Disclaimer: Not to state the obvious, but, no, I do not own the Princess Diaries (book or film), it's characters, or anything in related to it except for my two DVDs. I make no profit from this stories. I am merely borrowing these characters for a little bit of fun.

A/N: Hello! Sorry for the slight delay since the last post - I've been getting home pretty late from my internship and have been really tired. I hope you enjoy this chapter – I quite like it.

Enjoy, and please review:

"Your Majesty!" Charlotte called as she saw Clarisse approach, her head held high as she did her best to ignore the sideways glances she was getting from just about everyone in the corridor.

"Charlotte, the papers..." Clarisse said as she reached them, "…the afternoon papers, can you get them for me?"

"Er... I, I suppose so, it should take only a few minutes, do you want any in particular?" the aide asked a little unsure.

"All of them, if possible," replied the Queen looking around the waiting room at Mia who was asleep against her husband's shoulder, Lily, who had arrived at lunch time, seated across from her, both she and Nicholas furiously typing away at their cell phones, "those, awful," she looked to the side, "tabloid magazines too, please."

"Yes, Your Maj... sorry, Clarisse," Charlotte corrected as Clarisse looked pointedly at her when she attempted to use her title.

"Thank you," Clarisse nodded, a tired but genuine smile on her face.

"I will have them brought up to your room as soon as possible."

Within thirty minutes, a copy of all the six newspapers and magazines which had come out since that morning had been delivered to the Queen's room where she now sat next to a sleeping Pierre, reading each in turn, her body tensing to new levels with each sentence and each insinuation.

Frustrated, she tossed the newspaper she'd been reading to the side where two had already suffered the same fate, and began a fourth – this one a pink tabloid magazine. The photos on the cover telling her from the onset that this would be worse than the others.

On the cover stood two photographs, both taken sometime in the 1970's. She remembered the particular holiday pictured. She was lying on a lounge chair by a swimming pool, Joseph standing guard in the background. Rupert had taken the boys horseback riding, but she had sensed it was meant to be a bonding activity between father and sons, and had decided not to join them. At the time, she'd been in her 30's, wearing, as was the fashion, a two piece bikini, Joseph, as always, wore black from head to toe, the only thing distinguishing him from the Joseph of the present was the short, dark brown hair which covered his head.

The second photograph she remembered as well. In one of the few moments they had shared since that fateful afternoon in 1964, Clarisse could be seen accepting a towel from Joseph as she walked towards the changing rooms off to the right of the picture. As always, Joseph's hand was protectively lingering over the small of her back. Of course the press would take a perfectly innocent gesture and turn it to scandal.

The letters beneath the pictures read: '45 five years of betrayal?'

Already dreading what was to come, Clarisse began to read the pages inside, specific paragraphs jumping out at her.

Royal Adultery

Is our Saintly Queen actually a Sinner?

If this country ever thought that Queen Clarisse's cold exterior extended to other, more private,aspects of her life, they appear to have been sorely mistaken. As the pictures shown here prove, the queen appears to have a very warm, if not altogether scalding, side to her; this side is, however, apparently reserved only for a certain head of security. Sources within the palace commented on this, stating that it was "too bad King Rupert never got to experience any kind of warmth from her."

Clarisse stared at the words as she read through them again. Cold? Her country thought she was cold? Were they implying that she failed to satisfy Rupert as a wife? How dare they? Sources at the palace? Her hands shaking in anger, she continued:

"I always suspected there was more to that relationship than was appropriate," another source who used to work at the Palace offered, "the amount of time those two spent alone made it impossible for anyone to be oblivious. I personally believe this affair has lasted from day one."

Day one? Day one? Did they mean to imply that she and Joseph had been together all this time? For 45 years? She felt her chest tighten as she recalled all the years wasted between that afternoon when Pierre had been conceived, and the time, 7 years ago in San Francisco, when she had first allowed him back into her life. If they only knew…

When asked if they thought Prince Philippe, too, was the product of this adulterous relationship, the same source, appeared to believe so, "I mean, if you'd seen the King and Queen's relationship, you wouldn't believe they'd had children either. If ever there was a less, well, let's say, passionate relationship, it was theirs."

If Prince Philippe was, indeed, also this Mr. Bonnell's son, then where does that leave the monarchy? If Princess Mia isn't, truly, an heir to the throne, will this country be left to the von Trokens? Or will the republicans, few as they may be, finally get what they've been waiting years for?

How could they drag Philippe into this? How could they imply that Mia was not a rightful heir to the throne? What could she do to prove them wrong? Would anyone believe her? Perhaps they would believe Jo— but he would never stand beside her again. Could it be that her actions had destroyed the monarchy she'd sacrificed so much to save? Terrified, she found herself wondering if Mia would believe her – if she would believe that Philippe was Rupert's son. Could she loose her granddaughter too?

Not able to take much more, Clarisse tossed the damned magazine onto the pile beside her and felt the tears begin to pour down her cheeks as she looked to the three still left to read. As she began to cry, her body rocking with sobs once again, she felt Pierre's hand on her shoulder, pulling her down to him.

What was she going to do?

"This is terrible, Princess, this is..." Charlotte shook her head as she read through the same magazine the Queen had just tossed aside, looking up at Mia, Lily and Nicholas who were all immersed in their own copy of a magazine or newspaper.

"Let me see," Mia asked extending her hand to take the magazine, her eyes immediately focusing on the photographs which had been scattered throughout the page, mixed in with the text, which she decided, she'd deal with later. These images appeared to be in chronological order and appeared to be just as damning as everything else she'd seen in all the other magazines.

The first picture appeared to be from the same time as those on the cover, in this one, Joseph was extending his hand to her Grandmother as she stepped out of the swimming pool, water dripping from her body.

The second and third appeared to be some time later, this time taken aboard what appeared to be the royal yacht, probably on some other holiday. The first of these showed a wide shot, where the King and Princes could be clearly seen on the bridge, the smallest, her father, pretending to steer the vessel; below, on the deck, in an area covered by the floor of the bridge, her grandmother could be seen speaking with Joseph. On the second shot, this one closer, their body language demonstrated that they were comfortable – perhaps, too comfortable – in each other's presence, as they stood close, Clarisse with a warm smile on her face as she listened to her bodyguard, his eyes fixed upon her face.

Next came a shot of her grandfather, King Rupert, standing at a beach somewhere, chatting with a man who appeared to be a younger Lord Palimore, as, behind him, Clarisse sat on a lounge chair, a dark blue hat on her head, a book on her lap as she looked towards where her two sons were attempting to climb onto her Bodyguard's shoulders, a smile on all their faces.

As the photos progressed, Mia realized what her grandmother and Joe probably hadn't until that week: their relationship was obvious to anyone who bothered to look.

Finally, she reached the final image, this one taken at her 21st birthday ball. In it, her grandmother was, as was usual by the end of any ball, dancing with Joseph. However, this particular shot was taken at a moment where it appeared that the guard was whispering something into the Queen's ear and, by the smile on her face, whatever it was, was both personal and, perhaps, intimate.

"Mia, have you read this?!" Nick asked, pulling Mia out of her trance, suddenly realizing that while she'd been looking at the photos Nick had been reading through the text and was now pointing at a particular paragraph.

"No, sorry, what?" she asked now taking the time to read what he'd indicated. As she did, her blood ran cold. Could it be true? Could it be that her dad, too, was Joe's son? If so, what did that mean for her? For the whole monarchy? "Oh my God!" she whispered covering her mouth with a hand as she stared wide-eyed at the page before her.

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please let me know what you thought! I will post more ASAP.

Thanks,

CJS-DEPPendent