I met Clarisse when I was eight years old - she was five at the time. Her parents had been invited to the palace by my parents and I was left to keep her entertained while they all ate dinner and talked amongst themselves. We got along rather well despite her being three years younger than I. She had the most beautiful golden locks that fell right down to her waist and the bluest eyes imaginable. She was in my opinion, perfect. We used to have tea parties in my room (her choice of game), while our parents talked about things we wouldn't have understood at the time; grown up things.
I adored her very much and I knew she adored me also. I remember our first kiss – we were in the sandbox under the watchful eye of our parents, building a sand castle. I was admiring the work we had done and she hugged me and kissed my cheek. I went bright red especially when I noticed my mother smiling at me and saying, "Aww…isn't that cute?"
Then something inside me told me to act as if I wasn't happy about her kissing me, so I pushed Clarisse face first in the sand and ran inside to wash my face. Father chased after me and told me not to push girls, then I had to spend the rest of the day locked in the cellar. I was so angry when I came out and was forced to apologise to Clarisse, so I did then I stormed right off to my room.
As a year passed, I started initiating the kisses, but of course, only when I was sure we were alone. She used to giggle and kiss me back. I remember one day we hid in the closest and kissed each other for hours. That was one of my happiest memories.
When we were a little older (me twelve, she nine) we began kissing each other on the mouth which I found was even better than kissing each other's cheeks. We spent countless hours just sitting under a tree or a bush enjoying each other's company, it was fun and we enjoyed it very much.
At age fifteen I walked in on my parents one time when they were in their suite kissing. I noticed something that they did different to Clarisse and I, it looked as if they were using their tongues, so I got ideas and tried it with Clarisse. I thought it was gross at first because it was so wet and I was germ conscious, but as we kept doing it, it became very pleasurable.
One day I woke up and found that there was this sticky stench in my bed and I had no idea what was going on. I asked my father, but he said to ask my mother, so I asked her and she told me to ask my father. I decided that I wasn't going to get any information from them, so I decided to just leave it be.
I was schooled at home for some bizarre reason, I had this tutor called Mr. Danzer who came to the palace every morning at seven o' clock and left at four. He wasn't very nice – he used to yell at me even if I hadn't done anything wrong. I was envious of Clarisse, because she went to a private girl's school where she was able to socialise with other people.
She used to stay overnight at the palace every Friday after school to give her parents a break. I used to sneak in and watch her sleep; she was so sweet when she slept. She'd be curled up in a ball with her thumb in her mouth and hair spilt all over the pillow. Something that drew my attention was that she always had the doona pulled up over her ears.
Things between us started to get serious when she turned fourteen. At her school she was learning about sex education, Mr. Danzer never taught me sex education. I suppose mother and father asked him to take out that part of the lesson plans so I wouldn't get any ideas.
Anyway, one Friday night I found that Clarisse had snuck into my room and was sitting on my legs while I was sleeping, she shook me awake. I asked her what she was doing there and she just took my hand and placed it on her breast. I didn't know why at the time, but I started feeling hot in my pants. She started kissing me and putting my other hand on her other breast. The heat I already felt started getting hotter and I found that my penis had risen. I rolled Clarisse onto her back and stared in amazement at the size of the lump in pyjama pants. I carefully pulled them down and observed myself some more. I could see the smile on Clarisse's face getting bigger and bigger. Unsure of what I was doing, I tried to push it back down, but to my surprise, it popped back up again. I repeated the action and found that it appeared to be stuck like that. Clarisse began to explain what was going on according to her teacher, Miss. Wellington. I began to understand what was happening and came to the realisation of what the sticky substance I found on my sheets was.
After Clarisse left my room, I decided to try out one of the things she had mentioned – masturbation. I had never tried it before because father always told me not to put my hands down my pants unless I had to use the bathroom.
