Title: Listen
Author: sitarra
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I own nothing, as usual. There's a quote in here that belongs to Rudyard Kipling and a poem title. Don't own those either. There is also a quote in here made by Gloria Steinem; don't own it. Title was inspired by the Beyonce song 'Listen.' I choose it purely for the title and not the words of the song, although it is a spectacular song. Clearly don't own that. And any names that you recognize do not belong to me, no matter how much I want them to.
Summary: A tell-all about your favorite people in the palace. Somewhat Clarisse/ Joseph
A/N: I'm back! I never thought I'd write another PD story but here it is. This is by far the longest single story I've ever written. It's meant to be a mainly dialogue piece that tells Mia everything she wants to know. It takes place during the summer of Mia's 20th year. This story also has nothing to do with Trials of Love, just so you all know.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
One nice day in early June
The palace was in upheaval on a sunny spring day in June. Everyone was bustling around, avoiding running into each other. Preparations were being finished for the arrival of Princess Mia and the former Prince Pierre. Palace rooms were being readjusted after they'd been remodeled. Statues and floors were being polished, shining enough so you could see your reflection. Paintings were being dusted or restored. Everything had to be perfect. Queen's orders.
The maids, as well as the guards and Charlotte, had been avoiding her Majesty's office all morning. There was nothing worse than a frustrated queen who wouldn't listen.
"Joseph, where's Charlotte? I haven't seen her in a while," Clarisse wondered, shuffling through documents on her desk. Anybody could tell she was preoccupied with everything else. The last thing on her mind was wondering where people were.
"I believe she is seeing to the details of the princess' suite, ma'am," Joseph informed her. After a second thought, he added, "As well as avoiding you."
She looked up at that. "What for?"
"Because everyone in the palace fears you when you get this way," he explained to her. He stepped closer to her.
"What way?"
"Incredibly busy and worrying whether or not every detail is as it should be. Anxious for your son and granddaughter to get here."
"You're still here," she pointed.
"I like to live dangerously."
She went back to searching through papers. "Is that why you're a security guard?"
"Maybe," he told her evasively.
Clarisse chuckled, never once looking up from her work. "Joseph, I don't know what I'd do without you. You keep me sane on days like this."
"A job I gladly do, your Majesty." His voice grew soft.
"Joseph," she softly warned.
"Clarisse," he corrected himself, knowing that's what she wanted.
"You're falling back into that habit I hate from you."
He smiled. "I know and I apologize, Clarisse."
She stood and made her way to him. "Apology accepted. Now tell me, when's Pierre to be in?"
They began to walk together, their pace leisure. They were in no hurry. "In just a short while. His plane landed about five minutes ago. Mia should arrive by late afternoon."
"Good and everything's in order?'
He nodded. "Charlotte is seeing to everything. She assures me things are going smoothly. All developments are as they should be. Everything's in order."
Clarisse felt her nerves lessen. She'd been preparing for the arrival of Mia and Pierre for months. Their rooms had been remodeled and even though she'd been assured everything was taken care of, she still felt like she had a million things to do.
Joseph had been her backbone through all of it. He helped her stay sane, as did Charlotte. She didn't know what she'd do without either of them.
"Is there anything that still needs to be done?"
"Only last minute details that you needn't worry about," Joseph assured her. He stopped their steps. "Just take a deep breath and relax."
She gave him a funny look but did as he said.
"The only thing you need to worry about," he told her, "is when your son and granddaughter arrive. That's all you need to think about."
Clarisse nodded slightly, calmed simply by his words. She chuckled a bit. "Thank you, Joseph. I do feel better now."
"You're quite welcome, Clarisse."
"Never stop doing this, Joseph. Calming me down, never stop that. I fear something horrible would happen if you did."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"Mother, it's so good to see you again," Pierre greeted, hugging his mother tightly. "It's been far too long."
"I know. I've missed you so much." Her hold lingered on his for a minute. "Tell me, what have you been up to?"
Pierre sighed. "Same old, I'm afraid, teaching and such. But it has kept me rather busy."
"That's good. I know how you hate to be idle."
They began to make their way inside. Clarisse had insisted on greeting her son as soon as he arrived.
"How have things been around the palace?" he asked, his eyes darting around? Could he have been looking for something?
"Just fine, busy as always?"
"And how's Joe?"
Clarisse smothered a smile. "Just fine. His knee has healed and he's finally walking unaided." Joseph had undergone knee replacement surgery early in the year. Clarisse had finally convinced him to do it, telling him she'd take care of everything. He put up a bit of a fight but he finally got the surgery. His knee still acted up in cold weather, but he could do everything he used to do.
"That's good because you know he hates to be idle much more than I do," Pierre remembered. "And uh, how's Charlotte?"
Clarisse looked up at her son but he avoided her eyes. "Is there something I should know about?"
