Author's note: Thank you, very much, for the reviews. This is when we get Anna's perspective for the first time and for me that was most fun (and really hard). So please review if you have a moment.

Anna had, from the moment she was born, been an unruly and curious child. Her father blamed it on her mama's softness, and Joseph laughed at her and said it was simply charm. Her charm, if she didn't move right now, would get her into a lot of trouble. She had gone in search of her mama, because she hated nanny brushing her tangle of curls - but it had grown quite out of control - and had heard voices in her father's study. Had it been mama's she would have gone straight in but she wasn't allowed in her father's study at all, so she slipped between the rich antique dresser and the jamb of the door and pressed her back to the wall.

Pierre walked past, nose in a book he'd brought home for his school in Rome, and simply hissed, "You shouldn't be spying."

But he winked and walked away anyway and she stuck out her tongue after him.

"A child? He has a child?"

Her father's voice was louder than ordinary as it carried from the office.

"Yes," her mother's voice was wearier still, "And the girl's an artist. Joseph said-"

"Always Joseph," her father interrupted, "Always at the centre of everything."

"It's hardly his fault! You sent him to America, need I remind you?"

Anna could tell from her mother's voice that she was losing patience and the icy silence just confirmed it. This was the soundtrack to her understanding of her parents' marriage; an icy word, a snarky joke, an occasional affectation. She hadn't yet found much to invest confidence in. Her brothers, though they were always away, showed her it would be alright when they were home. They laughed, most of the time, so she did too.

Wasn't that how it worked after all? She knew that if everyone was smiling, everyone was happy.

"Listen Rupert," her mother's weariness carried through the door, "We need to deal with this. This… this will blow up in our faces. A child, out of wedlock!"

"It won't be the first," her father said and the silence changed then.

Her mother let out a huff of fury and her voice rose, "For heaven's sake."

"It's a historical fact," he soothed, but it sounded like a lie, "You go to the U.S. Bring him home. No refusals. He has an annulment, the infant will want for nothing."

"You're sending me to do this alone?"

"What are you doing little princess?"

Anna startled at the interruption to her spying and she glowed with childish embarrassment when she looked to her side to see Joseph crouched beside her. She had been so absorbed, she hadn't noticed him sneaking up.

"Hi Joey."

"Joe, please. You shouldn't be snooping," he opened his arms and, as always, she climbed into them, "Come on."

"They were arguing," she whispered conspiratorially into his ear as they walked away.

His large body stiffened for a moment, "Don't be silly. They were simply talking."

He carried her towards his apartment – the biggest of the staff quarters – and a place she probably spent as much time as she did in her nursery or with mama.

"Why are you out of the nursery Anna, where is nanny?"

"I gave her the slip," she giggled, pulling back to look at his smiling face.

She traced her fingers along his goatee and he pretended to bite her finger.

"You shouldn't give nanny the slip," he chastised, though she could tell it was half-hearted.

He placed her down on the couch, "Milk? Cookies?"

"She'll come looking for me anyway," she clambered to the edge and, tipping herself upside down, lifted her legs to the top of the couch, "Nanny always finds me. Milk please."

She watched from upside down as he poured her a cool glass from his fridge.

"Princesses don't si-"

"Like that, I know," she giggled, "You sound like mama Joseph."

"How is mama?"

He sat down beside her and she could feel him watching her as she reached for the photograph she always went for when she found herself in his apartment. He'd stopped cleaning it now, it was so often sticky and smudged with little fingers, that there was no point.

"Mama is fine," she ran her fingers over the silver frame, "When I'm older can I keep this?"

He laughed, "Why?"

"Because she's pretty, your sister."

"She is, isn't she?"

"Yes," she looked at the picture again, then at his smiling face, "She has hair like mine."

His face was suddenly blank and it frightened her just a little. There was nothing there precisely, and nothing which should have frightened her, but the emptiness on his face was scary nonetheless.

"Are you well Joseph?"

He smiled again, that beaming smile he kept only for her, "Yes. You sounded like your mama there."

She nodded and took a gulp of her milk. He took the photo from her and even though she didn't want to give him it, something else had come into her mind.

"What does wedlock mean?"

"That's an odd question," he took the chess board from the drawer and motioned for her to lay them out, "Where did you hear that?"

"I heard papa saying it."

"Oh," he nodded, "it means that you are locked in a marriage. Wed and locked, see?"

She nodded, pleased she understood and always impressed that everything he did was wonderful. She could have stayed with Joseph forever.

"What colour do you want to be?"

"What do you think?"

He rubbed his goatee in a foolish fashion, smiling at her as he did so.

"Mmmm, black," she giggled.

"Of course princess."

"What's your job again?" She asked because she always forgot.

"Head of Security to the Royal Family," he examined as she went to lift a piece, "Is that really how you want to move?"

