served in the same regiment as Parker Bowles. It would be the inspiration.

So APB went back to the Knightsbridge Barracks and borrowed his old uniform. To his surprise, he discovered that it no longer fitted as comfortably. ‘I’d put on a bit of weight, or otherwise it’d shrunk,’ APB would laugh at recalling his embarrassment. ‘The first morning it was so hot, and the uniform was so tight, I undid it. That’s when Freud said, “That’s it, hold it, that’s what we want.”’

The three-month mark came and went, and the picture continued to grow in size. As APB would recall, ‘He kept on adding canvas. My heart sunk. Soon it was seven feet high.’

By his own admission he was a fidgety sitter and Freud was ‘incredibly slow.’ Parker Bowles got by with plenty of Diet Coke and regular breaks. ‘As you can see from the picture I had rather an inane look on my face. You can’t have someone smiling because you can’t hold a smile for 18 months.’

Freud liked to work in silence. ‘Every so often he would come quite close to you.’ He gestures his hand to his nose. ‘Look at you, and go back.’

When Freud wanted to rest, he’d stop and talk. ‘But then he wouldn’t paint. One was torn between wanting him to get on with it and listening to what he had to say about things.’

At one stage Parker Bowles caught a glimpse of the portrait He didn’t like APB seeing what he’d done, but it was such a big picture that APB couldn’t help but look at it, and complained that his friend had been unkind in the likeness of his size. Freud gleefully painted an extra inch of fat on to Parker Bowles’ middle. ‘He did it to shut me up.’

Freud’s tempers were infamous, yet he and Andrew never argued. ‘Discussions yes, arguments no. In his relationships, the minute something went wrong, he’d cut you off and wouldn’t ever speak to you again. Luckily, he didn’t do it to me. But he did with some of the girls he painted.’

Instead, Freud was ‘great company’ and a routine emerged. ‘It would be breakfast at Clarke’s, then we’d go back and I’d climb into my uniform. Even if he was just painting my face, he still wanted me to wear the whole uniform.’ Lunch might be at Clarke’s again and then back to the studio. If it sounds intense, it wasn’t constant: twice weekly for the sittings. ‘Then he’d wheel in the next victim.’

The starriest of these included Jerry Hall and Kate Moss, though perhaps one of Freud’s most talked-about paintings, unveiled in 2001, was of the late Queen Elizabeth II. Many were critical of the royal portrait, which was, even by the most anodyne description, unforgiving. One newspaper called it a ‘travesty’. Parker Bowles is more sanguine about it. He said in one interview, ‘You have to say it’s accurate. I once asked Her Majesty, the Queen what she thought about Mr Freud’s picture and she replied, “Very interesting.” Which is a very clever answer, really.’

And what of his own portrait? Did it require diplomacy? After 18 long months the oil painting was finished and titled The Brigadier. One critic described the painting as ‘insolent’, ‘scathing’ and ‘melancholic’. He went on to describe its subject as looking ‘saddened and wiped out’. Flattering? Admittedly perhaps not, but a masterpiece, said many. Parker Bowles - who divorced Camilla in 1995 - was a fan of the work, and the painting’s naturalism is one of the reasons why it is so popular. Parker Bowles might have bought it. Instead, it was installed in someone else’s house and eventually sold by Christie’s in 2015 for $35m – a record figure.

Andrew Parker Bowles has always been stoic about missing on buying his own portrait but he lacked the funds by a country mile on his military pension and other holdings. He conceded that he didn’t fancy the idea of, “a seven-foot picture of myself looking rather red-faced and fat wasn’t my idea of fun”.

So there’s no Brigadier hanging in the Cotswolds, but a picture of a friendship emerges and endures. Freud lived to be 88. Parker Bowles went to see his friend as he lay dying in the summer of 2011. Three of his daughters were there; Freud had 14 acknowledged children. Parker Bowles went in. He was unconscious and APB held his hand. They went next door with Freud’s assistant David Dawson and their Irish friend Pat Doherty, whom Freud had also painted, and they had dinner and Freud died that night.

