I really have no explanation for this story other than it is the result of reading a few scenes of Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew while watching Princess Diaries 2 at the same time. This will be a short multi-chapter story. The muse refuses to allow me to write anything else until I get this written. So enjoy this rather unique romp through a well-known story.

Title: Taming of the Shrew…Genovian Style

Author: zephiey

Rating: M, eventually

Pairing: Rupert/Clarisse, Joseph/Charlotte
Category: AU, Humour, Romance
Disclaimer: Princess Diaries and its characters are the property of Disney, Buena Vista, and Meg Cabot. I make no money from this work of fiction.

Summary: Everyone knows the story of Taming of the Shrew…this is the Genovian version.

Taming of the Shrew…Genovian Style

Chapter 1

"So help me woman, if you hit me once more I will cuff you," Rupert said between clenched teeth, avoiding the small vase that his wife tossed at his head, not wavering from his advancement.

"If you cuff me, you are no gentleman," said Clarisse, grabbing another vase to hurl at her new husband.

Rupert ducked the flying porcelain. This was not how he envisioned his wedding night to be, or, for that matter, how his wife would act. When his father King Marcus had informed him of his impending nuptials, Rupert had been livid. He had just returned to Genovia from England, and his service there as a privateer to Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth. He had hoped to enjoy his time at home. Perhaps, enjoy a few of the willing palace ladies before settling down, and beginning to look for a suitable wife. But that plan was quickly tossed out the window when his father informed him he was to be married at the end of the month.

But it wasn't just the news that he was to be married in less than a month, voluntarily or not that caused him to lose the famous Renaldi temper. No, is was the information that his wife was to be none other than Lady Clarisse Mignonette Gerard, eldest daughter to Lord Ian Gerard, Earl of Liston. The most argumentative, irksome, annoying, infuriating shrew of a woman in all of Genovia and perhaps the world. He had had the unfortunate honour of meeting the tiresome creature a few years prior when her father and his had spent a few weeks together hunting.

Their first meeting was unpleasant, and every subsequent meeting had followed the pattern set by the first! By the time he and his father had left Liston's holdings, Lady Clarisse had cemented her reputation as not only a shrew, but a prude and tormenter as well!

The times Rupert came upon her browbeating her lovely sister Catherine were innumerable. Catherine was everything Clarisse was not. She was soft-spoken, demure, modest and reserved. Unlike her helter-skelter, overbearing, bossy shrew of a sister, Catherine was a true lady. The type of woman that made a man yearn to protect, and shield her from the world.

Rupert had informed his father he pitied the man who was eventually saddled with Clarisse. His father had simply laughed.

His father liked Clarisse.

She was intelligent, articulate, charming, and not to mention beautiful. She made a man sit up and take notice. When you spoke with her, she gave you her undivided attention and spoke with a firm, musical voice with an unusual lilting quality. Completely unlike her simpering sister, who spoke softly, and blithered and blushed her way through a conversation. His father considered Clarisse the perfect wife for a future king and told Rupert as much.

Rupert had replied that if his father liked Clarisse so much then he should marry her. His father had laughed, said if he were not already married to the love of his life he would marry her. But since he was she would make Rupert a perfect wife and Genovia a perfect queen.

Ducking yet again, Rupert highly doubted she would make a perfect anything. Seeing his chance Rupert dove across the bed and grabbed his new wife.

They fell on the bed together, Rupert on top, Clarisse underneath. This was the first time he had been this close to Clarisse. He was surprised to find her body fit his rather well. Where most women were too short, often resulting in him unable to kiss them while they tumbled together, Clarisse fit against him perfectly. Her hips rested flush against his, her breasts lay just below his chest and her head fit nicely under his chin. All in all, a perfect fit. One that his body was just now noticing and reacting to as she struggled underneath him.

"Let me go, you ox!" Clarisse shouted, pushing against his chest while trying to squirm out from underneath her unwanted husband.

"No," said Rupert, his deep voice sending vibrations through Clarisse. He looked down at his new bride, chuckling at her red face and messy hair. His laughter fuelled Clarisse's temper and she struggled even more, elbowing and twisting in Rupert's arms. A particularly hard thrust of her elbow to his ribs caused Rupert to gasp in breath before gripping Clarisse tighter and ordering, "Enough!"

"Never," grunted Clarisse, bucking against Rupert's body. She was determined to escape his embrace.

Rupert grabbed her wrists in one of his large hands, pulling her arms up and over her head. He angled his body so his weight bore down on Clarisse forcing her still and leaving one of his hands free. Clarisse tried to push Rupert off but she was unable to move. Glaring up at her husband, her eyes widened at the look on Rupert's face.

With her arms above her head, his body angled across hers and her breath coming in deep pants, Rupert was treated to the sensual sight of Clarisse's body. His gaze travelled hungrily over the expanse of flesh exposed to him. Her breasts were pushed enticingly high, almost spilling free from the top of her nightgown while her legs were exposed, her nightgown rucked up to her thighs. Rupert's eyes darkened as he stared at Clarisse. Who knew beneath her hellcat, shrewish personality a rare beauty resided? Rupert dipped his head intent on kissing his wife. Her soft, "Please don't", stopped his movement.

The fear and panic in her voice was unmistakable. Terror filled her face and tears filled her eyes, something that Rupert never expected to see on his wife's face.

For all of Rupert's many faults, and there were many, he never took an unwilling woman into his bed. Unlike many men of his class he found no pleasure in forcing his attentions where they were not wanted. All his partners had been more than willing, many enamoured with the thought of bedding a prince and heir to the throne.

Moving off of Clarisse, Rupert sat up on the bed, not in the least surprised when Clarisse clambered to the top of the bed, pulling the quilt up to cover herself. Her gaze, wary and cautious watched as Rupert stood and moved away from the bed.

Rupert walked over to one of the large chests sitting against the chamber wall. Opening the lid he pulled bedding from inside before moving back to the bed. As he prepared a makeshift bed for himself on the floor next to the bed he said, "I've never taken an unwilling maid to bed before and I have no intention of beginning now. You have my word I will not exercise my husbandly rights this night. So you may relax."

He didn't bother to look at Clarisse to see how his words were received. Instead, he moved around the chamber extinguishing candles before moving to the fireplace and stoking the fire for the night. Moving back to his makeshift bed he quickly stripped, blew out the final candle and climbed in between the covers of his temporary bed nude. Pulling the quilts over him he turned on his side, adjusted his pillow before closing his eyes, his breathing slow and even.

Clarisse listened for a time, her body tense. She was sure Rupert would pounce as soon as she relaxed. Word or not, men or at least the men she knew would never forgo their husbandly rights, especially on their wedding night. Clarisse was sure Rupert was just waiting for her to relax before he attacked. As minutes passed, with just the sound of Rupert's even breathing filling the dark Clarisse found herself relaxing. Snuggling down into the heavy quilts Clarisse allowed the warmth of the bed to relax her. She murmured, "Thank you," seconds before she slipped into sleep, the events of the week finally catching up to her.

She missed the deep rumbled, "You are welcome, my wife," that issued from the floor before only soft breathing filled the chamber.

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