"Pierre, darling, can I have a word?" Clarisse had re-entered the ballroom and headed straight over to her son, who had been standing talking to the prime minister.

"Of course, mother," he told her, excusing himself from his conversation and following his mother over to a quiet corner of the room, "What's wrong?"

"I've just spoken to Charlotte."

"Oh," he exhaled, "So she told you?"

Clarisse shook her head, "No. She didn't need to. I already knew."

"You did?"

"Of course I did. I'm your mother," she explained, "Now, don't you think you two should sit down and talk this through."

"She doesn't want anything to do with me, I've already tried."

"Try harder," she suggested, "Look, after you left she was a mess. She was very good at covering it up from most people, of course, but I could see how she felt. Actually, I was quite relived when she went to look after her father for a few months; it gave her time away to get herself together. She was much better when she came back."

"She went to look after her father? She can't have done, he died when she was sixteen," Pierre told his mother, confused.

"Well that's what she told me."

O>

"Shades, I want a car ready for Prince Pierre ready to go in one hour. Make sure it's fully fuelled up," Joseph said into his headset, as he rushed down the corridor.

Charlotte stopped as he blew past her, "Joseph, where is the prince going? He has appointments this afternoon."

"Not any more he doesn't," Joseph told her, barely slowing, "All appointments are cancelled for good. The prince has abdicated."

The clipboard clattered noisily to the hard ground, but she barely noticed as her legs began to carry her as fast as possible to Pierre's room. Her mind was whirring with confusion, praying that Joseph had made a mistake. She was aware of the strange looks she was getting from the rest of the staff, surprised to see the normally quiet, reserved woman tearing through the hallways, but she paid no attention to them. The only thought on her mind was getting to Pierre.

"Tell me it's not true," she begged, as two guards closed his suite doors behind her. He turned from where he was packing clothes into a suitcase on the floor of the living area.

"I wish I could," he said, quietly.

She felt her heart break, "You're leaving?"

"I was going to come and tell you," he defended, moving to embrace her.

"You were just going to announce that you're leaving and expect that to be okay?" she spat, shaking free of him, "I thought you loved me."

"I did, I do, I love you more than anything else in the world," he told her.

"Then why are you leaving me?"

He collapsed down into one of the armchairs, "Because I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"This prince thing. I hate it. I hate all the expectations and the pressure. It's not me," he admitted, before whispering, "I want to join the church."

"The church?" she gasped, glad to have the sofa behind her to fall back on.

"I've been thinking about it for years now, long before I even met you. You made me question myself, made me ask if I really wanted to leave, but I have to."

"So you're just going to leave? Just like that?" she questioned, anger creeping back into her voice.

"I don't have a choice."

"Of course you have a choice. There's always a choice!" she insisted.

"So you'd rather I stayed here and was miserable for the rest of my life just so that I can be with you?" he snapped. He covered his mouth in shock when he realised what he had just said. "Charlotte, I…"

She stood from her seat, her angry glare now replaced with a steely lack of emotion, "Go away, Pierre. I'm sorry I've made your life so complicated. I hope you're very happy in your new profession." She walked quickly out of the room, her head held high, assuming her most composed posture.

Pierre held his head in his hands for some time, before sucking in a deep breath and heading over to his writing desk. He had no choice but to leave, but maybe he could explain to Charlotte why that was.

The king and queen were saying their goodbyes to Pierre, so Charlotte entered the head offices by herself, determined to keep working, to not show her emotions. After setting down the papers for the afternoons meetings, she noticed an envelope on her desk which read simply, 'Charlotte'. She knew the writing instantly and for a moment she considered throwing it straight into the bin, but instead she grabbed it up off of the desk and headed out into the gardens. She found the tree by the river where she and Pierre had spent many a beautiful afternoon, away from the gaze of the palace, keeping their secret relationship secret.