BE A PRINCE

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters (since Princess Diaries 1 & 2, and its characters are the property of Disney, Buena Vista, and Meg Cabot.) I make no money from this work of fiction.

Pierre sat ramrod-straight in the airplane seat, oblivious to the curious stares of the people around him. Dressed in his plain clerical garb, he had counted on no one knowing his true identity, and it appeared to have been a successful ploy. His face might have looked serene, but inwardly, his thoughts were in a turmoil. He had not been back in Genovia since his father's funeral, although his heart had ached for his mother at Philippe's funeral. He had been advised not to return to Genovia in case the Parliament saw his presence as a sign that he wished to revoke his abdication and take the throne. Then, as now, he had wrestled with his personal desires, but after receiving the official letter from Parliament, he had reluctantly bowed to 'official Genovia' and stayed away.

Strange, he thought now, but every time he had considered coming home, an official letter had come making it quite clear that his presence would not be welcome in his own country. He had missed all the important state occasions such as his brother's funeral, his niece's arrival and coronation, even his own mother's wedding to Joseph! Pierre had ached to be able to contact his mother many times in the last eight years, but had been 'advised' by a Member of Parliament that it would not be 'wise', to keep the break a clean one. Against his better judgment, Pierre had bowed to what he had thought were specific orders from the Parliament of Genovia. He had missed birthdays, Independence Day celebrations, Christmas and Easter, anniversaries. Anniversaries. A faint smile relaxed his tension-tight face and he patted the jacket pocket with the first official invitation he had ever received to return to Genovia. And Charlotte had even written a very precise, very formal request that he try to make time for his mother on this special occasion of her second wedding anniversary. Oh yes, he recognized Charlotte's handwriting, even after eight years of not seeing it.

Only two weeks ago, he had received the invitation and had not heard from that particular Member of Parliament. Strange, Pierre mused. He actually had not heard anything for two years from him! He supposed that after six years, Parliament had assumed he no longer needed to be warned to stay away from the country. Either that, or Charlotte had managed to send him an invitation without anyone else knowing about it!

Charlotte. Finally relaxing enough to lean back, Pierre closed his eyes and allowed himself to think of the young woman who had stolen his heart in the chaotic days following his father's death. She had fallen deeply in love with him then, too, but he was so much older that he had refused to allow himself to even think about marriage. He had seen what a great age difference could do to a marriage, and did not want it to happen to his. Charlotte had assumed he had turned away from her because she was a commoner, and only his mother's assistant, and had retreated instantly. Pierre had never corrected the assumption. What was the point? He loved her, but he would never subject her to the same sorts of things to which his mother had been subjected. Even now, though, Pierre could taste Charlotte's kisses, feel her pliant body pressed to his. She had not ACTED the way a child would, but ...

Pierre forced those carnal thoughts away again, and concentrated on what he would find in Genovia when the plane landed in ten minutes. Naturally, he would be seeing Charlotte again. Charlotte had been so helpful to his mother, both then, and more particularly later, after Philippe's tragic death, and in the years since. Slipping the invitation out of his pocket and reading Charlotte's short note again, he frowned slightly at the censorious tone she had taken. Why, she wrote it almost as if HE were to blame for his continued absence!

Returning the invitation to his pocket thoughtfully, Pierre closed his eyes and prayed that this visit to his homeland and to his family, the first in eight years, would clear up some of the mysteries and misunderstandings and barriers which had been hastily erected a few short weeks after his father's death.

O o O o O o

Filing off the plane, blending in with the crowd, Pierre knew he would not be met. He had not sent word. Looking over at a group of French schoolgirls, he heard them talking excitedly about their choir singing at the palace for the celebrations. Pierre smiled inwardly. His mother always had loved music. Naturally music would be a big part of any celebration for her. Then Pierre stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who had just arrived and was greeting the chaperones of the school choir.

As she finished greeting the choir leader, Charlotte's eyes idly swept the airport lobby. She froze as her eyes met Pierre's. The colour left her face for a moment, then a flush spread rapidly over her cheeks. She excused herself and walked unsteadily towards Pierre, who remained motionless, his eyes on hers.

