Heheheheh, Pokimon am I that predictable and yeah I was sort of hoping they'd start singing as well, but alas they did not. Thanks for the great reviews.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this one, Rupert is such a bitch! This is set years later, as I said.

Oh this mad idea sprung into my head, do you guys not think Maroon 5 wrote "she will be loved" after watching princess diaries or reading all this fan-fic, it's sooooo Clarisse and Joe and I think it'd really suit this story.

Rupert, Clarisse and their two sons sat around the dining table. Clarisse stared down at the food on the plate and moved it around a little. As much as it looked very appetising, she just wasn't up to eating, the atmosphere in the room was making her feel ill.

Pierre threw a wayward glance at his father who literally snarled back. Clarisse watched the way the three of them were acting and her blood boiled, she was just about to snap. Philippe shot a timid glance at his father and Clarisse lost it. She stood up, and throwing down her napkin stormed out the room. Rupert followed her with his eyes and then went back to his plate.

"I'll go and get Mama then, shall I", Pierre said dryly, standing up and throwing his napkin down.

"sit down!", Rupert spat, indicating with his fork. Pierre just stared back, his eyes blazing with anger.

"no, I wont sit down. I'm going after my mama", he answered, making his way to the door.

"come back here, Pierre", Rupert bellowed, his voice carrying down the empty corridor.

"screw you, Rupert", he shouted back, quickening his pace.

Rupert snorted and lifted his wine. Philippe kept his eyes on his father, frightened of what he was going to do.

"what is it, Philippe?", Rupert questioned, banging his fist on the table.

"nothing, father", he mumbled, returning to his plate.

"well bloody finish eating and leave me alone", he said, " and don't go after your mother, she only wants attention- she wants to let your imbecile of a brother join the priest hood. Always about you two. Monarchy second, her two precious children……and Joseph first", he sneered. Philippe winced, he prayed every night he never became like the man before him - never. Joseph was his father, he' known that from day one. He might not be biologically but Joseph had taught him how to be a man, had taught him not to be Rupert.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"mama?", Pierre whispered as he opened the door to her suite.

"hello, darling", she answered weakly, wiping a tear from her cheek and trying to recompose herself.

"Mama, I'm sorry about this but I can't, no I won't be king. I can't be," he said, sitting down beside her on the window seat. She stared out into the sky, her head thumping. She was tired of this, this constant walking on egg-shells in case Rupert got upset. Her children had seen enough to know what he done to her, things he said to her.

"I'm not angry, Pierre. I want you too do what is right for you. I am behind you 100 percent", she smiled, cupping his cheek.

"even if it means he hits you?", he questioned, his green eyes darkening. She turned her face away, tears threatening to fall.

"yes", she swallowed.

"Mama, leave him, Please! Please! I'm begging you, go away and stay. Joe will take you. Go with Joe, go with the man you love!", he pleaded, gripping her hand.

"Pierre, do not ask that of me. I made my bed, I will lie in it, for Genovia", she said, her authority returning.

"and what about you? What about your sanity? And Joe's?", he continued, standing up and rubbing his forehead.

"do not bring Joseph into this", she said, folding her hands in her lap and looking at him sternly. She knew her sons knew about them and she was ashamed as much as they tried to reassure her, she couldn't forgive herself for any of it.

"but that's the problem Mama, Joe's already in this. He fights for you all the time, he'd kill Rupert if he had the chance", Pierre answered.

"stop, please!", she cried, not coping at all. She was shaking violently, the last few weeks taking there toll on her, " I don't need this right now Pierre, especially from you".

"I'm sorry Mama", he sighed, leaning his head on her shoulder, " it's just I don't want this for you, for me…. or for Philippe. He's young Mama and he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know how to fight back, he's going off the rails Mama- he doesn't know how to fight back." she nodded her head, knowing her younger son was slowly becoming indifferent to anything. He never spoke, he didn't make decisions, he was secluded and no-one could bring him out of it.

"don't ask me Pierre, it's no good. Get out of this horrid life, before it's too late", she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand, " and I'll deal with your brother".

"Mama, I can't leave you", he whispered, swallowing a little, " not while he does that to you".

"Pierre, he's done it for years", she said sternly, " I'll be fine".

"Mama!", he pleaded. She held up a hand and he clammed up immediately.

"No more Pierre, no more arguing. Go and I'll deal with it", she whispered, standing up. He nodded, knowing she was giving the last of her energy away for him and stood up ready to leave. She smiled reassuringly, standing up along with him and placed a hand on his cheek.

"My darling Pierre", she smiled, love over filling her eyes, " never, ever give up what you believe".

"I wont Mama, I believe I promised you that a long time ago", he whispered, kissing her forehead. She smiled, a slight glint of hope in her eyes.

Clarisse watched her son leave and sighed. When would he come to torment her, to hurt her- she'd give him an hour. She wouldn't run, she wouldn't hide and she'd certainly not fight back. She'd just stand there and take it and wish she wasn't there. She returned to her paper-work, anything to take her mind off of it.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Clarisse opened her eye as the door to her suite was flung open, she realised she'd fallen asleep and she realised Rupert was in the room. Fear immediately filled her and she began to tremble. He stormed over, his face red from the effects of whatever he'd been drinking and pulled her up. She squirmed as he slapped her.

"Bitch!", he shouted, throwing her down onto the couch, " you gave the wretch your blessing, you want him to join the church! How dare you, how dare you go behind my back!".

"he's got the right to be happy, I refuse to put him into your shoes, I do not want him to continue your legacy, I want neither of them to!", she screamed. She could feel her face swelling, her lip dripping with blood.

"what legacy is that?", he spat.

"one which should never be repeated, one of an evil tyrant!", she breathed, her eyes fiery. She watched his reaction, knowing she'd gone too far. Suddenly he lunged forward onto her. She threw herself off the couch in a desperate attempt and made a run for her bedroom. He followed her as she ran, shouting and screaming.

Clarisse tried to hold the door closed but he was far stronger than her and he forced it open easily, throwing her across the room. He moved towards her, his breath heavy and uneven.

Clarisse wasn't sure how she ended up on the bed, her mind too hazy with fear to recall but suddenly he was on top of her, his breath covering her body. She turned away and blacked it out, the pain too much too contend with. She closed her eyes against him, against what he was doing- she would learn to cope, it was the only way. This wasn't what she wanted but now, now he wouldn't stop. She tried hard, scratching his face, trying too push him off. She succumbed after fighting for merely minutes, no energy left and overridden with guilt.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Joseph knocked on the door of her suite at the same time as he did every evening. He waited in the silent corridor, his hand clasped behind his back. He waited for 5 minutes before quietly pushing it open and making his way into the suite. Her wine glass was sitting on the table, next to her papers and folders. He smiled as her scent filled his nose and figured she must be sleeping.

He opened the slightly ajar door of her bedroom fully and stopped- dead as he seen her. She was lying on the floor, lip bleeding and covered in bruises. Hand marks covered her shoulders and neck. She was ghostly white, her nightdress the only thing keeping her warm in the freezing room.

Whadya think? Ohhhh, please review. It was damn hard to write this chapy.

Yours,

M