Long chapter…sorry it took so long…I started it like a week ago, and so now it's super long. Like, really long.

For future references… robe a l'anglaise is like what Elizabeth wears for Norrington's promotion to "commodore" (Pirates of the Caribbean for all you people who don't get out much)

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Gramma had spent the entire time while I dressed badgering me about Jack. She kept insisting that I ought not spend more time with him than was possible, and that it wasn't lady-like the way I was associating with him.

"Gramma…" I asked, breathless as she pulled my corset "why is it that you don't approve of Jack and I being friends?"

"It isn't appropriate the way you two…" she began, but I stopped her, turning to face her while taking the strings for my stays, tying them myself.

"Gramma, if being cohorts is such a sin, then I'll bet all the girls in the Gingerbread and Peppermint acres are guilty of it! What is the real reason?"

She sighed, handing my flowered robe a l'anglaise to me, helping pull it over my head.

"Well?" I asked when my head had come out of the neck and back gap that still needed to be buttoned up.

"Lolly" she said, addressing me by my real name, something she hadn't done since the first day she had taken me in, so I knew that this was important "I'm afraid for you."

"Why?" I asked, not understanding what was so frightening about Jack.

"Lolly, dear, you're the Princess…I've heard talk in town that the Royal Guard has gotten some clues as to where you are, and they point to our countryside. I don't want to damper your freedom, but they're bound to find you."

I shook my head, my loose curls bouncing.

"Gramma, what does this all have to do with Jack?"

"I'm worried that you will grow too fond of him…and when you go back, you'll never be able to see him again."

"I think it'd be far worse to not see you again, Gramma." I said, and she smiled sadly, turning me so she could button up the hundred or so buttons that went up my spine.

Her skilled hands seemed to take no time at all to fix them, and she patted my shoulder like Cecilia had, making me think of her, wondering what became of her.

"Oh dear…I believe we'll be needing to get you more Teaberries…your hair is going back to brown." She commented, and I fingered a stray curl, stretching it flat

"Gramma, must I really keep dying my hair? Do you think anyone will notice if my hair shade is just a little darker?" I asked, tired of the monthly process of having to stay inside keeping my hair out of the elements whilst the dye seeped in and dried, thus having to stay solitary and not talk to Jack, even when he came by on his way home from the Orchard.

"Dear, it's bad enough that you face is exposed to anyone to see, but your dark hair that's quite un-natural for this part of the Country." She said, and I remembered that in this bit of land, a red tint was normal, more so than the blonde of the Gumdrop Ranges to the East, the curling raven of the Nobles from the North, or the mud brown of the West.

"I suppose you're right…but it's such a bother to just brush-off visitors as though I'm not there." I said, going to the mirror and opening my box of hair pins, starting to pull my hair back in a bun at the back of my head.

"It's only once a month." She said, helping with a hair that had gone awry.

"But I feel so rude...it's against all of my teachings that had been crammed into my mind when I was young." I reminded her, and she smiled, inserting the final pin in my hair.

"Yes, well there's an exception for when you're hiding from your family." She said, and I smiled, grabbing my bonnet and cloak from the chair.

The snows outside made everything seem so much different. The familiar landmarks were covered in a foot of the glistening white powder, and icicles hung from trees and buildings, and they twinkled in the dusk air from the candles shining in windows.

It was my second winter here, and I was amazed at how much prettier the snow was out here, compared to the miserable city.

There the snow was more like slush, where it gathered off curbs and corners, looming and ready to soil the bottom of your dress, soaking you to the ankle, forcing you to go home and change before the wet froze onto your skin, but here it was so light and powdery, like thousands of precious diamonds gleaming off the weak sun that shone through the gray clouds that, before it had snowed, depressed me just like every winter before.

"Gramma, how is it that the winter snow out here is so…amazing, and yet the winter inside the City is horrible?" I asked, tearing my gaze away from the snow to look at Gramma.

"I think the Lord bestows the grander gifts to the folks who take the time to appreciate such things, not shove them aside to make room for their own extravagant needs to have carriages and not sleighs." She said, and I opened my mouth to protest, but found no words to express my feelings.

She had completely and openly insulted me and my family, the staff and the rest of parliament, as well as the citizens of the City itself.

