A./N.: Hey everyone. When I heard that song all these pictures popped into my head about different scene's from Clarisse's and Joseph's lives. The scene don't follow a chronological order. I hope you enjoy this story. Thank you Shakayla for betaing. 3 You helped me a lot. Please read and review.
For those of you who also read Commitment: it is not disconnected or done. I just had to get this story off my chest. Damn plotbunnies! haha
Eternity by Robbie Williams to a C&J story
Close your eyes so you don't feel them
They don't need to see you cry
Clarisse was standing on the pedestal in front of Parliament, not believing her ears. Mabrey couldn't mean what he had just said! Mia unqualified for the role as princess?
All her instincts told Clarisse to stand up to this arrogant idiot and put him in his place for insulting her granddaughter. But she didn't. Once again her education and training held her back. Her polite smile was in place even before she made the conscious decision. Clarisse's blood was boiling. Her granddaughter most decidedly was not unfit to serve their country. She knew, however, that Mabrey's views were completely polar to her own. As a result, she needed solid proof. At the moment, the words wouldn't form, though.
Mabrey smiled up at her in a condescending way. Finally, he had left the Queen speechless. Finally, he would win a fight, instead of her. He would crush her.
"I strongly believe Princess Amelia should finish her education here in Genovia. How else is she expected to learn about the country she will one day rule over? How is she expected to meet Genovians and get to know her future subjects?" Mabrey's voice cut through the murmurs of the assembled Parliamentarians like a knife.
Clarisse clenched her fists. Of course she had wondered the same. How could she not? For her, though, it was more important for Mia to grow up in peace and relatively normal. Being separated from her family and friends was one of Mia's greatest fears and would probably do more harm than good.
Steeling her inner resolve to appear calm and in control, Clarisse straightened and said clearly, "Princess Amelia was allowed to complete her education in America, like her father had been, to learn more about foreign relations and trade agreements. The United States are more progressive than our Genovia. Both the Prime Minister and I are of the opinion that she can learn more in America about politics and the inner workings of a country, any country, when she studies in America."
She clearly thought that this would be the end of the discussion ... but she was gravely mistaken.
"Truthfully, I must disagree to a terrifying extent. America teaches just that: America. Princess Amelia will not gain the knowledge Genovia would give her if she took her courses here. She needs to know the background of our country, every single little detail. Not just small mentionings in a textbook that clearly shows more of America's assembling then our own. Genovia deserves a ruler who knows the country inside and out. I can tell you right now, our people will not be fond of a child with no background on our heritage and future, ruling over them."
"I agree with Viscount Mabrey," Lord Fricker piped up. "My belief is that Princess Amelia should complete her schooling here in Genovia, not only giving her an understanding of Genovia, but also giving you, Your Majesty, more time to educate her in royal protocol."
These were valid arguments, but Clarisse remembered Mia's as well.
"Finding out that one is a princess is quite a shock. I can't expect my granddaughter to leave the country she grew up in. There are already enough changes in her life, terrifying changes, without taking her away from her familiar surroundings and friends."
"What is more important, Your Majesty? To be with her friends and remain being merely an adolescent, or growing up to be a Princess of Genovia in whom the people can take pride?" Mabrey sneered.
Clarisse felt anger swell in her like a bubble. Her eyes grew cold and hard. Power descended around the Queen like a protective wall. No one, and especially not Mabrey, would tell her how to prepare her granddaughter for the throne.
"Princess Amelia will remain in San Francisco. It is equally important for her development to be with friends and to 'remain merely an adolescent' as learning etiquette is. Genovia will be her home during her school holidays. In that way, she will get to know her country and its people," she said with finality.
Slowly most of the Parliamentarians bowed their heads but Mabrey held his head high and mumbled mutinously, "I still predict she will know nothing of our great nation when she is 21."
Clarisse had the feeling as if he was speaking directly to her and about her. She had been a young woman of twenty-one when she had married Rupert. Her father had been a French nobleman and diplomat. Before her marriage, she had been ignorant of most Genovian customs. Now, by unforeseeable events, she had become Genovia's Queen ... and still there were pages of Genovia's past she didn't know about… some customs she found utterly ridiculous.
She raised her chin higher and met Mabrey's unspoken challenge. She was Queen of Genovia – and a good one.
The seeds of doubt that her nemesis had planted, though, were slowly taking root in her mind. Apparently it was obvious to Mabrey, even if thankfully not to the others, for he began to sneer in a most menacing way. Clarisse felt tears threatening. She had won this battle, barely, but she had to acknowledge there had been losses on her part. She closed her eyes for a few heartbeats and tried to regulate her breathing.
^^C/J^^
I can't promise I will heal you
But if you want to I will try
He stood outside the Queen's suite at night as was his duty. Her Majesty had retired early seeing as her husband had settled down for a long night filled with alcohol, card games and crude men talk. Suddenly around two a.m., Joe heard the soft clicking sound of a door's lock opening and closing again. Since the palace was silent, every sound, even the tiniest, was amplified. Joe was able to hear every word spoken inside the suite.
"How much have you lost?" asked the Queen.
The king only grunted and Joe heard the noises of clothing being removed. "You better go to your own suite, Rupert. I am not in the mo..."
