Welcome to the last part...for now. I hope you all enjoy this, and thanks so much for all the lovely reviews. Do let me know if you liked the ending! ;o) xx
The pale morning sunlight was just beginning to creep into the room as Clarisse stirred. Wrapped up tightly under the heavy blankets, and Joseph's equally solid embrace, the icy cold wind beyond the fogged up window seemed a million miles away.
It was Christmas morning.
She shifted slightly, rubbing the last traces of sleep from her eyes, and smiled. It was extremely early, but she knew that trying to doze would be pointless. The contours of the room were beginning to emerge, and the snow which undoubtedly still cloaked the grounds outside leant the light an almost ethereal glow. The mirror on her dressing table glinted, the little coloured perfume bottles coming to life in the half-light of dawn. For once, the palace was almost entirely silent. Only a skeleton security staff, and a few kitchen assistants would be coming to work today, and none would be starting before eight. Joseph had been in favour of banning them altogether but, as usual, her commonsense had won out. They would spend the morning alone, and then they would share a light luncheon with Pierre and Philippe. Of course, it would be nothing so grand as the official Christmas banquet of the previous night, but that was hardly a concern. To tell the truth, she found large catering events rather stressful, far more so than when she had actually been in charge. There was definitely something worse about relinquishing control and relying on others, rather than simply working it all out for oneself.
The silence was broken only by the mechanical rhythm of the grandfather clock in Joseph's study, and the quieter, but equally rhythmic snoring which emanated from Maurice's basket by the fire. Poor Mo. He hated official functions, and tended to hide out in their suite whenever there was a crowd of people in the palace. Their suite. She still couldn't help smiling at that. After they had retired last night, Joseph had found him curled up in the empty bathtub, miserably chewing on a towel that he had 'accidentally' pulled from the rack. They had both been quickly forgiven though, after a few minutes of cuddles and a playful chase around the bathroom, and now the cheeky beast was catching up on his sleep.
As indeed, was her husband. Carefully extricating herself from his firm hold, she turned over to look at his sleeping form. He stirred slightly, renewed his grasp around her waist, and then relaxed. His face was calm, and his lips were curled in a slight smile. Kissing his chin, lightly so as not to wake him, Clarisse traced the lines of his neatly trimmed beard. His eyebrows lifted, and she pressed her face into the pillow to stifle a giggle. He growled softly, and murmured her name. Composing herself quickly, Clarisse looked up, but he was still fast asleep. Obviously last night's exertions had tired him out…
The clock in the hallway struck seven, and as she counted the chimes in her head, she wondered if she could bear to drag herself out of the warm bed to find some tea. Although far from inebriated, they had both enjoyed the wine last night, and she was sure Joseph would be as thirsty as herself when he woke. It would be useless to ring at this hour, and, to tell the truth, she rather liked the domestic routine of bringing her husband breakfast in bed. As if reading her mind, he licked his lips and sighed deeply. Smiling to herself, Clarisse made up her mind. The sooner she went, the sooner she would return.
Sliding her legs towards the edge of the bed, she realized that escaping his grasp was going to be harder than usual. He was fond of trapping her in a nocturnal bear hug, but this morning he seemed to be particularly insistent. Uncurling herself slowly, and setting his arm down carefully on the pillow, she held her breath. He groaned softly, and pressed his face into his now empty arm. Still sleeping. Turning to locate her dressing gown, Clarisse slowly raised herself from the bed. A deep voice filled the silence:
"And where the bloody hell do you think you're going, madame?"
Startled, she jumped slightly, and then turned back to look at him. With arms outstretched and a sleepy expression, he was a cross between a cute toddler, a gorgeous hunk and an adorable puppy. Of course, he was also the King of Genovia, the current President of the European Union…but those formalities only served to emphasize the innocence of his early-morning face.
"I was planning on getting you breakfast in bed…"
He shook his head, yawning as he did so,
"I can wait. Come here."