Charlotte came right up to Pierre, and after a moment of silence, dropped a slight curtsey. "Your Highness."

"It's Pierre, Charlotte," he said huskily, his eyes moving hungrily over her face. She hadn't changed very much at all, except perhaps to gain some confidence. She was still beautiful.

Ducking her head when she realized she had been examining him every bit as closely as he had her, Charlotte stammered, "P-Pierre. I - I didn't really expect you to come."

He arched an eyebrow. "After your gracious invitation?"

Charlotte's colour intensified. "I wasn't sure you even read anything from here. I thought you had, well, cut yourself off from Genovia entirely."

"Cut myself off? On the contrary, I was cut off. Banished, exiled in effect."

Charlotte opened her mouth, then closed it again, looking confused. Pierre sighed. "Look," he said. "I'd rather not talk about it right now. Since I am here at your invitation, is anyone else expecting me? Do I have a place to stay?"

"No," Charlotte said faintly.

"No? No place to stay?" Pierre was incredulous. What kind of homecoming was THIS?

Charlotte forced a laugh. "No, no one else is expecting you. I'm sure there will be room at the palace."

"Hmmm," Pierre murmured. "Eight years ago, you offered me yours. With you included, of course."

Charlotte's eyes met his, then hers narrowed. "Eight years ago, you refused to have anything to do with me romantically after I made the offer. NOW you want to take me up on it? I hardly think that is a possibility." Her voice was cool and controlled. "May I offer you a lift to the palace, or would you prefer that I have a limousine sent?"

"Are you finished here?" He looked over to where the schoolgirls were grouped, watching them closely. "Would we be alone? We need to talk."

"This IS rather a busy time," Charlotte said. "If you mean by 'talk' just idle conversation, then ..."

"By talk, I mean I want you to fill me in on what I have missed for the last eight years, and why."

"Why?"

"Why was Parliament keeping me away from my home?" he almost hissed at her. "Do you have any idea at all?"

Charlotte's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Parliament? I am certain that we had nothing to do with your absence!"

"We?" Pierre caught her up.

"Parliament. I have been a Member of Parliament for over a year ..."

"Well, for the first six years, I received a letter from the Genovian Parliament every time I even THOUGHT about coming home. Viscount Mabrey counselled me to ..."

"Viscount MABREY?" Charlotte interrupted him. "Oh, Pierre, I ... just a minute. We DO need to talk!" She hurried over to the French group and spoke rapidly to the leaders, gesturing in the direction of the doors and waiting taxis. Then she came back to Pierre. "Come, we'll get your bags. I'll just call Shades," she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket, "and tell him you're here."

Pierre put his hand over hers, stopped her from phoning. "Shades?"

"He - he's the new Head of Security. He took over from Joseph two - two years ago." Her hands were trembling under the warmth of his. "I - I told him I had invited you ..."

"Who else did you inform, Charlotte?"

"No one," she whispered.

"Why don't we let my arrival be a surprise to EVERYONE, then, including this ... Shades."

"Oh, but ..."

"And where are we going to talk? Somewhere private? The lake?"

Charlotte lost her colour again. It had been by the lake eight years ago that she had confessed her love to Pierre after he had kissed her passionately, and she had impulsively invited him to her rooms. She could still feel the shame that had swept over her at his abrupt refusal. He had left Genovia the very next day. Charlotte had not been able to go near the lake since. "If - if you wish, your highness."

Pierre's lips tightened. Yet another misunderstanding to clear up, AFTER he heard about Viscount Mabrey and why the man's name had sent up a flare of disgust in Charlotte's eyes.

O o O o O o

"The Viscount did WHAT?" Pierre jumped to his feet and began to pace after hearing Charlotte's story. The beautiful surroundings had been lost on him shortly after Charlotte had begun speaking. From her story, it seemed as though the Viscount had been plotting to put his nephew on the throne ever since King Rupert's death. No wonder the man had written letters to keep Pierre estranged from his family! Now he scowled at the lake, then turned back to Charlotte. "So, where IS he now? Jail? A dungeon someplace?"

Charlotte didn't even smile. "No. He's at home. He hasn't been seen in public since that day at the cathedral. His nephew has taken over his place in Parliament."

