A/N: Another one to be posted in bits—this time because of computer problems. I'm grateful for everyone's patience and interest in the storyline, and will try my best to get the whole thing posted as soon as I can. Happy reading!

§ § § - December 25, 1999

It was a strange feeling to be coming down the stairs on a Saturday morning and not promptly heading out to meet the plane: but it was Christmas Day, and this weekend's guests would not arrive till one o'clock that afternoon, so that those who normally worked on Saturdays could have the morning to spend with their families. At the same time, it gave Roarke and Leslie a chance to celebrate their own Christmas.

They had given each other only two or three gifts apiece this year, as they usually did; most of the remaining presents beneath the tree were for Leslie, from her friends. The other four were from Rogan and Julie, who had each bought a gift for Roarke and one for Leslie as well. A few days before, Leslie had dropped off gifts for Rogan, Julie and their five-week-old son Rory on a routine run to the B&B.

Once they had opened presents, father and daughter looked at each other while they listened to the grandfather clock chiming nine. "We have several hours before the guests arrive," Roarke noted, "and none of the kitchen staff will be here till noon. Are you hungry yet, or would you rather wait?"

Leslie shrugged. "Depends on what you want, really. Do you have something that has to be done, holiday or not?"

"Not exactly," said Roarke, and his eyes took on a teasing sparkle. "I only thought you might wish to send Christian your holiday greetings."

Leslie peered at him for a moment, then laughed. "For Christian it's still Christmas Eve," she pointed out. "Anyway, we've already sent each other cards. Ten to one he's having a white Christmas."

Roarke shook his head. "Ah, Leslie, my dear daughter, you spoiled it yet again, after all. Though I will admit to being impressed that you made it all the way to Christmas Day itself before mentioning snow."

"All right, Father," Leslie said with mock threat, and they both laughed. "Come to think of it, I'm famished. I hope Mariki left some of her wonderful cinnamon French toast before she went home last night."

Their morning was leisurely, compensating for their light, brisk lunch before going to meet the early-afternoon plane. This weekend, in fact, there was only one fantasy: on the island, Christmas was usually the calm before the New Year's storm, and they knew that this year that "storm" would be of hurricane proportions. So it was actually a surprise to both of them that there were any fantasies at all. They had merely expected to welcome a few well-known personages who wanted a quiet holiday on the island.

Thus Roarke's startled disbelief, almost as great as Leslie's, when a heavily-bundled-up female figure got out of the hatch and started down the dock. "This is most unexpected," he said, watching the new arrival with wide eyes. "I thought she had changed her mind."

"About what?" Leslie asked. "She must be roasting in that getup, and from the way she's covered her hair and her face, anyone can see she's trying to disguise herself."

"Very good, Leslie," Roarke said. "The lady has asked me not to reveal her identity until she has a chance to speak privately with us at the main house. Until then, I am afraid I can't satisfy your curiosity."

Leslie eyed the newcomer speculatively. "Then I vote we wait for her and drive her back home with us," she said decisively. Roarke grinned at that, then toasted their new guest, who merely nodded back. She hadn't even taken a beverage, Leslie realized—she was apparently that fanatical about maintaining her cover!

‡ ‡ ‡

Leslie's suggestion notwithstanding, they allowed their mysterious guest to repair to a bungalow long enough to drop off her luggage at least. When she did appear at the main house, she was still wearing her heavy coat, boots, gloves, hat that concealed every last strand of hair, and scarf wound around her face so that only her eyes could be seen. Those eyes were a clear blue color; they widened at sight of the elegant but homey Christmas tree next to the tea table beside the staircase before focusing on Leslie.

"Make yourself at home, please," Roarke invited, gesturing at a chair. "And you need not fear detection; this is my domain, and your privacy is assured."

Their visitor's regard shifted to him as if startled there; she seemed reluctant at first, then nodded a couple of times and began to unwind the scarf. At the same time she pulled off her hat, letting a cascade of caramel-colored hair tumble free. Once the scarf was off, she gave a shy but engaging smile that incited a sense of déjà vu in Leslie. "Thank you for giving me sanctuary, Mr. Roarke," she said, her voice clear and softly accented.

Leslie stared hard at her. "I should know you, shouldn't I?"

"I suppose you should," the young woman said a little sheepishly. "It won't be long before you realize who I am anyway, so I may as well tell you. My name is Anna-Kristina Enstad. You must be the lady my Uncle Christian is so in love with."

"Christian's niece!" Leslie exclaimed, astonished. She sat up straight with hope in her eyes. "Is he with you, or will he be here later, maybe?"

Anna-Kristina smiled sympathetically. "No…as a matter of fact, he doesn't know I am here. None of my family knows." Her face took on an anxious expression and she looked at Roarke. "I desperately needed to get away, and none of them would have understood my reasons—certainly not my parents, in any case."