"Mother…"
"She's just fine as well," she relented. For the moment at least. "I can honestly say she's the best assistant I've ever had."
"Efficient?"
"Highly. I don't know how she does it. Although, I hear she's avoiding me today."
"Whatever for?"
"I suppose I've been very anxious," she replied vaguely. "At least, that's what Joseph tells me."
"That's Joe, taking on the role of advisor on top of everything else," Pierre smiled, grateful for everything Joseph did to help his mother.
"If it wasn't for him, I would never realize any of it. I'd be on edge all the time."
"We don't want that," Pierre voiced. "We need you calm and relaxed."
"That's what Joseph said."
"Speaking of Joe…"
Clarisse followed his gaze. Joseph was walking towards them.
"Joe, I hear your knee is healed. Feeling like your old self again?" Pierre said in way of greeting. He enjoyed the level of camaraderie Joe and he shared. He had never seen him as just a bodyguard and he hoped Joe had never seen him as a prince. They'd always been good friends. He was glad they still were.
"I think you mean young self," he corrected, standing in front of the younger man. "Or am I wrong?"
He pretended to think it over. "No, I meant old self."
"You're lucky I like you," he told the man before embracing him briefly.
Clarisse smiled at their teasing natures. They'd been like this for as long as she could remember. Pierre had taken a liking to Joseph at an early age. She hadn't minded on bit. She rather liked it. Rupert, on the other hand, hadn't. When Pierre was four, he spent most of his time with Joseph following him around as he did his job. Rupert didn't like it but with a new baby to tend to, his attentions had to be directed elsewhere. As their son grew, so did his friendship with the security guard. Rupert grew to accept the friendship and formed a friendship with the man himself.
"How have you been, Joe?" she heard Pierre say.
Joe nodded. "I've been good. Can't complain. Busy as always. But tell me about you. What have you been up to?" he wanted to know.
"Same old, Joe. But I'm happy and I can't complain. I do have a bit of news, though," he said with a smile.
"How come when I ask you what you've been up to, all you say is 'busy'?" Clarisse complained. "But when he asks, you tell him everything?"
"I do not," Pierre defended himself. "I just tell him first and then you later."
"Was that supposed to make me feel better?"
He looped his arms with hers. He began to walk, the others moving with him. "I'll tell you both at the same time. Lately, I've been thinking of moving back to Genovia."
Clarisse stopped in her tracks. "Are you serious? This isn't just a joke?"
"Mother, I would never joke about this," he assured. "Yes, I'm serious. I miss my country. I've been homesick."
"So does this mean you're moving back or you're still thinking about it?" Joseph joined in.
"Well, officially, I'm still thinking, but I believe my heart is set on returning home," he confessed after a brief moment of thought.
"Oh, that's wonderful, Pierre!" Clarisse exclaimed. "It'll be good to have you back home."
But Pierre waved it off. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it.
"Enough about me. Tell me about my niece."
They resembled walking, heading in the direction of Clarisse's office. Pierre and Mia would be meeting for the first time in only a matter of hours. He had to admit, he was rather excited. He'd heard only wonderful, and some funny, things about her, even Joe liked her and he didn't trust so easily.
"Oh, you'll get along splendidly, Pierre. She's a breath of fresh air the palace needs. I will be forever grateful that we found her. I'd be absolutely miserable if we hadn't," Clarisse reminisced.
"Who's 'we'?"
"Charlotte, Joseph, and I. Have you had any contact with Charlotte?" Clarisse meddled.
Pierre rolled his eyes. Joseph chuckled.
"Mother, please. If it happens, it happens."
"I can't help it. I'm a mother. It's my job."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
That night
"I'm telling you, Joe. I could beat you at basketball," Pierre's voice rang out from the kitchen.
Joseph rolled his eyes from across the other man. "No, you couldn't. You'd lose just as you always do."
"I don't always lose." Joseph looked up from his cards. "I always lose but I think I could beat you now. Some of the boys I teach have been helping me practice."
"I still think you'd lose." He laid two cards down. "Your bet."
Pierre threw two chips in the center, closely followed by Joseph's two chips. They laid their cards down and Pierre cursed.
"I'm starting to think you cheat, old man," Pierre grumbled as Joseph collected the chips.
"I wouldn't talk; you're not that much younger," Joseph warned. Pierre chuckled but didn't say anything. He only shuffled quickly and dealt five cards to both of them.
Joseph took a drink of his coffee. "So… Charlotte."
Pierre groaned. "Not you, too. Did mother put you up to this?"
"No, she would never," he hastily assured. "I'm just curious. She would never ask me to do such a thing. Keep an eye out, yes. Spy, yes. But never blatantly ask."
"Asking's easier than watching."
"Yes, but people could lie," he pointed out.
"I would never lie, Joe."