She considered, her own fingers fluttering over her pieces and then knowing what he was hinting at she changed her mind.

"Perfect choice," he praised.

"You're fantastic at teaching me chess," she answered, watching as he made his move, "You know nanny will come after me soon."

"Yes, if your mama doesn't come for you first."

She watched him as he moved, "Joseph, I love you."

Today, it seemed, was full of silence. He lifted his head then and she thought it was silly that she imagined tears in his eyes.

"I love you too Anna."

-0-

Clarisse knew exactly where to find her daughter but she dawdled anyway, her heels clacking along the quiet marble. She wanted to give him time with her and she wanted to avoid him entirely. Because these days, there was a chasm between them.

She couldn't quite process the news Joseph had brought home with him and had spent the entire night tossing and turning in the satin of her bed sheets. She was the mother of a five year old, the grandmother of an infant. Amelia Thermopolis Renaldi. She had thought to go to Rupert and tell him the news in the middle of the night but she knew that would only anger him more. Instead she'd crept into Anna's chambers and, waking the sleeping child from her bed, taken her into her own. When times were hard, when the world crumbled, she buried her face in the ebony mass of curls and breathed in the scent of strawberries and remembered what she'd done to have her.

And the love she'd given up.

She wanted to ask her daughter to open her eyes because she had her father's eyes.

She stalled outside his apartment doors and listened to the voices within. They were playing chess and by the sounds of it, Joseph was letting Anna win. It was a pleasure to hear, the kind of noise that relaxed her. She settled then and raised her hand to give a listless knock.

"Yes?" He opened the door, "Oh, Your Majesty."

Joseph," her eyes met his and for a moment, it felt like nothing had ever felt better, "Have you seen the princess?"

She poked her head in the door and her daughter was nowhere to be found. She shared a smile with him. This was safe, this was the only time there were on the same page.

"No, ma'am."

"Hmmm," she nodded, "Perhaps you could tell her nanny was looking for her."

At that moment Anna jumped out from behind the couch, her limbs splaying out in a delighted starfish.

"Here mama!"

Clarisse feigned surprise, clutching a hand to her chest.

Joseph smiled, "Would you like to come in ma'am?"

"Only if I am not disturbing your game of chess?"

He was too quick to answer, "No, not at all Clarisse."

For the first time in years, she darted her hand out to touch his. When he had delivered the news to her the night before about Phillippe and the child she had cried but he had kept such a cold distance, his hands jammed firm in his pockets. She knew he was so angry at Phillippe, and no doubt had reacted terribly, but he couldn't bring himself to show any passion of emotion towards her.

It had disappeared slowly; the gentle caresses, the touches to her back as he steered her through the crowd, now he didn't even touch his lips to her hand as he bowed over it. In the present his fingers grazed hers though, clutching her hand for a moment longer. And it was she who dared herself; the thought of touching him, she had come to believe, was the only thing that would get her through this.

"How are you?"

He leaned in and asked the question he hadn't asked in so long.

"Tired," she whispered, "Rupert has not taken the news well."

"I didn't imagine he'd take it any-"

"What are you discussing?"

Anna squeezed her way between them, face expectantly looking up.

"How few manners you have," Clarisse scolded, only half serious.

Anna smiled bashfully, "Sorry mama."

"You are forgiven," she let her daughter pull her by the hand to sit on the couch in the centre.

"Take your shoes off ma'am," he said gently, "I know you're more comfortable like that."

"What will we do if nanny comes looking?" Anna asked, settling down at the half-finished chess game, unaware of the interaction now between her parents.

"We'll lie," Joseph answered and the impish smile he threw at Clarisse made her feel giddy in a way she hadn't for a long time.

"No, we won't," she curled her legs under herself then tipped her head back.

Silence then, apart from their giggles and laughs, carried her off into a sleep she didn't mean to fall into. Maybe it wasn't the silence, but the rightness of it all. Here was the world she was supposed to have and it was so massively outwith her reach.

Her slumber was only broken by his gentle voice and she didn't know how long she'd been there, "Clarisse, you need to wake up."

"Can't I stay with you?"

She was still half asleep but she knew they were alone because he used her name. His voice was gentle, a breath away from her ear. She hadn't meant to say it but she was caught off-guard, unarmoured in the half world of sleep.

"I wish."

"Do you remember once," she opened her eyes, "You told me you loved me?"

"Yes," he knelt at her feet as she sat up and then gently, reverently, slipped on her shoes, "Yes."

"Is it still true?"

"It will always be true. And I just hope, one day, you believe me enough to let me back in."

In bed, alone in a sea of fear and loneliness, she cried until sleep claimed her again.

Please, please, please review if you have time! I would love to know what you think, so far, of the little of Anna you've met.