Roarke settled down behind the desk as if preparing for a long siege. "Before I begin," he said, "first, how would you prefer us to address you while you are here?"

The young woman sighed softly. "I thought it would be obvious, Mr. Roarke," she said, "but I suppose you'd like to make it official." She smiled to temper the comment, and he nodded, his eyes warm. "Please, both of you, just call me Anna-Kristina. No 'Miss Enstad', no 'madam', and absolutely no 'Your Highness' or 'Princess'!"

"So it shall be, then," Roarke said serenely and leaned back a little in his chair. "As I'm sure you recall, you were very cryptic in your note. You said only that you wished to find some sanctuary here. Now that you've arrived, perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten us about your reasons?"

Anna-Kristina removed her coat and sat in the last chair, folding the heavy winter garment in her lap and glancing a bit skittishly at Roarke before focusing on Leslie. "This should sound familiar to you," she said with heavy irony. "My father—whom you know as the king of Lilla Jordsö—wants to marry me off. My younger sister Gabriella was married this past February, and I think Pappa has the notion that it's past time the heir to the throne was wed as well. He's already picked out my future husband."

"Oh Lord," groaned Leslie, meeting Roarke's glance. "That man seems to have a thing about arranged marriages!"

"He does, believe me. He chose Gabriella's husband, and no doubt he's already looking for our little sister Margareta's as well. Unfortunately, he's not very good at it. I've had several dates with this man I'm supposed to marry, and I want nothing to do with him. He's verbally abusive and an unbelievable perfectionist. Nothing I could do or say was right. If I have to marry that man, I'll kill myself." Roarke's eyes narrowed at this statement and Leslie bit her lip; but Anna-Kristina seemed not to notice. "I want out of this arranged marriage. It's only a guaranteed disaster in the making.

"Then there's the throne. Frankly, I don't want it. It's been drummed into my head all my life that I'll have a great responsibility when I'm queen, and I'll be under a permanent spotlight, and so on, and so on. Leslie, I don't know how much you know about me, but I can tell you this much. Uncle Christian has always called me a free spirit, and in fact he and I are very close because we have so much in common. I think I take much more after him than either of my parents. In any case…the more I think about it, the less I want to be queen. I don't see it as a birthright; I see it as a family curse that's about to be visited upon me. Gabriella's much more suited to the position and I'd far rather give it to her. The only reason I'm first in line to the throne and she's second is that I was born first."

"There must be something really repulsive about ruling a country," Leslie remarked humorously to Roarke. "First Michiko didn't want to be queen, now Anna-Kristina."

Roarke laughed. "Indeed! Well, Anna-Kristina, surely these aren't such difficult problems to solve. You need only present them to your father, I should think."

"It's not that simple," Leslie said. "I've never met the king, but from everything Christian has ever said about him, he's implacable."

Anna-Kristina nodded vigorously. "When my father's made up his mind, nothing can change it—nothing. I need to bring this to another authority."

Roarke cleared his throat and said gently, "As much as I hate to disappoint you, my dear Anna-Kristina, I'm afraid I am not that authority. I have no official jurisdiction anywhere but here, on my own territory. Perhaps your mother could intercede for you, if you spoke with her; but my hands are tied here."

Anna-Kristina blew out her breath and nodded slowly. "I think I knew that, but I had to try anyway. Well, but there's one other thing, and I know you're the only one who has any answers for me." She faced Roarke squarely and announced, "I want to end, once and for all, the need for me to ingest amakarna to maintain my health."

Leslie's eyes widened; Roarke sat up and leaned over the desk, regarding Anna-Kristina intently. "Tell me, before I continue, how much you know about amakarna."

"More than I did before Uncle Christian's marriage," Anna-Kristina said grimly. "All my life I've eaten the stuff. As a child I took it for granted; it was always there, and it tasted good. My father downplayed our need for it when I was a teenager and asked him why no one in the family except him, Mamma, my sisters and I ever ate it, and said it was because we were royalty—and not just royalty, but that part of it directly in line for the throne. Since my uncles, aunts and cousins wouldn't inherit the crown, they didn't take it. You see, Mr. Roarke, my father made it seem like a great and rare privilege.

"But then I got the full story after Uncle Christian came back home to announce his engagement to you, Leslie, and discovered that he'd been shackled to Marina. I was in the room when Pappa told Uncle Christian he'd married him to Marina by proxy while he was here. Never in my life have I seen Uncle Christian so angry. He changed that day; he doesn't smile much anymore and he's much less open to people than he used to be. I didn't understand, and when Pappa told me to go and bring Marina back, I decided to ask her what was really going on. Marina explained everything to me then, and I realized at that moment that amakarna is no privilege at all—rather, it's an albatross." Anna-Kristina stared pleadingly at Roarke. "I understand Marina is of your people…something Uncle Christian mentioned once not so long ago. So you would know what to do. How do I eliminate my body's dependence on amakarna for my very life?"

