The consequences of a drunken escapade

(London, 1954)

"Is this everything? Was she wearing anything by the time she got to her rooms?"

Queen Elizabeth II was sat on a sofa in her audience chamber, looking down at a dress, bra, and underclothes that had been handed to her.

She had somehow managed to sleep through the racket Princess Margaret had made the previous night. It wasn't unusual for the princess to return home intoxicated in the early hours, but she'd never been this drunk before.

After kicking off her shoes, she danced and staggered back to her private quarters, shedding clothing as she went. The household staff tried to subdue her and preserve her modesty...although the opportunity to see the beautiful young woman stark naked meant that they could have tried harder than they did.

After her private secretary had finished telling the Queen the story as delicately as possible, the young monarch sat in silence, digesting everything she had heard.

"Please inform my sister that I wish to see her immediately."

"Err...ma'am...I'm not sure if Her Royal Highness will be in a fit state to see you."

"If what you've told me is true," Elizabeth agreed. "I am sure that is the case. But if my sister is happy to discard her clothes around the palace, she should have no problem walking around nude."

"Straight away, ma'am," her secretary bowed, exiting.

xxx

24-year-old Princess Margaret was woken up by a loud and insistent banging.

She kept her eyes tightly closed even as consciousness returned to her. She became aware of the familiarity of her comfy bed beneath her...and the fact that she was naked.

Margaret reached out onto the bed next to her; she was alone. That was surprising; the princess rarely went to bed nude. She couldn't remember getting back to the palace the previous evening, so it wasn't out of the realms of possibility that she'd stripped off her evening wear and collapsed into bed before putting anything else on. The brunette gulped repeatedly, her throat as dry and rough as sandpaper.

Margaret soon realised that the banging wasn't her head, but was the door.

"Go away!" she croaked, but to her shock, the door opened and a footman walked in.

"Didn't you hear me?" Margaret said, clutching the bedsheets to her chest. "I do not wish to be disturbed, under any circumstances!"

"My apologies, Your Royal Highness, but Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth has requested an audience with you."

"Well, you can tell my sister that I'm otherwise engaged."

Margaret turned back over, but the servant refused to leave.

"Err...Her Majesty insists that it is of the utmost importance."

Sighing, Margaret sat up, resting her head in her hands; moving that quickly had been a mistake. It was a few moments before Margaret realised that she wasn't alone.

"Are you going to leave so that I can get dressed?" the princess asked, blushing. Why hadn't she put on any nightwear before going to bed?

"Her majesty made it quite clear that you were to attend as soon as you were awake, regardless of your...appearance."

"And does she know I'm naked?" Margaret was trying to remain calm and formal, even though she was silently freaking out. Was she really going to have to walk through Buckingham Palace in her birthday suit?!

"I believe Her Majesty's words were 'If my sister is happy to discard her clothes around the palace, she should have no problem walking around nude.'"

What on Earth had happened last night?!

"Very well," Margaret said. Swinging her legs out from underneath her, she placed her bare feet on the soft carpet and unsteadily stood up. Once she was satisfied that she wasn't about to collapse or throw up, the princess rearranged her bedsheets around herself, securing them as best as she could. "If my sister wishes to humiliate me, who am I too refuse our queen?"

xxx

Margaret shivered as she padded through the palace, rubbing her bare shoulders and blushing fiercely. She was starting to wish that she hadn't joined the new craze of full body waxing; while a light fuzz of body hair wouldn't have done much to warm her up, it would have at least spared her bare arms from being exposed to the chilly air without any protection.

It had taken a while for her eyes to adjust from the darkness of her bedroom to the daylight of the rest of the palace; she still felt an ache behind her eyes that could be put down to her hangover.

It was only when she caught a quick reflection of herself as they passed a mirror that Margaret realised how bad she looked. Not only was her complete lack of proper clothing completely inappropriate for her surroundings, but her makeup had run all down her cheeks, and her dark hair was a mess.

She was uncomfortably aware of how little her bedsheet left to the imagination, and how everyone they passed would check her out, their gazes lingering on her bare feet. By the time they reached the audience chamber, Margaret was regretting not disobeying her sister's command and staying in bed.

As she waited for admission, her stomach rumbled, and the guard was unable to keep the smirk off his face.

"Seeing a woman in distress and not offering her any help? How noble of you," the princess retorted, even as she fidgeted.

"Her royal highness, Princess Margaret," a voice announced to the Queen, and she hurried into the room, relieved to be out of view of men whom Margaret knew found the young princess attractive.