Encounters

A/N: I got this idea, and I just couldn't shake the possibility it would make a great one-shot, then I started writing it and realized this would be a very long one shot... So please enjoy it for however long it goes on.

It was late in the evening in 1953. The Genovian climate made it warm, even at eight at night. Young Clarisse Dessen whisked down the street at an incomparable pace. Her parents had granted her exactly one year of freedom, destined to be the best of her life. At 16, she was a portrait of beauty. With her hair the color of straw, her porcelain skin, rosy cheeks and her sapphire blue eyes, it was truly too bad her husband was already picked out for her.

You see, her parents had raised her to marry a royal and to become queen. However, she was free-spirited, and was never very good at the whole royal thing. Tonight was her first night as herself, no lessons or rules (the only thing she knew). Maybe she would meet a man and could run away with him, to Paris, or perhaps even America! Yes, the promises of tomorrow hung in the air, and Clarisse was more than excited.

The shops were lit up gloriously, Independence day creeping up on them. King Edward was on the throne, and his son, Rupert, was Clarisse's betrothed. She'd met him twice, and he was fifteen years older than she. Nearly double her age. But in two years, at age 18, Clarisse would marry him and produce his heirs. She shuddered at the thought, as she walked into her favorite spot for tea.

"Clarisse!" The man behind the counter greeted her with a warm smile. "Sit there, and I'll have your tea in just a second." Yes, she came here too much.

"Thank you, Andrew!" His nickname was Bo, but Clarisse never used a nickname. She sat in the seat, smoothing her skirt as she did so. Goodness, it needed ironing!

"What brings you out so late?" It was well past her curfew.

"I'm free, for a year!" She spread her arms out to emphasize her point.

"So you busy, Saturday?" Andrew joked.

"Hmm. Funny."

"I was serious."

"I'm engaged." She retorted.

"Yes, but you've never met the man."

"I have!" Clarisse was appalled. She had met him!

"Twice?"

"So?"

"Thank you for the tea." She threw her money on the table and stood. "But I must be going."

"Goodbye." Andrew sighed as she walked out. How he wanted that woman.

Clarisse skipped along happily, wondering what to do next. The world was at her fingertips. She slowed to a walk and glanced into a shop window. While her gaze was off to the side, she ran into someone, almost knocking herself flat on her backside.

"Watch where you're going!" The figure, clad in black, yelled.

"Perhaps I was?"

"Perhaps you weren't?"

"Perhaps it was your fault!"

"Perhaps it was yours!"

"I'm Clarisse." This conversation was intriguing to the pending monarch. She had never been spoken to so harshly, she was a very prestigious debutante, running with the high crowd her entire life. Having tea with the A-listers of Europe and America regularly.

"Should I care?" The man responded harshly.

"You should, because in two years, I will be your queen." She stood up taller, using her best 'queenly' voice.

"Oh, forgive me, your majesty! " He said sarcastically, bending down on one knee and kissing her hand.

"No need to be mean about it."

"Well, your majesty, I'm Joe."

"Joseph?"

"No . . . Joe." Why did everyone do that?

"Well, I'm going to call you Joseph."

"Whatever. Just watch it from now on." He then disappeared down the busy Genovian street,

"Whatever? Hey . . . get back here! I have a bone to pick with you! No one says whatever to me! Get ba . . . " Clarisse dropped her hands. "Oh . . . " She continued to walk down the street, back toward her home.

"Mother. I'll be back later!" Clarisse called up the stairs, slamming the door behind her. Today she would go see a film, a scary one, very unladylike. As she walked through town, pleased with her choice of agenda, someone rounded a corner and brushed her hand.

"Oh, your majesty, how unpleasant to see you." It was Joseph.

"I could say the same of you."

"Where are you headed in such a hurry?"

"I'm going to the theater. To see a film." Her answer was terse and cold.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"May I accompany you?" Joe boldly took her hand in his, and she ripped it away with a smirk.

"Now why would you ever want to do that?"

"I find you extremely fascinating."

"Hmm." She began to walk and he ran after her to catch up. "I sense that I am not your type."

"Who said I had a type?"

"You look as if you have a new brunette on your arm every weekend."

"Oh, that's harsh."

"I am a harsh girl."

"Oh . . . hardly a girl, a formidable woman, if I do say so myself."

"Hmm." Clarisse though for a moment, she seriously doubted calling herself a woman.

"You never said if I could join you."

"If you wish."

"I do." He joined her at her side and laced his fingers with hers. "Wish, I mean."

"I know what you mean." She spat.

"Of course. After all, you are almost my queen."

"Can you drop that?! I have one year of freedom not to think of that."

"Sorry."

"Me too." They walked slowly, wordlessly, to the theater, finally arriving ten minutes before the show.

"Two tickets for 'The Thing' if you please." Clarisse's crisp accent while saying such a vulgar thing (at least for a woman of her standard) made Joe laugh. "What?"

"Nothing, and let me." He pulled out his wallet and payed the man in the ticket booth. Upon seeing her face, he laughed again. "Hey, chivalry ain't dead."

"Thank you. But, I do believe you mean isn't."

"No, I'm pretty sure I meant ain't." Joe retorted, walking swiftly past her and into the theater.

"Oh . . . " She stamped her foot angrily and caught up to him.

Clarisse had been to one movie in her life, a fluffy romance film about two years ago. She had gone with Rupert, so they could get to know each other. His hand had never left it's place on her thigh, and she did not enjoy herself on the count of being far too uncomfortable. Now she sat next a man she hardly knew and was scared out of her mind. Something shocked her and she grabbed for Joe, both of her hands latched onto his jacket and she buried her head in his chest, trying to escape the movie on the screen.

"Hey now. . ." Joe whispered, rubbing her back gently. "You okay?"

"It's scar...Ah!" As quickly as she had looked up, she looked down again. Joseph smirked, she was going to be queen?

"Shh. . . Clarisse, it's just a movie."

"But it's scary!" Finally it was over, and Clarisse stood up. "I. . .um. . ." She was at a loss for words.

"I'd like to see you again."

"You would?" Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really." He leaned in and she turned her cheek, so that his lips landed there instead of on hers.

"How about tomorrow?" She was blushing a very deep wine color by now.

"Tomorrow. . .Sounds wonderful."

"Alright, well how about we meet at the little café on main, we can have tea."

"I'm not a tea person."

"Well, I can have tea, you can have. . ."

"Coffee?"

"Coffee."

Well...? Review, let me know if it's worth continuing!