Started this a while ago. Will not be very long between updates, as remaining 4 chapters are written and ready for me to edit them.


2001

She knew it was coming, it had been almost two years since her husband was diagnosed with cancer, yet it was still a shock for her when he finally died. In the beginning he'd kept the news to himself, not bothering to seek treatment. He couldn't have cancer, that sort of thing only ever happened to normal people. So he acted as if he were healthy and continued with his life, but as his condition worsened, he decided to share the news with his wife. She cried at first, but eventually accepted it, offering her support and love. When he died in worse pain than he could ever have imagined, Clarisse was devastated. That was six months ago now and though the pain of losing him had died down, her thoughts were still with him.

In remembrance of him, Clarisse, along with her two sons and the necessary staff, chose to spend two weeks at their favourite holiday destination. Rupert used to love the beach, he and the boys liked to swim out to what they called the 'Summer Castle' which was essentially a flat rock they liked to sit on in the middle of the water surrounded by walls of more rock. Being Genovia, the beach was below an overshadowing cliff and was very rocky.

Only five members of staff had accompanied the family on their holiday, as there was limited accommodation at the beach house. The royal nurse, a cook - as no Renaldi would dare touch a frying pan - and three security men. In the absence of their head of security, who had chosen to take his own leave at the time, Shades had been left in charge of the men.

The queen never went into the water, as their private beach was somewhat rocky, but she still dressed the part in her black shorts and floral shirt, a large sunhat sat resting on her head. She only ever sat on the beach reading her books or watching the boys swim in the water, ever concerned that they would hurt themselves on a rock - or worse, drown.

Philippe and Pierre threw off their clothes and ran naked into the water, as they had done when they were children. Momentarily their mother looked up, dropped her jaw and then shook her head, returning to her book. They splashed around for an hour or so, Philippe trying to dunk his older brother's head under the water. Even though they were grown men, they still behaved like children around water. Philippe liked to swim down to the bottom and stay there until he ran out of breath, then he'd quickly rise to the surface and suck in as much air as possible. He always scared Pierre by staying under so long, as well as his mother. It was a trick he'd learnt from his father and received much joy from it. Pierre would still strike him over the head when he pulled that prank, this...man of god, "You frightened me," he would say.

They returned to the shore for their lunch, and like the old days, shook the water from their bodies right onto their mother.

"Oh!" She got up and tried to get away from them, "You wicked boys!"

They gave chase, but not for long, as she ran into the house and locked the door behind her, "Ha!"

Looking at her through the glass with slight amusement, Phillipe rubbed his wet, salty hair on the glass.

"Thankyou. Thankyou very much," Clarisse placed her hands on her hips as the two of them walked off, "Put your damned pants on, I will not be seen dining with naked men."

Discarding her sunhat on the bench, she unlocked the door and sat at the table. Cook brought over the gourmet sandwiches she had ordered earlier and placed them in the center of the table.

"Thankyou, Marine, would you mind cleaning the window, please?"

"Not at all, Ma'am."

Clarisse nodded her thanks and waited for her two sons to join her. A few minutes passed before they graced her with their presence and much to her liking, they had both worn shorts to lunch.

The two boys sat talking of a strange shiny object they had seen under the water, their mother was only mildly curious as to what it was, but Phillipe was confident he could dive down and grab it. He'd already tried twice, whatever it was was caught under a rock and he would have to dive below another rock to get to it. It would require further investigation. Clarisse was somewhat concerned about him diving down for something that was most likely seajunk, and advised him against it, with suggestions of other things they might do instead. But her son was unconvinced and continued to obsess over the "Treasure".

"No, mother, I'm far too curious about it now. What if father left it down there last time we came here? He was always doing things like that. I'm going in after it."

"But what if you run out of breath or hit your head on a rock? You need to keep it in perfect shape for when the archbishop places the crown on it next month," she commented rather cheerily.

Philippe shook his head, irritated by his mother's constant reminder of duty, "I know, mother, you remind me every day."

Clarisse took a sip of water and continued, "We don't want our new king covered in bandages."

"Every damn day," Philippe muttered to himself.

"I just know you're going to make as good a king as your father."

Philippe slammed his hand down on the table, "Can't we have just one day where you see me first and foremost as your son?"

"Darling," she reached out to him, "I love you boys more than life itself, but we have to remember we have a duty."

"Well I don't," Pierre interjected, but was ignored as usual.

"I thought we came here to forget duty for a few days," Philippe snapped, grabbing two sandwiches from the plate and standing up. He kissed his mother on the cheek and slid the door open to go and eat outside. The remaining two ate in silence for a while. Clarisse was studying her eldest son's face, "Your brother acted strangely just now. Is there something I should know?"

Pierre bit into his cucumber sandwich and slightly waved his other hand, "He's just having some pre-coronation jitters."

Nodding awkwardly, Clarisse went back to her own food and eyed him suspiciously. More silence followed, which was not uncommon, as they'd run out of things to talk about when Pierre abdicated two years ago.

