24/5/99

The royal funeral was today. I went into Clarisse's suite late this morning and knocked on the door, she told me not to come in and that she would be out in a moment. A few minutes later she emerged wearing a knee-length black dress with black stockings, black gloves and red eyes. I figured she had been crying, "Don't worry about it, it will be all over in a couple of hours."

She nodded and we walked to the car.

As I stared at her sitting across from me, I couldn't help but wonder what happened to the briefcase - it wasn't sitting by her side.

I noticed she looked a little upset, so I moved my hand across the seat to where hers was resting and gently rubbed it. She looked at me and smiled briefly before retracting her hand and placing it in her lap. I looked at the driver through the rear-view mirror, I knew he was watching. He didn't say anything, but I knew he was watching.

When we arrived I helped her out of the car and into the church, I sat her down in between her two sons and watched from behind as they both held a hand each. The coffin was lying in the middle of the stage, I wondered what Rupert would be doing if he was alive. He'd probably be watching his funeral wishing he hadn't spent the night with Clarisse, or probably feeling glad to have died happy.

Throughout the ceremony I stared at the back of Clarisse's head wondering what was going on inside of it. I was half-expecting her to turn around and smile at me but she didn't. She never took her eyes off the coffin.

The time came for her to make a speech, it was short, but sweet, even if it was half lies;

"My husband was a great man and a perfect husband. He was always there for me when I needed him, always laughing and making jokes, I never once saw him frown. He spent his whole life making sure everybody else was happy, his subjects, his family, his friends. It's a great shame that the lord chose to take him away so early in his life, but we all know he's in a better place. Although we will miss him dearly, his spirit will forever live on in our hearts."

The whole church filled with loud clapping from the crowd. The whole time she was up there I was trying to keep myself from laughing, because I kept remembering the look on her face the night he died. I can only imagine the look of shock on her face when she first realised he was dead. I wish I could have been there.

She stepped down from the podium and took a seat, at which point Philippe got up and made a speech. It was pretty much the same as Clarisse's, but he used the word loving. After he made his speech, Pierre made one - same thing again.

After the ceremony had finished, I walked behind Clarisse and her sons as they paid their respects to the man in the casket. I took a short look at him and almost vomited. He smelt terrible – I guess I would too if I'd been dead for a week and hadn't had a shower, with my last activity being making love to my wife. Yes, I can imagine I would have smelt bad.

The day seemed to go on forever, I must have spent at least five hours staring at the back of Clarisse's head. I had to stand behind her at all times.

The burial was short, only an hour. It wasn't raining, but it was a cloudy day being winter and all. I managed to catch a glimpse of Clarisse's face as the casket was lowered into the ground. She looked as if she were in desperate need for a hug, but I resisted the urge to throw my arms around her and squeeze her.

Later on in the car on the way back to the palace, she put up the privacy screen and threw herself into my arms. I held her and kissed her face telling her it would be alright. She cried and cried until we reached the palace, which she then dried her eyes and re-applied her make-up before exiting the car. I stayed with her the whole time we were at the after party, just in case she needed me to take her away. She didn't. She spent the whole time out on the balcony staring at the grounds below, her precious flowers, her son crying on the bench in the gazebo. It was Philippe, I saw Sammy walk up to him to take him in his arms. It was sweet, but also somewhat disturbing because they were both grown men. Whatever…

I put a comforting hand on Clarisse's back and led her inside. She was so relieved when all the guests had gone home. We walked up to her suite and she told me to tell everyone not to disturb her. I asked her if she wanted company, but she shook her head and ran a hand down my cheek, "If I need you, I know where to go."

I watched her drift into the room, locking the door behind her. At that point I decided to check on her sons – they were fine. Philippe was with Sammy, Pierre was walking around the gardens…I decided to go to bed.

It was so cold in my room, much like a glacier. It wasn't snowing – it never snows here, but the temperature can go as low as 5 degrees Celsius. God, it's so cold I can't sleep, I think I'll take a walk.

25/5/99

My feet led me to Clarisse's bedroom window. It was on the second floor, and there weren't any lights on, but I could still see the smoke coming out of the open window. Wait a minute, smoke?

Yes, smoke. I immediately thought something was wrong, like a fire or something. I rushed inside and up to her suite – the door was still locked, but as it is my duty to carry a key around with me, I quickly opened it and ran inside. No fire, but there was a small but bright light glowing from her bed. It disappeared though when I got closer. I could smell a pleasant aroma.

"Shut the door!"

It was Clarisse, she was in the dark smoking.

"Shut the door!"

I quickly closed her bedroom door and stepped away from it, taking in the smell.

"Not that door, the main one!"

I ran to the main door and locked it, then I returned to her room. She was sitting on her bed with the window open, in a skimpy little sleeveless white nightgown that went down to the top of her thighs. It was quite sexy, but this wasn't a time for thinking those thoughts.