"Shut up," snarled the King and Joe heard the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh. "You are my wife and will do as I say."
Joe had to spend the next hour clutching his hands into tight fists and staring straight ahead with anger and murder in his eyes while he was forced to listen to Clarisse's whimpers of pain and humiliation in tandem with the King's grunts.
oOoOoOo
As soon as Joseph heard the door to the secret passageway close, he slipped closer to the main door of Clarisse's suite. He could clearly hear her sobbing. Carefully he pushed the door open. He didn't intend to draw her attention, but he needed to see that she was alright – as alright as she could be after what had happened.
As he crept on tiptoes through the sitting room part of her suite, the sounds of her crying only intensified. The king had carelessly left the door to her bedroom open and Joe could see her lying on the bed. Her negligee was in a state of disrepair and only sparsely covered her body now and her hair was mussed. Joe also saw dark imprints on her upper arms. He was thankful that her suits would cover those as well as the hickeys that marred her bosom.
Backing out of the room, he forgot the end table behind him and bumped into it, sending it crashing to the floor and Clarisse into almost hysterical shrieking. Her eyes were wild and full of tears as she shot out of bed, covering herself with the her gown as best she could. "I don't care if you're my husband! You touch me and I will call Jo…..." Her voice died away as she realised who her second visitor of the evening was. "Oh," the small sound escaped her suddenly numb lips and she turned away.
Joe was by her bedside in two long strides, not thinking beyond the fact that she needed his comfort right now. Tenderly and excruciatingly slowly he extended his arms, opening them wide, inviting her in. Clarisse threw herself into his embrace after only a moment's hesitation.
"Shh, my dear, I will never allow him to hurt you again. You will heal and this will be in the past. It will be alright again. Shh, shh," he soothed quietly.
It was the first night he spent in her suite all night, just holding her close to his heart.
^^C/J^^
I'll sing this sober serenade
Joe watched Clarisse amble around through her gardens. One hand lay protectively over her swollen belly, the other below it as if holding the child within between her hands. It was a genuinely subconscious gesture and so very feminine.
Joe was amazed and more than a little frightened at how easily he was drawn to her. It shouldn't be! She was his Queen; she was a married woman; ... she was most definitely off-limits! Unfortunately, every time he tried to distance himself from her, she would do something spontaneous or subconscious – something wonderful that would draw him back to her. It was worse than being a faithful dog, it was more like a love-sick fool. He was playing with fire – hers and his own – but was unable to stop. It would be easier to resist if she were happy.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, he noticed a tiny tear slip down her cheek. In an instant he was by her side, softly taking her elbow to support her. Clarisse started terribly but didn't scream. Joe felt the quickening of her pulse in the crook of her elbow. Her breath came in ragged bursts and she had paled considerably. When he felt Clarisse sway alarmingly, he stirred her away to the gazebo. "I'm very sorry to have scared you, Your Majesty." He offered softly.
Clarisse shook her head mutely. She was still rather pale, but had regained some of her composure. She still couldn't believe what had happened, though. "It is alright, Joseph," she replied quietly, "you haven't scared me. I sensed you long..." She trailed off.
Blushing furiously, Clarisse averted her eyes and turned her head away from Joseph's inquiring gaze. Of course he had picked up on her imprudent words; his hearing was very accurate. As a bodyguard, he always had to be alert. He had picked up on her faux-pas, but he was also a gentleman, never pushing her to anything.
After a few quiet moments Clarisse peeked cautiously over her shoulder back at Joseph... and felt her heart melt on the spot. His gaze upon her held the softest expression she had ever seen. Eyes softly sparkling, they held an astonishing amount of love, a depth of love that both excited and frightened her.
She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she felt the same but could never give in to that feeling... Joseph spoke before her, locking his gaze with hers and holding the connection. "I know, Clarisse." He said softly, "just let me take care of you for now. I ask for nothing more."
Unable to speak around the lump in her throat, Clarisse nodded, putting her complete trust in him. Never one to betray her, Joseph gallantly offered her his arm and led her to the pavilion, in clear sight of the gardeners. Clarisse never saw his discreet wave with the hand behind his back, never saw said gardeners leave silently. She only saw Joseph, motioning her to take a seat on the bench, sitting next to her, turning her to face away from him, and then finally feel his hands on her shoulders, drawing her back against his chest. "Let me serenade you both with my love," he whispered into her ear…before softly humming a Spanish love song.
The past is done
Clarisse stood, looking down at the mahogany casket with gold trim. Her husband lay in it. Clarisse had always been told he wanted to be cremated…...he had said it over and over again. S...he just couldn't bring herself to honour his death wish. Why should she? He had broken all of their vows; all of the commitments they swore to keep, shattered ... every day ... every hour ... minute ... second ... and in every way possible.
Clarisse held herself tightly, wrapping her scarf around her for warmth against the bitter cold.
Bitter ...
Bitter like Rupert had been.
She looked down at the casket again and then looked up at the dull grey sky. A dull, grey-day for the funeral of a dull, bitter man. If Clarisse could have chosen, it would have been a bright, glorious day. The sun shining bright, children playing in the park, and birds chirping happily. 'God,' she spoke in her mind. "Is it wrong how happy I am today? Either way, she couldn't help feel her heart swell with an odd type of joy.