Andrew Parker Bowles continues to have fond memories of his most unlikely friendship with one of Britain’s distinguished artists. He said once in a newspaper profile. ‘Freud was a fascinating man. I wouldn’t say he was a particularly kind man, he was often quite cruel. But his whole life was painting, really, right to the end.’

[grandmaster-anne]

18 June 2024 The Princess Royal and Andrew Parker Bowles on day one of Royal Ascot at Ascot Racecourse, Berkshire. 

[camillasgirl]

Queen Camilla attends the book launch of her son Tom's new book 'Royal Recipes', London, 05.09.2024

[thiziri]

Princess Anne and Queen Camilla attending day two of the 2024 Cheltenham Festival at Cheltenham Racecourse, on 13 March 2024.

[mydaddywiki]

Andrew Parker Bowles

Physique: Average Build Height: 5'10"

Brigadier Andrew Henry Parker Bowles OBE (born 27 December 1939) is a retired British Army officer. He is the former husband of Queen Camilla, now the wife of King Charles III. Andrew came from an aristocratic family. Due to these links, his parents were friends with the Queen Mother, and Andrew reportedly served as a page during the late Queen's coronation.

Andrew was educated at the Benedictine Ampleforth College and the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst and following his graduation, he joined the Royal Horse Guards. He served in the military for a total of 34 years, rising through the ranks and eventually obtaining the rank of Brigadier in 1990, four years before he eventually retired. Highlights of his career involved being awarded the Queen's Commendation for Bravery in Zimbabwe and for three years he was the colonel in charge of the Household Cavalry, even serving as the late Queen's Silver Stick.

An incredibly cute guy, Parker Bowles was an amateur jockey who rode in the 1969 Grand National, finishing the race in 11th place. He played on Prince Charles's polo team during their younger days.

The twice married, Parker Bowles was married to now Queen Camilla for 22 years and even welcomed two children together. After divorcing in 1995, just a year later he married Rosemary Pitman. The couple stayed together until her passing in 2010. And before that, Andrew also dated Princess Anne. Although their relationship never went anywhere, the pair remain close friends and Andrew is even the godfather to Anne's daughter, Zara. Damn… the British royals seems more… intermingled then ever.

[heavyarethecrowns]

[royal-confessions]

“I know they're both in relationships, but I can't help but ship Princess Anne and Andrew Parker Bowles so hard. The way they look at each other is everything.” - Submitted by Anonymous

[princessanneftw]

Princess Anne and Andrew Parker Bowles at Guards Polo Club in Windsor in 1971

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Like grandfather, like grandson - Chapter 2

“And you really don't know what he's up to?” Virginia asked and looked at her flatmate in disbelief, but Camilla shookher head. “I tell you - I have no idea, not the slightest!” “But it sounds very serious…”, Virginia said, as she looked at the noble invitation card that a courier had brought earlier today once more. It was terribly fancy and elegant, even with The King’s cypher on it, but it only revealed a time when she’d be picked up by a driver and suggested that she’d be dressed in “day dress”, so it couldn’t be too serious, Camilla tried to soothe herself. She had been dating Charles for about six months now and though she had always been really fond of him, it had taken her a while to realise that she was actually in love with the young Prince. A part of her still tried to deny it but deep in her heart, she knew it was true. Previously, she had been on and off with Andrew for almost five years; she had been head over heels in love with him and therefore forgiven him all of his escapades, the endless “slips” and the notorious cheating, but when she had caught him in flagrante with none other than Princess Anne at the edge of a polo match at Windsor Castle in one of the stables last summer, it had been enough humiliation for her. She had lost it completely and in a very strange twist of fate, that crying little mess she had turned into after her painful discovery, had bumped into none other than Prince Charles. She had been incredibly embarrassed at first, but he had been so wonderful, had taken her into his arms, held and comforted her lovingly and didn't even ask questions. In fact, he hadn't until now and she was more than grateful for it. Since that day, they had started seeing each other regularly. Charles had taken her out for walks, rides, the theatre and opera, they had been hunting together and he even took an interest in her drawings (though she herself considered them terrible, quite in contrast to his…), he had encouraged her to take proper classes which she had actually done and enjoyed immensely… he had shown her a whole new world and introduced her to so many things she hadn't been open to beforehand. Andrew had only ever taken her to dinners, parties or to the polo but Charles was so knowledgeable and interested in so many different things, it was mind-blowing really, he was mind-blowing, and before she could've thought about anything twice, she had found herself head over heels in love with the young Prince. Her sister was already teasing her, calling her “Your Royal Highness” but marrying Charles was out of the question for her. As much as she loved him and as happy as he made her - he needed and deserved a wife literally “fit for Queen” - and that was not her. If only he wasn't a future King, she could've come to terms with an Earl or a Marquess perhaps, but a Prince? The mere imagination almost frightened her to death. “Goodness, Virginia, I hope he doesn't have any… ideas…” 