"I know but that's because you're a terrible liar."
"You never lie, do you, Joe?"
"Never because I find one gets in more trouble for lying than they do if they just go ahead and tell the truth."
"True."
Joseph folded, laying his cards down. "So, you were saying…"
"You won't give up, will you/"
"The words aren't in my vocabulary."
"Obviously." Joseph dealt the cards. "Well, as long as this doesn't make its way back to mother or Charlotte," Joseph nodded, "yes, I like her."
"And?"
"What do you mean 'and'?"
"I know you like her. It's extremely obvious."
Pierre leaned against the counter. "Speaking of liking people and extremely obvious, how are things with you and mother?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, playing dumb.
"Come one, Joe. I know you like her. It's extremely obvious," he threw the words back at him.
"It's my job to like her." He was trying his hardest to avoid the question.
"Is it your job to love her?"
Joseph didn't have an answer for that. What could he say? This was her son he was talking to! He had no idea how he'd react.
"I'm afraid I can't answer that," he finally said, his eyes downcast.
"It's okay, Joe," he assured. "The two of you are great together. You're the only one she'll listen to or trust."
Joseph kept his eyes glued to the table.
"Besides, I know you two are together, despite anything you say to deny it," Pierre continued. "To the right people, it is really very obvious."
Joseph's head snapped up at that. "To who?"
Pierre shrugged his shoulders. "The right people. I don't know who."
Joseph sat there frozen for a moment. Did people really know? But if they did, how would Pierre know? He didn't even live in the country. He definitely didn't like where the conversation was going.
"How about we change the conversation now?"
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
A week later
Charlotte hummed a tune on her way down to the kitchen. It was early in the morning, no one else but the maids were up. Normally, she didn't get up this early but she wanted to go over a few papers for the queen before she was up.
However, things never work out the way one plans.
"Prince Pierre, you're up early," she said startled, foregoing a greeting. Pierre had looked up from his crossword, smiling when he saw Charlotte.
"As are you," he retaliated. "Charlotte, I thought I told you to call me Pierre."
"I'm sorry; it's hard to break the habit, your… Pierre," she quickly corrected herself.
"I understand, but I haven't been royal in quite some time."
"Just because you're not royal in title doesn't mean it doesn't still flow through your veins," she recited.
Pierre looked impressed. "Touché."
Charlotte settled herself across the way at the counter and opened up her folders. She tried to focus on her reading but she had to admit, she was being distracted. She could feel Pierre's eyes on her.
"Tell me, Charlotte," Pierre spoke as if reading her mind, "has Mia always been so…"
Charlotte smiled. "Oh, yes. Always. It's refreshing."
"That's what mother tells me."
"She's had a great deal of influence on your mother's life," Charlotte continued. "She's become a happier person, like before your father died."
"It's a miracle, isn't it?' Pierre laughed. "For a while, I thought I'd never see her happy again."
"I don't think any of us did," Charlotte murmured softly.
Pierre observed the woman in front of him. Eight years this summer. Eight years ago, he met and fell in love with her. And she still had no clue.
"Tell me, Charlotte, how have you been?" His voice was low, and it had a major affect on her.
"I've been good. I work as the queen's assistant, I certainly can't complain."
"Are you happy here?"
"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
Pierre laughed. "Relax; it was… just a question." Charlotte blushed. Pierre licked his lips, his courage rising. "Charlotte, I must confess something to you."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I simply must tell you this. It's been… eating me alive. Ever since I first met you, I became… infatuated with you. I thought it would pass, but eight years later, it's still here."
Pierre could see her becoming flustered. He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable. He was simply expressing his emotions.
"Charlotte…"
"Hey, what are you guys doing up so early? Joe's not even up yet and he gets up with the sun," Mia said as she made her way down the stairs.
Charlotte jumped up from her seat. She collected her folders in a hurry before rushing out of the room.
"Was it something I said?" Mia asked, only half joking.
"No, not at all," Pierre brushed it off. "Why are you up so early? I hear you don't get up until late."
Mia frowned. "Couldn't sleep anymore. I keep thinking about last night."
"What about last night?"
"Just what you said last night about Joe. Has he been with grandma long?"
Mia took Charlotte's seat, an intense look on her face. Pierre leaned forward. "Are we gossiping?" he whispered.
Mia shrugged. "I suppose."
"Well, in that case, he's been here as long as I can remember," he said in his normal voice. "He was picked personally by my father to guard my mother."
"Wow, really? Joe must be a better guard than I thought."
"Oh, yes. He's the best member of security we've ever had. Mother will never trust anyone like she trusts Joe. He knows exactly what she wants to hear but he's also brutally honest. I remember one time, she was getting so worked up but I can't remember why. She wouldn't listen to anyone when they tried to assure her. She'd only listen to…"
"To Joe," Mia finished. Light bulbs were popping on in her head.
