Gosh, I'm so so sorry it took this long.

Things in this chapter will get pretty deep.

In the day of the siege, and his third son's murder, King Hugh had aged nearly ten years.

And now, as Prince Robert looked at him, he seemed to be aging right before his eyes.

"Why would they want Petunia, of all people?"

"I guess she was the only one of us they could get hold of." That was the only answer the crown prince could think of.

His father rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. "I suppose, she was always linked to that day, in my mind; she came into this world within the same hours your brother left it."

Robert bit his lip. "Everyone's either admired or despised her from day one; ever since she was baptized in the silver font of royalty, a baby of the lowest birth, wrapped in silk and held in the queen's arms."

Hugh shook his head. "I've heard this song before. Do you think Burdock may be jealous?"

"Of what?"

"Of the Rhubarbs. He was a Viscount before the siege, and not only did it fail and loose everything to his name, but a small family of indentured servants found their way into our favor because of the events that resulted."

The heir apparent shrugged. "I don't know, but for Petunia's sake, I hope not."

"Things have been really getting out of hand around these parts."

"I'll say."

Larry had met up with Bob again the next evening, while both were returning home from their respective jobs.

"I keep hearing these rumors," Bob continued. "About S.U.N: One person says that the mayor of Pettingill is secretly hosting them as guests in his property, another says that they're kidnapping babies, like they kidnapped Petunia Rhubarb and the third prince."

"I don't think that's true," Larry said. "At least the last one. People make up and believe the weirdest things when something big happens."

"Very true." The other man agreed. "Besides, I think that if S.U.N was really kidnapping children right and left like the rumors say, they would be more than just rumors; we'd be hearing more about it."

He then turned to Larry with a tired grin. "Pretty cheerful, huh?"

"Cheerful as a rainy day." Larry chuckled.

"I'll probably hit my head repeatedly against the side of the Lisa if it gets any more 'cheerful'." Bob joked. "Let's change the subject."

Larry tried not to look relieved. "Okay; there's something I wanted to ask you anyway."

"Which is…?"

"If you're new in the fishing business, what were you doing before, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I don't mind." He leaned back on the bench. "I did desk jobs, mostly."

"That's pretty different than fishing."

"It is; but I found this more… fulfilling. I wake up at the crack of dawn and see the sunrise every day, smell the crisp morning air over the lake, get to use my hands and build callouses. I feel useful."

"That's exactly how I feel about working for Mr. Nezzer." Larry affirmed. "Course it's not outdoors, and there's no fishy smell… oh wait, maybe that's a good thing."

The other man laughed. "After a few days, you don't even notice the smell." He laughed again. "But my wife sure does; I can't give her a 'Honey-I'm-home' kiss without taking a two hour bath and a change of clothes."

Larry chuckled at that, then said. "Oh, you're married?"

"Yep." Bob reached into the coin pouch hanging from his belt and produced a gold ring, holding it up proudly. "Five years, as of March third." He put the gold circle on his finger. "I can't wear this while working, for obvious reasons; wouldn't want it to end up in someone's entrée."

"What's her name?" Larry asked eagerly.

"Genevieve."

"That's a really pretty name."

"A really pretty name for a really beautiful girl." Bob sighed dreamily.

"Well of course." Larry affirmed. "Genevieve, huh? It sounds French."

"That's because she is French: She's the widow of a baker from Alsace. She's got the prettiest accent."

The skinny youth smiled. "Gee, marriage sounds swell."

"That's one way to put it. Do you ever plan to get married?" Bob queried.

Larry sighed. "I'd love to, if I found the right girl, but I don't think I'll be able to for a long time; my home life is kinda… hectic."

"Ah." Bob didn't press for more details, and for that Larry was grateful. "Well, you're still really young; you've got plenty of time."

"Well anyway, I'm not so sure any girl would be too crazy about… all this." He motioned towards himself.

"Hey now: if I can't insult myself in front of you, then you can't insult yourself in front of me." The older man scolded

"You're really nice, but it's true; I'm no Prince Charming."

"You are compared to me."

"Now you're insulting yourself."

"Don't sell yourself short;" Bob continued. "You're tall, you're strong, you're not ugly, and you've got a steady, well-paying job. Compared to a lot of guys around here, you're practically Adonis."

"Who's that?"

"Some guy from ancient Greece; probably fictional, famous for being really handsome."

"Oh. I see."

This time he had no excuse: His father had put the kibosh on his daily visits to Petunia, he was absolutely, positively forbidden.

He was an obedient son; it wasn't in his nature to rebel against authority or his parent, no matter how difficult the command.

Until now, that is.

He tried not to, but he couldn't stop thinking about Petunia, all by herself in her dank makeshift cell, twiddling her thumbs and stretching out children's books to last for hours while he did his day to day activities and enjoyed human company, while he saw the sun rise and set.

He thought of her being taken away, seeing the sun again for a few hours only to be shuttled away again in a dark and dismal fortress, along with the country's most hardened criminals.