Camilla couldn’t quite believe her eyes as the car that had picked her up actually drove through the main gates of Windsor Castle about 45 minutes later. She had never been here before, at least not inside of the Castle and suddenly felt incredibly underdressed in her cute, knee-length dark blue velvet gown, but she had dressed exactly in accordance with the dress code on the mysterious invitation. The car slowly made its way up to the quadrangle and eventually stopped in front of the main entrance, and her heart beated like mad as she got out of the car and followed an equerry through the main entrance - where her Prince was already waiting for her and greeted her with an affectionate kiss, which she, however, joined only reluctantly given the presence of the servant, who, thank goodness, discreetly disappeared. “Hello my beautiful darling.” Charles smiled tenderly and his loving and admiring eyes all over her gave her a thousand little butterflies immediately. “Hello you.” She replied softly and gently patted his bum which made him laugh. “What have I done to deserve an invitation to such an exclusive place?” She asked, looking at him in expectation, but he just smiled and softly whispered: “I wanted to show you something which I'm sure you'll love.” Before he playfully took her by the hand and guided her through the corridors of the ancient castle. Camilla didn't even know where to look at, it was simply incredible to be wandering through the mediaeval walls and to think of all the historic people, the Kings and Queens of long gone centuries, who'd been wandering around here just like that before, until Charles stopped in front of a huge door, asking her to close her eyes. She was a bit afraid of what might happen but she loved and trusted him so she did as requested while he tenderly placed both of his hands on her shoulders, carefully and slowly guiding her into the next room. 

Though Camilla didn’t cheat and kept her eyes closed tightly, she sensed the sunlight possibly shining through a huge window front and a slightly woody, smokey and earthy smell which almost drove her mad with excitement and curiosity. Where was he taking her and what did he want to show her? “Careful, darling, here’s a table…”, he said and gently helped her walk around, until he finally motioned her to stop and turned her around. “Alright, darling.”, he whispered and she could literally hear his loving smile just by the way he had said this. “Open your eyes…” She immediately did as requested and found herself in front of an old and obviously priceless, wooden desk with a huge, and apparently just as old and priceless book with a thick red leather binding, gilded with the most exquisite ornaments of gold in each corner. “This is Charles I’s copy of ‘The Complete Works of Shakespeare.”, Charles explained and reverently stroked over the red leather binding. “Oh… Wow… Goodness me!” Camilla exclaimed breathlessly, desperately trying to realise what an incredible piece of history was lying just in front of her. “It was read and annotated by my ancestor while he was imprisoned during the Civil War here at Windsor Castle.”, he went on, carefully taking her hand and placing it on the book cover as well. The leather felt incredibly beneath her finger tips and Camilla couldn’t even grasp what treasure she was touching right now. “He was reading it more or less up until he was executed.”, Charles went on and carefully opened the book, unerringly turning to the contents page. “Darling, look, here’s where he started writing in characters.”, her Prince whispered, once again, solemnly touching the original handwriting of his ancestor - and there were, indeed, characters from some of the works written next to the respective play. “That… is his handwriting?”, Camilla asked, completely overwhelmed and unbelieving as she marvelled at the pages. “It is.”, the Prince confirmed and she couldn’t believe how beautiful and accurate the former monarch’s handwriting was.