I shut the bedroom door, finally recognising the smell. I looked at her face, there were dried up mascara lines on her cheeks and eyes that were redder than a stop sign. On the bedside table was the open briefcase, I was finally able to see what was in it.

"Marijuana, Clarisse?"

"It's the only thing that's keeping me from crying right now."

"Where the hell did you all of that from?"

She took a drag and shook her head, "I have connections."

"Do you know how bad this stuff is for you?"

"Do you know how much better it makes me feel?"

She took another puff and I took the joint from her hand.

"I didn't know you liked this stuff, Joseph."

I put it out and threw it in the case, then I shut the lid and picked it up, "I don't and neither should you."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking this away."

"Oh no you're not!"

"Oh yes I am, do you know how much trouble you could get into if anyone found this? Your family would lose the crown!"

"Yes I know, which is why I'm keeping it safe in my little vault here."

She reached over to a painting on the wall and opened it like a door, sure enough it was a vault.

I backed away, which caused her to shout, "Hand it over!"

"No, I'm not going to let you abuse your body."

"I paid good money for that, now give it to me or you're fired!"

She ran after me and tried to snatch it from my hands, "Mr. Alexander, since I'm not one to argue, I'm going to give you three choices. You can either drop it and leave immediately, being sure to forget what you saw, sit on the bed and join me, or take it away and look for a new job."

I dropped the case and walked up to her, "If you fire me, I'll have you thrown in jail."

"If you try I'll have you framed."

"Oh I see, you're wearing the deceitful one of your many faces today."

She frowned and clutched my neck, I pushed her onto the ground causing her to hit her head on the table, "Don't you know you can't win against me?"

She started crying…I always let my guard down when she's crying…

"I'm sorry, let me help you up."

"Get out!"

I grabbed the briefcase and walked to the main door – she didn't like that. She jumped on my back and scratched at my face. I dropped the case and deliberately fell backwards onto the ground, crushing her instantly with the weight from my body. I turned around to face her, and she kissed me, "I am so turned on right now, Joseph."

I backed away, but she clung tightly to my jacket. I became enticed by the way she moved her tongue around in my mouth, the way she could act so evil and then turn as innocent as a rose in just a few seconds. I rolled over so she was on top of me, we continued tasting each other. Her mouth tasted of smoke and wine, it brought me back to reality.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, standing up and backing away from her. She stood up, "What am I doing? What are you doing? Kissing a married woman! Is that really the proper way to act?"

"It doesn't matter, you're not married anymore! You're a widow!"

The word echoed through our minds and we came to the realisation that after all these years it would finally be right for us to give in to our desires – she was no longer married and I was separated from my wife. She looked at me for a moment and smiled, then suddenly our bodies came together, lips thrashing around violently like a hurricane, arms grabbing at anything and everything they could. We came to the bed and I practically threw her onto it then forcefully threw myself on top of her. I bit at her neck so hard I thought she'd bleed, she sighed so loudly I thought the whole palace would hear, but they didn't.

I only opened my eyes for a second to look at the time, but something else caught my eye - a photo of Rupert sitting on the bedside table. I suddenly felt a great guilt, like I was betraying him or something. I was taking advantage of his death by jumping straight onto his wife after I promised myself I'd wait a few months.

I stopped kissing her and rolled over onto the other side of the bed.

"What's wrong this time?"

I pointed to the photo and she looked at it, a tear forming in her eye. She lay her head back on the pillow and sighed. I looked at her and placed my hand on her cheek. She smiled and kissed me slowly and softly. I looked up at the ceiling, there was a crack beginning to form in the plaster. I soon found her head resting against my chest, so I smelt her hair and stroked it with my fingers. She was asleep within minutes.

I had a million thoughts running through my head at that point, the most urgent one was telling me to put the dope back into the safe and get the hell out of there. I slid her head off my chest and walked over to the middle of the floor where the case was. I gently picked it up and took it to the lounge. I opened it and looked inside. The smoke I had discarded earlier was still in there. I picked it up and held it to my lips, I didn't light it, I just remembered the last time I had smoked the stuff.

It was early July, I was 25. I lay in bed with a woman I had only just met at the bus stop, I took a few puffs of the thing and threw it out the window suddenly coming to the realisation that my life sucked. I apologised to the woman for taking advantage of her and left. On the way home I cried, you wouldn't have known it with all the rain falling down, but I was crying. I had spent my whole life using women for my own personal needs, not caring what they wanted. I collapsed and lay in the gutter like the piece of dirt I had become.

It was then I decided to give up my selfish behaviour and settle down, but it didn't happen until ten years ago. I regret all the years of living without a feminem influence, without a wife.

As I thought about all this, I found that Clarisse was re-lighting the thing. I breathed in and felt the sudden refreshing vibes run throughout my body. She snuggled up to me on the couch and started rolling another one for herself.

"You're quite good at that, your majesty, is there something I should know?"

"I haven't smoked this stuff in so long…"

"So why now?"