She was free of the hold Rupert had on her.
Finally free.
Clarisse turned to look out the front door of the funeral parlour. Joe stood there, hands folded in front of him; his face tight with the gaunt, professional expression of a body guard. He had told Clarisse he would give her some time alone to grieve, but keep her in eyesight. It was appropriate of her to have some time alone to grieve her husband, even though she wanted to do anything but pretend her heart was breaking.
Her heart had already been broken when he was alive.
Now, SHE could live.
Joe smiled at her.
Yes, she was finally free.
We've been betrayed
Arthur Mabrey snuck around the palace and he detested himself for that. To stoop that low! It was disgusting! Only common, low people snuck around like thieves. A man of his status shouldn't be forced to do that, but the prestige of his country was at stake. The fact that the king would lose credibility, smoothing the path to the throne for Mabrey, was just a bonus.
He had heard rumours, barely uttered in dark corners, that the Queen had an affair with her bodyguard. A common gigolo! For her, the icy, unreadable Queen, to stoop that low! He shook his head. What was her misfortune was his gain.
An evil grin on his face, Mabrey came to a part of the palace which he had never visited before. He looked around carefully and realised that he must be in the former nobles' wing, a relic from the time when the monarch deemed it wise to keep his court close by. He was relieved that, in his opinion, neither King Rupert nor Queen Clarisse possessed their predecessors' wisdom. It was irrelevant that it was the 21st century and the custom of holding court was out of date. If Mabrey was right, this wing would be the perfect place for what he thought was occurring behind closed doors.
Moving cautiously ahead, Mabrey encountered nothing. With each passing second, he grew more and more impatient – patience never having been one of his strengths. Just as he was about to give up, he heard a faint whisper. His eagerness reasserted itself with a vengeance and he inched forward, taking care not to make a sound.
To his left a door was ajar. The sound must have come from there. Slowly creeping closer, he carefully pushed the door open a little wider. The sight greeting him was worth a million.
Queen Clarisse – the frigid woman behind the king – was leaning against a wall with her bodyguard standing in front of her. Their postures were carefree and bent towards each other in an intimate way. Mr Elizondo's right hand rested against the wall next to Her Majesty's head and her left hand lay on his cheek.
Mabrey couldn't believe his luck. He had stumbled over the secret couple – the very people he had hoped to find. He now had the information to take to the King that would destroy his marriage to this influential and dangerous woman. Perhaps, instead, he could blackmail the Queen to use her bodyguard to support his plans and then, when the time was right, do away with the Queen.
oOoOoOo
"I'd like to speak with your uncle alone, Nicholas, please," Joseph said quietly, never averting his eyes from Mabrey's. Nicholas left without a word, he somehow knew the sooner he left the line of fire the better for his continued health."Viscount, you may not be aware of what my job entails as the Royal Head of Security. My job is to protect the Crown, to make sure no harm comes to the Crown, to step in when someone toys with the Crown's emotions, you see."
"I'm think the entire country understands how well you cater for the Crown's emotions," Mabrey shot back with a horrible sneer on his face.
Joseph's face fell and his eyes turned colder as ice. Still he didn't lose his cool, but spoke quietly, "If you hurt my girl, you will answer directly to me and whatever crimes I commit against you, remember I have diplomatic immunity in 46 countries, including Puerto Rico."
Mabrey's heart beat accelerated and his eyes bugged out. He couldn't remember the last time anybody had threatened him. "Sir, you will find that the word fear is not in my vocabulary," he said loudly.
"Perhaps, but it's in your eyes," Elizondo's voice was still soft and quiet. He stepped forward and threw the rubber snake over Mabrey's shoulder. "You forgot something."
Mabrey had thought he could crack Elizondo's armour, get the man to act in an incriminating way, make him say something revealing. Instead the man had stared him coldly in the eyes and had threatened him. HIM! Arthur Mabrey!
What was Elizondo thinking? How dare he?
In all honesty, though, he had been frightened off. It was clear that, as long as this man lived, he had an influential and dangerous enemy within the palace. An enemy who would not let any harm come to the Crown, an enemy who would never slip.
It's true
Someone said the truth will out
I believe without a doubt, in you
"Please say something," Mia begged her quietly.
Was being a grandmother really that hard or was she simply doing a dreadful job? Before her sat her granddaughter, clearly uncomfortable and repentant over her escapades at the beach. Yet, somehow, Clarisse couldn't bring herself to turn her back on her
Queen persona and embrace being a grandmother. She hated to do it; but she just had to reprimand the young princess – the sooner she understood the standards her newly discovered destiny dictated, the better. She noticed the sadness in Mia's eyes and how slumped her shoulders were, but she still couldn't give in to those maternal emotions.
"Well, there's not much to say. A picture's worth a thousand words and you have two pictures."
"I really embarrassed the family, didn't I?"
"Not to put too fine a point to it, yes, you did. I think you're making a wise decision to abstain from the job."
"I suppose, I won't come to the ball then."
"Well, of course you should come, you're still family. Just because you don't want to become our Princess doesn't mean we're sending you into exile. Your mother's planning to come, all your guests are invited, except for your beach friends. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm meeting with the press in an hour to do some damage control."
Mia left her office silently, leaving Clarisse alone.
