I own nothing but the joy I derive from writing stories with these characters, and I hope to pass it along by sharing the stories with you. As always, thanks for stopping by to read!
"I don't think I'm going to make it," Pierre confessed.
"That's alright. I might not make it either," Clarisse replied honestly.
The atmosphere of the private sitting room where they reclined was pleasant and cozy. A tall, slender Christmas tree, decorated simply yet elegantly, twinkled with hundreds of tiny white lights. A fire crackled lazily in the fireplace. Snowflakes wafted down outside and settled against the panes of the large mullioned windows as the cold night pressed itself to the palace.
Pierre, his arms crossed and his posture scandalously slouched, occupied one end of the sofa while his younger brother sprawled across the other end. The New Year's Eve broadcast played at a soft volume from a refurbished antique console radio standing in the corner. The classical music program was periodically interrupted by updates from celebrations in parts of the world where the new year had already arrived, and by the intermittent sounds of a popping fire and a snoring Philippe.
Clarisse sat opposite the sofa in one of the two plush wingback chairs that flanked the tree, and watched her sons in their various states of consciousness. Christmas was a hectic time for the palace, with many public appearances and charity events, and parties hosted for elite and staff alike. Clarisse looked forward to ringing in the new year as quietly as possible. Rupert preferred to unwind from the crush of holiday activities in a more sociable way, and was tucked into a room on the other side of the palace where a marathon card game raged and liquor flowed in an aromatic cloud of cigar smoke.
Every so often, Clarisse and her older son would exchange a few words or make some unremarkable observation, nursing glasses of whiskey expensive enough to be smooth and warming. Neither was terribly interested in drinking, but Philippe had just turned eighteen and had proudly brought the now legally permissible beverage to their low-key gathering. Clarisse knew by his choice that he was not new to selecting liquor, but humored him just the same. In the end, the second in line to the Genovian throne had dropped into a sudden, solid sleep with a little less than an hour to go before the stroke of midnight.
Pierre's eyes grew heavy enough that he placed his drink on the coffee table in front of him, just as a precaution. Clarisse turned her head to gaze at the tree lights, and slowly became aware of another sound punctuating the radio program in a muted, comforting rhythm she would know anywhere. She smiled to herself.
The footsteps stopped outside the room, and she looked to see the figure of her bodyguard in the doorway. Pierre noticed his mother's attention had been diverted to a place behind him and turned his head to look back with the minimal amount of energy and movement required.
"Joe!" he exclaimed, causing his brother to startle, but beyond an un-princely snort, Philippe gave no further reaction.
Joseph smiled at Pierre. "I thought I would stop by to check on the family before retiring."
Pierre pushed up with great effort in order to twist around and grasp the back of the sofa. "Retire? What do you mean? You're not really going to turn in now, are you?"
"Well," he replied, his eyes glittering with the tree lights and bemusement, "it has been a long day."
"True enough, but you shouldn't usher the new year in alone. Come sit with us." He grinned. "We'll be easy company for you tonight, and the most troublesome of the group is fast asleep."
Joe chuckled. His gaze flickered over to Clarisse, who smiled warmly. "I thank you, but I would not want to intrude."
"Oh tosh!" Pierre admonished teasingly with his mother's mild reprimand, eliciting another soft laugh from Joe. "You'll not be intruding. Pour some whiskey and pull up a chair already."
He hesitated at the entrance to the room long enough to wordlessly solicit an opinion from Clarisse. He had been with the family six years, and was used to the princes' familiar treatment of him, but he always tried to gauge how situations would appear to other staff members, or even to His Majesty, who was kind enough but not so friendly with servants.
"We don't want you to feel you have to spend your personal time with us, but of course you're more than welcome to stay," Clarisse assured him. Pierre suppressed a smile. He knew his mother had spoken for his sake. After all, Joe had asked the question without saying a word; no doubt she could have answered the same way.
"Thank you," Joe said sincerely as he made his way into the room. Pierre motioned to the sideboard as Joe passed it. Again, he hesitated.
"Come on," Pierre coaxed. "You're off duty."
"Yes, why not?" Clarisse added, echoing Pierre's sentiment.
"So much peer pressure, how can I not cave?" Joe responded as he poured a glass. He sauntered over to the vacant chair and sighed as he dropped into his seat, holding his glass steady.
"You're probably more exhausted than we are," Clarisse observed.