Pierre nodded. "He calmed her down so quickly. I was impressed. That's why he's always around her during the planning of events or the greetings at the beginning of balls. She sometimes starts to feel too overwhelmed and starts to shut down. A normal response and somewhat expected of a queen and even of a king. Joe calms her down in a heartbeat."
Mia thought about everything for a moment. "Did grandpa like Joe?" she wondered.
"Of course. He also trusted him with his life. Why else do you think he would've picked Joe to guard his wife? If he didn't trust him, or like him, he wouldn't have chosen him."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Two weeks later
Mia spent much of the next two weeks thinking about what her uncle had told her and focusing on princess lessons, the latter of which she didn't enjoy. But it was time spent with her grandma and Mia found that the older she got, she was enjoying spending any time with the older woman. She was growing to appreciate the woman that much more.
She was making her way through the palace one morning to her grandma's office. She had decided to leave her uncle alone for once and get an early start on her lessons. She slowed as she approached the office doors. They were shut. Normally, they were at least cracked.
She knocked timidly on the door. She entered when she got her grandma's permission. Mia blinked when darkness met her eyes.
"Why are the lights off?" she asked. Her eyes adjusted after a few seconds and she could see her grandma sitting on the couch. And a dark spot lying behind her.
"To prevent any further harm to Joseph's head," Clarisse told her, voice quiet. Mia's brow crinkled.
"What's wrong with Joe?"
"Nothing," Joseph answered before Clarisse could. "I'm fine."
"You are not," Clarisse shot back at him. "Now just stay quiet."
Mia only heard a sigh from him; he said nothing else. Mia smiled widely. She never would've guessed her grandma had that much power over Joe.
A knock sounded at the door, a maid entering after. "Here is the water you asked for, your Majesty."
"Thank you, Chantal. Just set it over here."
Chantal did as she was told and left as quickly as she came in. Mia watched as her grandma placed a washcloth over Joe's eyes.
"Is he gonna be okay? Mia wondered. She pretended she didn't notice when Joe reached over to grab Clarisse's hand, and when her grandma smoothed a hand over his forehead.
"He'll be just fine, Mia," Clarisse assured. "Don't you worry."
Mia only nodded. "I'll come back later."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Moments later
Pierre glanced up from his book when he saw a pair of shoes tapping against the ground.
"May I help you, Mia?" he asked before turning his attentions back to his book.
"Yes, you can." She sat next to him on the ground. "You can tell me what's wrong with Joe."
Pierre put his bookmark in before shutting the book. It was going to be a long conversation today.
"What do you mean?"
Mia told him the story of only minutes ago, Pierre listening intently to every word.
"Joe sometimes gets severe headaches or mild migraines," he explained. "The best thing for them is to avoid light, relax his facial muscles, and take the prescribed medicine."
"Why the water?"
"It's warm. That helps relax his eyes which alleviates the pain," he explained, glad for those medical classes he took for fun in school. He never thought he'd actually use it, though.
"Oh… Well, then how…"
"My mother is the only one that can tell he's having one, besides Joe himself. He would never stop doing his job just because he was in pain. Too much dignity."
"But how does grandma know?'
Pierre shrugged his shoulders. "She just knows. They've spent a lot of time together over the years, Mia. Somehow she just knows and she stays with him until the pain goes away. Personally, I think it's because she feels somewhat guilty."
"Guilty?" Mia repeated.
He nodded. "You see, it's the job that causes the headaches. Years of stress from the job."
"And since Joe was her personal guard, she thinks they're because of her," Mia filled in, putting the pieces together.
"Exactly. Though the doctor assures us it's from a number of things. Lighting, not enough light, natural stress, allergens, stress from the job, anxiety even. The list goes on. Certain people even cause headaches."
Mia sat there lost in her thoughts. "How long has Joe had these?"
Pierre thought back over the years. "I do believe I was …twenty when he had the first on, so twenty years now. Only now, I would imagine they've gotten easier on him."
"Twenty years?!" Mia's eyes grew wide.
"But you have to realize it only happens a few times per year and that's even if he has any at all. They don't happen every day, Mia."
She nodded absently. "And grandma always helps him?"
"Yes, Mia." Pierre looked at her funny. "What's going through that head of yours?"
Mia turned her eyes on him. "Is something going on between grandma and Joe?"
"You mean besides a forty year friendship?" He hoped he could keep a straight face. "No."
"Are you sure?"
Bless me, father, for I have sinned "Yes, I am."
Mia kept a trained eye on him that reminded him of his mother. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. I hope she didn't see that
Mia finally sat back and smiled. "Joe was right. You're not a very good liar."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Meanwhile
"Feeling any better?" Clarisse asked Joseph softly.
"A little," he assured. "I just wish these headaches would stop."