When Joseph quietly, but clearly, advised her what her heart had already told her, she couldn't take it anymore. Her own shoulders slumped. "I was too hard on her." She mumbled miserably.
Joseph gently took her by the shoulders and drew her closer. Softly coaxing her to look up, he then swiftly brushed his lips over her forehead. "You remember our follies when we were Mia's age?" He asked jokingly. With a chuckle he continued, "I single-handedly ... erm, ruined my brother's 19th birthday."
Clarisse stared at him open-mouthed. She couldn't see her usually so graceful Head of Security as a clumsy teenager. "You didn't!" She exclaimed.
"Oh, but yes, I did," Joseph assured her. "I tripped over something and went down grabbing frantically for a hold. Unfortunately I grabbed my brother's girlfriend's skirt. It ripped completely in two and left her ... in commando."
By now Clarisse was laughing heartedly. Wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, she still chuckled and her shoulders shook. "Oh God, Joseph," she managed.
"Yes, especially since she had promised my brother a special ... birthday gift later that evening." He admitted, rather red in the face. "Tom nearly throttled me."
Laughter reinserted with a vengeance and Clarisse had to sit on her desk to keep herself from falling. She was holding her sides, where she felt a slight stabbing pain from all of her laughter. Joseph himself could hardly stand, laughing as hard as Clarisse was. His plan had worked. She definitely was in a lighter mood. Maybe he should share that story with Mia as well to make her feel better.
"Since you are now standing before me ... how did you make up for it?" she asked, after regaining a minimum of her control. "I mean, how did you escape?"
"Oh, it was close; but I apologized to both and they have a great sense of humour. Today we all laugh about it. Mostly because my accident never kept her from eventually marrying my brother."
"You ... disrobed Janet at a party? Oh my God," Clarisse reiterated between bouts of laughter. "I can't believe it."
"Now it's your turn to confess. Spill! What did you do?" Joseph turned the tables on her.
She wickedly grinned at him and winked. "Wouldn't you love to know?" She teased.
Joseph could have ravished her on the spot. Clarisse looked very alluring, forbidden and full of secrets. He knew better than to take the bait ... besides he had a message to convey. "Then tell Mia. Look, if two rascals like us could amount to Head of Security and Queen, what is supposed to stop Mia from being a Princess of whom we are proud?"
Clarisse turned serious again, looking deeply into Joseph's soulful eyes.
"Besides," he continued, "I do have faith in Mia. My belief is that she, one day, will be known as a great queen like her grandmother. Above all, though, I believe in my Queen. If anyone can take that duckling under her wing and turn her into a swan, it is you, my lovely Clarisse."
^^C/J^^
You were there for summer dreaming
Joseph stood on the balcony of one of the smaller ballrooms. He didn't quite feel in the mood to join the festivities of yet another royal visit. Lately all he wanted to do was get as far away from the palace as possible. He felt restless and in a foul mood. Even His Majesty, King Rupert, had remarked on it. Queen Clarisse had quietly remarked that he looked like a man with a broken heart because he couldn't be with his love.
Was that it?
Was he in love?
He didn't think so. Quite frankly he wasn't even looking. He wouldn't know what to look for!
Contemplating his temporary solitude, he indulged in some dreaming. What if he was looking? ... What would he fancy in a woman? For a time, no thought would come; no picture of his soul mate would form in his mind. Slowly, though, an image was created.
The woman appearing before his inner eye held herself straight without being rigid. As he was getting older himself and didn't consider himself a playboy, he wanted a woman his own age. She would still have to keep up with him, though. He loved a woman with curves in all the right places who was still sportive with a lean body and strong legs.
Her hair was reddish-blonde and caught the sun in the soft strands. Her eyes had the colour of the wide sky. The woman's face held, most of the time, a gentle, loving expression, but only to disguise the fiery side of her temper which, no doubt, she would need with him. Her mouth should know more how to laugh then to cry. The lines around her eyes and mouth showed that she lived a life filled with both laughter and worries. Her nose was a small button nose and slightly up-turned. He would love to see her face change with her emotion. He wanted to be there in the good and the bad times and see these lines deepen, be the cause for some more of them.
Before the features of her face could become clearer, though, Clarisse stepped into the light of the balcony of the ballroom. He immediately knew that this woman matched the picture his subconscious drew before his inner eye. He knew that she was his soul mate.
And you gave me what I need
Joseph sat on a bench in his Queen's beautiful gardens; his stare burning a hole in the ground, not that he was really seeing anything. Unshed tears clouded his vision and his thoughts were in too much turmoil.
His mother had died ...
He still couldn't really comprehend it. Her death hadn't entirely been a surprise. Sophia Elizondo had been diagnosed with breast cancer eight months ago and the doctor's had given her a fair but brutal outlook. The cancer had already spread and built metastasis. An operation and the following chemotherapy wouldn't succeed. Instead they had pumped her with morphine and advised her to take care of her affairs. Both her sons had begged with Sophia to at least try and not give up, but she had cupped their cheeks, kissed their forehead, and said she had led a wonderful life.
"And besides, my boys, you are my pride and joy. Raising you and loving your father was my purpose in life. I raised you well; but now it is time that you stand on your own two feet and have families of your own." She had said calmly. "As for Javier ... a drunk took him from us ... I'm rather excited to see him again and be with him for eternity at last."