He pulled himself up the bed, and settling against the headboard, opened his arms once more. Not one to refuse such a proposition, Clarisse dropped her robe back onto the chair, and sunk happily into his embrace. They often sat like this, her back pressed up against his chest, reading the newspaper, arguing over the crossword. The familiarity was instantly relaxing. Nestling his chin into the curve of her shoulder, he pressed a warm kiss to her neck.
"Happy Christmas, my love"
As he spoke, his beard tickled her sensitive skin, and she shivered a little. Leaning back into him and pulling the covers up over her legs, she twisted to look at him,
"Happy Christmas, your Majesty"
He chuckled then, and playfully squeezed her tightly.
"Am I ever going to get you to stop saying that?"
She bit her lip, as if contemplating the request,
"We've been married nine months, and you haven't managed it yet. Anyway…", she turned to place her palms flat against his chest, pushing him gently into the pillow, "…you love the power."
He smirked at that, relishing the feel of her body so close, and was warmed, as always, by her carefree confidence. Moments like these had once been few and far-between, but now, day by day, she was relaxing. She had always been able to see through the pomp and ceremony, to see him for himself, but this playfulness, this ease with his responsibility and her own role, was new.
Although there were moments when her old insecurities surfaced, there were none of the violent swings of emotion that had characterized the early days of their relationship. Slowly, they had learnt to trust each other, and with this growing trust the almost overwhelming love they shared had become a comfort, not a burden. The night before, he had watched her removing her jewellery at the dressing table, and as she unpinned her hair, he been suddenly reminded of Elizabeth. The simplicity of the familar gesture had taken his breath away, and he must have sighed audibly, because she had turned to look at him. Moving to stand behind her, he had massaged her shoulders, reassured by her warmth, her presence. Later, when sleep would not come, he had watched her dreaming.
Now, as she curled up once again beside him, Joseph's fingers toying gently in her hair, Clarisse reminisced on the past year. Twelve months ago, she had been in England, desperately busy and achingly lonely, running a household of people who routinely forgot her name, passed-over by life, and worst of all, she'd accepted it. Coming to Genovia had been a ridiculous gamble - indeed, she still had no idea why she had applied for the job - but she had. And now she was married to the King, she had found her soulmate. The chances were one in a million, and she often found herself overcome by the thought…
"Is there anything you regret?"
His voice woke her from her daydreaming, surprising her a little. His hand was still caressing her hair, and she found it a little hard to concentrate on the question,
"That I regret….?"
"Yes. Is there anything that you would change?"
His fingers traced patterns over her scalp, drawing her head down onto his chest,
"Hmm….well, a few weeks ago, I would have said buying you a saxophone for your birthday, but you have definitely improved!"
He chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath her. Pressing a kiss to his skin, she smiled to herself.
"But seriously though?"
"I'm not sure I understand…"
He shifted slightly, his hand coming to lie at the base of her spine, caressing her gently, soothing her. When he spoke again, his voice was low and serious,
"Is there anything you would change about us…about this year, about…?"
He faltered, unsure how he should finish, and Clarisse stiffened noticeably under his caress. Lifting her head from his chest, she looked at him cautiously. Sweeping his hand reassuringly up her back, he nodded that she answer.
Looking into his eyes, she was surprised to see genuine concern, something not quite expressed, something that he wasn't quite ready to say,
"I regret the fact I had to nearly kill myself before I realized I could trust you. I'll never forgive myself for that. For putting you through that."
As his brows knitted, she wondered if she had said too much. Perhaps his question had been entirely innocent, and he had simply wanted reassurance? Maybe that particular memory was best left in the past? But then his expression cleared, and the smile returned. Taking her hand, and pressing a kiss to her palm, he shook his head a little,
"You saved my life that night, Clarisse."
Confused at his response, and trying to raise his spirits she attempted a glib retort,
"Don't be ridiculous…I almost gave you a heart attack! Dragging you out in a serious storm, running away like an idiot…"
Suddenly his expression shifted, and holding her firmly against him, he rolled her onto her back. The swiftness of the movement, the sudden flash of his often-concealed strength, surprised her. Gone was the playful teasing, and she felt her breath catch in her throat as his eyes searched hers,
"I'm not being ridiculous…That night you showed me what my life would have become without you. And it was worse than death. I can honestly say that I would have ended it all if you had…"
His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her tenderly, unable to continue. Relaxing under his unflinching gaze, she registered his words. His eyes now shone with emotion, and his honesty overwhelmed her,
"Ssh…it's okay. I didn't."