"They would if you would ever listen to me," Clarisse scolded. "You never take a day for yourself. Even the Head of Security needs to take a break every now and then."
"So does the queen but it never happens. You push through it just as much as I do."
"That's because I'm the queen. It's not an easy to take a day off. Stop being so stubborn."
"I'm not as stubborn as you are," he muttered, taking the cooling cloth off his eyes.
"You're just as stubborn as I am," she informed him. She put the cloth back in the basin and wrung out the water before placing it back on his head. She pressed gently in all the right places, making the last of the pain disappear.
Joseph chuckled. "You know, after all these years, you haven't changed."
Her brow creased. "What do you mean?"
"You're still the same concerned, gentle, caring woman you were when these started."
She smiled. "It's the least I can do for all that you've done for me," she explained. "Besides, I care about you. I wouldn't do this for just anyone."
He smiled as well. "I know; it's one of the things I love most about you," he confessed gently.
"Joseph."
"We're alone," he pointed out. "Who's going to hear?"
"Anyone could walk in."
"But they won't because you're the queen and you cherish your privacy," he reminded her. "And they think Mia's lessons are happening right now. At least the people that don't listen to gossip think that."
Clarisse brought a hand up to her mouth. "I completely forgot about the lessons."
"I can go look for her if you'd like," he offered, starting to get up.
She quickly pushed him back down. "That's quite all right. We'll just postpone until later."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Two days later
Mia had been thinking of her father more and more since she'd arrived at the palace. She was always thinking about her father but more so in June. She was always eager to learn anything she could about him.
Pierre had a feeling he was just being used.
"What would you like to learn today about palace gossip, Mia?" he asked the girl, not even bothering anymore to look busy when she came around.
"My dad, what was he like?" She sat next to him at the kitchen counter, eagerly waiting answers.
Pierre sat up, back straight. This he wasn't expecting.
"He was a great man, very compassionate for the people. He got that from our mother but he got dad's stubbornness. He was extremely mischievous in his young years. He thought all of his pranks were hilarious but when you're the victim, you don't find them as funny. Father never cared for them either. Everybody loved him dearly. He had a quality about him that people were attracted to. He was like a magnet." Pierre trailed off, lost in his reminiscing. Sometimes he just didn't believe his younger brother was gone. It just didn't' seem right.
"After the accident…" but she trailed off.
"The country was devastated. They had only lost their king a year before. It hit mother hard, harder than any of us thought it would. She wouldn't eat for days; Joe finally had tom threaten her. She wouldn't speak to anyone but him for weeks. She had paranoia for a while but it eventually went away. She also had post-traumatic stress disorder but that never went away, not completely. It comes in waves. She still has nightmares according to Joe.
"He loved you very much, Mia. He was always going on and on about his beautiful daughter. He wanted to meet you more than anything. He wanted your mother and you to visit him here in Genovia, for you to see the country that would one day be yours. He was a great man with a large capacity to love. Never forget that," Pierre finished, a lone tear streaming down his cheek.
Mia sniffled. "I won't. Thank you, Uncle Pierre."
She hugged him firmly, almost knocking him off his stool. He would never forget this either.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Hours later
"Did you know my dad, Charlotte?"
Charlotte stopped sorting the queen's mail at the question. Mia was waiting in the queen's office for her grandma so they could begin more lessons.
"Yes, I did, your Highness," she answered after a few moments of silence. "But not very well. I've always been the queen's assistant; I didn't have much to do with the prince."
"Oh. Did you ever talk to him?"
"A few times but only about business regarding the queen."
"Oh." Mia was silent after that.
"May I ask why you'd like to know this?"
"Just curious lately."
"Only lately?" Charlotte teased. She received the response she wanted when Mia smiled.
"Okay, more curious than usual. Uncle Pierre told me all about him earlier but… I don't know. I guess I just want to know everything about him."
Mia smiled when she saw Charlotte blush at the mention of Pierre's name. She just knew there was something going on between them.
"Well, I'm sure if anyone could tell you about the prince, Pierre could," Charlotte said and returned back to work.
"You're allowed to call him Pierre?" Mia asked, swiveling around in a chair. "OF course you're allowed. You're Charlotte."
"It's taken me eight years to do it, princess," she corrected the girl. "Since he is no longer seen as a prince in Genovia, he prefers to be called Pierre."
"Indeed he does," Clarisse said, stepping inside the office. "I promise I wasn't eavesdropping. I just happened to hear that last sentence."
She walked past Mia, smiling and shaking her head at her granddaughter's fun.
"I've sorted most of the mail and opened the ones with no direct address, your Majesty," Charlotte informed her, standing from the queen's chair.
"Thank you, charlotte. I do appreciate it." The younger woman nodded and excused herself from the room. Clarisse sat down in her chair, ready to begin Mia's lessons.