Yes, she was with her beloved husband again, but she had left behind two adult sons ... who still felt like orphaned children.
His madre' was dead.
Tears finally fell, making dark spots on the ground and blurring his vision further. He cried bitterly for what seemed hours – he had lost all concept of time.
Only when a shadow fell over him did he look up, ready to scold anybody who disrespected his grief. He looked up and encountered the bluest, softest eyes he had ever seen.
His Queen had come and he had a duty to her. Rising from the bench and willing his stiff body back into submission, he suddenly felt small hands on his shoulders and a soft pressure forcing him down on the bench again. As he sat there numbly, he felt tears and shame for them rise again and his own inability to stop them. He turned his head away – but a soft hand cupped his cheek, gently forcing him to look back up at her.
"Clarisse, please don't." He whispered brokenly, barely getting the words out past the massive lump in his throat.
His queen's eyes shone understandingly, but his friend shook her head and leaned closer, gently cupping his other cheek as well and brushing away his tears with her thumbs. "Dear Joseph, you don't have to be strong all the time." She soothed in response and gracefully sat down beside him. "You are hurt and there is no shame in crying and seeking comfort in a friend."
Joe wasn't sure if there was comfort. His mama was dead, gone forever, and all he wanted – needed – was his mother's soft voice, saying it would all be well; her arms around him to make him feel loved and protected, warm and secure; her hand to cup his cheek and never take it away again. He felt so cold inside ... he felt like his heart was frozen in his chest ... shutting out all feelings ... shutting out warmth ...
There was a warmth, though, that helped him resist the coldness. It radiated from Clarisse's hand on his cheek. Hesitantly looking up again, he met her warm eyes and felt the cold recede further. He saw compassion, understanding and love shining out of those blue orbs, drawing him to her and out of his grief.
"Even strong knights sometimes need a shoulder to cry on." She leaned in closer, a lopsided half-smile curling her lips. She slipped her hand from his cheek to his shoulder. She sat down next to him on the bench. Ready to withdraw, she carefully wrapped her arms around him, cushioning his head against her shoulder. Rocking gently to and fro, she tried to soothe him.
"It will all be well again, Joseph," she whispered softly. "The pain will go away…eventually."
And I hope you find your freedom
For eternity ...
For eternity
Joe was beside himself with grief. In all honesty if it hadn't been the knowledge that Clarisse wouldn't want him hiding in a shell, away from the world, he wouldn't even be going to the funeral. Yet, he had to pay respect to the woman he had loved ... the woman he did love.
"Clarisse," he whispered looking at himself in the mirror. "I miss you."
His walls came crashing down when he finally said that out loud. Tears trickled down his face ... one by one they dropped down his cheeks, sliding down his neck, and finding themselves a home hidden between his chest and the black dress-shirt he wore. How would he do this? How could he go on without her? He faced the door and stared at it. He straightened his tie then slid against the wall to the floor.
He felt so cold without her warmth to ward it off ... no strength to walk without her beside him ... no will to live without her living beside him ...
^^C/J^^
Yesterday when you were walking
We talked about your mum and dad
Clarisse was highly aware of her mother's eyes on her. She had debated the wisdom of coming to her father's birthday party. Finally Pierre had taken her hand and said gravely, "If you want to go, you should. He is your father, no matter how far you grew apart over the years. You might not think so now but I know that one day you'll feel sorry if you don't go and find a way to talk things out between the two of you."
Rupert had not said a word, but his stony face and cold eyes had told her it was her duty to put on the show of a good daughter and appear at her father's 70th birthday celebration. The press expected it of her after all.
For most of the morning before the party she had been locked in her suite, alone and thinking. Then a soft knock had interrupted her thoughts. It came from within her bedroom, and she had to smile. Joseph ...
"Come in," she called softly, not further surprised to see part of her wall suddenly slide back, revealing a dimly-lit passageway. Her heart lifted immensely as she saw her friend step into the room.
Joseph was pleasantly surprised to see Clarisse's smile. He had expected to see her angry, considering how she had parted with her parents, or at least sad that Rupert had insisted she go. Before he could contemplate her behaviour further, though, he felt an answering smile curl his lips. He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Immediately she leaned against him, her cheek resting on his shoulder, feeling his heart beat reassuringly. "Thank you for coming after me," she mumbled softly, pressing closer to him.
"De nada, corazòn. I wanted to see how you are feeling. If I had to guess, not too happy." He raised his eyebrow at her and tipped her head back so she had to look at him.
"Of course I'm not particularly happy about seeing my father again. He will strut around, telling everybody that his son-in-law is the King of Genovia, intimidating my boys and mocking them for not being proper men after his book, and berating me for the problems in my marriage. Everything that is wrong in this country is my fault; everything that is wrong in the palace is my fault; everything that is wrong in my marriage, everything that is wrong in my sons' lives is my fault! Basically everything is my fault!" She had moved out of his arms and was now pacing before him. In her unleashed anger, she picked up a small vase from a commode and flung it onto the floor. Following the splinters with her eyes, she was overcome by sadness and weariness. Her eyes filled with tears and she dropped to her knees. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she cried, picking up the largest shards.
