Authors Note: This is meant to be set in the medieval or renaissance or middle ages (I'm not sure which is which- I think I may fail history!) I apologise for any historical inaccuracies that may occur (it can't be as bad as the Victorian story I wrote when I was eleven where the main characters 'climbed out of a sleek black car'! :( )

Disclaimer:I do not own the mentalist or any of the characters (although the DVD set is on my Christmas list).

It was a cool day in April when Patrick Jane first saw the girl with the green eyes. He knew who she was of course, but he had never met or socialised with her. He knew his place in society and kept to the normal order of things. He had learnt in his few years in the world that it was often better to blend in than stand out, although he often had difficulties doing so. With an inability to keep his mout shut when necessary and looks that may as well have belonged to an angel, he seemed to attract attention wherever he went. This, combined with his extraordinary ability to read people, meant that he was shunned by the other children. He knew that he disturbed people a little. This came as no real surprise to him. It was eerie when this child, whom you barely knew, could tell with just one glance your deepest, darkest secrets and then repeat them to you with such childish glee. Even his Father was startled by him. He had already surpassed his Father when it came to reading people, with a natural aptitude for reading emotions and reactions. As he watched the girl, he couldn't help but wish that they could be friends. He knew that it was unlikely to be so, they were simply of a different class, but she had a kind face and he thought that she would make a nice friend- an escape from his lonely existance.

He could see that the girl had been crying, although it was clear from the defiant set of her jaw that she was trying to hide her tears and emotions. Her sorrow came as no real surprise to him. He knew that her mother, the Queen, had delivered her youngest child the day before and her future looked bleak. He watched as the girl, who was maybe eight to his ten, reached towards a brilliant red rose, pulling it close as she inhaled its rich, heady scent. He saw her turn away, only to stumble, her hands grasping the nearest thing to her for support- the rose bush. When she recovered her balance she pulled her hand away, wincing in pain. He could see how close she was to tears and took pity on her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thank you!" she snapped fiercely, refusing to admit weakness.

He rolled his eyes at her and, without asking permission, took hold of her hand.

"Hey!" she responded, trying to pull away, but his grip was too strong. After strugggling a little, she reluctantly relaxed.

Patrick cooly examined her hand. He could tell that some of the thorns were stuck in her palm, having broken off when she pulled away from the plant. He knew that he would have to remove them. He reached out to touch one and she gasped.

"Oww!"

He gave a smile. "Chicken!" he said and she glared at him. Sighing, he looked her in the eye. He could usually get people to do what he wanted, but he had a feeling that she would be tough.

"Do you trust me?" he asked gently, looking serenely and pleadingly into her eyes.

She didn't soften in the slightest. "Of course not!" she retorted. "I don't even know you!"

He smiled, a dazzling smile that somehow crept past her defences a little- only a little.

"My name's Patrick Jane."

She looked startled, trying to place the name. Then she gasped.

"You're the court magician's son."

He nodded calmly, glad that she was somewhat distracted whilst he removed the thorns.

"Your father is really good. I almost believed that he could actually do magic."

"Maybe he can," grinned Patrick, in a mysterious voice. The girl shook her head, too serious for someone so young.

"I don't believe in magic," she replied. "It's all tricks and sleight of hand. True magic would never be so ostentatious."

He was surprised. "So cynical for one so young," he responded, removing the final thorn. "There you are, all better," he said, wrapping her hand tightly in his handkerchief to stem the bleeding.

She looked down in surprise. "I barely felt it," she murmured.

Jane smiled. "Maybe I'm magic," he said.

She rolled her eyes.

"Don't believe me?" he questioned, pulling out a pack of cards. "Pick one."

She pulled out a card.

"Now remember it and put it back."

She did so and he shuffled the pack before pulling out the queen of hearts and showing it to her.

"Was this your card?" he asked.

She bit her lip. "No," she replied and he laughed.

"You're a terrible liar," he observed.

She flushed slightly, before admiting, somewhat reluctantly, that it was a good trick.

"I could teach it you if you like," he offered, smiling.

She nodded slightly. "I'd like that," she said shyly. She realised with a jolt that she had yet to introduce herself. He manners really were slipping. "I'm Teresa Lisbon," she said, shaking his hand, a strange gesture for a little girl.

"The princess," he said. It wasn't a question. She blushed violently and he could tell that she hated to be judged by her social standing, so he decided to have a little fun with her. He bowed dramatically low.

"Well, your Majesty, I am but your humble servant,"

She raised an eyebrow. "You, humble?" she said, smiling for the first time. It lit up her face, making her eyes glow as though lit from behind.

He grinned. "Touche," he admitted and she giggled.

"Shouldn't you have a nurse with you?" he queried. He didn't see many noble children, but those that he did see were usualy surrounded by bustling servants, attending to their every need.

Teresa bit her lip. "I snuck out," she admitted. "It's horrific in the Palace at the moment."

Patrick nodded sympathtically. He knew what imminent death felt like- he had experienced it not so long before with his own mother and could relate strongly to Teresa.

Teresa looked alarmed. "I'm sure someone will have noticed that I'm gone by now. I'd better get back!"

She smiled at Patrick and gave a slight curtsey. "Thank you." she said.

He smiled. "Anything for royalty. Now run along, little Princess!"

Teresa put her hands on her hips and glared at him. If looks could kill then he would have been on his way to joining his mother. As it was, he merely gave a wicked grin.

"Angry little Princess!" he taunted playfully, before running off.