Thanks so much for reading along, and (once again) for your patience. And thanks to Hector for that interview he did with Bill Boggs so I can pretend I know about telling someone how not to smoke a cigar.

I still don't own these characters. I still haven't met Hector. I still have never smoked a cigar. (Honestly, what have I been doing with my life?)


She stood just inside the doorway and watched the man who usually did the watching. He seemed to recline easily in his chair, one ankle crossed over the other knee as he savored a cigar and looked out over the grounds. The clouds of the afternoon had cleared, and now a partial moon had risen, adding a little glow to the night while still letting the stars shine brightly. The lamplight coming from the room behind her was soft and dim. How often had she come upon him like this over the years? Maybe not quite in this setting, but somehow like this - the unperturbed calm spot in any storm, a steady source of unconditional love and support and wisdom.

No wonder her grandmother had always loved him.

She knew he knew she was there, and that, being on his radar, he was watching her in some sense. Still taking care of her. Ready to come to her defense. Nothing - not hurtful words, not any royal identity crisis, not retirement - would change things between them because - what was it he had told her once? Ah, yes - because no one can quit being who they really are. She may have tried to renounce her affectionate title of Princess, but he could never be anything other than her Knight in Shining Armor. And by simply being who he was, he helped remind her about who she was.

No wonder her grandmother and Mia had always loved him.

Ridiculously, tears threatened to take her down for the third time that day. She wrapped her arms around her torso and leaned heavily against the doorframe. How she wished she could take it all back and let him pull her into the haven of serenity that had always been her Joe. He made everything seem simple and possible. Everything, even his forgiving her. Even her forgiving herself. Out here, just beyond his gravitational pull, she wasn't sure she was brave enough. She could leave, of course. He hadn't turned around, a signal to her that he was giving her a way out.

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something is more important than fear. What could be more important than Joe?

She closed her eyes and absorbed the sound of her father's voice within her, the aroma of her grandfather's cigar around her. Two men who would defy the laws of time and space to help her make all the most crucial decisions of her life.

She opened her eyes, straightened up, and walked over to him. He looked up and saw right away that her arms were snugly folded.

"Are you cold? Can I get something to wrap around you?"

Mia smiled, a little shyly. "I'm fine." Then, on a whim, she nodded to the cigar resting casually between his fingers. "I don't suppose you have an extra one of those you can spare?"

His answer was a soft, bemused chuckle as she pulled the other chair closer to his and sat down. "I always bring enough to share." He retrieved the slender cigar case from where it rested, partially tucked between his leg and the chair cushion; opened it, and held it out to her.

She leaned over and selected one, then drew it under her nose to inhale the scent of it as though she knew what she was doing. He offered his lighter. She held onto the cigar as she placed it between her lips and leaned toward him again.

He bit back a smile and cleared his throat. "Other end, Princess."

"Oh!" She turned it around. "I knew that."

"Mm-hmm." He held the flame to the proper end of the cigar. "Don't pull it all the way into your lungs."

"Right."

He eyed her carefully as she tentatively took her first puff. "Well?"

She nestled back into her chair and crossed one knee over the other. "Well?" she echoed, infusing the small word with as much blasé sophistication as she could muster.

He smiled, relaxing again, and let his eyes drift back to some place out in the distance. They kept each other company in the silence that settled comfortably between them, and it was only then that she realized she'd been given back her title. It had been bestowed so easily, so naturally, that neither of them had noticed it. But realization was starting to dawn on Joe. He hadn't moved, but his posture had stiffened a bit and his brow creased with apprehension.

She scrambled to think of something to say, to stave off whatever he felt should be said.

"I don't know how she does it, Joe. There we were, sitting at a table and eating dinner with Lord and Lady Porcher, and I was fine. How can someone be so perfectly...perfect?" The light was fading more, but she could feel how redirecting his attention to Clarisse had momentarily put him at ease. "She sweeps into a room and suddenly, everyone is feeling whatever they're supposed to. She's gracious and sincere and has that accent - all anyone can feel is gratitude for her attention."

"As they should."

"But somehow, she isn't above laughing at herself. Like, how many times has she had to console me with the story of the suckling pig? She laughs every time she tells it, and all it does is reinforce her flawlessness."

"And forgetting people's names."

"No one else could get away with calling the kitchen staff the 'culinary people.' But it's not condescending, it's somehow..."

"Charming." He puffed on his cigar again. "And there's the mattress surfing," he added, referring to the tradition she and Clarisse had recently introduced Gregory to on a particularly rainy day in late winter. It already seemed so long ago. Mia had been hesitant - as if her wild child had needed another outlet for his boisterousness - but Gregory's delighted squeals and bubbly laughter had brought her around to the idea, and she didn't know who was happier: her son or her grandmother.