Roarke broke his gaze and slowly sat back again, closing his eyes for a long moment. "It's not possible," he said quietly, after at least a full minute had passed.

"I don't understand," the princess protested.

"Amakarna is a very peculiar substance," Roarke began, "and has a highly addictive property. It's classified and usually used as a spice, but in actual fact it's a mineral. My own family finally phased out its need for amakarna, but there are others who still depend on it for their very survival."

"I don't think I get it, Father," Leslie said then, very curious. "If your people need it to survive, then why don't you?"

Roarke split his attention between her and Anna-Kristina. "Because an individual's need for amakarna is determined in his or her infancy. In my people, it's determined by genetics; and most have a gene that is programmed to require amakarna for life sustenance, much as human beings need calcium, iron, and various vitamins and minerals to maintain good health. If a child is born of parents who have a very rare mutation of this gene, that child will be free of the need for the spice. He can ingest it with no ill effects, but it's not vital to his health. For this to happen, both parents must have the mutated gene: and both of mine did."

"My God," said Leslie, astonished. "Then that must make you an incredible rarity."

Roarke nodded and confirmed, "It does indeed. In any case, within my people, there is no real control over the need for the spice, or the lack of need. In human beings, it's very much a different story. Not many terrestrial human beings can tolerate amakarna; but this, I think, is primarily because most of them first sample it as adults or older children. One of amakarna's greatest peculiarities is the fact that human infants can easily ingest it without any negative effects whatsoever. Unfortunately, the catch to this is that the infants very quickly develop a lifelong dependence on the spice. If it's given to a baby more than two or three times, the infant will need it for the rest of its natural life." He hesitated a bare second before focusing fully on Anna-Kristina. "While I don't know how the custom of adding amakarna to your family's diet began, I do know this: your parents, for whatever reasons, deliberately gave it to you and your sisters as infants. Had they not, you would never have developed the permanent need that you now have. Once a human child passes its first birthday, amakarna loses its addictive effect, though said child will probably never be able to tolerate it again."

Anna-Kristina was very pale. "So," she said slowly, "my parents hooked us on it as infants, just as if it were a drug."

"Yes," said Roarke, "although I hasten to assure you, amakarna in its natural form is not a drug. It has many health benefits, including several that are markedly unusual for earth humans. As you undoubtedly know, it can be turned into a drug, but in itself it causes no harm in those who have the tolerance."

"It hardly matters," Anna-Kristina said. "You're telling me that I can never eliminate my dependence on amakarna, correct?"

Roarke nodded gravely. "Unfortunately, yes."

"So there's really nothing at all you can do for me, then," Anna-Kristina said, her face a mask of rigid control that reminded Leslie of Christian's expression the day Arnulf had announced his marriage to Marina on television.

"I have no control over your need for amakarna, Anna-Kristina," Roarke said gently, "but I would like to know a little more about your reasons for wishing to abdicate the throne and refusing your father's choice of husband for you. Perhaps, as Christian did, you have fallen in love with someone else?"

She shook her head. "No, it isn't that—as I said, it's the man's abusive nature. And I truly don't think I was ever really suited to take the crown. My sister Gabriella would be the perfect choice. She has the disposition and the nature, and believe me, she definitely has the desire. As children we fought over it a great deal. Back then I was proprietary about it, since it seemed such a great gift. Now, knowing what I do, I'd rather let her be queen."

Roarke nodded, looking contemplative. "So there are good reasons—believe me, I understand very well, Anna-Kristina." He came to, as if snapping out of a reverie, and smiled. "While there is very little I can do for you regarding your requests, I do have the power to give you this. As long as you are here on Fantasy Island, you will have the freedom to move around unmolested. I guarantee you that you can do anything you wish, as an ordinary guest, and you will not be bothered. I'll see to it myself."

Anna-Kristina returned his smile, looking delighted. "That would be wonderful, thank you, Mr. Roarke. In that case, perhaps if you're not too busy, I could borrow Leslie for the day."

"I'd actually like to be borrowed," Leslie put in, "since I have questions for Anna-Kristina."

Roarke laughed and remarked, "I'm sure you do! Well, this being Christmas, we are very slow; in fact, Anna-Kristina, if you stay long enough, you'll find that New Year's Eve is much more hectic here. So I see no reason Leslie can't accompany you around the island for the day. I would ask that you return for dinner; you are invited, and if it's agreeable, I'll notify Mariki to serve the meal at six."

Anna-Kristina lit up. "Uncle Christian told me about your Mariki's cooking! I'll be delighted to have dinner here—thank you so very much, Mr. Roarke, for everything."

"You're very welcome," Roarke replied warmly. "Enjoy your day."

"I'll have her back here by quarter till six," Leslie promised, and at Roarke's nod of agreement the two women bid him goodbye and departed. Roarke gazed after them for a moment, then allowed himself the luxury of a long, fortifying sigh before rising and going to the computer.