“What’s this about, darling, ‘Benedick and Beatrice?” She asked, regarding a handwritten note from King Charles I next to the listing of Shakespeare’s “Oh.” Charles cleared his throat. “That was an alternative title for ‘Much ado about nothing.’ And, look, here he wrote ‘Pyramus and Thisbe’ next to ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” He excitedly showed her and Camilla frowned her forehead. “But they’re such… Quite minor characters if I may say so.”, she remarked and he agreed: “It’s strange, isn’t it?”, he replied and  suddenly suggested: “Why don't you read a bit from that piece?” They’d been talking about it, she knew he loved it just as much as she did and so she happily agreed. “Okay…” Leaving him turning to the respective page.. Eventually, she reached Act 2, Scene 1, dramatically reciting Helena: “I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.” When, suddenly, her Prince took her hand and got down on his knee. “My sweet, beautiful darling Camilla…”, he began, and had her all teared up immediately. Of course she knew what was going to come next… what she had been dreading and at the same time longing for ever since that one fateful day back in June… “‘I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well’ - Darling, there is only one hand I’d ever want to die upon because I love it so well - and that’s yours. Ever since I’ve met you - or rather: ever since we’ve been a couple - my life has become so much lighter and happier, everything seems more joyful and brighter, now, that I can share it with you. Camilla, Darling, I want to share everything with you. I want to be with you every day, every night, I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see before I fall asleep at night… I want you to be my wife, my Princess, and, so God will, one day, my Queen!” With that, he pulled out a little black velvet jewellery box, reverently opening it. Camilla, who had meanwhile got down on her knees in shock and emotion as well, couldn’t quite believe her eyes when she eventually acknowledged the priceless ring her Prince was offering her… “Camilla, will you marry me?”, he finally asked solemnly and she felt as if somebody was choking her. This ring, and this whole atmosphere was just…. perfect. They were anything any girl could ever dream of - but she was not one of these girls. She was not… worth it. She’d had boyfriends before and certainly broke more than just a handful of rules throughout her youth and her sweet, lovely and gorgeous Prince, no matter how cute and innocent he was, could not possibly seriously ask her this question. “Charles, Darling, listen I…”, she started with an insecure voice. “I love you, I, I really do! But I can’t marry you… I’m not… What you’re looking for. I could never be the wife you need and deserve…” And with this, she pushed the ring back into his hands, her own hands shaking. She was so confused and actually had to hold back some tears. This was all way too much and way too unexpected. But way too wonderful, too. Her mind was so confused.

[canesenzafissadimora]

La vita è come una macchina fotografica: concentrati su quello che è importante, cattura dei bei momenti, sviluppa la vita da negativi. E, se le cose non vanno bene scatta un'altra foto.

[millamountbatten]

Princess Anne beaming at Andrew Parker Bowles.

(early 1970s)

[camillafanfiction]

Christmas lights

Up above candles on air flicker Oh, they flicker, and they flow And I'm up here holding onto All those chandeliers of hope And like some drunken Elvis singing I go singing out of tune Singing how I always loved you, darling And I always will

Oh, when you're still waiting for the snow to fall It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all Still waiting for the snow to fall It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all

⁓ Coldplay

14.12.1973, London

The festive baubles glittered and glimmered as couples danced and friends raised their glasses while the DJ played one Christmas hit after another. This year’s Christmas hit “Merry Xmas” by Slade had already been played more than once but nobody seemed to be sick of it as of now. This was one of the most glamorous Christmas parties of the season and everybody had dressed to impress. Camilla didn’t make an exception, she looked fabulous in a dark green sequined dress with a low neckline and shimmered wonderfully as she swirled on the dance floor and moved her body to the rhythm of the music. Andrew had very much looked like a proud husband when the couple had arrived but as the clock hand moved past midnight he couldn’t be seen anymore. At least not by Camilla, but she appeared to be perfectly happy. As usual, she was the life of the party and didn’t need to worry about company or a dance partner. Friends and socialites had rallied around her and people threw their heads back in laughter as she cracked jokes and made naughty remarks. As usual, she was one of the stars of the season, and rightly so.