No wonder Joe had always loved Clarisse.

"Yes! Exactly! Who else could ride a mattress down a slide with all the aplomb of a ballerina?"

She heard a reverent smile in his response. "There isn't anyone else. You know, your grandfather hated the undignified mattress surfing, but he couldn't deny her anything. Especially, when it was something to make the Princes happy. Besides, somehow it wasn't undignified when she did it."

Determined to keep the conversation going anywhere but back to the afternoon, she asked, "Did he smoke cigars with you?"

"On occasion."

"Because you liked each other."

"Yes. We weren't...friends exactly. King Rupert, may he rest in peace, understood the need for people to know their place. But not for the sake of snobbishness, and not at the expense of reaching out to others. And even he sometimes just needed to be, well...Rupert."

"He could be Rupert with you?"

"Yes." He laughed quietly. "Not that I ever called him that."

She watched him lapse into wordlessness and raise the cigar as he remembered people with a familiarity for which she had an unrequited longing. What she wouldn't give to sit here with Rupert and her father and listen to them banter carelessly with Joe as they smoked. To be people who were fine with mattress surfing, even if it wasn't a dignified activity. To simply be people, to be who they wanted to be; or better yet, to be who they were.

And she would get to know them for herself. Even after all these years, she only had pieces of them. As often as she fiddled with them, fitting them together in an attempt to build a bigger picture, there were some bits of the puzzle that would always remain beyond her. She was certain Joe was one of the few people who had had access to all the facets of Rupert, but the passing of Clarisse's first husband and of Time itself were not enough to break the unwavering dedication and loyalty with which Joe had always protected Genovia's late King.

No wonder her entire family had always loved Joe.

She had been lost in her musings and in getting used to her cigar, so Joe caught her off guard with the one thing she had been trying to avoid like the plague.

"I owe you an apology."

"Oh, Joe. Please -"

"No. You were right. Sometimes it's hard for me to remember all of who you are." His lips quirked in a wistful smile. "As much as...some people like to joke that I still haven't given the reins over to Shades, retirement has been growing on me. I find myself thinking more about my family - protecting you, always - but as my family. Not always as a royal one, I'm afraid. Maybe before I never had trouble remembering all the things everyone else was because I was only ever one thing myself. I finally have other roles, and I'm having to learn rather late in life how to balance all the parts of me."

He was killing her. She needed to correct him immediately. She wanted to jump up and throw her arms around him and tell him he was crazy if he actually believed any of that. But she had to collect herself because damn it! If she cried one more time today...!

Deep breaths...just take deep breaths...

Okay. Now or never.

"Maybe you never learned balance, not because you were only a one-dimensional Joe, but because you were always too focused on everyone else to realize everything you were to them. They all came first. We came first. Duty wasn't just Grandma's obsession, you know. But duty doesn't begin to describe, for either of you, the full-on, body-and-soul dedication to, like, a million people, only a few of whom you actually were close to. And for the people you were close to? Uncle Pierre can't tell a story that doesn't have you in it. And maybe I didn't get to talk with my dad, but he wrote to me at least once a year on my birthday. I'd heard about you before I ever met you. Of course, I just assumed you were a kindly neighbor or a goofy uncle or something. Then I did meet you, and now I can't picture my life without you. We all know Grandma has loved you since the moment she saw you running with the security team on your first morning here. Well," Mia amended with a smirk, "I doubt that was love she was feeling, but it was definitely the start."

"How's that?"

"You know! How you came running by her office, all muscled and sweaty and hot and..." She fanned herself with her hand. "...hot - wink wink, nudge nudge - in your tight t-shirt?

"The first time your grandmother and I saw each other was in the portrait gallery."

"No, that's the first time you saw Grandma. She saw you...Wait a minute, do you actually not know this? How could she have not told you this?"

"I don't know, but I think I'd like to hear it."

"Well, she can tell you later. Anyway, my point is, you've always been...here. Yes, that's it. Here. I can't think of a single word that could better sum up all of your parts. 'Friend' doesn't begin to describe it. 'Bodyguard' - that's just your job description. 'Head of Security'? Looks good on a resume, but again, doesn't begin to describe who and what you've been to my family. To our family."

He was being quiet so she snuck a sideways peek at him. Aw, great! Just as she suspected. Joe was misting up! Even in the darkness, she couldn't miss the telltale sparkle in his eyes. How was she supposed to not cry when Joe was on the verge of tears himself?

"I'm sorry, Joe. I'm sorry because at the end of the day, I want to be just Mia. I want to be someone's wife and mom and daughter and granddaughter. I want us to just be here with each other."

He was on his feet and holding his arms out to her, and in a moment she was right where she had wanted to be all afternoon - as she fought Gregory's post-bath cowlick, as she endured Brigitte's elaborate hair styling, as she studiously laughed and conversed and ate and drank at dinner. She was just Mia again, the best part of her teenager self from the earliest of her royal days, reconciled with the one person who had always made her believe she could do anything.

