Lo, upon the eve of the thirtieth day of the eighth month in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Five-and-Twenty, the noble halls of Balmoral Castle, nestled amidst the misty highlands of Aberdeenshire, did host a most splendid gathering. The occasion was none but a grand supper — a feast of warmth and grace — where the nobility of the realm were assembled in merriment and mirth.
But of all gathered beneath the gilded chandeliers and tartan tapestries of that venerable stronghold, two ladies of royal blood did shine brighter than the rest: Her Royal Highness, Princess Catherine, the Princess of Wales, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Anne, the Princess Royal.
✧ An Evening of Noble Splendour ✧
Clad in raiment fit for queens of old, the princesses graced the castle’s great hall, their presence likened to stars alight in the firmament.
Princess Catherine, fairest rose of the court, did don a gown of silken length, bedecked with subtle jewels that caught the glow of a hundred candles. Her bearing was serene and regal, a tiara resting upon her brow like a crown of grace, and from her ears fell drops of silver that danced with light. It was said by many in hushed tones that her gown was wrought by a favored tailor of the realm, and its beauty did turn many a noble head.
Princess Anne, ever the stalwart of duty and dignity, appeared in a robe of deep green, akin to the forests that guard the castle’s flanks. Her garment, simple yet bold, bore upon the shoulder a brooch of great antiquity, shining forth with the pride of many years of service. Hers was the manner of a warrior noblewoman — firm of voice, sharp of eye, yet warm of heart.
✧ Moments of Sweet Affection ✧
Yet, noble garments alone did not command the hall — nay, it was the tender exchange betwixt these royal women that stirred the hearts of all present.
As the wine was poured and laughter stirred the air, Princess Catherine was seen in gentle mirth, her laughter bright, as Princess Anne recounted jests from her days as a rider of great renown — for none hath forgotten the Princess Royal’s exploits upon the field of sport, where once she did ride as an Olympian of honour.
Later, by the hearthstone where many a secret hath passed through generations, the two princesses stood in quiet conversation, their faces lit not by flame alone, but by mutual affection and respect. ‘Twas clear to all who beheld them that the bond they shared was not merely of blood and title, but of duty, of understanding, and of womanly strength.
Thus did the night proceed with joy, honour, and quiet splendour. And though the feast shall fade, and the fire be but embers, the image of Catherine and Anne — in their gowns aglow and hearts aligned — shall linger long in the memory of those who bore witness to such a night.
In truth, ‘twas not just garments that glittered — it was kinship, royal and rare.