Later on they went back outside, Clarisse went back to her sun lounge and book, while Pierre joined his brother, who was burying his own feet in the sand, "Ready to find that sunken treasure?"

"I'll meet you out there."

Pierre nodded and began taking off his shorts, his brother, however, walked over to their mother and knelt beside her, "I apologize for walking out before, it was terribly rude of me."

He planted a long kiss on her cheek and gave her a hug before turning away and running out in to the water. Clarisse smiled curiously and watched until he caught up with Pierre, then went back to her book.

Two hours later she had fallen asleep in the sun lounge under the protection of a large beach umbrella, her book had fallen into her lap and closed. She was having the sweetest dream that her husband was still here with them, enjoying the sun, reading a book beside her as they watched the two boys they'd made together play in the ocean. He wasn't sick and dying in the dream, he was radiant and healthy. He didn't look himself at all. For one, she realised he appeared to have a chiselled body. And a tan. And his face was not the face of the man she married, but another man she worked close with everyday. But her dreams were quickly forgotten when she was startled awake by Shades, "Your majesty, it is my duty to inform you that the prince has disappeared."

Suddenly sitting bolt upright, she removed her sunglasses, "He's what?"

"We're searching the area, but we've yet to locate him."

"Where's Pierre?"

"He's in the first search party, they've gone looking around the rock where he disappeared, out in the water."

Clarisse got up out of her chair and hurried to the water's edge. She put a hand over her eyes to block the sun as she searched the water for him. No sign.

"He's probably just doing this for a practical joke. He'll come running back when his tummy starts to rumble."

"I think perhaps you had better speak with Pierre."

The look she gave him was of undeniable concern, "Bring him to me."

Half an hour later Pierre stumbled ashore exhaustedly and reached for his towel, "He's gone!"

Tears were present on his already wet face, Clarisse became extremely worried, "What happened out there?"

"We...we were searching for that object in the water, I'd go down and try to get it, then he would go down, then me again, then him. But the last time he went down, he didn't come back up. I thought he was trying to give me a fright like he usually does, but when five minutes passed, I began panicking. I swam around looking for him, but I couldn't find him anywhere. Then..."

Pierre's eyes went to his feet and he shifted uncomfortably, "I saw...red in the water. Blood maybe."

A tear fell from Clarisse's eye and she covered her mouth with her hand, "No."

"When I came back, I informed the men, but...what if he drowned, mum?"

"Don't say that," she begged him, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulled him into a hug, "Don't you dare say that about your brother. He's just playing with us, I know it. He's probably tucked up in bed. Did anyone check?"

The beach rescue crew arrived shortly, as well as the police. All had come to find out what happened and to scour the area for the missing heir. Soon, special divers were preparing to search the bottom of the sea for his body.

"I told them not to go looking for that...thing!" The queens voice staggered as she spoke to nobody in particular, "I told them..."

It would be dark soon. She had been told it was difficult to find people in the dark, but was told not to give up hope. Clarisse sat distraught as she watched, unable to help in any way, so she began looking for someone to blame. She started with the guards, who were supposed to be watching her children as they swam. They suffered a long hour of angry words for allowing Philippe to get out of their sight. Clarisse was so upset, that she even turned on Pierre momentarily before breaking down again and apologising.

"If Joseph were here, this never would of happened," she cried into her son's chest, "It was selfish of him to take time off when I...when we need him the most."

"You can't blame someone who's not here."

"I know, "I just wish he...oh."

Before long, the sun had gone down, but the search continued. Clarisse sat stiff in the lounge she had spent majority of the day in. Her eyes hadn't left the ocean since she'd heard and it didn't look as if she was going to forget anytime soon. He can't be dead, she told herself, he's taking the throne next month. He's going to run the country. He has so much to live for...

She wiped her eye with a hanky and sipped her glass of water. Crying and worrying had made her exhausted, but she couldn't sleep, not while he could still be out there. They hadn't found his body, that gave her some hope. And she would not rest until he either came laughing out of the water, or dragged out. One of the guards put a hand on her shoulder and asked her to come inside as it was getting cold out, but she refused and focused her eyes back on the water. He threw a blanket around her and went back inside.

They allowed her to sit there another hour before they insisted she come inside and get warm, which again, she refused. They then offered her some tea which unbeknownst to her contained a sedative that sent her to sleep. Pierre didn't want to drug his mother, but he didn't want her to catch a cold or stay up all night worrying either, so he had given the order and watched as she slumped down in her chair and was carried to bed.

The following morning, Pierre was awake and asking the search team if they'd found anything. Apparently the prince had disappeared without a trace, but they would continue searching. The blood Pierre claimed to have seen in the water led them to believe he'd been taken by a shark perhaps. They weren't common in the area, but on occasion they had been known to attack swimmers.

He'd been missing for twelve hours now and the hope of finding him was dwindling every minute. If he'd spent the night out in the cold ocean, even clinging to a rock, there was a great chance he was dead.