Mia had other ideas.
"Tell me about grandpa."
Clarisse didn't even pretend to look surprised. "You're asking about everything this summer, aren't you?" Mia looked surprised, though. Clarisse leaned forward. "Remember Mia, every woman knows all about everything. The queen knows everything."
Mia nodded slowly. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
Clarisse leaned back a little in her chair. "Now, what is it you want to know about your grandfather?"
"Anything; everything."
"Well, he was a wonderful man, though he could be quite stubborn at times. His country was his priority. There was nothing more important. He was a great king—always fair, never too harsh. He loved traveling, too; meeting new people and cultures. By the time I was twenty-one, I had been to eleven countries, some numerous times, and only been married for four years. Pierre was there for the last seven of those countries."
Mia quickly did the math. "You got married at eighteen?!"
Clarisse smiled. "You have to understand it was a different time then, Mia. Besides, when it comes to royal marriages the rules are different."
Mia brought the chair up to her grandma's desk. She rested her elbows over some of the mail Charlotte had been sorting. "What was it like being married at eighteen?"
"The same as being married at any age, I suppose. I was getting married to a prince so it wasn't all that much the same."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The next day
"Does Mia always ask so many questions?" Pierre asked his mother, fingering items around her office.
"What's she been asking you?" Clarisse was otherwise occupied with the mail.
"Oh, nothing much. Just wondering about the past." He didn't feel it was necessary to tell his mother what exactly he'd been telling his niece.
"I don't like the sound of that," she muttered, trying to focus on the mail.
"It wasn't anything she shouldn't know, mother. You can relax."
"I have been relaxing, thank you," she defended.
Pierre plopped down unceremoniously on the couch. "Yes, you have and I'm very proud of you. I didn't think you'd give up your workload for even a few weeks," he teased.
She turned her mother's stare on him. "I can, I just don't like to."
"Once a queen, always a queen," he recited. She only chuckled at his words. She observed her son for a moment. She always enjoyed his visits; one could never be bored with him around. People always said he was just like her, looked like her and everything. Now, all these years later, she could see it. But she could also see his father in him.
"You would've been a fine king," she told him gently.
Pierre sighed. "I know but it wasn't meant to be. My destiny lies elsewhere."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
A few days later
Joseph was amazed. Mia was actually awake and up before him. Again.
"Either you're doing this to annoy me or you're trying to improve your habits," he told her, stepping off the kitchen stairs.
Mia smiled. "The first one. It's fun to mess with you, Joe. I'm throwing off your schedule."
"No, you're just disrupting my morning silence," he muttered. He retrieved his coffee mug from the cabinet. Normally he was the one who started the coffee every morning but lately it was Mia doing it. He liked coming downstairs to find the coffee already made.
"I can leave if I'm bothering you though," Mia suggested.
She wasn't about to leave, though.
"No, that's all right, Mia. You can stay." He sat across from her at the counter. He picked up the portion of the paper she was finished with.
"Can I ask you some questions, Joe?" Mia wondered after a few minutes.
"I suppose but I reserve the right not to answer."
"Duly noted." Mia sipped at her coffee thoughtfully for a moment. "Uncle Pierre was telling me about when my dad died a few weeks ago and he mentioned that grandma had more difficulty with it than anybody thought she would. That she still has post-traumatic stress disorder."
Before she even began to speak, Joe knew he wasn't going to like whatever she was going to ask. He slowly set down the paper and focused his attention on Mia.
"What's your question?"
"How bad was it?"
He wanted to stall time but how? He had nothing to distract her with. He'd already set down the paper, gotten his coffee, and he wasn't thirsty. He had nothing! Did that mean he had to answer?
He cleared his throat before speaking. "It was very bad. She wouldn't talk, she wouldn't eat, she wouldn't sleep. After a week of that, I had to forced her to do all three. It took her only a few hours to realize I wasn't going anywhere and that I was only looking out for her."
"How long did it last?"
"Oh, weeks. She finally began to return to her normal self only a few weeks before we came to San Francisco," he remembered. "It was a relief to see her normal self returning."
Mia sipped at her coffee. "Uncle Pierre said that she still has nightmares. He said that's what you told him."
She was setting him up. He knew she was setting him up. He hated when she did that.
Why did he find himself answering then?
"She does still have nightmares about the accident but only a few per year. What is it exactly you want to know, Mia?" she wasn't going to win this time.
"How would you know if she still has nightmares? Grandma's not the type of person to just come out and say what's bothering her."
"No, she's not," he agreed. "But when you've known your grandmother as long as I have, you can tell when she hasn't gotten a good night's sleep."
Mia grew a puzzled expression. She hadn't thought of that.
"Does she ever tell you what the dreams are about?" Mia wondered.
