Author: Regency

Title: Diplomatic Affairs

Summary:  Queen Clarisse is intrigued by who she think is a commoner she encounters on a tour of the palace.  There’s something about him that‘s so familiar, but what could it be?  

--Queen Clarisse of Genovia finds herself taken with her sister’s beau, King Joseph of Laurentia.  She is forced to hear of their romance through her sister’s reminisces.

Author’s Notes:  Rupert is still alive.  I’ve finally seen both PD movies and am in the process of reading the books (which I‘m not nearly as fond of).  This is based on whatever I know and have learned from other stories.

~~~

 

                “Your Majesty,” someone called her again.  “Your Majesty, are you there?”  She was shaken from her thoughts by her secretary’s annoying call.

 

                “Yes, Delia.”

 

                “I said that the European Alliance Dinner is in two days and you’ve yet to choose a gown for the evening.”

 

                She was surprised at that.  She usually had these things done at least a week beforehand.  “Why not?”

 

                “You’ve been busy with Phillipe, your Highness.”  Delia hated to remind her, but he had become a handful in his exuberant adolescence.

 

                “Of course.  Thank you, Delia.  If you could find time in the next two days for shopping, it would be greatly appreciated.”

 

                She bowed and made her exit, knowing a dismissal when it was issued.  “As you wish, your Majesty.”

 

                Clarisse didn’t acknowledge her exit, but continued her watch of the tourist group traipsing through her treasured garden.  If they trampled a single bud, heads would roll.  She had few joys in her cloistered life, she would be damned if this would be taken from her.  She would have to talk to the director of something-or-other and make sure that future tours detoured from her garden.

 

                As she was about to return to her desk to go over her overflowing public appearance roster, something -- or she should say, someone -- caught her eye.  She leaned a bit out of the open window to better see the object of her curiosity.  He was dressed all in black, oddly enough.  He wore tinted, expensive-looking sunglasses, a black turtleneck with black slacks, and a leather jacket.  He seemed to blend in well with the tourists, but there was something about him that stole her attention.  He was more than a commoner, he had to be.

 

                He must’ve sensed her inspection and looked up to the fourth floor of the palace to see her looking down at him.  He didn’t wave or bow as laypersons tended to.  He let his glasses slip to a little, allowing her a view of his dark russet eyes.  He was handsome indeed.  Besides his eyes, he had an incredibly high forehead.  In fact, you could call it a receding hairline, but it suited him well.  Most flattering was his beard that just concealed a modest smile lingering at his lips.  So, he did know her.  For a moment, she’d been curious as to whether that was true.

 

                His interest flagged after a brief staring match with the queen and he strode from the garden to catch up with his group that had gone roundabouts to the front lawn where the tour would end.  She continued to watch until he disappeared around the corner.  It was a wonder to her why she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

 

                Feeling a slight chill, she shut the window and returned to her royal duties: writing letters and signing things.  How fascinating, she thought.  Not.

 

                She made several vain attempts at a return letter to a young boy, wanting to be king someday.  She had the miserable task of informing him that he had to be a direct descendant of the king to be eligible.  She found that she was always left with the heart-breaking jobs.  At last, she tossed down her fountain pen and reading glasses, and rose, deciding to wander the halls a while.  It wasn’t as though the letters were going to be answered by anyone else.

 

                She smoothed the jacket of her peach suit and slipped down the hall, discreetly passing the guards stationed at the ends of each floor.  They knew she wandered; she was notorious for it.  Her bodyguard, Nathaniel hated when she did that.  She wouldn’t be found until it was her wont.  It really never was.

 

                She descended the floors, never making much of a sound other than to greet those she encountered fleetingly.  On the ground floor, she ran straight into the newest tour group.  The tour guide, Bianca, blanched at the sight of her and hurriedly pushed the visitors out of her path.  That was not acceptable.  Whether or not she wanted to deal with them, she could not have the palace employee treating people in such a way.  She decided not to berate the young girl when she saw the same man from a few minutes earlier.  Still clad in black from head to toe.  Who was he?  And why did she feel his identity was something she should know?

 

                She met his eyes inquiringly, wordlessly asking his name and station, but there was no response to her unanswered question.  She couldn’t very well stand there and look at the man for no apparent reason.  She was the queen; she had work to do and her sudden desire for motion had worn off.

 

                “Oh, dear, I’ve just realized that I’ve forgotten something.  If you would excuse me, ladies and gentlemen…”  She smiled and disappeared quickly back up the stairs, all the while wondering after the mysterious stranger who’d stolen her attention.

