Title: Once upon a mattress
By: Jeanett & ElizaDoolittle
Rating: K
Written Because: Jeanett gets weird ideas. And Karlee is an amazing writer.
Summary:There are many things that trigger the human mind to think of fond memories, in Clarisse's case it might be a country or a person or... a slide?
Disclaimer: We don't own a thing we even stole the title (But please don't sue), but how we wish we had a slide!!! And a huge thank you to our lovely beta RevSue!!!! Thank you!!!!
The sounds of shrill squeals of excitement, hardy laughter and shouts had kept Clarisse up to the very early hours of morning. It had been late, she thought, when she had flown down the staircase mattress ramp, but now the young princesses were still rampaging about the castle making quite a noise. She had been tossing and turning for what had seemed an eternity trying to block out the noises from outside her suite door; with that amount of ruckus you would think they had an elephant! She let out a frustrated mixed groan and sigh, her arms flopped down next to her. The bed was very warm and she felt she was overheating, her hair was a mess from moving about in bed trying to sleep and it seemed she would never close her eyes even just for a moment. She slowly sat up, rubbing her tired eyes. She swung her legs out of bed, her feet touching the soft slippers waiting for her to wear. She winced at the cracking noise that came from her legs as she took a step to fetch her soft silk robe. She threw it around herself and stood with her arms folded. Now that she was awake, what would she do at...(she consulted her wristwatch) two in the morning! The noise seemed to have died down now. How nice that she was finally up and awake and the princesses were either going to bed or had found something more amusing to do elsewhere in the castle.
She silently slipped out of her room and the door clicked as she closed it carefully behind her. Her eyes shot up and she saw a rather messy scene before her. Had they been having a water fight inside, for heaven sakes? She saw the guard at the end of the hall; he cleared his throat and tried to avoid the Queen's stare. His hair was dripping and parts of his formal clothing had wet patches. She dismissed whatever might have been going on outside her door and shuffled on down the hall, avoiding the small puddles of water and broken bits of water balloon scattered about.
It wasn't often that she was up at this hour. It seemed besides the few guards who were stationed near the royal suites, everyone was asleep. From where she stood at the top of the stairs, the mattresses lying recklessly across the staircase and on the ground as well as the ramp in the middle in front of her waving down to the ground brought back memories of a distant past. It was almost eerily silent in here, very different from the constant flow of servants and diplomats flurrying around the castle. She allowed her hands to rest on the railing at the top of the stairs, her feet close to the shining ramp ready to send someone down its slippery slide. It had been a very long time since this ramp slide had been dragged out of its cobwebby home in the cellar. It had been polished of course, she knew that because of its spiffing shine. She allowed herself to crouch down to the ground and touch the metallic surface of the slide then her legs grew wobbly from this odd position so she sat firmly on the ground. She straightened her legs and let them dangle down the slide- if she were to move ahead just a bit she would send herself down. She could almost imagine Rupert standing next to her, holding a mattress in one hand with a triumphant grin on his face. The picture seemed to wisp away as if a breeze had suddenly broken through the castle wiping away the memory in front of her, the empty air regaining its space.
She took a deep breath, and let the air out slowly as if she had been dizzy, as if the memory had clouded her mind like a thick fog. She let her hands run down the slide alongside her legs. They had used this slide so many times that it was hard to believe, and now Amelia would probably use it just as much and, seeing how much of Phillip's spirit she had inherited, she would love every minute of it just as much. She could hear the words she had spoken to Amelia at the party, they rang through her mind again and again, in rhythm with her hands running up and down the slide, 'I've done a lot of flying in my time.' and the fog seemed to overtake her mind once more, as her own voice turned to the voice of young Pierre yelling, 'You look like you're flying, Mama!'
It had also been a late night, not quite this late, but late enough to have both Pierre and Phillip sound asleep. A headache had been on its rise since earlier that day when all the noises and bustling had started in the grand hall. Everything had spread its way toward her office, and now that it had died down, she finally could get some work done, and possibly she could also be allowed a glance at what Rupert described as the fondest memory of his childhood.
She had leaned back in her chair in effort to try and relax, while finishing up the day's work, when her office door had been thrown open to reveal a very excited, thrilled and impatiently childish husband.
"Come, Clarisse, I have to show you this!" he had almost ordered laughing.
"Rupert, I really must finish this. You know how I hate going to bed when I have unfinished business lying on my desk!" she had said casually.
"Who said anything about going to bed, darling? I want to show you my childhood, so to speak!" He had joyfully exclaimed.
"But Rupert!" she had said, motioning to the papers in her hands.
"Come, Clarisse, for just this once, let work be work and come and play!" Rupert had begged and, taking hold of her hand, he had practically dragged her out of her chair.