Joe slowly nodded his head. He then looked Mia straight in the eyes. "But I'm not going to betray her trust by telling you about them. Certain things should always be kept private, Mia."
"Okay, I get it. Confidentiality." She focused on her coffee for a few minutes before delving into her next. "So what was it like being grandma's personal guard?"
Joe rolled his eyes. "You need to come with a caution sign."
"I'll get it tattooed on my forehead," she suggested. "How's that?"
"I don't think your grandmother would approve of that."
"All the more reason to get it done then."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The next day
Mia enjoyed a good thriller, whether if be fiction or now. What person didn't? But she enjoyed the thriller even more when her uncle was the one telling it. And even more when it was about her grandma and their head of security.
"And then what happened?"
"Shots rang out from three sides of the square. What do you think happened?" Pierre said matter of factly. "Everyone dropped to the ground. Joe and mother were already in the car so they were somewhat protected. After a few bullets missed them, the driver sped off to the palace."
"Was anybody hurt?" her curiosity was obvious.
"Not that I know of," he thought back. "But Joe would've been hurt by my mother. He wouldn't let her out of his sight for weeks. I can still remember how angry she was but it was for her own good."
"Grandma doesn't like to be… sheltered, does she?" Mia viewed. She never pictured her grandma as being sneaky enough to lose her guards.
"No, not at all. She hates it. She'll do anything to lose a guard. But you'll never see that. She hides it well. Joe's the only one that she never lost."
Mia glanced away thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why he's still around."
Pierre made no comment. He was busy anticipating the next question from her.
"What kind of queen is she?"
"A modest one about what kind of queen she is." No hesitation on his part. "You're a lucky woman to get personal training from her, Mia. Never forget that."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
That night
"I have to say, she'll always be my favorite dancer," Clarisse said, admiring the way Ginger Rogers danced with Fred Astaire. "She's simply amazing."
"I don't know, I think you're a pretty good dancer," Joseph told her, glancing over at his queen.
"Not like her. No, she wonderful. I just dance in circles with nobles and parliament, waiting for the night to be over." She stopped to admire the dancing pair some more. "What do you think?"
Joseph thought about it for a minute. "I think I'd be waiting for the night to over as well. They're extremely boring people. I can't imagine their dancing is much more interesting."
Clarisse laughed. "Joseph, not about that! What's your opinion of Ginger Rogers?"
"Oh, that. Well, I think she's a brilliant actress and a graceful dancer," he shared, turning off his teasing mode for only a little while. "In fact, I think she was the best dancer of her time. A woman once said about her that a woman can do anything a man can do, only backwards and in heels."
"That's right and don't you forget," Clarisse said. Joseph chuckled.
"Don't worry, I won't."
She fingered the inside of his forearm. "Is that why you have this, to remind you?"
He looked down at his years old tattoo. A silhouette of a full bodied woman stared back at him. She stood at a side angle, a hand held out behind her elegantly pointed. A king's crown was crooked on the top of her head, a glint seemingly shining back.
"Yes, I suppose," he said after a while. "I got it about a year before I came to work here. I was inspired by my stay in India. I read a poem by Rudyard Kipling and there's a repeating line: the female of the species is deadlier than the male. It took me but a few minutes to realize how true that was. Women truly hold the power despite it being a man's world. I was also inspired by the dancers there. They moved with such grace and elegance. They captivate you. Even though on some of them you could only see their eyes, they still managed to grab your attention."
Clarisse watched his wistful face. She smiled. "So then you've always been an admirer of dance?"
He met her eyes. "Oh, always," he answered breathily. "There's just something about it that makes you want to watch or participate in it."
"I agree."
They sat quietly for a while. They watched as Fred Astaire's character wooed Ginger Roger's character by singing the classis 'The Way You Look Tonight.' Their fingers entwined as they watched Pop perform a coin trick. They simply were.
"So are there any more markings I should know about?" she shyly asked, her focus lost from the movie.
"All these years and you haven't noticed them?" he teased.
"Them?" she repeated, forehead crinkling.
"Yes, I have three altogether. One on my wrist, one on my forearm, and one on the back of my neck."
"Well, I know about this one." She traced the cross on his wrist. "To remind you of your faith and mother, right?"
He nodded. "Right."
"I've never see the one on the back of your neck," she mused.
He wordlessly leaned forward, allowing her to pull down the neckline of his shirt. "My shirts hide it," he explained as he felt her fingers touch his bare skin.
"It's beautiful,' she breathed. A blue rose literally stared back at her. A pair of eyes were inside of it; they were mesmerizing. She found it hard to look away. "I'm assuming this has symbolism, too."
He chuckled, the shiver he felt at her touch hopefully unnoticed by her. "Yes, it does. I got it to remind me to keep my eyes open because someone could be watching me. Being a security guard, it just seemed to ft."
