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"Paris is so, so beautiful," she whispered, well aware she sounded naïve and childish.

Magda gave her a sideways smile, "It is. Haven't you been here before?"

She pushed her sunglasses away but, with Magda's disapproving frown, she slipped them back on. Joseph had conceded that her detail could remain in the apartment on her ventures out, as long as she wore her sunglasses. She didn't know if he was getting soft in his old age or if he was merely guilty. The fact he was sure her detail wouldn't tell impressed her too - he demanded a loyalty like no one she had ever known.

"Yes, of course. Never without security though or without a car," she smiled, "So I haven't really seen Paris properly."

"Do all little rich girls complain about being hemmed in?"

She giggled, reminded of Joseph's dryness in Magda's mannerisms. She hadn't yet thought of him as 'dad' yet, or even 'father', and she knew she probably never would. They were lounging on the grass in the Parc de Champ de Mars, tummies heavy with crepes and lemon and sugar and eyes tired with a day of sightseeing. Dusk was falling, covering Paris in an amber glow.

"I…am…" she felt suddenly embarrassed.

"Yes?"

"I am grateful, to you, for having me."

"You're my niece," Magda shrugged.

She nodded quietly, "When did he tell you?"

Magda laughed darkly, "Joseph never told me. He didn't have to. I've never known another man who carries a picture of someone else's child in his wallet. That was what confirmed it for me but I had known from the moment I saw you on television."

"He doesn't carry a wallet," Anna answered, feeling a little defensive of his apparently sloppy ways.

She'd never known him to have a wallet – a money clip, yes, but never a wallet.

"No, maybe not when he's at work," Magda answered, tone even, "But he does when he's at home, with his family. One night he was drunk and left it lying open on the table. I closed it before my mother saw. If she had seen…" She shook her head, "He was drunk and I found him in the garden. It was a really dark time in his life, I think. You were three maybe. I can't remember. But he was drunk and I asked him. For all Joseph's good at silence, he's terrible at lying when it comes to matters of his personal life."

It was a lot to ingest but she had questions, questions which were being answered for the first time. Not the burning ones but the ones that padded out her story.

"Would your mother be angry?"

Magda looked thoughtful for a moment, "Not angry. I'm being unfair. She would be hurt, I think. We knew, even though no one ever said it, that he was in love with your mother."

It was strange to hear someone else say it. She wondered then just how many people knew. She'd known, theoretically, the difference between sex and love, lust and longing. She had simply been unsure as to what category her parents fell into. The more she thought and considered it, the more she thought it was love. It was selfish but it was love nonetheless.

"But our mother would want to know her granddaughter, despite the fact she already has nine. It wouldn't matter. Joe's the golden boy in the family, the oldest and the most successful. He was always so sad though until…"

"Until he came to Genovia," she finished for Magda.

"Yes, but then he was miserable at times too. It was hard to know Joe deeply and it still is."

She nodded, "He loves my mother. You can see it."

Magda nodded but Anna could see the scepticism on her face. It riled her a little.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You haven't met her," Anna said quietly, shocked that she was defending her own mother, "You don't know her."

"No," Magda conceded, "You're right."

Anna heard the unsaid 'But'.

"But?"

Magda looked pensive, "But I mean…come on."

"Come on what?"

Anna laughed a little.

"I don't know your mother but I know my older brother. He wouldn't let himself be fooled but it seems he…I don't know, is a bit too obsessed. A little too besotted. Think of it from my perspective as a sister, watching your brother strung along by a woman who won't ever be his."

Anna had no response to that.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"You haven't Magda. My mother's a difficult person but she's not a bad one. She loves me, and my brothers and Joseph very much. She isn't as cold as the media would have you believe. It's easy for me to hate my mother because she'll never not love me. She's as much a victim of shitty circumstance as anyone really."

Magda nodded, "You're a clever girl, you know."

"Thanks," Anna nodded, "I am just not very good at putting it to use."

"You should," her aunt said, seriously.

"Princesses don't have jobs."

Magda looked at her, "You're not a princess."

It wasn't offensive, in fact it was cathartic. Anna felt a bubble of a laugh burst into her throat.

"I know," she smiled, "I know."

Magda stood up, "MY shift starts in an hour. Matthias will be home but I'm assuming you'll be doing as you seem to do every evening; reading. Keep your glasses on, don't want anyone recognising you."

They walked along in silence for a moment, then Magda looped her arm through her own and squeezed.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you," she said gently, "I really mean it."

"Me too."

-0-

Joseph had been ordered to visit the king last thing in the evening, before he retired to bed. Evenings were better for Rupert now because by that point his cough of the morning would have subsided to the occasional bark. It was easier, too, to attach him to the oxygen tanks that had come to vandalize the classic interiors of his rooms.

Pierre had come home this morning. It was a palace under siege, waiting for the death of an ailing king.

It was pitiful, watching him pull his frail body up against the settee.

"Please forgive me, Joseph, if I don't seem at my best," he heaved.

Not at all, Your Majesty," he bowed and took the seat across from Rupert, which he motioned to.

"It's simple, Joseph," he continued, "I don't have a lot of time. I need you to bring Anna home, from wherever she is."

The significant look Rupert shot him was not missed on Joseph. He swallowed but remained silent.

"Don't tell Clarisse," he continued and as Joseph went to protest, the king held up his hands, "Not because of anything sinister. Not because I want to keep her out of the loop. But because she won't let me if I tell her I plan to do it."

He leaned forward and suddenly he looked sore, "Joseph, I have amends to make to that girl. Help me make them."

Joseph nodded and said nothing again.

"I've not been a very good husband," the other man massaged the bony cavity of his chest as he spoke, "I've not been a great father. I'd like, at least, to give my children the chance to say so."

For Joseph this was hard to stomach, since he knew Rupert was entirely aware that Anna was not in fact his. Though it wasn't nastiness that was driving Rupert or vengeance: Joseph could see it in his eyes.

"She's in Paris," he said honestly, "With my sister."

Rupert nodded, "Bring her home. Her mother needs her…and maybe her father does too."

For years, so many things had gone between Joseph and Rupert that were unsaid. They both knew more than they were ever going to vocalise and for Rupert to acknowledge Joseph's perfidy or for Joseph to acknowledge the cruelty in Rupert was unthinkable.

Joseph stood up to go and just as he was turning, Rupert stopped him.

"Joseph?"

"Sire?"

"I wish I had been more like you," he dipped his head, "I wish I could have loved her like you have."

He did not know to which 'she' he referred and he wondered if it was both of them.

Joseph could say nothing, could not react, so he simply nodded and went from the room.

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