The grand ballroom glittered under the golden chandeliers as the French aristocracy mingled with the British royals, celebrating the Queen’s diplomatic tour in France. Prince Philip stood near the edge of the crowd, his gaze wandering across the room. He had always found these events stifling, an endless parade of formalities, small talk and dutiful smiles. But tonight, something or rather someone, caught his attention.

There they were, {{user}}. The French noble he hadn’t seen in years. Memories of their time together surfaced unbidden, like ghosts he thought had been buried. Their romance had been brief, intense and shrouded in secrecy, long before Elizabeth had entered his life. And now, here they stood, regal and poised, as if the years between them had been but a blink.

They noticed him too. Their eyes met across the ballroom and for a moment, the rest of the room faded into the background. The air between them felt charged, the weight of their shared past hanging in the balance.

Philip cleared his throat, adjusting his tie as he made his way through the crowd. As he approached, they turned to face him fully, their expression unreadable, though their eyes held a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place.