It's funny how things just seem to fly past you when you see something strange.

That's exactly what happened when I dashed into the house, my face so eager it would've brightened the whole room. Then I saw her.

The same woman that had left earlier this morning.

She's here. AGAIN. Crucial thing about the "again". Father never invites the same girl out on a date twice, and here she is. The two were engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. Quietly, I shut the door and casually made my way to the kitchen, my eyes watching the woman carefully. She was much younger than my father, at most twenty-five. And she was undoubtedly beautiful. Her thick blond hair glowed golden in the dim light and cascaded down to her waist elegantly. Her eyes were a strange violet and her lips a perfect rose color. I recognized the perfect application of makeup over her face. Normally, I would laugh at women for appearing like such clowns. However, there was a way she applied them that made the makeup fit.

She sat gracefully, her back straight and her arms folded in her lap. Her hands were perfect size, slender and small with long piano like fingers. Her legs, skinny and flawless, crossed each other confidently. "It seems like it's getting late," she smiled, throwing a glance at me. Her voice was thin and musical, a soft piano that pressed its notes timidly yet eloquently at the same time.

Father nodded and took her hand, leading her to the door. They laughed over something trivial. I watched him bow and kiss her hand before bidding her good night, asking the guards to escort the young lady home. He closed the door.

"Who is she?"

He turned, his face telling me he expected the question. "Her name is Desiree Martin," he replied, slowly making his way over to me, his steps even and calculated. "How is the General? What weapons did she give you to try out this time?"

"No offense, Father, but isn't she a little too young for you?" I continued, "And the fact that she's shown up TWICE now."

"She's someone extremely important," Father sat down, slipping his gloves off, "Actually, someone that'll probably be showing up quite a bit now. She's the princess of Drachma."

I spat the milk out. "DRACHMA!? That Northern country that we supposedly had a peace treaty with and was almost on the brink of war all over again and now we're just this shaky we-hate-you-but-we-won't-do-anything-to-you country?"

"That's an interesting way to describe it..."

"The PRINCESS eh? How in the world did you land her?"

Father grinned, a confident smirk spreading onto his face triumphantly. Uh oh... "Well, funny you should ask. You see it was a perfectly sunny day. The sky was blue, the breezes were in our favor, and the air perfumed of the sweet romance of the day to c-"

"You know what, never mind. I don't want the details." That was a close one. Father could go on for hours and hours about the way he snagged women right off the street, having them fall heads over heels for him. I ignored his annoyed look and quickly cleaned up the milk I had spit out. "So she's just here as a tool for a peace treaty."

Father nodded, serious once again. "So I want you to treat her with the utmost respect, Elsa."

"I got it." I sighed, just wondering if I could possibly get used to the fact of another repeated woman presence that didn't belong to Mom. My eyes passed Father's special gloves left on the counter. Oh! How could I have forgotten!? Fury pressing through me all over again, I found where my Father was walking off towards and zoomed in front of him. "FATHER!" I screeched, surprising myself by the ferocity of my voice.

He stared, blinking. "What is it...?"

"THERE WAS A MAN! A COCKY POMPOUS MAN WHO WAS FOLLOWING ME BACK TONIGHT! HE EVEN SAID THAT HE WANTED POSSESSION OF ME!"

Deathly silence. Father heavily turned towards the kitchen and began marching straight for his gloves, slipping one on. He turned ominously. I grinned, taking in the thrill of his waves of destruction emitting from him. His eyes glaring dangerously, he pulled his glove over tighter. "Where is the punk that dares to do something as to follow my daughter home?" he growled.

Then I realized right there how stupid I had been. "I kinda...left him groaning on the ground."

"WHAT!? YOU SUBDUED HIM AND NEVER THOUGHT TO TIE HIM UP SO HE CAN CONTINUE HIS DESERVED PUNISHMENT!?"

"IT WAS THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT, OK!? I'M SURE HE'LL COME BACK STALKING ME LATER!"

"WHY DO I HAVE SUCH A STUPID DAUGHTER!?"

"IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'RE ANY BETTER, FATHER!"

Lesson for you all: Do not put two fiery tempered people together. Our energy tended to combine and power each other continuously for several hours before we finally ran out of steam yelling at each other and being angry. It's usually somewhere in the middle of our heated arguments that Mom would interrupt. But this time, Mom was nowhere near. After three hours of just playing the blame game, we both gave up and collapsed on the couch. "I have work to do," Father grumbled, "Just be more careful and make sure to TAKE HIM TO ME if he has the nerve to show up again."

I nodded, deprived of energy. I watched Father go into his study room and shut the door. Well, that would be the last of him I'll see for tonight.

My eyes wandered around, bored, before I finally noticed the thing that remained out of place. Father's journal right on the coffee table. The small handbook that he kept everything in. Including his flame alchemy.

Eyes widening, I grasped the small book like it was a philosopher stone. He wouldn't notice the book missing. Not tonight. I just have to put it back where it was by the next morning. Hands shaking from the anticipation, I flipped through the pages stopping at the page where he had drawn his flame alchemy transmutation circle. "I got it," I whispered. Inspecting my surroundings one more time, I crept upstairs towards my room with the book.

If Father wasn't going to teach me his alchemy, I'll just learn it myself.