Author's note: Thank you for all your support and reviews. I am very grateful for them, truly.

Part 2

Princess Anna Maria Claudia Mathilde Josephina Mignonette Renaldi was born into the world on a cool April morning, the weak sun bathing the room in a light that didn't justify the happenings within. The Head of Security was in Spain, on personal leave, when it happened. As was intended, as was planned. He was as frightened as she was at how he would react when King Rupert held the beautiful, ebony-haired little girl and presented her to the world on the steps of the hospital. So they had planned his 'family emergency' to coincide with her due date – primitive, but effective. Rupert hadn't even disputed it when Joseph had left.

A shock pregnancy – but not uncommon in older women, or indeed royal families of Europe – was a celebration for the country and a personal agony for the parents of the child. The only person who couldn't see that was the king.

So the first time Joseph Romerro saw his child it was on the television, while he made quick work of a bottle of rum and let himself be comforted by Andre.

"She's yours," Andre had eventually said, on day two of Joseph lying on the couch in their house on the outskirts of Madrid.

He knew his stupor was pissing Maria off but he couldn't do anything about it. He could barely lift himself to shower. Coming away, he'd thought, would be best. Now it looked a hell of a lot like running.

"I'm thinking of selling my apartment," he muttered blearily.

"Just answer me."

"Well, she isn't his," he'd said, motioning to the King who cradled the little bundle.

Clarisse's eyes were sad and it was hard to watch. It was hard to watch for so many reasons.

"Do you need to go back?"

"I have to," he said, "But she asked me to leave. She asked me to go, just for the time she was due. I wasn't there for her birth. I wasn't there for my baby's birth."

Andre shook his head wordlessly, "You're dying, Joseph. Slowly."

"I love her so much," he muttered, "And now this. Now this."

"She will break you."

"I'm so trapped," he whispered, "And I'm exactly where I wanted to be. Before I left, she told me she loved me. Do you know how that feels? To know she loves me."

"But it's not good for you."

He could hear the frustration in his friend's voice.

"It doesn't matter."

He thought back to the months of her pregnancy, of the whispered touches and the secret smiles and the electric but conservative contact that they had endured. It had been enough to sustain them. Rupert had perked up and though shocked, the boys had come round to the idea of a little sibling quite astonishingly. The king had not, according to Clarisse, questioned the little surprise. It had all been too good to be true. And now this; the feeling of falling at a million miles an hour as the king took Joseph's family to himself. He would never hold the woman he loved again, never make love to her. He would never introduce his daughter to his family or tell her how much he loved her.

"Does the king know?"

"No," he assured himself, "No."

Andre looked at him skeptically.

"Are you sure?"

He shrugged and took up his glass, "Toast the birth of my baby, Andre. Toast the birth of Anna Renaldi."

The pity in his friend's eyes was enough to make him want to weep.

-0-

She had forgotten the initial exhaustion following childbirth and having a nanny didn't seem to help at all. She was sore and weak and felt as if she might never get back from the tiredness she felt. It wasn't just the exhaustion of labour or a baby either, it was the fraught sleeplessness of willing his return. She had thought it a wise idea to ask him to go but now that the baby was here, she felt the miss all the more. Their child was so pleasant in her arms, so quiet and restful and she wanted him to feel that contentment too, no matter how short-lived it would be.

She had been sitting on the rocking chair, facing towards the window and the long gravel drive of the park. Rupert had visited this morning, doe-eyed and freshly in love with the baby. It had made her nostalgic for what she once thought he was; for the man who had been filled with excitement at Pierre's birth.

Her body was a mess; soft and flabby and exhausted. Anyone that claimed pregnancy was solely a joy was deluded.

"Your Majesty," Violetta entered the room, closing the door softly beside her, "Your Majesty. Colonel Romerro is back."

"Thank you Violetta. Would you ask him to visit me, here?"

She wanted to kiss Violetta for her infinite kindness, the words she did not say and the things she did in a silence that Clarisse felt safe in. She cooed a little instead to the baby in her arms, who had awoken at her voice.

"Of course."

"Violetta?"

Her secretary stalled on the way out the door and turned.

"I will never know how to thank you."

"You don't have to," the other woman said quietly, "You don't have to."

He was there a few minutes later, peering around the door like a shy child. From here, even, she could see he was shaking.

She tried to smiled, tried to hide her nerves, "I have someone here who wants to meet you."

And quickly he was on his knees beside her, his jacket still on. His large hands gently caressed the soft woollen blanket, then the little cheek.

"I can't – "

Words failed him and she knew she had to be the one to offer strength here.

"She is your daughter. I can't promise one day she will know that. But she will know how much you love her. I don't doubt it. And she will know, one day, how much I loved her father."

"Everything is impossible," he looked up and there were tears in his eyes.

"Hold her," she said gently, "Here she is and she proves nothing is impossible."

He laughed a little with amazement as he took her in his arms. Clarisse wondered if this was how it would have been in another life. She liked to fantasise she'd met him on a pier, when they were just young, and she'd only ever had the title of Mrs. Romerro. Right now, it was all she could do.

"She's the best secret I'll ever keep," he murmured, lips caressing her tiny brow.

"Our secret," she smiled but she felt sadness in the lines of her own face.

"Clarisse, can I hold you?"

For a second it hurt that he felt he needed to ask.

She nodded silently and motioned him to the window seat. Wrapped there, in his arms with their child pressed between them, it felt like a dream that had mutated and warped somewhere it wasn't meant to.

"I love you, I love you both so much."

"I know," she whispered, "But-"

"Just once, let me say it one last time."

She nodded quietly again, and tried to swipe away her tears. He stopped her though, his fingers deft on her hands.

"It will be okay."

"Yes, it will."

So what did you think? The turn in events you expected, or not? I think I prefer this part of the story, and what comes next more. Please review if you have time!