"Perhaps more than you and Pierre," he allowed, "but apparently not more than Philippe." He nodded toward the unconscious prince before taking a sip of his drink and giving in to the liquid's relaxing effect.
Pierre's laugh was quiet, but it rippled outward and lit up his eyes. "Yes, it's a rough life he leads."
"Now, now, Pierre," Clarisse chided gently. "He's been under a lot of pressure."
"I'm sure. It takes a lot of energy to argue with Father. Do you really think he'll let him go to an American university?"
She rolled her eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. "I don't know. Your father makes some valid points for not allowing it, but Philippe does seem to have his heart set on it."
Pierre studied his brother, then reached over to poke at one of his sock-clad feet. Philippe's legs twitched and he frowned, but he didn't emerge from his deep slumber.
Clarisse had had her fill of the subject, a point of contention that had added stress to the frenetic holiday season, and she decided to guide the conversation in another direction. "This is rather late for you, isn't it, Pierre? I've noticed you've been getting up fairly early."
He persisted a moment longer in his attempt to aggravate his brother, but it was useless and he gave up. He turned to look at his mother as he answered. "I've been trying to. I like having some time to spend in the chapel before the day gets underway."
There was an earnestness about his reply that caught both Clarisse and Joe's notice, and as they exchanged a look that crossed from their peripheral sight - something that would have gone undetected by almost everyone else - Pierre sensed their shared response and was suddenly self-conscious.
"It is a good way to keep the day's happenings in the proper context," Clarisse agreed.
"It is, certainly." Pierre seemed about to go on, but checked himself. Clarisse waited, but when he slouched pensively back into his seat, she let it drop. It was a conversation she and Rupert were waiting for, and one of the reasons Philippe's school choice was being so hotly debated. A less prestigious American university might be fine for the runner up to the throne; however, Rupert and Clarisse had a feeling he would be moving up in the procession soon enough.
It was also, she suspected, one of the reasons an increasingly nervous Philippe was sleeping so much. Aside from being a still-growing and active adolescent, he also tended to respond to difficult situations with a nice long nap. Cowardice, Rupert called it impatiently. Denial, Clarisse countered empathetically.
It was another subject Clarisse had no intention of broaching again for the remainder of this year, and so she embraced the silence that had descended upon the group.
Pierre nodded off, then woke with a start when his chin dropped suddenly toward his chest. He looked over at his brother with an expression that looked a little jealous. "How can he sleep like that? And how does he manage to look as little like a prince as possible?"
Joe smiled, but remained quiet. Clarisse's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "It's a gift," she said, referring to the part about sleeping.
"I'll say," Pierre agreed with feeling. "I never knew someone who could stop being royal as easily as throwing a switch."
Joe listened to the bits of conversations that stopped as quickly as they started. Most of them were things he had heard more in depth from Clarisse when it was just the two of them because she trusted him with her secrets and struggles. He was calm and wise and a reliable confidante, but here, even though Pierre seemed determined to speak freely, he refrained from joining in.
Clarisse turned to Joseph and watched him take another sip. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned and held her stare in a companionable silence that spoke volumes more than any articulated conversation. Pierre saw the exchange, the second one of its kind in a small space of time, and felt strangely comforted. His father was the ideal partner for his mother when it came to ruling a country, but it was Joe who took care of her. Pierre was glad to know she had Joe.
Clarisse returned to contemplating the tree. Joseph leaned his head back and gazed at the ceiling. Pierre picked up his feet and drew in his knees as he turned sideways to lean his back against the arm of the sofa. Time ticked on easily, and just before the radio announced the final countdown, Clarisse saw Pierre's eyes drift closed.
"Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…ONE! Happy New Year!"
The only two people with their eyes still open turned to each other and, grinning, lifted their glasses.
"Just us old people who made it, eh?" Joseph asked.
"So it would seem."
Joe looked over at the princes and yawned.
"You do look tired."
"I am tired," he admitted. "I wish I weren't, but I am." He smiled an apology as he pushed himself up from his chair and placed his glass with the boys' on the table. Clarisse leaned forward to add her glass to the collection, then stood and waited until he was passing in front of her. She walked around the sofa with him. They paused before reaching the doorway, and he nodded toward Clarisse's offspring. "Do you need any help with these two?"
