Part 5 by Posh and Stoneygem

He had known from the very beginning that at some point his luck was going to run out, he had just never expected it would come to something like this. Didn't she know what she was doing to him? Didn't she know what she could do to him if she kept this up? What had gotten into her? And how the hell was he supposed to deal with the fact that a random line thrown at her had hit the mark like that, so painfully, the fear in her eyes evident.

His dreams had been haunted last night. Haunted by the tantalizing images of her in that dark red dress, even more so by the vision of her barely covered in this… this…this nothing of lingerie. Gods, this image was going to be branded on his memory forever. Haunted as well by the thought of her ducking blows that were dealt to her by a man who was supposed to respect her at least, if he couldn't love her. No, his sleep hadn't been restful and that wasn't good. Not good at all.

She woke up alone in the bed. Again. Yet, in a way Clarisse was not sad about the fact. She could still feel his warmth among the sheets, she could still smell his scent on her pillow and it surrounded her with a sense of security she had felt slipping away over the weeks.

With effort she opened her eyes, actually worried about the fact that she might have to face the evidence of her foolishness again. In retrospect she could not fathom what had made her make such a spectacle of herself. Dressing in a baby doll that Mia might be ashamed to wear. Honestly.

Joseph's anger had been justified. It was not enticing, it was only embarrassing. She wouldn't do it again. Being able to sleep in his arms every night was more important than those moments of ecstasy. She would get used to it again. She had gone without more years than she would ever be comfortable enough to admit, so she could get used to it again. One should be grateful for the gifts one received and she had received more than she deserved. She had him.

Finally, Clarisse opened her eyes and sat up in the bed. With a sigh she got up and went for the bathroom, less than anticipating the extension of her morning routine that would include the removal of last night's make up and the tear stains. Aging skin wasn't forgiving and the slight itching told her that she had her work cut out for her.

On her way to the bathroom, she looked around the bedchamber thinking hard on into which direction she had actually thrown the flimsy material last night. She couldn't really remember. She looked around the room for the blood red lace and silk. She would put it into the back of her drawer and at an appropriate time dispose of it. Out of sight - out of mind.

She frowned. No spot of dark red material could be seen on the cream-coloured carpet.

Hearing a cough behind her she turned to find Joseph leaning on the doorframe watching her.

"Good morning." He said lightly.

"Erm, morning." She knitted her fingers together, slightly embarrassed as she moved towards him. "I'm sorry for last night."

He held his hand up. "It's me who should apologise, I shouldn't have lost my temper, I was wrong."

"No I…"

"Clarisse, forget it." He rested his hands on her shoulders, massaging her tenderly. "An argument forgotten. Couples have them."

"We don't… at least we didn't. Two recently." She shrugged.

He seemed to struggle to find something to say, instead he kissed her forehead. "Well, perhaps the newly-wed period is wearing off. But it doesn't mean my feelings have changed," he lifted her chin with his finger. "Dear god Clarisse each day I love you more."

She smiled, fighting back the lump in her throat. She wanted to ask him why he had been so cold towards her recently, why the distance between them, why he backed away from intimacy. Instead she simply tilted her head and nodded.

"I should take a shower. Have breakfast with me?" She whispered.

"Of course, but can we do that first, I have an… well I have to go out before 11."

"Oh?"

"It's nothing." He said dismissively.

She raised an eyebrow. "A nothing you can't, or won't, go into detail about."

"Clarisse…" He bit back his ire and side stepped the issue. "We made the front cover of all the major newspapers, I think it was your dress that swung it."

"Were they complementary?"

"Mostly, a few jibes about how well her Majesty is looking."

"Hmm, if only they knew." She stepped past him and allowed the door to swing shut in his face. She was no longer in the mood for polite chitchat.

Standing beneath the spray of hot water her mind closed down and she relaxed, shutting out her personal thoughts and feelings, how many times had she done that before? Funnily enough it had taken Joseph so many years to break that barrier, to get her to admit that she needed him, to get her to share her most private emotions with him. Ironic now that it was he who had turned away from her.

"Clarisse," he was knocking on the door. "Honey, can I come in?"

"Yes, of course." She wiped her eyes, pushed her wet hair back from her face.

She listened as he moved about the room, his bare feet sticking to the tiled floor.

"Clarisse, last night you said things that I think we should discuss."

"Oh? I don't remember."

"Well, it wasn't what you said. It was the way you acted."

She stiffened immediately; she didn't want to do this.

"Over Rupert."

"Joseph…"

"No, we need to discuss this."

"No we don't." She abruptly switched off the shower and reaching for a towel quickly covered herself and stepped out. "I don't want to."

"Darling…" His gaze softened as he reached out for her.

"Don't do that, I don't want to, it's personal."

"And you can't share it with me?"

"That's right, just like you don't seem to be able to share with me?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly…" She resisted the urge to argue with him again. "I don't wish to talk about it now Joseph, I'm tired, I just want us to sit and have breakfast without this gloom hanging over us. Please, respect that. I'm not ready to share it just yet."

He hesitated momentarily then nodded his head. "Of course, I'll see about breakfast." He lifted her hand and kissed it before leaving her alone to dress.

It seemed as if the gloomy mood that had invaded their relationship settled over the entire palace. Though it was business as usual, and apart from her occasional slips the young Queen was thriving, serenity was gone. As if the palace and its staff was in tune with their former monarch's mood swings.

Gone was the continuous smile on her face, gone the noticeable sway in her movements, gone the fashionable and slightly daring outfits. Make no mistake, Clarisse Renaldi Romerro still dressed with the best of them, but to the close observer it became easily visible that her clothing had become even more conservative and hiding than during her mourning period.

Nationwide, it was attributed to the headlines, the red dress had made, but the palace knew better.

Their former queen was bothered by something. Nobody knew what about, but everybody noticed it. Everybody, except one. Concerned glances were exchanged between the maids, the clerical staff, the culinary people, even the security contingent.

Discreet inquiries led to no result. From their stances, it was obvious that the couple had some serious problems. Where they caught cuddling and kissing all the time merely two months ago, they now rarely touched. Where they had been talking quietly, they now barely spoke to each other. But worst of all, they didn't even look at each other anymore.

Actually, it was noticed with utter shock that Sir Joseph was making it a point to not look at his wife, not even when talking her. Now it was Queen Clarisse who carefully watched him very often. The reversal in their roles would have been funny at any other time, now it bothered all the eyes set upon them.

Nobody could fathom the reason behind this horrible situation. There had been no arguments, that much was known. No big fights, no scenes. They just drifted away from each other rapidly.

Queen Clarisse was suffering under the situation; everybody could see it in her eyes that had lost their usual sparkle and in her quiet demeanour. It seemed as if she wanted to slink into the shadows very often. Sir Joseph, however, didn't even seem to notice it. He was pale as well, seemed tired and somewhat listless, but most of all he was withdrawn and absentminded. For him not to react to his wife's behaviour was a certain sign for alarm. Something was seriously wrong.

And behind the visible hallways of the palace, in the offices, maid's rooms, the kitchens and the staff quarters a wave was building up.