 

                Given the opportunity, she would’ve spent all afternoon thinking of the man, but it wasn’t to be.  She returned to find the previous stack of correspondence had doubled in her absence.  She set straight to work, though her mind did wander once in a while.  He hadn’t given her many clues.  He hadn’t spoken or had an opportunity to show any traces of breeding.  There was no telling who he was.  But he was handsome; that was certain.

 

                The next two days passed in a sluggish crawl but before Clarisse noted it, it was the night of the European Alliance Dinner.  This night, they were hoping to induct several sovereign nations into a coalition with Genovia.

 

                The evening came in a rush of final dress fittings and jewelry choices.  By 8 pm, Queen Clarisse was on King Rupert’s arm and they were descending the right staircase to the cadence of Genovia’s National Anthem.  She smiled primly and gave a slight wave to the mass of dignitaries below her.  Once they reached the bottom, they went their separate ways to mingle amongst the guests.  She made it a point to speak to the French Prime Minister and the Spanish King and Queen.  Good, languages she spoke.  She was most in her element when she could confer with patrons in their native tongue.  When the dinner bell rang, she politely excused herself and returned to her king’s side, smiling all the time.

 

                She widened her smile once they took their seat at the room-length table.  She sat to the right of her husband and nodded in greeting to the royalty around her.  She had become accustomed to being one of a dozen queens in the room.  She discreetly scanned the faces around the table to see who was in attendance.  She knew the countries; it was the royal couples she did not know.

 

                Her eyes came to rest on the man across from her.  She blinked, wondering how it was possible he’d been there all along.  Wearing a medal-laden blazer, sash, and cummerbund, he cut a dashing figure.  Realizing he had her attention, he bowed his head in the same slight smile.  It was the man from two days ago, on the tour.

 

                She lifted her flute to him and took a sip, never letting him out of her sight.  He had spied her palace, and she found that she was slightly perturbed about that.  What possible reason could he have?  Speaking of what’s and why’s, she wanted to know what he was even doing here now?  Who was he of so much importance?

 

                Unfortunately, because she was already supposed to know, she couldn’t come right out and ask.  She decided she’d let her wit and charm guide her.  She smiled more overtly to show that it was he she was referring to.  He straightened and nodded, but smiled back.  Of course, it was dangerous to toy with flirtation in front of so many important people, but curiosity won out and she continued.

 

                She smoothed the shoulders of her dress with great subtly, knowing he was following her motions.  She began to eat her pasta, a cross between seduction and manners.  She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea; she just wanted him to be pliable enough to give her an answer to whatever she asked.  Though he enjoyed the show, he was unmoved by her actions.  She made the decision to wait until the dancing began to speak with him alone.

 

                An hour later, they recessed to continue mingling and the orchestra continued their play.  She did her requisite dance with the king and made her rounds among the dignitaries.  Soon, she found that her mysterious stranger was the only man she had yet to dance with and had yet to know the identity of.  She should know him.  To her surprise, Prime Minister Motaz saw fit to introduce them.

 

                She nodded when he kissed her hand and tried to hold back a nervous giggle when she heard his name.  King Joseph of Laurentia.  The king of Laurentia had been in her home.  How could she not know this man?  He was known throughout Europe as the King whose wife had been taken by terrorists, only to be killed in the crossfire when rescued by American paratroopers.  The incident had been widely publicized and cemented the notion that Americans were incompetent.  The more of it was that it had been terribly sad.  Their young daughter had also been killed and that very nearly tore the Laurentian royal family apart.

 

                Her anger evaporated quickly.  She felt no ill will towards this man.  She admired him.  He had pulled his two surviving children together and ruled in spite of his grief.  He had survived the last fifteen years without a moment of weakness or excuse.  He was as big a role model as Queens had.  He was a hero to her.

 

                At a lull in the conversation, he properly asked for her hand in a dance, which she gladly gave him.  The music was nothing special or touching, but fitting for a simple waltz.  She forgot to ask about why he’d taken the tour or why he hadn’t revealed himself to her.  She just danced, enjoying the feel of his strong hand around hers and on her back.  There was something about the way he danced…something sensual and contained as though he knew the full strength of his power and daren’t release it in her presence.

 

                Then, suddenly it dawned on her.  He danced as lovers made love.  He danced as though he was born to do it.  She wondered how he danced when there were no others around.  Would he dance like the Laurentian he was?  Would the sensuality in his step win out?   To answer her question, he spun elegantly around the ballroom and leaned her back in the classic end pose.