Joe knelt down beside her and covered her hands with his. "Let me or you'll cut yourself." He then cleared the floor of the glass.
Picking Clarisse up bodily, Joe carried her to the couch and sat down with her on his lap. He cooed to her, "I know your father is a house tyrant, but you shouldn't allow him to walk all over you. You are Queen of Genovia. Your sons are no longer children and take care of themselves. So stand up to him."
Clarisse nodded – agreeing with him but still fearful.
"Besides, I will be right there for you, covering your back ... as bodyguard and friend."
With those words, he had taken away her fears. Now she squared her shoulders and walked out onto the lawn behind her childhood home, ready to face her father, Joseph behind her, a solid promise that someone loved her.
What they did that made you happy
The moment her feet had touched the earth again, she was drowned in memories. Nothing had really changed since her childhood. There was the old oak tree to which her brother had tied her while playing cowboys and Indians. That tree had also been where she had climbed up, in the most unladylike fashion possible, getting twigs and leaves into her hair and scratching her knees.
Further into the garden the blue of the pond glittered in the sunlight. She heard her own laughter joining her brother's as they ran towards it, shedding their clothes as they ran and plunging into its cool water. Their parents had been sitting on a blanket by the shore and laughing at their two young children, gleefully thrashing in the water. It was the happiest memory she had of this place.
What they did that made you sad
Turning slightly, she faced the house and heard, clear as day, her voice, raised in anger, yelling at her mother to let her go… that she didn't desire to marry the Crown Prince of Genovia, a country she hadn't heard of yet, a man she didn't know. She could hear her father's raucous voice calling out to her mother to discipline 'these little heathens' she had borne so he could have some peace to work. She saw herself hiding under beds and sofas from her mother's wrath and cringing away whenever she heard her father approaching.
Suddenly she felt four years old, terrified to do something wrong, to anger her parents. Clarisse was sure that she would be rendered into a trembling, stammering bundle of nerves as soon as she stood in front of her father. Then she saw Rupert striding confidently over the lawn towards the tent where her father held court and she remembered anew the furious argument she had had with her mother.
"You can't force love!"
These were words which were meant to hurt. Cold rage rang in Clarisse's voice, but her mother showed no reaction. She just sat silently on the chair in front of her vanity, slowly dragging her brush repeatedly through her brown and silver hair. Clarisse was shocked by her mother's callousness; it broke her heart. Something in her gave way and she yelled, "Mother, you cannot make decisions about my future without my knowledge or consent! You just effectively sold me to the highest bidder, to a complete stranger! Don't you care?"
Again the hand with the brush made its long stroke and slowly her mother turned to face her enraged daughter, looking up at her seriously. "I really think you spent too much time in that boarding school where your head got filled with all these crazy ideas about love. The reality at hand is different. Marriage is, first and foremost, a means of furthering your own status in politics and economically; it's about money and social standing. Love has nothing to do with it."
Clarisse stared at her mother in disbelief. She had never expected such a harsh, cold speech come out of her mother's lips. At this moment she didn't even recognize her own mother. "But ... how can you say a thing like that, Mum?"
"Do you really think I loved your father when we got married? No, we simply learned to live with each other. I know from experience that fondness can grow out of a sense of duty."
Clarisse stood numbly in front of her mother, unable to comprehend what had just happened. When her mother turned her attention back on her reflection in the mirror, Clarisse knew that this conversation was over. She would marry Prince Rupert and that was the end of it. Turning slowly on wobbly legs, Clarisse simply walked out of her mother's bedroom.
A soft hand on the small of her back brought her out of her dark memories. Still, after all these years, she was seething. Her hands clenched into tight fists and her eyes held a coldness that was almost frightening.
"Clarisse," Joe's whisper slowly reached her fogged mind. "Don't worry. You don't answer to them anymore. You are above them." Nodding curtly, Clarisse surged forward, breezing past her children and towards her parents.
"I am above them and I won't let them drag me down to their level again." She mumbled to herself. A few feet further, she turned back to Joe, flashing him a brilliant smile. "Didn't you mention covering my back?"
We sat and watched the sun go down
Picked a star before we lost the moon
Clarisse paced her living room restlessly. She hated waiting and lately she was doing a lot of that. There was absolutely nothing for her to do – except be a loving wife and grandmother. It was slowly driving her up the walls.
Of course, she was thrilled that Mia had so effortlessly blended into her new role as Queen. After a few early mishaps, Mia had proven very successful. Genovia was thriving under her rule; the people adored her for being so charmingly 'normal'- so like them. The photographers loved her face, her style, her youth and Clarisse was wistful. Once she had been the young, beautiful Queen, admired by her people. It was hard to let go – and she was reluctant to try.
She supposed it would be a little easier if her husband was there to keep her busy, or provide entertainment. Even if he was around so she could fuss over him, confide in him. Alas, no such luck. Shades had found it much harder to adjust to his new position and subsequently asked Joseph constantly for advice. For her it was frustrating to be forced to step down. In a short time, she had gone from the busiest person in the palace to now the most obsolete.
Huffing, she made another turn, nearly knocking a chair over. There had to be something she could do besides the odd banquet or official meeting when Mia was called away. Anything would suffice!