Anyway I tried out masturbating and let me tell you, it felt so good, so pleasurable. I let out loud gasps and sighs and was shocked to find that the sticky substance had re-appeared. Quickly, I grabbed a few tissues and cleaned up the mess. I wished somebody had told me about this earlier.
A couple of weeks later, after I had read a few of the books that Clarisse had given me on the subject, I went to see her in her room. She yelled at me and told me to get out, all the while holding a pillow over her navel. I hadn't read into those books enough to realise what was going on, but I found out the next morning. I thought she was upset with me, so I went to apologise and found that she was still in bed. I sat beside her and stroked her hair, she seemed to get even more beautiful with age. Eventually she woke up and apologised for yelling at me. Then she told me that she had gotten her period, so I decided to read about it in the book and started to see things more clearly.
The Friday after that, I found her in my room again sitting on top of me as I woke from my slumber. She started kissing me and rubbing her hands all over my body, I started doing the same to her and we sighed very loudly. She stopped for a moment to remove her nightgown and took my pyjama top off. She then placed kisses all over my chest. I gently rolled her over and wriggled my way on top of her, kissing her breasts and running my hands through her hair. She had brought with her what I thought was a packet of rubber bands, but she told me what they were and asked me put one on. I asked her to put it on for me, as I didn't have the faintest idea of what to do. We made love for about eight minutes before I noticed that there was blood trickling down her legs. I thought I had seriously hurt her, so I repeatedly apologised to her until she told me that it was supposed to happen. She then explained it in further detail as she did to everything that confused me.
After I'd fallen asleep, she left. I know this because when I awoke in the morning, she wasn't where she was the previous night. I carefully stripped the sheet off the bed and folded it so the blood didn't show, I then put it in my dirty clothes basket. We were never caught, nor were we the next couple of times, or the times after that. As we kept on doing it every Friday, she seemed to grow more and more fond of it. She said it was becoming much more pleasurable for her…I thought it was pleasurable all along.
When I reached age twenty-one, my father told me that it was about time I found myself a woman to settle down with and marry. I asked him why and he said that since I was an only child, I needed to produce an heir or two. I thought he was joking at first, but I realised he wasn't when he gave me a deadline to find a wife (the first of June). I refused to find a wife on such notice, so he told me that if I didn't find one myself, I would have to wed somebody of his choosing. As June neared, I found out that if I didn't find somebody myself, I would be forced to marry a woman called Theresa Malabutte. I'd met her at my betrothal ball and she seemed like a whinging, whining little piece of work, so I decided that I should at least attempt to find a wife. I asked Clarisse if she would be willing to marry me, but she turned me down and told me that she'd rather live her life first. She did, however agree to help me find a suitable woman, but I didn't like any of the ones she suggested.
It was almost midnight on May 31st when I became desperate. I was to announce my choice to my father the following day, yet I still hadn't found anyone that I thought I could love.
Clarisse and I were sitting on my bed looking at pictures of all the bachelorettes that were eligible to wed me. I looked at her; she was so beautiful in the moonlight. I started getting jittery and as the clock struck twelve, I made a plea.
"Clarisse, how would you like to do me the biggest favour?"
"What is it?"
"I'm running out of time and..."
"No! I already told you, I am not marrying you!"
"Come on, Clarisse, can you please? I don't want to have to marry Theresa! She spits when she talks and she's nowhere near as attractive as you."
"So you just want me for my looks?"
"No!"
I grabbed her hands and stared into her eyes, "I think we could be really good together, I mean we've been best friends ever since I can remember, we know each other inside and out. We were probably bound to get married one day or another anyway…I'm asking you as a friend to do me a favour that could save me from making the biggest mistake of my life."
She looked at me with a worried expression on her face, "But what if things don't work out and I end up losing my best friend?"
"That won't happen, trust me! Please Clarisse, do it for me?"
We looked into each others' eyes for a long time until she let out a long breath and said, "Alright, I'll do it."
My eyes lit up, "Thankyou."
"But I reserve the right to walk out at anytime if I find conditions unbearable."
"Of course."