The search continued for a whole week until every inch of water and shore, as well as the surrounding area, had all been searched thrice. The queen had insisted she and her son remain there until the search was over, but after a week and a half of searching, the men began to leave. She had desperately tried to get Joseph on his cell phone - because if anyone could find her son it was him- but he had not responded. Still, she persisted.

Another week found her back at the palace, still worried, still sleep deprived, still unable to accept that her son could be dead. She tried to concentrate on the job, but it was impossible now. It didn't help that her surviving son spent every waking moment in the chapel praying for Philippe's safety, rather than reassuring his mother. Every day brought her more grief as they were no closer to locating her son. He had vanished into thin air, just like magic. Her dreams were tainted with images of her son struggling for breath or being attacked by a shark. She would wake up in a panicked sweat half the time and was virtually inconsolable. Not having her closest companion around didn't help. She had Charlotte call Joseph's phone several times a day, but to no avail. Perhaps he didn't take it with him to Africa? Perhaps he was in the middle of nowhere and couldn't get reception? Perhaps he had been attacked by a wild animal? No, she must not burden herself with silly thoughts. But she would have words with him when he returned.

It wasn't until a whole month had passed that Clarisse was finally beginning to accept that she would never see her son again. She had taken to spending her evenings sipping tea and looking at old photos of their family. They filled her with happy memories that made her cry. After searching through six albums, she found one of her favourite photos - Rupert and the two boys sitting on a matress as it sailed down a shiny ramp. It was taken over thirty years ago, but she still remembered that day. Pierre had tried to copy his mother by going down the ramp standing up, but had lost balance and hit his head on the smooth metal surface. He was concussed for quite some time. Clarisse remembered how frantic she had been that day, he was the future king - he couldn't be defeated by a mattress. Withdrawing the photo from its sleeve, she decided she would have it enlarged and framed and hung above the fireplace. Carefully she slid it into an envelope and placed it next to the album it had came from. Then came a knock at the door. Startled, she looked up. Nobody ever knocked on her door, they were always announced by the guards. Everyone except...

"Joseph?" She stood up as the door opened gently and her darkly dressed head of security walked through, hands by his side.

"I'm so sorry, Clarisse."

Tears welled in her eyes once more as she moved quickly and threw her arms around him. She sobbed into his jacket, warming his chest with her tears. He seemed uneasy as he held her, perhaps the death of her son had affected him too.

"Where have you been?" She squeaked and looked up to meet his eyes.

"I came back as soon as I heard. I was in a remote area so I didn't bother to take my cell with me."

Blinking away the tears in her eyes, she put a hand on his cheek, "It never would have happened if you had been here, I know it in my heart."

"Hush, hush," he whispered, holding her tighter, "The men did their best, and deserve no blame."

Joseph listened to her sobs and wished there was something he could do to calm her. He found himself rubbing her back gently, which she seemed to appreciate.

"What am I to do without him? The Von Trokkens are moving in on us already."

Joseph cringed, the thought of them running the country was quite harrowing, but if they did take over, she would have no more obligation to Genovia and therefore free to leave. The thought pleased him, "If they take the throne, you can always leave and start a new life."

"This is the only life I've ever known. I practically grew up in the palace and have lived here ever since. I can't just walk away."

Pulling away from him, she sat back down on the couch and put her head in her hands.

Joseph sat beside her and placed a comforting hand on her back, "You will not have a choice in this, Clarisse. Genovia will pass to the Baron and you will have to move on. Whatever happens, I will remain by your side."

"I know you will," she lifted her head and watched as he took her hand, "But I'm not quite ready to give up yet."

"Clarisse," he whispered, as she began clearing up her photo albums, "It's been a whole month with no word. Every day that passes increases the chance that the prince is...not with us anymore."

Picking up her albums and carrying them over to the shelf from which they came, she sighed and began putting them away, "I am aware that my son is likely dead, Joseph, I'm not denying it. But there may be a small chance he is still alive and it gives me hope."

Joseph sighed and picked up the envelope on the table, smiling sadly as he observed its contents, "What will you do if after two years, Philippe is not found and is declared legally dead? You cannot continue to rule in his place while he's missing in action with no heir apparent. Parliament won't buy it, the people won't buy it. Your best choice is to simply walk out now with your dignity. You have no birthright."

"No, but I do have a granddaughter. She will rule."

Joseph considered this for a moment, "The artist's daughter? You think an American can rule your country?"

"She's still young, she can be educated in her duties. Best of all Philippe was married to the woman, so the child is legitimate. It appears to be my only option."

"And meanwhile you can remain queen," he sounded somewhat unimpressed, his dreams of running away with her went out the window.

She clapped her hands together, "Yes. Now I will need you to make the arrangements for our upcoming trip to America."

"What if she doesn't want it?"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand?"

He repeated himself, "What if she doesn't wish to govern our nation?"

"Don't be silly, Joseph, what young girl has never dreamed of being a princess?"