I re opened my mouth, this time finding words, stopping dead in my tracks.

"I beg your pardon? Need I remind you who you're speaking to?" I asked, and she turned to face me innocently.

"No, I know that I'm speaking to Mistress Genny Kay, whom I've taken in because her poor farmer mother and father had to marry her off because of their debts." She said coolly and turned back.

My face turned bright red, as though my cheeks had been freshly slapped, and it felt like it too…it was one of the first times I'd been reprimanded, something I'd carefully avoided my whole life, the last time I'd actually been told off was when I was eight after throwing a tantrum over not being able to watch the minstrels in the streets. Looking back I could see why Cecilia had been harsh; they were common gypsies, no more that the lowest trash on the streets.

But where the last retribution had taken years to figure out, I had gotten good at figuring out what to do to avoid getting into trouble, or at least a situation that got me shunned, so even when I did occasionally get into trouble, I knew what I did wrong soon enough.

I had forgotten that I wasn't Crown Princess Lolly anymore, and had gotten carried away. It was the first time I had done so, and, looking back, I wondered why I had suddenly become so out of character for no reason.

I had forgotten I was a simple farmers daughter, a girl who had never seen the City, who didn't have any opinions about politics because the fact of the matter was that she didn't know anything more about it than country gossip overheard when Mistress Molly Mint visited.

I sighed; sometimes I wished that life would go back to the way it used to be, before I had learned about the cruel fate which had been awaiting me a few months prior.

"Yes…I suppose you're right." I agreed quietly, mostly to myself.

-

"You look upset." Jack said, more of a question rather than a statement after I arrived and Gramma and I had made our greetings.

"Oh, I do?" I said, erasing the brooding look that I knew I had etched onto my face.

"Yeah, as if your best friend had just died; is something the matter?" he asked, intently staring into my eyes.

My stomach did a weird sort of flip-flop, but I brushed that feeling aside. I suppose brooding over a matter hurt your stomach.

"No…nothing's the matter. I was just wondering if…I had turned off the lamp in the kitchen." I lied quickly, hoping he wouldn't press the matter any further, but he did.

"Do you think we" my stomach flipped up-side-down again "should go check?"

"Oh heavens no!" I said, dismissing that idea with a wave of my hand. "I've only just arrived, I can't possibly leave now."

He looked at me suspiciously, but I smiled, dimples appearing in my cheeks, and he broke into a grin, the sure sign of a joke.

"Well if you insist, but when you go home tonight and find your house in ashes don't come crying to me." He said, and I laughed, tossing my head back. Alright, a sharp contrast to my previous attitude and a little too much, but he only gave me a quizzical look that I pretended not to see.

He led me to the center of the barn that had been cleared out and had been polished and shined specifically for this occasion, and, although I had already noticed that it was the most unusual thing I'd ever seen, it was so far from the stuffy balls I was accustomed to that I could just scream with joy.

Back in the City the balls were so stodgy and…well…lame.

I had to dance with old men who were in the running to be my husband after the Upstream, even when they were old enough to be grandfather!

I would have to endure to painfully slow waltzes pretending to listen to them drone on about wars against Hemm and how I would make such a lovely Queen once I married 'one of the men from this room' which meant him.

And even when there would be a stroke of luck in my favor and I danced with a handsome young Noble who I found interesting, I couldn't possibly dance with him more than twice, or it would be utterly shocking and scandalous.

After our third dance, I giggled; thinking of what Cecilia would think when she knew I had danced three times with one boy.

"What is it you find so amusing, it couldn't possibly be the song." He said, referring to the slow, sad waltz about a war at Winter Solstice time.

"When I was little, mother used to give me etiquette lessons about balls; she said 'You must never ever dance with a gentleman more than twice, and certainly not in a row, for you should be the talk of the social circles because of your shocking misbehavior.'" I mimicked Cecilia, even adding in her accent.

He laughed, before asking a question that made my mouth taste like metal, and my stomach curl. I knew he meant no harm by wondering how my mother could have a Yorkshire accent, when she was high enough to send her daughter to upper class balls, for everyone knew that only servants had Yorkshire accents.

"Oh…Father was a noble, ran away with a chamber maid." I said, my cheeks aflame from my mistake.