 

                Those around them applauded and she blushed, straightening and bowed to her partner as though it were all planned.  He bowed to her and then the others, and released her hand.  As he passed her to return to his quorum, he whispered to her, “You have a beautiful home…and you look beautiful tonight.”  Without another word, he disappeared into the fray.

 

                She was not given a moment to think his statement over as Rupert came to her side and led her to the stairs to end the evening with him.  She stood with him as he wished the royals good night and voiced his hope that they would seriously consider an alliance with Genovia.  She managed a tired smile for the people and turned away.  But not before seeing King Joseph on the arm of another familiar person.  Though she was quite tired, she began to wonder again.  It could’ve been his surviving daughter, Carolina, but she had her doubts.  Not that it was any of her business either way.  She just worried that it would cause a scandal for him.  He seemed to be such a kind gentleman.  She couldn’t wish a scandal on such a man.

 

                She went to bed that night, thinking of her mysterious king.  She found that she wanted to know more of Joseph of Laurentia.  She found that he was someone she would like to call a friend, which was more than she could say of most kings.  Luckily, he was the head of a country they desperately wanted to call an ally.  His nation was impeccably guarded and did not shy from a fair fight.  It was told that he had a hair-trigger temper that he wrangled expertly.  It was also said that he was single.  Yes, she wanted to get to know this man, King Joe.

 

                Fortunately for her, he accepted the offer of an alliance with Genovia, setting off a long chain of meetings between the countries’ dignitaries.  Unusually, Clarisse decided that she’d like to take part in the negotiations.  While there, she had the opportunity to speak with the King.  She quickly found that he held a quiet intelligence and intensity surrounded his person.  He was formal to a fault, but truly a treat to be near.  His sense of humor could be disturbingly dark, but then jarringly light.  He was a mosaic of thoughts and beliefs, most of which she was onboard with.  He was truly something.

 

                It was a while before there was a chance for them to speak alone.  When it did happen, it was purely by accident.  They’d been strolling separately and just happened to meet over the fountain in the garden labyrinth.

 

                “Your Majesty.”

 

                She smiled at her fortune. “What a wonderful surprise.”

 

                He nodded.  “Indeed.  I’ve been looking forward to speaking with you away from the prying ears of Parliament.”

 

                “And I, you.”  They’d continued their walk, widening the distance between them and their bodyguards.  They’d talked of government at first, but the lines of conversations smeared into other discussions of a more personal nature.

 

                She told him of her two sons, Pierre and Phillipe.  He recounted the agonizing ordeal of losing his wife and daughter, Christina.  His bitterness was palpable, but his resolve was simple.  He would make his country safer in the hope that no other father or husband would have to know his loss.  She was right to admire him.

 

                Delia arrived to call them back to the meeting, but they vowed to speak in private again.  Clarisse smiled gladly, because she had made a friend.  Perhaps even found a kindred spirit.

 

                It was only a matter of time before something came along to ruin her perfect friendship.  Who else, but her sister, Angeline?

 

                Angeline arrived at the palace to visit for the winter holidays.  Because the accord was so close to completion, both King Joseph and Rupert decided that it would be best for he and his family to stay until the day after Christmas.  Unknowingly, they had tempted Fate, which never turned out well.

 

                Angeline met the king during the annual Winter’s Day Ball.  He had just ended a round of dances with Clarisse and they were going to take a walk in the garden to catch up on the preceding days.  Before they could make so much as a move towards the door, in came her sister and away went her companion.

 

                She kept him for nearly half a dozen dances.  By the time he returned to her, he couldn’t talk much less dance.  It seemed that Angeline Nastasia Gerard had stolen her boyfriend -- her friend that was a boy—a man, that is.  Damn her!  She was always taking Clarisse‘s things.

 

                Clarisse tried not to feel jealous as their private conversations became less and his time with her sister grew exponentially.  She tried, because she was the Queen and queens did not feel jealous over anything, much less men who were not the king.  Joseph was a king, but not her king.  She was not to care what a widowed king did in his spare time.  Even if he did it with her sister.  Especially if he did it with her sister.

 

                As though that wasn’t a bad enough, her sister felt the growing need to share their escapades with Clarisse.  Clarisse, who while reticent to admit it, began feeling miserable if not envious.  She had liked Joseph first and now her sister had whisked him away.  Wasn’t that just like Angeline?

 

                But she grinned and bore it.  All the while, cursing her sister and her charms.  Those same charms had gotten her everything she’d ever wanted -- and every man -- except a crown prince.  Seeing Rupert as King now, Clarisse was beginning to think she had gotten nearly as lucky as her mother told her she had.  If only she were free to pursue him.  She was quick to clear her mind of such a thought.  She had a king of her own, she didn’t need to be greedy.