I threw my arms around her and repeatedly kissed her face.
The next day we announced to my father that I had made my choice of marrying Clarisse and he seemed quite happy with the idea. He already thought of Clarisse as a daughter so was more than happy to accept her into the family. Clarisse seemed sad about the engagement, which made me sad too because she had just given up her life for me.
The wedding was one of the saddest days of her life and mine. I got myself ready, went down to the church and stood there for half an hour waiting for Clarisse to get there. She was late by a whole twenty minutes and when she started walking down the aisle, I could see that she really wasn't sure if she wanted to go through with it or not. Anyone who saw the smile on her face would have thought it one of a genuinely happy person, but to me she'd never looked so terrified in her entire life. She stopped in the middle of the aisle and ran out of the church. Her mother ran after her and we all waited in the church to find out what was going on. She came back in a few minutes later with her makeup slightly smudged and a lump forming in her throat. She took my arm and I asked her if anything was the matter, she said she was fine so we resumed the ceremony and became man and wife. I felt strange kissing her in public and I can tell she did too.
The reception went on for far too long. We waltzed around the dance floor, ate dinner, waltzed some more, cut the cake, waltzed some more, drank some wine and then went off to the hotel. We got there at about 1am.
As soon as we walked through the door, Clarisse headed straight for the bathroom. I thanked her for not backing out and she told me not to worry about it. I watched her take the pins out of her hair and the tiara off her head, then I saw the tears pour out of her eyes. I asked her if she was okay and she said she was fine – I didn't believe her. I hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek, whispering the words, "I'm sorry."
We didn't make love that night, nor did we touch. I could tell that our friendship had already started to deteriorate and I hated myself for it. I watched her sleep for hours and was still awake when the sun came up. It was an awkward morning between the two of us because we were unsure of how to act around each other as a married couple. I still remember what the headline of the newspaper read, 'Prince Marries Childhood Sweetheart.'
Clarisse and I had a hard time adjusting to the fact that we had to share a room for the next few years, because neither one of us had ever had to share a room with anyone before. We eventually got into a routine and things started to go along splendidly, however, it seemed to me that since we married, she never wanted to touch me or get physical in any way. This made me feel awkward because I always wanted to hold her while she slept so I could offer her some sort of comfort and my gratitude.
Months passed and although we spent more time together than we used to, I could tell we were slowly drifting apart. She refrained from touching me at all and we barely spoke. It's around about that time my parents called me into the office for a "chat". I was told that the time had come for an heir to be produced. I was shocked, appalled, worried and terrified all at the same time. I told them that I didn't think Clarisse was ready to produce children, but they told me I was being stupid and that her age was perfect for bearing children. I ran upstairs immediately to tell her. I walked slowly into our room and closed the door behind me. It was dark, but there were candles lit in the bathroom, I knew that's where she was, so I knocked on the door and walked in. She was lying in the bathtub at the time.
"Clarisse, we need to talk."
She opened her eyes slightly to look at me and gently closed them again, "What is it?"
I sensed annoyance in her voice.
"I…um…uh…father says that the time has come."
She looked up and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"We have to produce an heir."
She emerged from the water and sat up to look at me, "Look, if this is some poor attempt to get me into bed, then it's not working," she lay back in the water.
"I can assure you, the last thing I want to do is trick you into sleeping with me."
"Alright, I believe you."
"So, when should we start the production?"
"Rupert listen, I didn't agree to producing heirs, I agreed to marriage and that's all this is going to be."
"I'm sorry."
That was the first sort of fight we ever had, but it was mainly one sided – her side. She started all of the fights over the years and almost walked out on me three times. It's not my fault I wasn't taught to be a proper husband.
After the talk in the bathroom, I went to bed and waited for her to get out of the bathroom so we could talk some more. She stayed in there for quite a while just… thinking I suppose. Eventually she came out, completely dried herself off, then jumped into bed. She pulled my pyjama pants down and hopped on top of me for three minutes, then hopped back off. Any attempt I made to touch her for the duration was immediately brushed off. I realised then that any hope I had of repairing our friendship had disappeared.