"I'm upset. The last time I ever smoked anything was when my great-grandmother died. It's a very pleasant way of getting over a death."

"I never would have imagined you to be the type of person who does drugs."

"Only very rarely. VERY rarely."

I took another long drag of the joint, "So tell me, I'm curious. You and this man…"

"Which man?"

"I can't remember his name…Lester? Fester? Pester?"

"Chester?"

"That's it."

"What about him?"

"What's the deal with you two?"

"I told you, we used to date."

"There must be something else…"

"How do you mean?"

"You've stayed friends with him for so long, why?"

"I don't know, he's been my closest friend ever since I can remember."

"Was he your first?"

"Are you talking about sex?"

I nodded, "Yes, madam, I am."

"As a matter of fact, yes, but don't tell Rupert," she laughed.

"I don't think he will ever find out, your majesty."

"No…no."

Her face grew sadder all of a sudden, "I think I've stayed friends with him for so long because I can't imagine not having him in my life. He keeps me in touch with my dark side."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes. If I didn't have that I think I'd go insane living in this place."

She looked around the room and ran a hand through her hair, almost singing her scalp.

"Do you speak to him much?"

"Oh yes, we talk to each other once a week on the telephone, he's not allowed at the palace."

"Why not?"

"He has a criminal record, if people saw me mingling with a criminal at my own home they'd get suspicious, rumours would fly."

"I see your point. Are you in love with him?"

"No. I never was, he was just always there for me. I loved him as a friend, but that's all."

"Good."

I didn't mean to say that out aloud.

"Good? Why is that good?"

I had to think fast, "Because…if you ever wanted to marry him, you wouldn't be able to. Not without causing a scandal."

"Yes, just as well then, huh?"

Not knowing the meaning behind my action, I held her hand and kissed it.

After two joints and a bottle of wine we found ourselves talking about the stupidest things;

"My hands are so funnyishy looking."

"Mmm…"

"Why do we have hands?"

"So we can touch people."

I demonstrated my point by running a hand over her breasts and she laughed, "My feet are talking to me."

"Ha. You know if mountains could talk they'd never shut up?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, same goes for rocks."

"Haha yeah. And dinosauruses. I once owneded a murder of sheeps and I gave one a sewing machine for its birthday and they all lined up to use it."

"You know what's a funny word? Ironic."

"Yeah, and convenient."

"Isn't it ironic that we both think the words are funny?"

"Sure is."

That's all I remember of our silly conversation. I fell asleep after that. I suppose if I weren't high I would have ended up in bed with her, regretting every moment of it.

The next morning I snuck out of her suite (after helping her deodorise the place) and went back to my own to change clothes and shower. I had the biggest headache, so I went down to the kitchens to get some coffee and found Clarisse there hunched over her breakfast.

"Morning…"

She didn't look up.

"Good morning."

"Oh Joseph, it's you."

"How are you feeling?"

"Not terribly good. Wine does not go well with…"

"I know. What did you do with it?"

"I put it back in the safe."

"I want you to promise me you'll get rid of it."

"I will."

"Good, that cannot happen again."

"I know."

I sat next to her and kissed the side of her head, there were no staff in the room, which was a good thing because I think they would have been a little suspicious that both of us were feeling under the weather.

Pierre came in a few moments later and saw us sitting at the table.

"Good morning, Mum."

"Hello dear."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm just upset about your father, that's all."

"Do I smell something strange?"

Her eyes widened and I heard her whisper to herself, "Shit, I forgot to shower," which she soon turned into, "I think one of the maids burnt something."

"Oh, alright. Hello Joseph."

"Pierre."

I felt an awkward silence forming, "Well, I must be off to do my rounds, excuse me."

I left them alone and walked off to start the day, even though it was almost already half-over (11:59am).

I spent the day just walking the grounds, checking on Clarisse every now and then. She seemed to look better as the day progressed. When the night came, I waited for her to come into my suite, but she never came. I thought she might be smoking again, so I went to check and she was fast asleep in bed with Pierre holding her from behind. It was a sweet sight, but I couldn't stand there all night watching.

I went back to my suite and am about to head off to the land of nod myself. Hopefully a good night's sleep will help me fully recover from the effects of last night.

As far as I can see, I'm allowed to post this chapter. I've read other fics where drugs were involved, not PD fics, but other fics and they haven't had their accounts removed. Does anyone else wish the ratings guide would give a decent amount of information on what you can and cannot post?

Anyway, this was one hell of a long chapter, but I had heaps of fun writing it. Sorry if youse don't like them doing drugs, but I figured that if you were upset about someone dying it would only be natural to calm your nerves by any means possible.

I painted a picture of the painting that hung in the Genovian consulate (first movie). The one of Clarisse sitting down in that pretty orange dress. It doesn't look half bad, but I couldn't get the face right. Took about five hours (omg).

Review please. This chapter was done over something like a 6 hour period.