He thought about this all day, and into the evening. She was probably waiting for him right now, wondering why he wasn't there. Did she think he had grown bored, or stopped caring? Did she think she had lost the only friend she had in that heaven forsaken place?

That evening, as he tried and failed to sleep, he came to the realization that he could not leave her alone. He couldn't obey his father this time.

He would have to be sneaky.

Petunia had found herself looking forward to Larry's evening visits; not merely because they were the only diversion she had these days, but because she enjoyed his company.

She enjoyed talking to him, she felt comfortable around him, in spite of his affiliation with… them. There were times when she forgot that he was, and that he had been the person to get her in this predicament.

It was impossible not to smile when he was around, because he said the most endearing things, because he somehow knew exactly how to cheer her up, and because his smile was like a little sliver of sunshine.

He was the only reason her stay here was bearable.

So she didn't worry when he did not show up the fifth day. She couldn't expect him to be here every day. He was probably detained, or maybe someone had gotten wise to his comings and goings. She had no reason to be concerned.

"Psssst, Petunia."

"Hmn?" She had been deep in some dream, and was pulled back up from the land of Nod by a hand gently shaking her shoulder.

"Mmm… couple more minutes Ma." She mumbled, then turned over to regain sleep.

The voice spoke a little louder. "I don't really sound like your mom, do I?"

Her eyes fluttered open, met stone wall, then she looked over her shoulder. "Larry?"

He was kneeling by her cot, lit oil lamp in hand, his eyes shifting around nervously.

She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "What're you doing here so late… or is it early?"

"It's three in morning." He answered softly. "I'm sorry to wake you up at this hour, but it's kinda important."

If he hadn't already gotten her attention, he did now. "What is it?"

"Someone caught me coming to visit you the day before yesterday."

"Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "I was afraid this would happen!"

"Actually, I'm not in as much trouble as you'd think."

"You see," He explained. "I was never technically forbidden from seeing you, but now that they know I am, I… er… am."

"I don't quite understand."

He gave a tired sigh. "I'm not exactly popular in this group; they say I'm a pushover. Richard Burdock's afraid you'll… well… win me to your side."

He saw her expression harden at the mention of the leader. "I see." She replied. "So this time, you're really, for sure not allowed to see me?"

"Exactly." He nodded. "That's why it took me so long to get here; I had to come at a time when the guards wouldn't be expecting me."

She mulled this over. "You'll get into an awful lot of trouble if you're caught." She pointed out.

"Don't remind me."

"Just because I'm lonely?"

"Well, no one wants to be alone."

She was quiet for a moment. "You would do that? For me?"

"Well, yeah." He replied, as if it was the obvious answer.

A slow smile began to pull at the corners of her mouth. "But, you hardly know me, and we're on opposite sides."

His gaze darted to his lap "I know; but I'm the one who got you into this mess, and I want to make it up to you. My fight's with the royal family, not you."

Her smile widened. "I'll accept that, for now."

He wet his lips nervously, eyes still downwards. "Can… can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

He took a deep breath, then looked back up at her. "Why do you trust me?"

She blinked, then looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. "Why do I… trust you?" She repeated.

He nodded. "Yeah, you… seem to."

She sensed the unspoken question. You do trust me, do you?

She thought about it.

It occurred to her for the first time that, if he was that sort of person, he could have taken advantage of her by now, in more ways than one.

He was a young man, in peak health, and she was a young woman, also in good health and considered attractive by many. Every visit, they had been completely alone, and if he was telling the truth, no one had even known he'd been here, up until last night.

And yet, in all the times he had been here, even during his first visit, when she didn't know him and she was partly lame and at her most vulnerable, the thought never crossed her mind. She'd never felt uncomfortable or suspicious in the very least, or had even an inkling of the impression that he had some ulterior motive.

This was partly because she got the impression that he was bad at hiding things; if he had a secret, she would know about it. It was also because he seemed so innocent and childlike, that he didn't seem capable of even thinking such rotten things.

If he was lying, he was an extremely good actor.

"I do trust you." She said at last, and his shoulders sagged in relief and she realized he had been holding his breath.

"And as to why : I don't really see what you would have to gain from tricking me."

He gave an uneasy smile. "A lot, to be honest."

She gave a tiny laugh. "I think," She continued. "That what I really trust is the Lord and the judgment he's giving me."

His brow creased in disbelief. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Excuse me?" She was unable to keep the annoyance from her tone.

He held up his hands in defense. "No offense but, has he told you anything really important? Like who I am?"

There was something in his tone, something jittery and guilty. Her expression softened. "Larry, what are you saying?"

"Cobb isn't my real last name; it's what I tell everyone it is."

"Oh?"

He took a steadying breath. "I might as well tell you. Richard Burdock…"

"Yes?"

"He's my Dad."

( Insert dramatic music.)

No prizes for guessing who Genevieve is.

Next chapter will be up ASAP.