After she had her way with me, she walked into her closet, put on a nightgown, climbed back into bed and went straight to sleep. I felt so sad, all I wanted to do was hold her and see her smile again, but I realised that any hope of that happening had disappeared along with our friendship.
A week later I asked her if she had conceived an heir and she that all results had come back negative. That night we tried again, or should I say she tried again and a week later, I asked her if she had conceived, but the answer was still no. For weeks we had passionless sex in hope that we would conceive an heir, but we were beginning to think that it was a lost cause, because no child would want to have been born into a loveless family like ours.
On Christmas day Clarisse started an argument with me in front of our parents, it was about the fact that she wasn't happy, which I told her was due to the fact that she hates the idea of an arranged marriage so much that she's won't allow herself to embrace it, which was the truth, was it not?
Her father broke up the fight, but it resumed when it came time to go to bed.
She was sitting at her dresser pulling out the pins in her hair and slamming them down on the table, I was changing into my pyjamas, when she suddenly started yelling at me, "Marrying you was the worst mistake of my life!"
"It wouldn't be so bad if you'd at least try to find something good about it! Maybe if you'd let me touch you every once in a while you'd find that it could make all the bad things go away even if it's only temporarily."
"I do let you touch me, every week you touch me!"
"I beg to differ, it is you that touches me! Although not in the way I'd like to be touched."
"What? I give you your weekly dose of pleasure and all you can say is that it isn't good enough?"
"If you'd just show a little compassion or a sign that you still care about me once in a while things wouldn't be so bad. We need to stop putting duty before our friendship, we need to stop fighting about nothing and everything and furthermore, we need to stop having sex and just make love for heaven's sake. Even if it's only once, I need to know that you still value me as a lover or at least a friend. Please, just give me some sign?"
She stared at me with her arms crossed and tears threatening to fall. She walked over and put her arms around me, I could feel the warmth of her tears on my shoulder and the shaking of her body against mine as she cried. I tried hard to fight the tears that threatened to fall down my face, but eventually gave in when I realised that it was alright to cry sometimes, even if you're a man.
Suddenly her lips were on mine, after all the months of neglect, she was finally warming up to me again. Making love with her then had a really good feeling to it, she wasn't the cold, heartless woman that had swallowed her whole as soon as we married, the woman who wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole, she was that sweet little girl who gave me my first kiss in the sand.
I woke the next morning and found a note on her pillow:
'Dear Rupert,
I'm sorry I can't be the woman you so desperately need, but I will learn in time. Right now all I want to do is live. Once I've lived my life I promise I will return to you.
All my love,
Your friend,
Clarisse.'
I cried. We had just made a breakthrough and she was running away. In time I understood why she did, but at the time I was more confused than ever. I must have read that note at least one hundred times trying to find an answer as to why she went. I thought I'd done something wrong, that she ran away because I wasn't a very good husband. For weeks I cried and wished she'd return to me, I felt so bad about taking her life away before she had a chance to live it.
She returned in March, on my birthday, a nice surprise it was for me indeed. She came through the doors of our suite early in the morning and dropped her bags. I looked up from my position on the bed and smiled at her, I then got up and ran into her arms.
"I missed you."
"I know, I'm sorry."
I cried on her shoulder.
"Happy birthday."
"Thankyou."
"I have a surprise for you."
She gently pushed me away and held my hand on her navel, "You're pregnant?"
She nodded.
"Is it m…"
"Yes."
I hugged her again and she said, "Rupert, I've lived my life and I'm ready to take my place as Genovia's Princess and in time, her Queen."
I squeezed her tighter and thanked her.