Jack was silent for a moment, realizing that he had asked the wrong question.

"Sorry, that was rude…" he muttered, but I smiled back up at him.

"Not really, it's rather funny, actually. Mother, for as Yorkshire she was, always held herself like the Queen Herself, making everyone think she put on the brogue for humor." I said. I couldn't help admitting at least that my mother acted like the Queen. Of curse she did…she is the Queen.

The song ended, and it was replaced by a faster paced Virginia Reel, a dance my instructor when I lived in the palace had told me about, but I never knew how to dance it.

I followed the example set by the other ladies, and lined up on one side of the barn, facing the men on the other side of the barn.

I was a beat behind as I curtsied with the other ladies, and the men bowed. I was completely perplexed, but I went along with it all, always a step behind.

The ladies and men rushed forwards, clasping hands and making an arch, twirling around, and then back to our lines.

I carefully scrutinized the pairs as Master Dean L'Anse and Mistress Shirley Waters lead, waltzing down the isle that we made, then trading off the spotlight to Master Robert Wood and Mistress Mary Fontanel.

By the time I was expected to dance the line, I had a vague idea of what the ladies feet were doing under their skirts, but not enough to be able to dance correctly.

"You look a little tense, Mistress Kay." A boy I knew as Jujubes.

"I must confess, I've never danced this before…" I said, stumbling on the hem of my skirt.

"There's nothing to it really, no more than a few turns here and there…" he said while I watched my feet, trying not to stumble again.

At last we were out of the line of fire, with all eyes upon us, those torturous eyes whose owners were probably inwardly scoffing at the girl who couldn't even dance a reel, something those girls half my age had learned already and were impressively good.

I hung my head, my cheeks were ablaze again, and I wished the blasted song would end so I could slink off to sit by Gramma, trying to avoid any taunts that might come my way.

Of course, I didn't know if any of these girls were cruel enough to do so, but I knew the fierceness of the noble girls who could tear you to shreds from their hurtful words. That silly nursery rhyme that you could rattle off in your head while they insulted your dress (Stick and stones) or your hair (may break my bones but words) or how you dance (will never hurt me) was true. Words couldn't hurt you, but they could drive you to hurt yourself…it was sad, but true…that's how Miranda Hansel, Duke Hansel's daughter, wound up committing suicide. She was thick about the waist as well as mind, and was teased mercilessly.

The music struck its last chord, and the lines dispersed, the orchestra taking a short break.

I started to scuttle aside, but my previous dance partner, Jujubes, had caught my arm.

"Mistress Kay…" he said, I looked inquisitively to his face, and I noticed that unlike everyone else, he was more blonde than red.

"Yes, Master Jujubes?"

"I was wondering if I could have the next dance." He said without hesitation. I bit my lip, and Jujubes noticed my hesitation.

"I promise it won't be another reel," he laughed, and I smiled along with him, the flush crawling back into my cheeks.

"Then I accept, master…" I began, but he interrupted me.

"Joseph, please call me Joseph."

"Then I accept, Master Joseph." I smiled.

The next song was yet again another slow song, and Joseph decided to take up the moment to get to know more about me…more than I cared to make up.

"So, Mistress Kay," I hadn't told him to call me Genny "Genny, if I may,"

I nodded, permitting him to use my nickname, and he continued on, "Genny, I'm curious…what part of the country are you from? Your hair is beautiful, like a deep auburn, almost brown, if it isn't too bold to say."

"From slightly North of here," I said, skimming over his liberty about my hair, pretending he hadn't said it.

"Near the City, eh?" he said, and I tried to change the subject, wishing that it wouldn't be faux pas to snap 'Just shut up about my history, and talk about something else!'

"This song is nice, do you know what its title is?" I asked politely.

"I'm not quite sure." He said, wrinkling his brow and staring at nothing as though trying to remember, but his gaze was turned sharply to me when the song started to wind down, the beginnings of another starting to foreshadow.

"Genny, would you mind another dance?" he asked, and I nodded again, wondering exactly what had happened to Jack…

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Okay, this chapter is getting VERY long, and so I'm cutting the party into two halves that are Über long.

Please Review!

P.S. I might have not edited very good, so forgive me for making these lame mistakes.