Charles, however, had seen Andrew in the arms of another busty blonde about half an hour ago, before they had disappeared out of his sight as well. The venue was crowded, but he had kept eagle eyes on both, Camilla, and Andrew. He had tried to concentrate on his dance partners, but he had ignored all of the flirting attempts as his eyes had been stuck. Stuck on her. The only lady he was interested in. Still.

But they hadn’t spoken a word tonight, they hadn’t even greeted each other, there just hadn’t been any opportunity – Charles wasn’t even sure she had noticed his attendance, but his arrival usually meant lots of ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’, so she probably had… Maybe it was best as it would cause too much heart-pain and would be too awkward anyway, but Charles was still hoping for at least one little opportunity to say “hi!”. It would be an early Christmas present as they hadn’t spoken since Anne’s wedding to Mark on his 25th birthday, exactly one months ago. What a dreadful day it had been, Charles sighed, what a dreadful year actually.

Camilla’s hair fell in short, soft waves, framing her beautiful face. She looked simply perfect from head to toe and, once again, Charles couldn’t understand how Andrew could cheat on someone like Camilla. They weren’t even married for six months. Andrew had the freaking audacity to get lucky enough to marry Camilla and not stopping his philandering. What the hell was wrong with this man?! He just couldn’t bear thinking about it. If he spent just one other thought on Andrew, he’d go mad.

After another endless 20 minutes of upbeat Christmas songs, he finally spotted Camilla walking over to one of the waiters with a silly Father Christmas hat on, probably asking for her signature drink, a gin tonic with a slice of lemon. This was the moment Charles realized he was in a desperate need for a drink, too, excused himself from the girl whose name he’d already forgotten again and hustled to the same waiter, slowing down when he came closer.

Camilla was taken by surprise, Charles could see it the second their eyes met, and she bobbed down in a curtsey, lowering her eyes. “Hello, Your Royal Highness,” she said formally, feeling slightly ridiculous by the formality of the situation.

“Hello you,” Charles replied way more intimate and moved slightly forward to place a soft kiss on both her cheeks. “Nice to see you again.”

In fact, it was much more than “nice” to see her again, to inhale her smell even in that crowded room, to feel the warmth of her soft hand, the tickle of her cheeky curls… Charles knew he shouldn’t feel that way about another man’s wife, but he couldn’t help it. This time last year she had still been his…

“Very nice indeed.” Camilla almost looked shy and blushed but found her usual confident self again within the blink of an eye. “I seem to have lost my husband about two hours ago,” she tried to joke and ignored the queasiness in the pit of her stomach. Five months into her marriage she had realized that being married hadn’t really changed Andrew and that, though they were actually experiencing wedded bliss, he still couldn’t keep his eyes and, unfortunately, hands off other women.

For a moment, Charles considered telling her that he’d seen her disappearing with the blonde beauty, but then decided against it as he didn’t want to ruin her Christmas or, even worse, hurt her. Instead, he opted to awkwardly compliment her, kneading his hands, and resisting the urge to touch her again. “You look wonderful tonight.”

Camilla flashed him a smile, murmuring “Thank you!”, and in a rush of intimacy pushed him over to one of the tables in the corner where it was a bit quieter. Unfortunately, it was before either of them realised that they had ended up in the lover’s lane with couples around them passionately snogging and even more. “Oh my God!”, Camilla giggled, looking around, well noticing that Charles’ face had turned red. “I seem to have for-“

“Kiss me!” Charles suddenly declared and Camilla wasn’t sure if she’d understood him correctly. However, before she was able to give him an asking or indignant glance, she felt soft lips on hers, just for a millisecond, so quick she couldn’t be sure it had been reality or a just a wild dream, a vision of what her most inner self was secretly wishing for.

