I don't own Princess Diaries or any of these characters. Well, I did add Margaret (in later chapters), but even she isn't going to make me any money. It's all just for fun. (And it's so much fun!)

The room was dark and cool. Heavy drapes covered the windows. There was no furniture to cover the delicate design of the parquet floor. When Joseph pushed Clarisse inside this silent, empty place and yanked the solid wooden doors closed behind them, he shut out completely the noise and chaos of the scene they fled.

Adrenalin pumping, Joseph leaned back against the door. He stared at the figure of the Queen in front of him, trying to determine if she had been hurt. He had only had time to grab her and run, keeping her covered with his own body to protect her from -

He realized now that he didn't know exactly what the threat had been. Someone had, impossibly, made it into the palace, but was he wielding a knife or had there been gunshots? He couldn't hear anything from inside this room, which was entirely unfamiliar. Why didn't he recognize it? He reached for his earpiece, desperate for an update on the situation down the hall. It was missing! How could he have been separated from his earpiece? He thought back to picking up Clarisse and running away with her. She had been frightened, her arms flailing in protest until she knew who was holding her. Had she knocked it away…?

Focus, he had to focus. He trained his eyes on Clarisse, who was standing a few feet away from him. She was pale and, even from here, he could see she was trembling. In one long stride, he quickly closed the gap between them and took her into his arms. He felt that she was warm and well, her heart beating strongly against his chest, and he was reassured.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine. Are you?" she asked, burrowing her face into his shoulder.

"I am if you are. You are all that matters."

She pushed back from him, her face contorted with fear. "It's not true. Joseph, if something happened to you -"

He cut her off, not wanting to add stress by envisioning what could have been. "Nothing did," he said, stroking her hair to comfort her. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand.

"Something could have. And I don't know what I would have done." Then her eyes were open and boring into his. Her voice became sultry as she took care to enunciate her words. "I never realized until now just how much I need my bodyguard."

There was no mistaking her meaning. The intensity of her stare, the clarity of her words, the tightened grip of her hands on his shoulders. Though he had been in love with her since the afternoon he met her three years ago, he never once dared to hope for anything like this moment. He searched her face to be sure she wasn't simply reacting to the life-threatening experience they had just shared. He was pretty sure she wasn't, and he decided that "pretty sure" was sure enough.

His lips covered hers and he felt her respond immediately. He poured every moment of yearning and unrequited love into her, and she kissed him back with equal fervor. Adrenalin was surging again as he spun around with her and pushed her up against the door. She pulled herself to him as he pressed against her, neither of them able to be close enough to the other. If he died at that moment, he wouldn't know if he were going to heaven or leaving it. Except for that annoying buzzing sound. That wasn't very heavenly. When had that started? Was it some kind of alarm? Should he be worried?

Oh, no! No, no, no, no, NO! Yes, he should be worried. Dammit, why did he have to pay attention to it? Now he couldn't tune it out. He tried to concentrate on the woman in his arms, his hands grasping her hips, his mouth on the soft skin of her neck… But it was too late, she was fading. "Don't go, Clarisse!" he begged, trying to return to her lips.

She was gone. All that was left was the throbbing buzz of his alarm clock. He sat up, sweating, sheets tangled around him, his pulse racing. He reached out and brought his fist down on the alarm clock to stop its obnoxious bleating.

He hated that alarm clock with a passion he didn't know he possessed. One of these days, he was going to rip it from the night stand and send it crashing into the wall.

He leaned back against his pillow, breathing deeply and rubbing his face with his hands. It had been so real! He had felt her. How could his subconscious produce something so tangible? During the day, his meandering thoughts only went so far, not having enough information to make the imaginary scenarios real, but at night, his mind filled in the gaps and made the fantasies come to life. In his dreams, he knew what it was like to hold her and kiss her and do all sorts of other things with her. Although the setting was usually more peaceful and the circumstances far less dramatic.

He heaved a great sigh that in no way lessened the ache he felt for her. No sense in delaying the inevitable. Time to get ready for another day that would be at once torture and paradise. But first, a shower. One thing he knew, he helped save the palace a great deal of money: he almost never used the hot water.

To be continued…