Chapter One: Should've Knifed the Pervert, Instead

"Quit it, you bloody git! Get your filthy wandering hands off Seychelles, she is my property!" Arthur exploded. Red-faced, fists clenched, and screaming his face off not 3 inches away from Francis's face.

"What are you talking about, Angleterre? I would never lay hands on someone so," Said the French man, taking one of Seychelles dark ponytails in his hands and twirling it around. "Pure."

"You lying bastard! I watched you back her against a wall with your god forsaken fingers roaming all over her…"

Oh, dear. This was turning into something of a real brawl. I'd bet my brother's life that Francis will be thrown into a wall in about 7.5 seconds. And poor little Seychelles. She looks so flustered, like she doesn't know who to defend right now. We were only halfway done the world meeting, and that pervert couldn't keep his hormones under control until we were done?

6 seconds. Good thing I will never have to deal with that, there is only one man in my life, now, and forever. And one day we will get married, married, married…

5 seconds. My hold tightened around Ivan's arm as I thought about what I would do in her position. Arthur would be the obvious choice. Anyone would be better than Francis, who would molest anything that with a pulse and good looks.

4 seconds. For some reason, though, I feel more like siding with Francis. The way he looks as he flirts with Seychelles, his crystal-clear blue eyes entrapping her own, and the way his lips look slightly smirking, his flowing golden hair falling just the right way in his eyes…

3 seconds. I wonder what I would do if he offered one of those roses to me? Brother would probably scare him off before I could react, bringing out his pipe and glaring the way he usually does.

2 seconds. Would I let brother beat on Francis? Or would I defend him? I wonder… although I highly doubt Francis would ever offer me, Natalia the cold and delusional, a rose such as that.

1 second. It doesn't matter anyway, that molester has nothing to do with me and I don't care about him. Wrapping my arms completely around my chilly and shivering big brother, I closed my eyes from the sight of the poor man being thrown head first across the room into a wall.

I heard a large crash and a small squeal escape Seychelles lips. She didn't go to help him, though. No one did. I suppose the fool deserved it but by now he would usually be right back in Arthurs face, either flirting or antagonizing. No, he was still lying on the floor, eyes closed, grimacing in pain. I watched a trail of blood run down his face before I realised he was actually hurt.

Still, no one bothered to even look at the man. Keeping my eyes on Francis, I released my hold on Ivan to stand up and walk over to him. He didn't realise I was there yet, which I found strange. Shouldn't his "woman sensor" alert him something grope able was nearby? I knelt down next to him, trying to understand exactly what was wrong with him. I couldn't see where the blood was coming from just by looking at him.

"Hey," I nudged him. "Hey, are you okay? You're not dead are you?" He made a small noise, which I took as an "I'm still alive". Suddenly, I felt something on the small of my back, pushing me forward into Francis. Or should I say, pulling me into him. His arm was around my waist as I fell straight into his lap, our bodies pressed together with his face inches from mine. His clear blue eyes looked into mine and I blushed fiercely, afraid to make any sudden movements. He was so close; I could feel his minty breath on my face, his perfect chest beneath me, breathing. I could feel his body heat through his thin, flannel shirt.

"Mm, cher I am fine, d'accord? No one is looking, so we are alone…" He flirted. Oh dear Lord. I should have known this would happen.

"I… uh, I have to go sit with my brother now. He must be missing me by now. P-please let me go." I managed to choke out. My mind kind of melted at the sound of those French words, God, the language of love, I truly understood why it was called that.

"Ah, I suppose if that is what the lady wants, I must oblige." He said, winking at me. I felt the heat rise to my face in a fierce blush. He loosened his hold on my waist and I was just about to get up when a voice sounded above us.

"What's this? Little Natalia has found new playmate? Da, that's good, but I can't see his face under her hair! Who is sestranka tortu- err, I mean playing with now?" Ivan's voice sounded overjoyed. I automatically turned my head to look at his face and explain things, but I only got a glimpse of his childish smile before the hold on me tightened again. I whipped my head back around to glare at the Frenchman beneath me, but the look of fear and desperation on his features made my anger melt away.

"Please," he whispered. "Please don't let him hurt me. Natalia, he'll kill me if he sees my face." I was at a loss for words; I'd never seen Francis look so serious before. And, as much as I would love to give the dirty pervert over to my brothers, capable, murderous hands, I decided I couldn't. So carefully making sure to hide his face, I glanced at my brother.

"It's none of your business, Ivan. Leave us be." I replied, coldly. And with that I turned back to Francis, kissed him on the lips, and took out a knife and threw it at Ivan behind my back. Oh dear Lord. Did I really just throw a knife at my beloved fiancé-to-be? Judging by the sickening sound of metal ripping it way through flesh, I knew I hit him dead on, too.

I waited until the sound of Ivan's heavy boots to fade away before I detached my lips from Francis's own. "Don't think this means anything, you piece of scum. You really deserve to get your ass kicked, and you're damn lucky I saved you. Don't you ever come near me or else I'll kill you. Oh, and, you owe me."

Getting up and trying not to pay attention to the stares I received from the others, I walked out of the room, gracefully, head held high.

I decided to skip out on the second half of the meeting.