She slowly let his shirt slide back. "Any special reason you have a blue rose?"
"Yes, but I'm not so sure I want to tell you."
"Why not?" She tried to sound disappointed but to no avail.
"Roses represent love and I love the color blue," he explained vaguely.
She met his eyes. "Liar."
His mouth fell open. "I am not." They both chuckled.
"That's not even a reason," she complained. "What's the real reason?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"I'm your queen, I command you," she said simply. She tried to sound stern but it was a bit hard when she had a smile growing on her face.
"Oh, is that so?" he slowly leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "I guess I should tell you then. About thirty-five years ago, I met a woman with the most amazing blue eyes. She also adored flowers, roses in particular. I couldn't get those eyes out of my head so now they're permanently on me so I may never forget."
She eyed him for a beat.
"All right, you've redeemed yourself."
He laughed. "Good because I'd hate to have you mad at me."
"I could never be mad at you for too long," she assured. She returned her eyes to the movie. "But I will be if you make me miss anymore of this movie."
He laughed incredulously. "I'm making you miss it?"
She nodded and did her best to hide her smile. Joseph rolled his eyes.
"Nobody would ever guess the queen has a weakness for musicals."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The next day
"Charlotte," Pierre said upon entering his mother's office. He hadn't expected to see her. "Fancy meeting you here."
Charlotte looked up from her work. Was he serious? She was always in the queen's office. That's where she did most of her work when she wasn't running around the palace for the queen.
He did but it had obviously slipped his mind.
"But I'm glad you're here, actually," he continued. "We haven't had a moment alone since that morning in the kitchen."
She looked away from him. She'd been purposely avoiding him to avoid having the talk he was ready to start. As much as she loved him, and it had taken her years to admit that to herself, she didn't know if she could be in a relationship with him. A long distance one, at that.
"Charlotte, we can't go on avoiding this and pretending I never said what I said," Pierre continued still. He stepped closer to where she was seated on the settee. "I can't take back what I said and even then I wouldn't because I meant it."
Charlotte continued to sit there, her lips unmoving with the words he wanted to hear. Or didn't want to hear. Either way, he just wanted her to say something.
He told her as much.
"What do you want me to say, Pierre?" she finally said, her tone hinting on anger and sadness. "Even if anything did happen, we're in different circles and different countries. That's too much effort for something I'm not even sure would work."
Pierre sat next to her on the settee, taking her hand in his. "Haven't you heard? I'm moving back to Genovia. That's not too much effort, is it?"
Charlotte felt hope course through her body. It wasn't too much effort, but there was till a matter or social circles.
"Still, we're in different circles," she tried. "You're a prince and I'm just an assistant."
"I am not a prince and you are so much more than an assistant, Charlotte. My mother thinks of you as the daughter she never had. You're a part of this family, Charlotte," Pierre confessed to her. He knew she had a soft spot for his mother; maybe that would win her over.
"In my mind," she said slowly, "you'll always be royal and that means you'll always be a prince to me."
"But Charlotte, I'm not." He sounded desperate. "What can I do or say to make you believe that?"
"There is nothing, Pierre," she said sadly.
He sighed deeply. "Can't we at least try this out first; see if we do have potential?"
"I don't know."
He smiled. "You're weakening. I can tell."
She gave a weak smile. "Maybe I am."
"It's because you know I'm right. This is right. We'd work. We're perfect for each other Charlotte," he insisted.
"But how can you know that? How can you know this would work?"
He caressed her hand gently. "Because sometimes all you need is faith. And because if I'm with you, it would have to work."
She said nothing for a moment, just absorbed his words. She then smiled and shook her head with a smile on her face. "You are just like your mother. You have the ability to say anything and it sounds like heaven."
Pierre smiled cheekily. "I do, don't I?" She nodded. "But I still mean it, Charlotte. We need to at least try. Will you think about it? For me?"
She nodded and was about to reply when the office doors flew open.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Are we interrupting something?" Clarisse wondered. Pierre saw the twinkle in his mother's eyes. She knew what was going on.
"Not at all, mother. We were just discussing some things." He stood and tried not to smile at the blush adorning Charlotte's face. "I'm going to see what Mia's up to."
"She's in the gardens," Joe helped as Pierre passed him.
Charlotte gathered her papers and prayed her face had returned to its normal color. "I'll finish my work elsewhere," she told them before making a hasty exit.
Clarisse chuckled at the actions of the two. "I hope they work out their relationship problems."
Joseph agreed. "This is, by far, the weirdest summer we've ever had."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
THE END
Concluding notes: I have a fascination with dancing and tattoos so I put it in here. The Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers movie in mention is called 'Swing Time'. I was watching it last night so it gave me my inspiration for that part. I've always wanted to give Joseph tattoos so I tried it out here.
I loved writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it!