"Rupert, Rupert, wait! I don't have my shoes on!" she had exclaimed, trying to slow the pace with which he was dragging her.
"Oh, you won't be needing them. Here, I'll leave mine as well!" He had proclaimed and kicked off his shoes.
She had looked at him with disbelief. There they were, the reigning monarchs, trampling around the palace in their socks and stockings. But how could she have resisted him when he was so excited about showing her this childhood memory? She had simply given him a smile and a light laugh, as he had again dragged her towards the grand hall. As they had moved down the corridors, she could feel the guards' eyes widen at the sight that passed them. Their sovereigns walking hand in hand, passing them one by one, practically in their bare feet, not a sight anyone had ever seen. A few feet before they had entered the grand hall, Rupert had shooed Clarisse in front of himself, covering her eyes with one hand and placing the other around her waist to guide her as he had slowly pushed her forward into the unknown.
"Rupert, what are you doing?" she had giggled, walking slowly forward.
"You'll see, my dear, you'll see!" he had answered, grabbing a tighter hold of her waist.
"Rupert, just let me see. You can't hold me like this forever!" She had scoffed playfully.
"Not forever, but I can hold you here for some time!" He had replied simply and had given her a light kiss on the neck.
He had removed his hand from her eyes, and slowly revealed his childhood, the big slide and a huge pile of mattresses. Clarisse had just stood there staring at it. It was somewhat beautiful and yet frightening. She had instinctively reached back for Rupert's hand that had covered her eyes and she leaned more into his broad chest, happy that he still was standing behind her.
"Rupert, what is all this for?" she had questioned.
"This is what I did, for as long as I could, when I was a child!" Rupert had gestured at the slide.
"What is this, Rupert?" She had been dumbfounded.
"It is a slide. You see, you take one of these mattresses and then you slide down from there. It is great fun, darling. I hope Pierre and Phillip will find this as much fun as I did!" he had shared while preparing a mattress.
"WHAT? Pierre and Phillip will not be using this - they might get hurt, for heaven's sake! It looks terribly steep and slippery!" She had firmly argued.
"Before you dismiss all the fun our boys can have on this, just try it once, and if you're still worried after that, I will have the builders take it down again!" Rupert had suggested.
"ME! Trying that? You must be kidding me?" She had laughed nervously.
"I'll go with you the first time. Now come sit here!" Rupert had said and patted on the mattress. Reluctantly Clarisse had joined him, he had wrapped both arms around her midsection and in seconds they were cascading down the ramp. When they had reached the end of the exciting ride, Clarisse had begun to laugh.
"What's so funny, my dear?" Rupert had asked puzzled.
"I was just thinking, let's go for another ride!" Clarisse had shared as she jumped up and bolted up the stairs.
Rupert had chased her up the stairs and down the slide. After a couple of times of this chasing, Rupert had almost had Clarisse and the screams, laughs and yelps had reached the children's bedrooms. Soon Clarisse and Rupert had spectators, who wanted to take advantage of the fact that they no longer were asleep.
Pierre stood taller over his younger brother, his stripped pajamas getting creases in them as he jumped with delight. Philip had much the same attitude, his small brown teddy bear's arms waving about as he ran up the staircase to his mother and father.
Pierre, in the beginning, had been the over excited one. It now seemed the tables had turned as he had grown very nervous, latching onto his mother's hand. Philip was exploding with excitement as he dragged his father closer to the slide. Rupert picked up a mattress and set it down at the top of the slide. He sat down first and then Philip jumped down in front of him holding onto his father's legs so he did not fly forward.
Philip firmly held onto his teddy bear's arm and looked behind to his mother. She smiled, urged him on and his eyes glinted with excitement, his large smile rounding the adorable bubbling laughter coming from his lips.
Rupert's rumbling laughter roared as they embarked down the slope, Philip's high-pitched shrill cry rang out and echoed through the delicately carved arches of the châteaux. His arm waved through the air as he went down, the teddy bear flailing about like a flag in the wind until he sent it flying from his grasp. He didn't seem to notice this as he screeched with delight, his eyes shimmering wildly.
Pierre looked at his mother nervously; his eyes weary as they flicked from his mother's encouraging face and the steep looking slide. Though he was the older of the two young princes, he was the more gentle of the two, the more caring and softer child. When Philip had his christening, there had been the choir present singing in the beautiful cathedral. Pierre was entranced by the beautiful voices, the colourful paned windows, he was in wonder sitting in the soul inspiring spaces of the cathedral.
