Author’s Note:

Sorry this came out so late. My ‘plotbunnies’, as vicelin would say, didn’t pay me a visit until yesterday. I’ve also had…other things in mind.

□ а иєш нєlp?□

When Paris finally regained consciousness, he woke up to see a worried face above him. The young man gasped as Paris opened his eyes slowly. He quickly raked a hand through his spiky, jet black hair and went to fetch more pillows. Paris started getting up, but the young man pushed him back down forcefully and stuffed more pillows under him.

“Where am I?” Paris wondered out loud.

“Hello, my name is Coryn,” he said in a deep voice, “and this is my house. I found you lying unconscious out there in the field.”

“Iris!” he shouted. He needed to find her, who knows where the assassin took her. He needed her…

“Are you looking for your girlfriend?” Coryn’s eyes twinkled.

Paris turned deep red at the comment. “No, no, she is my…team mate, as you might put it.”

“Hm…very well,” he said, “Here, have some soup.” Coryn stuffed a bowl of chicken soup into Paris’ hands.

After taking a glance at Coryn, Paris gulped down the chicken soup like he had not eaten for a week. He ignored the trickle down his chin as he drank up the warm liquid. Refreshing, he thought. Wiping off the soup from his chin, he handed the bowl back to Coryn.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “Thank you very much.”

“Interesting sight, there, eh?” Coryn said with a laugh. Paris once again turned deep red.

□decisioи□

The sun shorn down on the snowy city of El Nath. The sunlight peaked through young Nekiel’s bedroom window, gently waking her up. Yawning, Nekiel rubbed her eyes and walked to the kitchen. A strong scent tinkled her nose. Breakfast! she thought.

“Good morning Father,” she said, “What do we have for breakfast?”

“Bacon and eggs, my angel,” he said, but there was no playful gleam in his eyes today. He set down the plates of food down on the table and sat down with a sigh.

“What seems to be the matter, Father?” Nekiel said, with a worried expression on her face.

“Ah, Nekiel, my fine daughter,” he said, “Yesterday, in the middle of the night, Sir Auran paid a visit to our house.”

“We are not in trouble with the law, are we Father?” Her eyes shorn with worry.

“No, no,” he said, “That is what I thought at first too. See, my daughter, you are arriving at an attractive age.”

Nekiel looked at him in confusion.

“Sir Auran asked for your hand in marriage,” he sighed, “and you must answer within the next few days. He will send a messenger here for the answer.”

“But I do not even know him yet!” she exclaimed.

“Daughter, you know we are very poor right now…” he stuttered, “and he did offer one million mesos…”

“Very well, Father,” she said with her head bowed down, “Your wish is my command.” Niekel lost all will to show anymore emotion. She finished off the last of the bacon and headed up to her room. A single tear dropped from her eye as she picked up a photo.

□мү cніld?□

“Who are you?” Iris shouted, standing up with her wand out once more.

“Calm down, my child,” Auran whispered, gently touching her cheek.

“Get your hands off me!” She slapped his hand off her.

“Ah, you remind me of your mother.”

He glanced slightly towards the window. “It is late. Rest, my child,” he spoke once more, “I have prepared a room for you.” Gesturing to the servant, he said, “Droman! Bring Miss Iris up to her room.”

Tapping Iris slightly on the shoulder, Droman said, “Miss, I shall take you to your room.”

□lovє?□

The night was getting old, and the sun was starting to peak over the horizon. The sound of silence filled the air. Dawn was approaching, yet Paris still had not slept a wink. All night, he tossed and turned, unable to rid the thought from his troubled mind. Footsteps sounded in the hall. Paris pulled the covers over him, appearing to be asleep. The door creaked opened and Coryn slid in.

“I know you are not sleeping,” he whispered.

Paris groaned and pushed the covers away. He sat up and raked his hand through his hair, attempting to tame the tangles. He glared at Coryn.

“What do you want?” His mood was sullen.

“What seems to be the problem?” Coryn questioned.

“Nothing,” Paris replied, his eyes off in a far land, “Nothing.”

“Very well, my friend,” Coryn said, “I will go prepare breakfast.” He gave one last look of concern and headed towards the kitchen.

Staring out the window, Paris gave a sigh of lost hope. I am nothing, he thought. Turning his attention to the mirror, he stared at his face. The golden hair, sticking up from all directions caught his attention. He once again raked a hand through it. Women like muscular men, he thought, gazing hopelessly at his body frame. Paris gave another sigh.

Why would she love me? he questioned himself, I am nothing. I am not rich, I am not handsome. Paris sank into despair. His love was strong, yet she will never know…