D.H. A.N.: I'm sorry it's been a while, but I've been really busy. Please bear with me. Here is Chapter Nine: Of Dreams And Dueling. I hope you like it. Please enjoy and leave a review. Please tell me how well I did on the 1st person POV.

Chapter Nine: Of Dreams And Dueling

Mhera's POV: 1st person

I heard his footsteps wane in intensity as they echoed down the hall. I then noticed the cloak that I had pulled around my shoulders only moments before. Or I should say I felt it. It was worn, yet strong enough that I could grasp it without fear of tearing it accidentally. I could not look at it. I knew not what the reaction would be, but I was sure that there would be one. Unlike my father and brother, who both seem to be able to hide their emotions at the little acts of life, I would be lucky to even be able to hide my emotions from a statue. I mentally laughed with a small smile at my odd comparison.

I then absent-mindedly stuck my right hand into my pocket, almost squealing in surprise when I found that it wasn't empty. I had forgotten that, one: I intended to show my father what my pocket concealed the night before, and two: that I forgot to remove it from my pocket before I collapsed on my bed. Perhaps it was that circumstance that gave my dreams direction last night. After I had thought about what element I was personifying, I knew that the idea of an item affecting how one dreams was completely absurd. Items couldn't do that…could they?

I quickly rubbed that thought out of my brain as I ran my hands through my surprisingly unkempt hair. Why I always do that when I am worried about something, I'll never know. I knew not why I was worried at that time. Was it because of the dream? Or was it because my father had challenged me to duel, something he must have known I could only do on a novice level. I sighed, unsure of what I was getting myself into. I saw no point in trying to wriggle loose of fate's snare now.

I really wasn't ready for a duel, the reason for that being lack of sleep. I tried to postpone my inevitable return to the bed from which I had yet to stand up from. I rose from the bed, and began to pace, not only trying to shake the sleep from my limbs, but also to try and focus on the dream a little more; to assure that it was a dream and nothing more. It was of no use. The only thing that I was able to ascertain was that I was tired, and wouldn't be of much use for the next couple of hours. It would put a damper on my father's plans, but when I think about it, it would be more of a problem if I fell asleep during the proposed duel, rather than having my father wait, and me running on a few more hours. I think the duel will go much smoother this way. I would only have, at most, a strict lecture from my father to look forward to when I woke. I put the deck on the desk with the hopes that my dreams wouldn't take the turns they had the night previous. Unfortunately, my dreams would just take even more awkward turns from here.

Marik waited impatiently in the kitchen, for he had expected Mhera to follow him almost immediately, he didn't think it had need to be asked. He removed a tan mug from the cabinet above the sink and filled it with warm coffee. He still hadn't cleaned his desk, because lacking those folders, trying to clean it would be of no use, as those papers would only find their way back onto the desk, and add to his stress level.

Marik took his coffee to the dark-wood table, where the deck with which Mhera would be tested was at the ready. As much as he wanted to push those thoughts he heard the night previous out of his mind, the chance for his daughter's test had finally presented itself. He needed to test her, but he knew the meaning of the portion of the dream he had heard, and as odd as it seemed, he knew that if he were to treat this duel as such a test, then it would only be a matter of time before that dream became a reality. He took a small sip of his coffee, wishing that his thoughts were uniform, not bitter, like the flavor the coffee was throughout, but uniform. His thoughts weren't in the right places. I should be thinking of something else, maybe my strategies, but not this. Much to his dismay, those thoughts were ther only thing on his mind as he drank his coffee.

Twenty minutes passed without any sign of Mhera. Marik was watching that last unreachable drop of coffee sit there in the mug, wondering if it would evaporate before Mhera would come and take his offer, although he hadn't presented it as such. I must clarify on matters such as this in the future. Next time it must be done promptly. With that in mind, he silently strode to Mhera's door.

When Marik put his ear to the door, he only heard the gentle sounds of sleep within. How could I have forgotten so easily that neither of us had much sleep last night? A dream should not take this much toll on her, but I obviously have underestimated the issue. Marik entered the room much in the same manner as he had the night before. Seeing Mhera asleep almost upset him, but it brought a small amount of relief to his agitated mind, as he saw no tremor from her body.

Marik rummaged through one of his daughter's desk drawers, unknowingly missing Keimo's note by centimeters, and found a piece of paper that looked light brown with age. Yet it would not tear as easily as paper of the same age the color portrayed. The page was purposely stained. Being fond of the look it gave the paper that he himself would stain the sheets. He had first done so by accident. He almost burst out laughing at the memory, but stifled it, as he didn't know how deep in sleep Mhera was.

He was writing a letter while drinking his coffee when he spilt what was left of it on the paper. (He had done away with the practice shortly afterwards.) Being as stubborn as he was, as well as half-finished with his letter, he let it dry. He was so very thankful that he didn't have to write that letter again. Marik only had enough courage to write that letter and put his feelings toward its recipient once. Fortunately, the recipient got the message, and nothing had been the same since.

Marik hastily grabbed a pen that was lying on the desk, and penned the following with equal speed:

Mheralo,

I shall be ready when you are. It appears that you have the right idea of sleeping. Just knock on my door when you're ready. If that doesn't work, bang on the door, but not a word. You aren't supposed to be in that hallway, remember.

Marik signed, folded, and slipped the note under Mhera's pillow. But before doing so, he wrote his daughter's full name on the front in his fine, unrushed script. Part of the note was sticking out, and could clearly be seen from where he stood. Something more could be seen, Mhera's face. Her eyes were closed. She held his eyes in more ways than one. Marik then took a gentle hand to Mhera's cheek, stroking it softly and tenderly, unaware that the action was having an affect on his daughter's dreams. He then caressed her cheek once more, then left to follow Mhera's example.

D.H.: I hope you all enjoyed this. It is a pleasure to write this. Next Chapter: Mhera dreams, only they aren't the kind of dreams she expects to have, in facts it's more unexplainable stuff than she can grasp right now, in Chapter Ten: Dreams. Happy holidays. Please review.