She smiled indulgently at them. "No, it's not often I get to watch my babies sleep. I think I'll keep them company a bit longer." She looked back at Joe, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. "It was nice of you to stay."
He let his gaze linger on her face as he sought her hand with his. He brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on her fingers.
Their hands dropped back down, but somehow their fingertips stayed loosely interlaced. Then, in an unprecedented move, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Happy New Year, Joseph," she whispered huskily.
He stared at her, marveling at the warmth that filled him, at the way his heart sped up with nothing more than a single, chaste kiss. After a few seconds that felt much longer, he found his voice again. "May I do that?" he asked.
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise - at her own boldness or his, it was hard to say. Then she turned her head almost imperceptibly, and he returned the kiss to her cheek. Her eyes closed as she savored the contact, then opened again as he pulled back slowly, and the not-quite-respectable amount of space between them was heavy with surging emotion.
The few sounds that had filled the room steadily had become a sort of silence, and was broken now with the staccato of rapidly approaching footsteps. They moved apart as Rupert swung around the doorframe and into the room.
"There you are!" he exclaimed boisterously. Clarisse quickly placed a finger to her lips and motioned toward the boys. He took in the sight of his slumbering progeny and rolled his eyes. "You have got to be kidding me," he commented, his volume turned down the few notches the alcohol would allow.
He redirected his attention to Clarisse. "I'm here for my New Year's kiss," he declared, and swept his unsuspecting wife into his arms before dipping her low and crushing his lips to hers.
Joe averted his eyes. To say the gesture was rare, even for a slightly intoxicated version of Rupert, would be an understatement. He looked desperately for something to hold his attention.
That's when he noticed one of the princes was not actually asleep.
Philippe flicked open one eye and, making sure his father was wholly and otherwise occupied, took a swipe at his cheek.
At first, Joseph was too surprised that he was awake to realize Philippe was trying to convey a message of some sort to him. Again, the prince raised his hand surreptitiously and took another swipe at his cheek. Joe was confused, but mimicked the movement, rubbing his hand across his own cheek. He automatically looked at his fingers, and was alarmed to see a smudge of soft mauve.
Quickly, he wiped the palm of his hand over the same spot, then looked at Philippe, who with a nod and a wink, reassured his friend that he had successfully removed all traces of his mother's lipstick. Joseph sighed and nodded back, a small gesture of deep gratitude. Philippe resumed his sleeping posture as Joseph became aware that the royal kiss had ended, and Clarisse was breathlessly demanding to know where it had even come from.
He turned back and saw Rupert giving her a rakish grin. "What? Aren't I entitled to a kiss to bring in the new year?"
"I suppose, but honestly…" She trailed off uncomfortably as she looked over at Joseph.
Rupert seemed to notice him for the first time. "Joe, old man! Happy New Year!" He clasped Joe's hand in an unusually hearty handshake before spinning on his heel and making for the exit.
"Where are you going now?" Clarisse asked. If she sounded irritated by the exuberant disruption, Rupert didn't pick up on it. Or mind it.
"Back to the game. I only broke away to check in on you, and now I must be off." He spun back around to face her and rubbed his hands together in delight. "I'm on a roll!"
Clarisse looked wary. "Winning or losing?"
"Winning, my dear, and at this rate, I'll have enough by morning for three more kingdoms. We can each have our own!"
She suspected his cavalier attitude was actually adopted for effect, but she could not stop herself from blanching. He laughed and gave her a roguish wink. "Later, Clarisse!" And he was off, a mauve imprint of her lips reluctantly adorning his smiling mouth.
The way the silence engulfed them suddenly after the whirlwind intrusion was somewhat unsettling. She stared at Joe, who shrugged his shoulders and gave a small smile. "Well," she sighed, then frowned as she failed to think of anything else to say.
"Are you still staying?"
She surveyed their surroundings. Something fragile and lovely and irreplaceable had been broken. She could remain in the room, but she would no longer be in the same place they had been only a few minutes earlier. "No," she said at last. "I think I'm ready to retire."
Joe stepped toward her and held out his arm. "May I walk you to your suite?" he asked. "I'll stop by on my way back and check on the princes."
She smiled gratefully as she accepted his chivalrous gesture. "Thank you." She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and they stepped out together into the corridor, keeping an appropriate distance - physically, at least.
Happy New Year! May your year ahead be full of good stories - new ones yet to be written and old ones yet to be discovered.