Clarisse tossed down on the mattresses off the small pile next to her, she sat down at the top of it and coaxed him to sit down. Slowly but surely, he bravely sat in front of his mother. She held on around his waist, his thin scrawny arms securely wrapped around her hands in front of him as he sat on her lap. At the bottom of the mattress ramp, Rupert clapped the two on, Clarisse leaned forward and Pierre turned to look at her. He nodded confidently, Clarisse made a thumbs-up to Rupert and Philip at the bottom while the younger prince squealed and clapped his older brother on.
Clarisse gently pushed her hand against the slide beneath her and they slowly slid forward. Pierre's grip grew tighter, and from where Rupert stood he could see his son's face go as white as a ghost's. Clarisse's angelic laughter burst out as soon as they flew downwards, Pierre loosened up at hearing his mother enjoying herself and the colour came back to his face, with it came an amused smile. When they reached the bottom, he was starting to laugh. Clarisse knew he was still a little shook up so she surprised him and tickled his stomach. He laughed and laughed as she showered him in kisses on his face.
She had gotten him started, now as he jumped to his feet with a wide grin spread over his face, he took off to the stairs like lightning. Rupert's deep laugh followed his son up the stairs; following behind the two came Clarisse and little Philip exploding with excitement for another ride.
(oooo dream over :/)
The laughter of her children echoed in her thoughts, her husband's roar of laughter when she had fallen down at her attempt at standing up and going down the slide. She tried to shake off the slow process of letting the memory go. She and Rupert had really tried to make things work for each other, to care for one another and to try with every power they had to make their children feel no different from any other child with parents who were not brought together in an arranged marriage for the Genovian monarch. Her delicately manicured nails clicked against the slide below her. Mia had rather enjoyed this traditional Renaldi pastime.
Mia. She worried for her granddaughter, so free and kind, beautiful and strong. She never would want to take the happiness from her lively eyes; Mia would marry a man she barely knew and barely had the will to love. She knew that Amelia loved this country deeply, and that was why she was going through with her engagement to Andrew Jacoby. Would Mia take care of her beautiful country, continue the Renaldi line for this glorious country? She prayed with all her heart no misfortune would see its way to Mia's carefree life. Could this young woman make the right decisions? Raise children branded with a hot flaming mark that would set them aside from the other children as their future sovereigns, people who would be treated far different from the rest?
The wedding was so soon; hours remained as it crept closer to affect every single life in the country and the future of this marvellous, prosperous land. Did Mia know what responsibility she was taking from her grandmother? Did she realise an heir would be expected from herself and a man she did not love?
Clarisse's shoulders dropped as she retraced over the many times the boys and Rupert had enjoyed themselves in this castle, in this room, in this life. She missed Rupert so, his laughing jolly self, encouragement, smiles, a constant friendship and his mischievousness. It was completely absurd even still to remember that her son - who was the only eligible heir left since her eldest son had abdicated the throne - was actually gone. They had made the difficult decision to keep Mia unaware of her bloodline, her right to rule.
She could feel a sorrowful sigh rising inside her. She loathed when she started to lament over all the things that plagued her. She scolded herself at the thought of crying there on the mattress slide; it would be silly and trivial. But yet she couldn't just forget those she loved and had lost, the country that had been her decision over love, her duties to her life. Her head fell into her hands as soft tears trickled down her cheeks. Silent tears came and went every so often with Clarisse.
Deep down she knew that Mia would be a noble queen, kind to her people, loyal to her country. She knew she would have doubts - who wouldn't? The country was almost a child to her, nurturing and loving it, supporting it, guiding it. Joseph had assured her that Amelia was ready to be queen. There it was, Joseph. She shook her head, she couldn't think about this situation anymore; she had thought all day about his proposal of marriage, she had wanted so badly to say yes. But there was a wedding to take place tomorrow, a queen to ready for her long future.
She obeyed her heart's demands and pushed it aside. For now, she desperately needed sleep! She heaved to her feet, her tired mind and body moving slowly. She made the sad mistake of forgetting about the puddles of water in the hall as she walked. Nearly slipping through a puddle, she braced herself against a small desk. She entered her suite quietly, her hands trembling from fatigue as she clicked the door shut. She raised her arms above her in a great stretch from sitting on the ground on top of a slide; she let a long yawn escape from her. Maurice's silhouette moved, his white head popping up in the shadows where she could see him, the peaceful sound of his collar jingling. She smiled at her companion's awareness of his mistress's worries and concerns. She stood in wait as he rose from his warm bed to her side. She smiled down at him as he allowed his head to rest against her leg, his nose touching her hand dangling at her side. With gentle hands, she stroked his face and spoke in a warm, loving tone that expressed the certainty and the uncertainty of events to come, "She's getting married tomorrow, Maurice."