 

                Of course, the heart desires what it desires.  As does the spirit.  It was quickly apparent to Clarisse that her dear friend desired Angeline.  Who was she to judge him for not wanting to be lonely any longer?  She was only an acquaintance.  She could be easily replaced.  Too easily, perhaps.

 

                She found her joy remained in their dances.  At every turn, he asked for her hand and with her he would dance, holding her intimately against his person, whispering humorous anecdotes in her ear.  She would lock her jaw to keep from guffawing obnoxiously.  How a man so poised could be so hysterically funny was beyond her.

 

                Although, she mourned not being more to him than a friend, she enjoyed her growing role as his confidante.  He would tell her of his concerns with their countries’ ongoing negotiations and of his worries about his teenaged daughter, Carolina.  At his death, she would ascend to the throne and rule Laurentia.  He was afraid of what the weight of that knowledge would do to her.  Not to say he had any doubt in her ability to fairly rule over his principality.  She was her mother personified and he loved everything about her.  But that’s why he worried.  He didn’t wish her to fall prey to the dangers of ruling alone.  Who would help her when he no longer could?

 

                Clarisse had no answer to give him, but she did manage to allay his fears temporarily with a stroll through the stables and an occasional ride.  All the while he was there -- and romancing her sister -- he always found time to speak with her at length.  She was his guilty pleasure.  And he was hers.  There were no formalities between them.

 

                It was during a stroll through amongst the blooms with Angeline that she realized that her affections were returned.  As she was being regaled with another tale of Joseph’s amorous manner, the man in question stepped down from her gazebo and met them on the stone path.

 

                “Good day, Your Majesties.”  To him, they were both royalty.  Clarisse nodded to him, granting him a small smile.

 

                “Good Day, Your Majesty.”  How unusual a custom.  It was amusing to call another by ones’ own title.

 

                “King Joseph,” her sister nodded.  Clarisse tried not to roll her eyes, but the bad habit reasserted itself nonetheless.  The flirtation in her tone was a little too obvious.  Floozy.  The thought made her smile and gave her pause.  What a jealous thought for a ‘happily-married’ queen.

 

                “May I say that you two look lovlier than this clear spring day.”  They automatically looked up to the fluffy white clouds in the perfect azure sky.  “And it is quite lovely.”

 

                “Indeed,” said Clarisse.

 

                “Indeed,” he returned.  “Please, do not allow me to interrupt your stroll.  I simply wished to bid you both a good afternoon.”

 

                “We wish the same to you, your Highness.”  He smiled handsomely, taking Angeline’s hand for a kiss and daring to kiss Clarisse herself on the cheek before passing nearer to her and brushing her side with his.  She visibly flushed.

 

                “I will say this, sister Dear, you have good taste in men.”

 

                She smiled wickedly in return.  “I know.”

 

                She hazarded a glance behind them to see the King watching them discretely from behind a group of Clarisse rose bushes.  She’d really smiled then.  He winked at her before genuinely returning to business.  Yes, what a good man.

 

                Her feelings for  him grew increasingly until they reached the level of an illogical adolescent crush.  He belonged with her sister.  The relationship was raising a few eyebrows throughout both countries, but Joseph and Angeline were painfully oblivious.

 

                Clarisse, however, was not so lucky.  She heard endlessly of how improper it was for the King to even consider marrying outside of his class -- high royalty-- and out of his nationality.  If he was to ever remarry, it was expected that he’d marry someone of Laurentian aristocracy.  That fact that Angeline was Genovian did not bode well.  The fact that she was only a Lady doomed the romance from the start, no matter what their feelings for one another.

 

                And as for Clarisse’s feelings…Well, part of her was glad that he couldn’t be with her sister, since she herself harbored a flame for him.  But, another part of her mourned the fact that it was inevitable that her sister’s heart would be broken.  They weren’t close, but they were family.

 

                The months passed in a mosaic of accidental run-ins and intentional meetings between Clarisse, Joe, and Angeline.  During that time, the Queen of Genovia found herself falling helplessly for the dashing King.  Her own King was sadly unknowing of her mindset and didn’t manage to connect her new mindlessness to a desire to spend more time speaking with her ‘friend.’  That was good, and yet also very, very bad.

 

 

General Disclaimer: Every character, with the exception of those specified, belongs to their respective writers, producers, studios, and production companies.  NO money was made during the conception of these stories or their distribution.  No copyright infringement is intended.