Even her garden was tip-top. The first month or so of her retirement had been spent indulging in her hobby. Now even that had lost its appeal.
oOoOoOo
As Joe entered their living-room, his eyes were drawn to the sofa, where Clarisse lay sleeping. Her shoes sat neatly next to each other on the floor, while her legs were crossed appropriately at the ankles at the other end of the sofa. Both hands lay over her stomach and her upper body slumped slightly against the armrest. Her chest rose and fell steadily with each breath. It was an adorable picture.
It pained him to interrupt her rest, but Joe knew that her body would not thank her for the position later when she woke. Without making a sound, he crept closer and carefully slid his arms under her legs and shoulders. Picking her up, he carried her to the bedroom, lying her down on the bed and covering her with a blanket.
Moving back out, he noticed the TV was still on. Obviously she had been watching a DVD. Watching for a few moments, he recognized insert movie here. He knew it was one of her favourites and suddenly an idea struck him.
oOoOoOo
Clarisse awoke a few hours later to the smell of roses, the gentle caress of a light breeze and the soft strings of the Wango. Stretching out languidly, she suddenly realized she was lying in bed. She was positive that she had fallen asleep on the sofa. She pushed herself up on her elbows and noted a single red rose lying on Joseph's pillow. A small note was tied to the stem and she picked it up eagerly. It had been quite some time since they had surprised the other with small tokens of their affection.
Dear Clarisse,
Will you please give me the pleasure of your company on the terrace?
Your loving husband, Joseph
When she exited the bedroom, she saw Joseph standing quietly by the terrace doors. He was looking out over the gardens, but Clarisse knew he had heard her and now felt her presence. Slowly she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. The gentle rise and fall of his chest under her splayed hands was reassuring after the loneliness of her afternoon. Her head came to rest on his back as she snuggled her cheek into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling his unique scent.
"Hello, my love." She whispered tenderly.
"Hello, my sleeping beauty." Joseph responded. She could feel the vibration of his chuckle as he continued. "I have a surprise for you."
"Oh, so that is what all this is about." She teased, before he cut her off.
Joseph had turned in her enbrace and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her close, and kissing her passionately. For a moment Clarisse thought she had lost the ground from beneath her feet as she was caught up in an intense wave of desire. It swept over her and drowned out all rational thought. She could only cling to him and respond to his passion. At last they broke apart, both gasping for air.
"Oh Joseph ..." she whispered, "I love you ... but could this possibly wait till after dinner. Mia is ex..."
"She is not." He interrupted. "Part of my surprise is a quiet dinner for two out on the terrace."
Clarisse's eyes lit up like stars and she surged forward eagerly. Time alone with her husband; she couldn't think of anything better. "That is wonderful. I'm ravenous," she exclaimed.
Watching his wife's slender legs as she stepped away from his body and further onto the terrace, , Joe could only agree ... though, he didn't crave food.
Their dinner was a sensual affair…feeding each other and interspersed kisses and caresses. Slowly the sun sank in the west over the ocean, shedding an orange glow over the palace, its goodnight kiss to the world. Clarisse sighed contently and snuggled closer into Joe's embrace. "If only every day could be like this." She sighed and Joseph had to agree.
The soft orange light cast some objects into sharp contrast while softening others. Clarisse's face, turned towards the setting sun, gave a soft glow that seemed to radiate from within. The lighting made the lines around her eyes and mouth seem less pronounced, melting away years. Of course, she had always looked younger than she really was, but in this light it was easy to see the young woman she had once been.
"Would you go back in time if you could?" Joe couldn't explain where that question had come from, but it was out now and he held his breath.
"Yes. I would want to meet you as a young woman, marry you and have your children…but Pierre and Philippe…I don't know…"
Quiet descended around them. "I'm sorry," he mumbled embarrassed. "It was an unfair question and I didn't mean to say it out loud."
Clarisse turned in his arms and caressed his cheek, slowly drawing his face down to hers. She kissed him sensually, wrapping her arm around his neck. Joe's hands tightened around her waist, before slowly descending down her thigh, caressing her leg.
oOoOoOo
The moon cast a silver light over a peaceful scene. Clarisse sat on Joseph's lap, tenderly caressing the fringe of hair at the back of his head. Her eyes were drawn to the white orb above them.
"I was always fascinated by it." She confessed. "It is so far away and yet it impacts everything from the tides to a woman's cycle. Without the moon, there would be no life."
Joseph nodded and smiled down at her. "I would give you the moon if I could, Clarisse," he whispered, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. She chuckled at his folly.
"Oh Joseph ... dear Joseph."
"Well," he shrugged his shoulders, "I could always get you a star – the brightest star of all ..."
"That would be the north star and I doubt anyone could buy that one." She teased.
"Which one would you like then?" He asked, serious now. "I know that I lost my soul to the stars in your eyes."
Youth is wasted on the young
Before you know it's come and gone to soon
Clarisse and Joseph still sat on the sofa in the media room, watching Mia and Lilly skip out of the room, arms linked. Smiling to herself, Clarisse watched Charlotte follow the younger women at a more dignified pace – even if it seemed forced. Apparently her aide tried hard to not let on how much she wanted to join the younger women and just enjoy life for a bit.