"And this same nephew is now MY nephew by virtue of his marriage last year to Amelia," Pierre said. "Is he anything at all like his uncle?"

"No. Well ... no. I wondered at first, because he was staying at the palace when Queen Mia was going to marry the Duke of Kenilworth, and a number of ... strange ... things happened. But since the two were married, I've been MOST impressed with Lord Deveraux. He and Joseph are very close."

"Joseph. The next person I wanted to ask you about." Pierre sat down by her side again.

"You know Joseph," Charlotte said, looking distinctly uncomfortable now that Pierre was close again.

"Not as a step-father."

"He's no different than he ever was."

"He and Mother really ...? I mean, they married for love?"

Charlotte couldn't resist. She smiled and said teasingly, "Well, they didn't HAVE to get married! But your mother said that since everyone was already dressed and ready for a wedding, she and Joseph might as well take advantage of the arrangements once Queen Mia and the Duke called off their wedding! You do remember it was at the last moment, don't you?"

"I was watching it on television," Pierre admitted tightly, looking down at his fingers as he dug grass out of the lawn.

Charlotte's eyes softened, and she put her hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry, Pierre. We never suspected that the reason you weren't coming home was because that man was sending you letters he had no right to send, with completely false information. You SHOULD have been here for the wedding. You should have been here for EVERYTHING that has happened since King Rupert, may he rest in peace, passed away."

Charlotte's touch was his undoing. He had thought he had himself in control. He had thought that, at fifty years of age, he was past bawling like a baby and wanting to be comforted. But now, back in Genovia, he was feeling again the loss of his father, his beloved brother, years of his mother's life ... and perhaps the loss that stung the most, the woman who was now holding him tightly, murmuring softly as she stroked his back. Then, after the storm of grief was past, Pierre could not resist the second storm of desire which swept over him. He found comfort, acceptance, hope and love in Charlotte's arms.

O o O o O o

Late that night, after a tearful but joyful reunion with his mother, after getting re-acquainted with Joseph, a man Pierre had long admired, and after meeting his niece and sovereign and her husband for the first time, Pierre regretfully called a halt to the serious discussions and endless questions with no answers. "I don't know about all of you, but I am getting too old for these late nights, especially with a later one planned for tomorrow. Your Majesty," he bowed to his niece, then hugged her tightly and whispered, "Thank you for allowing me to stay, Mia!"

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Uncle Pierre!" she beamed at him, kissing his cheek. "Especially when I see how Grandma's eyes are sparkling with happiness!"

Turning next to his mother and Joseph, Pierre hugged them both, saying huskily, "You two are just PERFECT for one another. I'm so happy for you both!"

Queen Clarisse teared up again, but managed to contain them before they spilled down her cheeks. "Oh, my Pierre, you'll never know how happy you've made me by your presence!"

"Thank you SO much for coming home, Prince Pierre. This has definitely made your mother's anniversary a festive occasion!" Joseph shook his hand heartily.

Pierre smiled. "The person we REALLY have to thank for this reunion is Charlotte."

The others looked very surprised. "Charlotte?"

Pierre withdrew the invitation from his pocket. "She wrote a short, pithy letter to me with the invitation to the ball tomorrow."

"Does she know you've accepted the invitation? Does she know you're here?" Mia leaned forward eagerly.

"Actually, she met me at the airport."

"She MET you?" Clarisse was staggered. "I thought she was ..."

"We met accidentally," Pierre elaborated. "But yes, she knows I'm here."

"Where IS she? I haven't seen her since noon. Have you, Grandma?" Mia asked.

"No," Clarisse shook her head. She turned to Joseph, who shrugged and shook his head.

"Maybe she was with Shades this afternoon," Mia said. She grinned at Pierre. "Shades is our Head of Security now that Joseph has retired ... and he and Charlotte are madly in love."

"Mia!" Clarisse and Joseph exclaimed together, but Pierre wasn't listening.

Shocked by Mia's words, somehow Pierre made his way out of the salon and up to his rooms, paying no attention to the footmen or maids who spoke to him. Charlotte was in love with someone else? Then why had she allowed HIM to ...?

O o O o O o To Be Continued