It must have been the gin, Camilla decided. Why on earth should she wish to kiss her ex-beau?! She was happily married to the man she had always wanted to marry, and they had loads of fun trying to make a baby at every given opportunity. “Would you like to dance?”, Charles asked innocently and grabbed her arm to push her to the dance floor where people were shaking their legs to the sound of “I wish it could be Christmas everyday” by Wizzard, another top 10 hit that, for Charles’ taste, had been played more than enough tonight. But it didn’t matter, he had Camilla in his arms and swirled her around, he had kissed her, only a millisecond and so quick she hadn’t grasped it, but he had tasted her lips and they had felt as soft as last year. He would later regret it, he already knew, he would die of heartache and the pain of missing her even more than before. He would spend Christmas just as depressed as always and count the hours till he could be back onboard that bloody ship again that would take him to shores far away from her, but not the love for her he carried in his heart and couldn’t let go. It didn’t particularly help that the DJ now opted for “I Love You Love Me Love” by Garry Glitter, who sang of a couple whose love had won against all odds. Charles tried not to listen to the lyrics but solely focus on the music instead, but having Camilla’s body so close brought back memories of times when he thought he might be able to call her his wife one day. Maybe if he’d been brave enough to ask her last year, on his 24th birthday maybe… But who on earth married aged 24 in this time and age, especially as a prince?! There was no use in dwelling in the past, Charles knew, but it hurt so very much.

“In the mood for another drink?”, Camilla asked when she found they were dancing a bit too familiar and intimate when a slow song started to play.

Charles tried to hide his disappointment, but knew she was right, so he nodded. “Okay.”

“Martini, Sir?”, she winked and added “Shaken, not stirred?” That made him laugh with his eyes, Camilla noticed relieved. She didn’t want to hurt him, this had never been her intention, but she’d made the right decision for herself with marrying Andrew, hadn’t she? Charles had been a fling, Andrew was her true love, the man she was destined to be with. Two or three times when Andrew had come home late on a Friday evening and had smelt of another women’s perfume, she’d caught herself thinking that this wouldn’t have happened with Charles, that she’d be more appreciated… but she’d made the right decision, she had snatched her fetching soldier, and she was so excited for her first Christmas as a wife. She’d already planned everything from the dinner to the music to the decorations. It would simply be perfect…

His hair a bit too accurate, Andrew suddenly appeared behind Charles, a bright grin upon his face. “Hello poppet,” he greeted his wife, placing a fierce kiss on her mouth before greeting Charles with a small bow of his head. “Nice to see you, Sir. I hope my wife hasn’t bothered you too much with talking about her plans for Christmas all night…”

“Not at all.”, Charles stated, smiling at Camilla, and giving Andrew a stern look.

“Well… good…” Andrew commented and casually took a huge sip out of his whiskey glass, emptying it and putting it on the next bar table. “C’mon, poppet, let’s rock the dance floor,” he declared then, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and winking at her.

Camilla gave Charles an apologetic glance, detached herself from her husband for a moment and placed swift kisses on both of Charles’ cheeks. “I’ll see you… Happy Christmas!”, she said before being drawn away by her husband onto the dance floor.

For a few moments Charles masochistically watched them kissing and dancing like lovers (or newly married couples) do before emptying his glass with one sip as well, cursing the day he was born. Or rather the day Andrew had been born, he wasn’t sure yet. Without taking another look at Camilla and her husband or anyone else again, Charles left the party, knowing he would live from the few moments he’d had with her today till the next time he’d see her again.

[oakappleday]

I love this

[camillasgirl]

Queen Camilla attends the QIPCO King George Day at Ascot Racecourse, 27.07.2024

[thiziri]

Princess Anne looks on alongside Zara Tindall following the Gallagher Novices Hurdle during day two of the Cheltenham Festival 2024, on 13 March 2024.

[justdonotaskmewhy]

no, guys, but imagine if there was an Andrew Parker Bowles x Princess Diana fanfiction

like when Diana realizes Charles will never be faithful she decides to get revenge on Camilla and Andrew is just vibing because we all know he is an adulterer