Beside her Joseph chuckled, having spotted what she had. As the door clicked shut behind the younger generation, Clarisse leaned against Joseph's shoulder, letting out her laughter.
"I think I may have cracked a rib," Joe laughed. Holding onto Clarisse, he flopped back against the armrest, bringing them both into a semi-reclined position. "She is so childlike."
"Who?" Clarisse asked, the mirth still in her voice. "There were three."
"I guess Mia. She just brings it out in the others."
Clarisse raised her torso off his and looked at him seriously once more. "She was forced to grow up fast in these last few days." She defended her granddaughter. "First she had to accept an arranged marriage and now she had to choose a complete stranger to become her husband. It's not fair!"
Joe held his tongue. Of course he agreed with Clarisse that Mabrey's scheme was unfair, but he couldn't shake the feeling of déjà-vu. Clarisse had been in exactly the same position as Mia was now, Philippe had had to divorce Helen for the sake of the Crown and to find a more suitable candidate. Indirectly Parliament and his father forced him to accept an arranged marriage as well. The day of his fatal accident coincidentally had also been the day his engagement to a French aristocrat's daughter would have been announced. Philippe had looked sadly at his mother as she had tended her gardens and then had turned to Joseph, saying, "History is doomed to repeat itself."
Joe was afraid that Philippe had been right. He sighed deeply, drawing Clarisse's attention away from her granddaughter and towards him. She noticed the frown on Joe's forehead and also the sadness ... or was it fear ... in his eyes. Leaning forward, she took his face gently between her hands and guided him to look at her. She hesitated only slightly before she slowly leaned into him and brushed her lips against his. The kiss was tender and successfully diverted his attention from his dark thoughts.
"Penny for your thoughts," she teased, her lips still against his.
"What?" he asked, his own thoughts now more on her kiss than anywhere else.
"Joseph," she whispered, beseeching him with her eyes.
"It's nothing ... I just contemplated that Mia is exactly in the same position you had been in," he confessed in a barely audible voice.
Whatever Clarisse had expected, it obviously hadn't been his frank observation. She drew back a bit and Joe saw the steel doors close behind her eyes. "Clarisse, please, I didn't mean to ..."
"I know what you meant, Joseph." Her voice had dropped a few degrees in warmth. "You meant that I force Mia to make the same mistake I made – for the sake of my country. That I am sentencing her to an unhappy marriage just as mine was. I'll have you know that ..."
He interrupted her, pushing away from under her and getting up from the couch. "You'll have me know that you were happy and that you would do it again were you put before the decision?" He demanded, his own eyes sparking angrily. He had thought that she would maybe have regrets ... for one the regret that she hadn't been free when she had met for the first time. "Well, I'll have you know that I think you wasted your youth."
He turned away from her angrily, before her equally agitated voice stopped him in his tracks. "Joseph Elizondo," she hissed, "you will take that back this instance."
He nodded silently – then left the room.
oOoOoOo
A knock sounded through thesilent room. Looking up at the door, Joseph scowled, not wanting anyone to interrupt his sulking. Another hesitant knock sounded and Joe quickly realized that it wasn't coming from the door, but rather from the secret passageway. He sighed, knowing instantly that there was only one person who knew about this particular corridor. He slowly got up from his chair and without any enthusiasm he opened the portion of his bookcase that hid the door and admitted Clarisse into his room.
They stood before each other, silently, trapped in their own minds. Both were proud people with a stubborn streak as well. Saying 'I'm sorry' was never easy for them.
"Your Majesty," Joseph said at last, breaking the silence, and setting the scene.
Clarisse shook her head sadly. "No, her Majesty is lying in bed. Clarisse, though, couldn't sleep because she ... I wanted you to understand."
"I do understand."
Again Clarisse shook her head. "No. I am at war with myself constantly. The Queen and grandmother battle continually. I want my only grandchild to be happy, but I also want my family to remain on the throne. Please understand, I didn't mean to snap at you like that" She said quietly. Apparently she had said what she had come to say, for she slowly turned around and walked towards the door. Almost inaudibly, she whispered, "This is one of my regrets."
Joe's hand shot out and he grasped her wrist. He drew her to him, against his chest, and held her close. "Clarisse, I was unfair to you. I honestly didn't mean to attack you. Rather, I was admiring how brave you and Mia are, how altruistic." He drew little circles on her back and kissed her head, mumbling against her hair, "I have regrets, too. Never stopping King Rupert is the biggest."
"Oh, Joseph, it was my marriage and I knew what I was getting myself into. Besides I would never have met you if I hadn't married Rupert. I cannot regret that. Had I been braver, though, we could have had more time together." She sighed deeply.
"No, I wouldn't trade the Clarisse I now hold in my arms for any other ... younger one." He smiled against her hair, as he felt her surprise. "You know what you want from life, can keep up with me and you are the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on – because of the life you lived."
Tears had gathered in her eyes and she swallowed with difficulty. Slowly she lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him gently. "Maybe I have wasted my youth but I intend to make the most of the time I have left."
^^C/J^^
You were there for summer dreaming
And you gave me what I need
And I hope you find your freedom
For eternity
For eternity
^^C/J^^
For eternity
I'll sing this sober serenade
The past is done
We've been betrayed
It's true
Youth is wasted on the young
Before you know it's come and gone to soon