None of this belongs to me, Disney and Meg Cabot own these.

A heart full of love
A night full of you
The words are old
But always true.
Oh, God, for shame
You did not even know my name

She wanted nothing more than to die. The shame it would bring on the family would scar forever. It was not as if these types of dalliances were unusual with the men of the Renaldi family, in fact they were quite common but she had always, always managed to keep it under wraps like the Queens before her.

It was always Philippe, always her youngest who caused such controversy and left her to pick up the pieces. The urge to throttle him was threateningly strong. She did not know quite what to do with this.

"You paid her?" It was a question she hardly wanted to ask but his story was weak and incredulous.

"Of course!" he did not sound remotely moved by the fact this was a crisis. She raised herself up from the desk, restraining the urge to scream at him and moved towards the window.

"How many times?" she questioned, turning to face him, "Must I ask you not to do this to me, to us?"

"Mother, she was just a whore" he sighed, "I didn't think she'd threaten to go to the papers". He did not care! When had he turned into this, when had she failed him? She moved across to him, anger boiling inside her.

She couldn't control herself and she hadn't realised what she had done until she had slapped him hard across the face. He stood up, cradling his face and turned to leave in a fit of anger.

"Don't dare", she seethed, pushing him so he sat back down on her office chair, "Don't you dare, do you hear me! Don't you speak to me like that and do not under estimate the situation! I can't believe this Philippe, what have you turned into. This girl is threatening to go to the papers and mark my words, son if she does, your father will see you on your road."

"I would be glad to be out of here" he said scathingly, "I couldn't care less if I upset him either."

"I'd hate to think you would care, Philippe. That would be too much effort for you."

"For the love of God, mother!" He threw his hands up in the air, "It's always about who cares and who doesn't! I don't care and you know for a fact that he wont either, he's a pig and neither will the press because how many of the people that I have slept with have threatened to go to the papers? And NEVER have!"

"I NEVER brought you up like this!" she answered quietly, a feeling of utter despair washing over her.

"Mama, you didn't bring me up, that's what my Nanny was for".

She wanted to say something but she couldn't so she closed her mouth and clenched her fists.

She watched his back disappear out of the door but she didn't chase him because she knew fine well that it just aggravated him. She was hurt by his terse comment, nasty and cold. He didn't take those mannerisms from the stones. He had inherited them - however unlucky he was - from her. She shook her head in disbelief and anger and sat down at her desk. She was in no fit state of mind to deal with any paper-work at the moment, that would only aggravate her further. She couldn't tell Rupert or ask for his help because she knew how he felt about Philippe's behaviour. She was well aware her younger son was spoilt and really only cared for himself and when he was feeling generous, herself. She was well aware she had not been able to spend time with either of her sons but that was how it had always been for generations.

She massaged her temples, a headache quickly approaching. She really wanted to cry, just from pure stress and hurt. Sighing again, she laid her head down on the desk and curled her hands up. God! She wanted to slap him again but she could hardly believe she had in the first place.

She was well aware that Philippe would threaten the prostitute into silence or pay her a nice figure to keep her mouth shut. However the fact that this time the girl had had the audacity to get in contact with herself, well that was just ludicrous. She had woken this morning to a letter with crude sentiments and vile threats. Charming way to wake -up really, after she had witnessed her 18 year-old Philippe miraculously drunk and abusive the evening before.

To say she loved him would be an under-statement. She adored him, simply because her two sons were the only things in the world worth loving. She had spoiled both of them but Pierre, well, he had grown up now. He was in Rome studying, having abdicated only fourth months ago. Now that was another bone of contention that had put unspeakable burdens on his parents' shoulders. Rupert had thrown a fit and was still refusing to speak to Pierre, she was totally in between, given the fact she wanted him to do what he desired, not what was desired of him. Rupert was stressed, to the extreme and had little time for anything these days. Philippe was constantly partying or sleeping or playing polo. She waited in anticipation for the coming months when he was travelling to America with none of his so-called friends, only his body guard. Rupert was determined to get him into the Military, something that would discipline him for the years of rigmarole and protocol to come. But Philippe was not someone who could be forced into something that he didn't want. She sighed again and stood up, she wanted to walk.

It was November, frosty cold and snowy in the gardens. The ground beneath her feet was iron-hard. These gardens, she adored. They were the only part of the palace that she really liked.

"You know" a voice behind her, " It's freezing out here".

She laughed slightly and then turned.

"Joseph" she smiled, "What brings you out here."

"Ahh" he smiled and walked towards her, " I'm bored. You see His Majesty is in his office, signing his papers and I have nothing to do."

"I see" she cocked an eye brow, " But of course, admitting that to me is not such a good idea and I know that you're lying."

He smiled guiltily and then hung his head.

"I know you heard our argument" she sighed, "We were shouting an awful lot".

"Yes" he smiled, " I wasn't snooping, I was sent by His Majesty".

"Rupert heard?!"

"No," he soothed, " No he simply heard muffled shouting, no details."

"But you did?"

"I did."

"Oh well, that's not much better."

"I suppose not," he smiled, " However, it's strictly confidential. I wouldn't -"

"Oh, I know that!" she interrupted, throwing her hands up.

"Thank you", he smiled.

"Now, are you going to join me in a walk, Joseph or are you going to return to doing nothing?"

"A walk, I think" he smiled again.

"Good, I need some company just now".

He was used to this, being her 'company', if that was all he could be. He had long given up hope of ever being anything more to her. She was married, not to a man she loved but a man who was her best friend - he couldn't take that away from her.

"Everything with Philippe will be ok, you know" he assured out of silence.

"I hope so" she smiled nervously, " I can't wait till he goes to America, gets so new friends, perhaps goes to university."

"I have no doubt he will. Perhaps he's just being awkward at the moment Clarisse, you know with Pierre's abdication. It is not an easy transaction, going from second son to prince royal".

"Of course not, but I am not forcing -" she stopped as he looked at her incredulously.

"It's Rupert, not me and I will defend my husband in everything he does".

A stab of jealousy, childish and primal struck his heart. He hoped she couldn't see it in his eyes, or see his body tighten slightly. Defending Rupert to the end, how predictable, how honourable, how like her. He was tempted to question if she felt like that when she found out he'd slept with another woman again, he held his tongue.

"I'm sorry, that was out of place Your Majesty".

Please R&R.

Yours,

M

Xx

Lyrics from 'A Heart Full of Love', Les Miserables. Claude Michel Schonberg and Alain Boublil