Our parents were over the moon when we gave them the news, as were the press. There was a ball held and a dinner, garden parties and anything else my parents could muster to celebrate the conception of a new heir. We personally thought they were making too big a deal of it, so we snuck away for a couple of days and went to Austria to see the sights and sounds. It was lovely. Mother and Father were so annoyed that we didn't tell anyone where we were going; they thought we had been kidnapped.
Things got worse when the child was born, there was a fight between both our parents' about what to name the child. My parents liked Edwardo, hers liked Christopher. I whispered into Clarisse's ear that I thought Pierre was a nice name, she agreed and that's what we called him to the disapproval of our parents'.
His Royal Highness Edward Christophe Pierre Gerard Renaldi, Prince of Genovia was his name. Clarisse and I felt that it was far too long, but my father assured us that all Renaldi's are supposed to have long names, which made me understand why mine was His Royal Highness Jonathan Peter Rupert Gerard Renaldi, Prince of Genovia.
I often watched Clarisse nurse our boy, as I found it very comforting and calming. It was just something about watching a mother and her child together that brought warmth to my heart. She looked tired, drained. She was only nineteen and she had already given birth to her first child.
I sensed that any part of her that didn't want the child before had disappeared. She would spend all day with him just studying his face or his hands, I used to join her sometimes and we'd watch him together. I felt the child had made Clarisse a little softer and caring and that he had somehow brought us closer together. I was grateful to him.
Our marriage started to get better from then on, she started holding me when we slept, she allowed me to touch her and kiss her the way I used to. We even made love every once in a while, not because we had to, because we wanted to. Happy times were they.
About three years later I was informed that another heir was to be conceived, as a back up incase anything should happen to the first. Clarisse wasn't too happy about the situation because she remembered the pain she went through with the first one. Of course, she eventually agreed to have another, but she became nervous when it came to actually making love, and her being nervous made me nervous, so we'd end up not trying at all.
For months we slept next to each other without touching because we were afraid we'd end up in an awkward situation. Eventually I told my father that we were having a hard time getting intimate and he told me to be more assertive. I said that I wouldn't force her into anything that she didn't want to do and he told me that I was too 'under the thumb' and needed to regain control of my marriage. I owed Clarisse too much to suddenly become a monster, so we stayed as equals and have been happy with it ever since.
One day I told my father that there wasn't going to be a second child and that Pierre was just going to have to do. Clarisse was relieved when I told her and as a result, we ended up making love that night. The following year, a new heir was born: His Royal Highness Edward Christophe Philippe Gerard Renaldi, Prince of Genovia – Philippe for short.
We loved him as much as Pierre and we never treated them differently, until of course Pierre abdicated.
After Philippe was born, there were no more obligations to have children, we were free at last. Clarisse and I became much more intimate again and started enjoyed each others company like we used to in the old days, we took walks together around the grounds, took our children to the public park and went on various holiday trips as a family. We were closer than we'd ever been before and thought that nothing could come between us, until of course, my parents died. They were coming back from a holiday together in the tropical region of Bali. It was a stormy night and oh so windy, the wings on the plane were on the verge of falling off, but somehow, they made it back to Genovia in one piece, it was the ride home that killed them – a car accident.
I wasn't as upset as I thought I would be, but Pierre sure was. He loved his grandfather very much and was terribly upset to find that he had died. Soon after this, I was made King and Clarisse was Queen. We shared the workload as equals, but we found that with all the long hours and meetings with parliament, there was less and less time to spend together. Our children practically forgot who we were because they were usually in school or studying and Clarisse and I were too exhausted by the end of the day to spend quality time together, we'd fall asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow.
The hard work and lack of intimacy really took a toll on our marriage and our children. They became distant and rebellious and also didn't seem to care if we were alive or dead. We sent them to the private school that was down the road from the one Clarisse went to, so they spent most of their time either there or at their friends' house. We'd see them briefly for about half an hour every night during dinner and then they would go off to their rooms to either study or play games. Clarisse started falling into depression, so I told her I'd take over her work so she could spend time with our boys. It made her happy, but I found that with so much work, I rarely even made it to dinner and Clarisse and I became distant again.