"I'm so lucky to be your Princess."

"Always."

"Grandma sure is lucky to be your Queen."

"I'm sure lucky to be hers at all."

She grinned against his shoulder. "Doesn't she have a name for you?"

"Joseph."

"No, I mean another name. A pet name."

"No pet names."

"I can't picture her calling you 'Joey.'"

He shuddered. "She would never."

"Come on, Joe. Give it up."

"Not on your life."

"Aha! I knew there was one. I'll tell you the sweaty t-shirt story if you tell me the name."

"Forget it. I can get your grandmother to tell me the sweaty t-shirt story."

"If she hasn't after all this time, what makes you think -"

Joe squinted his eyes and assumed his most ominous Head of Security voice. "Some questions are better left unasked."

She laughed as she stepped away from him. "I know my grandmother better than that. If she doesn't want to do something, there is no force in heaven or on earth that will make her do it. Unless..."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "Unless...?"

"She makes the rare exception for you."

"'Rare' doesn't begin to cover it."

"You'll probably turn on that Joseph Charm she seems unable to resist."

"I think she's building up an immunity to it."

"Oh please! You two are like a couple of teenagers. It's like you've been on a seven-year honeymoon. I mean, it was really sweet at first, and you both waited so long for this, but I kind of thought it would wear off after awhile."

"I assumed it would wear off as well. But after all, neither of us is getting any younger and we have a lot of lost time to make up for."

She seemed not to hear him as something started clicking. "Yeah, thinking about it, why are you here alone anyway? Usually by this time, you two are all snuggly and cute on the sofa in cozy jammies, reading poetry to each other or something."

"I strongly object to all of those adjectives. And at least one of those nouns."

"You're in trouble, aren't you?"

"Nonsense. Your grandmother had a few things to do and..." After trying to avoid her skeptical eye, he sighed in defeat. "Alright. Yes, I'm still a little bit in trouble."

"Mm-hmm."

"I had promised to keep your son clean. And out of the creek."

"Right."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Or that if I couldn't, I'd at least keep you from finding out about it."

"In all fairness, you do remember he has my genes, right?"

"Every day." Something settled over his features that smacked of sentimentality.

"Alright, what are you thinking about when you get that look? Because Grandma gets it, too."

"I cannot speak for Clarisse, but I am thinking of a lovely young girl who grew up to be a lovely young queen."

"Why do I have the feeling that you and Grandma miss the Old Mia a lot more than I do?"

"Because she was such a charming, endearing creature. And I don't think she's quite so far away as you do."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Why on earth would you be?"

"Why wouldn't I be? She just... She did everything wrong. She made everything so difficult."

"You underestimate her. You always did."

"You never did."

"Never. Not once."

"Thank you, Joe."

"You're welcome. Princess."

"Joe?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think I like cigars."

He smiled. "I didn't think so."

"But I like sitting out here with you. Just being Mia and Joe."

"So do I."

She gave him one more hug and the smoldering cigar. "What will you do with it? Smoke two at a time?" she teased.

The answer surprised her from behind. "I'll finish it."

Mia stared at her grandmother as she took the cigar from Joseph and raised it to her lips like she did it all the time. "Shut UP!"

Clarisse ignored that. "I just checked on Gregory. He's sleeping like an angel."

"I hear they all look like angels when they're sleeping," Mia said, rolling her eyes.

"I've never seen him as anything else," Joe declared.

This time Clarisse did the eye-rolling. "No, you haven't. Oh, and Mia. Nicholas is looking for you."

"Then I'll go find him. Besides," she said pointedly, "you two have a lot to talk about."

Joe smothered a smile while Clarisse looked surprised. "Do we?"

"Yes. About a warm, spring morning, many moons ago -"

"Not that many moons," Joe interjected with a frown.

"A boy, a girl,..." Mia waltzed through the doorway before throwing a mischievous glance back toward her grandparents. "...and a tight, sweaty, black t-shirt."

"Mia! You didn't!"

"Good night, Grandma!'

"Good night, Princess."

"Good night, Joe."

She lingered a few feet away, safe inside the shadowy part of the room.

"Joseph, what did she tell you?"

"Not nearly enough. Here, why don't I take that so you can regale me with a story?"

"Thank heavens, I detest those smelly things."

"You look like an expert."

"Well, it's nice to keep the young ones on their toes. You don't want them thinking they know everything about you."

"Speaking of not knowing everything..."

"There's nothing to tell, I don't know what she was talking about."

Mia smiled and slipped from the room, the pleasant sounds of a harmonious argument wrapping a protective layer around everything she was.

to be continued...I promise!