"But…"
"I didn't."
He smiled weakly, and she pressed a careful kiss to his collarbone, wrapping her hand around his neck, trying to soothe the painful memory,
"What's brought all this on now, darling? Today is meant to be a happy day, why all these negative thoughts?"
The question hung in the air, and his silence began to worry her once more. He tightened his embrace, and shook his head slightly,
"It doesn't matter…it doesn't matter any more'
Unsatisfied, she turned carefully, this time pushing him into the pillows, scrutinizing his face. He shook his head again, not to anger her, but in an attempt to reassure. Again, she held his gaze, her left hand reaching out to cup his cheek. Her wedding band glinted in the early-morning light.
Suddenly, as if burnt, she pulled her hand back and pressed it to her now-open mouth, the significance of the date becoming immediately clear, December 24th, the night of Elizabeth's death,
"Oh God…it was yesterday, wasn't it? I…"
He shook his head again, taking her hand, and pressing a kiss to her still-shaking palm.
"Clarisse, it's alright. I'm fine."
Unsure what to say, she pulled back slightly, all the time cursing herself for being so stupid. No, she hadn't been here last year, had never marked the date before, but all the same…she should have known. And here she was telling him to cheer up, to get into the Christmas spirit…
"Darling, look at me"
Again, he broke her from her increasing panic.
"I'm absolutely fine. Better than fine…in fact, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life."
He hesitated, making sure that she was listening, and reassured that she was continued,
"For the first time in five years, I'm pleased it's Christmas, I'm pleased that I have nothing to do but spend it with my family, and I'm pleased that life has moved on. Tonight I won't have to drink an entire bottle of whisky to feel better, I won't spend two hours sobbing by a marble slab, and I certainly won't be wandering around the palace in a stupor at four am, wondering where my wife is."
Clarisse's eyes widened at his sudden confession, at the desperation he had obviously suffered, but she knew no words could change the past. Squeezing his hand gently, she could only acknowledge his honesty.
"And sometimes I wonder if I've asked too much of you, needed you too much."
As she held his gaze, Clarisse understood. Dipping her head, she captured his lips, and kissed him with a passion which left him in little doubt of her opinion on the matter.
Later, as he ran his fingers through her hair, his breathing now calm, his heart at ease,
"She would have loved you, you know…"
"Really?"
"Absolutely. She would have been stealing your shoes all the time."
She giggled, partly with relief, partly still processing the emotional turn their early morning conversation had taken.
"Are you alright, Joseph?"
This time there was no hesitation, and he smiled genuinely as he spoke,
"Yes…I wouldn't change a thing."
She smiled back, kissing him lightly, teasing once more,
"And neither would I."
The clock struck eight, and Maurice began to stir in his basket. Stretching his claws against the wicker, he yawned and padded over to inspect the couple in the bed. Rubbing his tired eyes, Joseph glanced over his wife's shoulder to look out the window.
"It's snowing again…"
She turned too, spooning against him, and shivering slightly at the scene,
"I do hope Carlos and Hugo have been shamelessly extravagant with the decorations this year. I didn't dare look into the front gallery last night…"
He smirked, knowing full well how awful Carlos' taste could become during the festive season,
"Oh God…I overheard them actually discussing the aesthetics of red candy canes against green bows on Monday, you know…"
Pushing back against him teasingly, Clarisse thought out loud,
"Well, at least we can guarantee they have arranged for large stocks of mistletoe…"
A rumbling chuckle behind her, made her shiver once more,
"I've no need for mistletoe…come here you…"
Realizing that he would not be let out anytime soon, Mo padded back to his basket, and, with a deep sigh, resigned himself to another hour's sleep.