Eventually our family got into a routine that worked really well and allowed me to spend time with my boys and wife:
7:00 am: Breakfast in the garden
7:30 am: Boys go to school/start work
9:30 am: Morning tea with Clarisse
10:00 am: More work
12:30 pm: Lunch with Clarisse
1:00 pm: Back to work, joined by Clarisse
4:00 pm: Boys return from school/afternoon tea as a family
5:00 pm: Back to work
7:00 pm: Family dinner
8:30 pm: Bed time for boys/back to work
10:00 pm: Clarisse and Rupert private time
It seemed to work well for our family and it brought us ever so slightly closer together.
Clarisse and I never set deadlines for our sons to marry or have children, because we knew what it felt like to be forced into things like that and didn't want them to go through it aswell. That's also why we allowed them to go to a private school instead of having them home schooled.
1986 marked a special occasion for our son, Philippe, as he secretly wed his girlfriend in America and another heir was born. A girl, our granddaughter, whom I've never seen. We were over the moon at the time, but then she told us that she wanted the child and not the title. We made an agreement to stay out of their lives and come back when the child is 18. That's two years from now and I'm not going to be able to meet her because I'm about to die. Clarisse has been by my side for the duration of my sickness but my condition is not getting any better. I told her that I wanted her to move on and marry again, but this time for love. She cried and cried, but I told her not to worry and that I was going to a better place. I know she'll grieve for a while after my death, but she should move on, get on with her life. I told her how much I appreciated her supporting me throughout the years, for marrying me in the first place and for producing my boys. We made love for the last time during the middle of last week. I was so tired then and now I don't even have the strength to kiss her. It's killing me inside.
The boys are sad about my going, Pierre even flew in from Porto Rico to see me one last time before I go. He told me he was sorry for not visiting often enough, I told him that now was all that mattered. Pierre joined the church a few years back and has hardly ever come to visit since. Philippe is counting down the days that he gets to see Helen (his ex-wife) and his daughter Amelia. He sends her gifts every year on her birthday, heartfelt gifts – he never quite got over the fact that he had to leave them. He's going to assume the throne after I'm gone. I'm so very proud of him, but I'm proud of both my sons. And Clarisse, she has been there for me since the very beginning, I'll be watching over her forever more and hoping for the day that she finds true love – something I never had.
In my entire life, I never once cheated on Clarisse, nor did I even look at another woman the whole time we were married. I owed it to her, I owed her my life. Not once did I ever treat her with disrespect and not once did I ever think of myself as being better than her. She was my best friend.
A few years back, I hired a man called Joseph to be my wife's bodyguard. I noticed that she took quite a shine to him and he to her. I was jealous at first, but realised that he was a decent enough man to not make a move on her while I was still alive. He was the best bodyguard I have ever laid my eyes on, which is why I gave him the job as head of security. We became quite good friends, but I could never shake off that feeling that he wanted to take my wife away from me, which made things between us socially awkward. Despite the fact that I felt awkward about it, I called him in here yesterday for a chat.
I carefully whispered to him, "Joseph…when I'm gone, I want you to promise you'll take good care of her."
He knew who I was talking about and promised he would. He stayed with me for a while just watching me, waiting for me to dismiss him.
Finally, I got enough strength to say, "Send her in would you please?"
He bowed and walked to the door, "Treat her right, Joseph."
His eyes widened, then he bowed again and left. I guess he was surprised that I knew all along and I guess he was even more surprised that I had given him my blessing.
He did as I asked and Clarisse came in a moment later. She's been here ever since, savouring our last moments together. I am really going to miss her…
The End
Well this has to be the most I've ever written in one go. This was done over a two-day period. I'd say at least 6 hours altogether. I just wanted to make a nice, yet slightly, unbelievable story from Rupert's P.O.V because I've never seen one before.
You better REVIEW it because it took ages to write!
FYI: The End means that's it! It's another one-shot.