Allen paged idly through the old text, frowning slightly. He found that his attention was very much elsewhere--either out the window, admiring the brilliant blue sky, or else on Ayryn. Suddenly she dominated all his thoughts. He wasn't quite sure what it was about her that made him so...anxious. But he found himself walking very quickly to lunch, and very quickly back, the girl in question on his arm. By God, how had he gotten himself into this?

"So - You wanted to see me after lunch. Right?" Ayryn began uncertainly, watching Allen's face and not sure what she was looking for anymore. She couldn't read him like she had been able to before. "Allen?"

"Yes? I mean, yes." He smiled slightly. "I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to chat a bit," he said as they entered the study. He guided her to chair, and took up an adjacent seating.

"Chatting is good." Ayryn assured, or tried to. "It about yesterday, isn't it? Listen, you can forget anything ever happened. I didn't say anything . . ."

"It's all right, really," Allen quickly interrupted. "I didn't mean to embarrass. Actually, I was hoping you could tell me a bit more about your world. There is so little I know of it."

Her mind was suddenly a whirlwind with thoughts, wondering where to start but not wanting to waste the time asking. Slowly, she began to describe the different things they had where she was from; vehicles the moved without horses, television sets, radio, computers. The last was a bit hard to describe to the flabbergasted Gaean but all was relayed with patience. She went into detail about the geography, her own country and the fact she was born foreign to the country she grew up in. An hour went by and she began to grow enthusiastic about all these things, relishing the reaction she got from Allen.

He listened with rapt attention, his eyes wide and boyish as he tried to imagine all the things she was explaining to him. It sounded like such a strange, wonderful place--bustling and lively and restless. He wasn't surprised that both she and Hitomi had come from such a place. At last he laughed out loud, and shook his head. "It sounds amazing. I certainly wish I could see it, once."

"Perhaps you will, someday. If I could travel from there to here, surely you could and I'm a no-body."

"Well, I'm not that much more than a nobody myself," he replied with a smirk. "But I think it would be a wonderful experience."

"So, was there anything else you wished to know?" She asked softly.

"I think you could probably speak volumes more of it all," Allen said, "but I'm well satisfied for now. Unless there was something else you wanted to speak of...?" he prompted, eyebrows raising.

"Yes. I think there's something you should know." She took a breath. "Remember my first day here? I mentioned the duel would have - ended differently?"

Allen's posture straightened immediately, and he watched her, a bit wary. "Yes," he said quietly. "What about it?"

"I never finished my sentence when I was first telling you. You hardly knew me and you would have surely thrown me out." She took a moment to collect her thoughts. "Had you not intervened - and sacrificed your arm - your sister would have been killed."

Allen's breath caught in his throat, and he leaned away from her, stunned. Celena would have...died? The mere thought caused his face to grow pale, and his lips parted without sound. At first he didn't want to believe. But Ayryn's face was sincere--he had no choice, because he trusted her. "What was it?" he asked quietly. "How as I able to change that fate?"

Ayryn was tempted to answer that question truthfully, to tell him that it was a change in the story. But how could he possibly deal with the fact that he's whole life is nothing but fiction. She shrugged, "I honestly don't know. One never knows what they can do for another. Because they love them enough to change fate."

Allen lowered his head. So it had been his choice all along--he had done this, for her. For his sister. He smiled, ruefully. "It was worth it," he whispered, though he suddenly sounded hoarse.

"You don't sound sure." She took his hand, reaching for and determined to hold it. "It was a very big decision. But you didn't know at the time, did you? What will you do? You can't just sit and read books all day. Have you thought about a plan, yet?"

"A plan?" he repeated, confused. "What do you mean?"

"What do you intend to do with your life now? You're not a knight anymore, are you?"

"No, I'm not." Why was she asking? She already knew that well enough. Allen looked away, uncertain. "And I don't know what to do. Everything I've ever held interest in is lost to me now."

"Just because you can't use a sword? I hate to break it to you, but you still can, though you don't want to. Your spirit for it is broken. And it's a shame too."

"Yes, yes it is. But there's nothing I can do about it now." He pursed his lips. "I...don't want to fight like this. I don't want to fool myself into thinking it could be that way. It can't be that way again."

"Like I said, your spirit's broken. But I'll have you know there's a famous legend where I come from. A swordswoman, lacking her right arm and still fights as furiously as ever." Okay, so it was a character in a video game. Like he's going to know. "She didn't give up. Not like you, anyway."

Allen's gaze sharpened on her. "I'm not a legend," he protested, somewhat hurt by her sudden accusation. "I'm only a man, Ayryn, who has lost something that was once sacred to me. I know you're trying to help, and I do appreciate it. But..." He sighed deeply, sadly. "I won't pretend. I won't put myself through that."

"Then there are still plenty of other things you can do. You can be a merchant, or some other type of businessman. Or you can go on being a gentleman of the court. You're family has enough money that you don't need to work."

"I could," he murmured. None of these options were pleasing to him, not after the time they'd spent at the market the day before. He could look forward to many more stares like that in the future, the thought of which made him shudder.

Just the look on his face was too much for her. It was so sad. All Ayryn wanted to do was make him feel better. Maybe make him feel loved and wanted. So without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on his lips.

Allen started, and remained quite still. She had....kissed him? He blinked several times, watching as she pulled back, his stomach twisting. Her lips had been warm and soft...quickly he extinguished those thoughts, and smiled at her. "What was that for?"

"You looked sad," she answered in a soft voice, looking at him through her long black lashes. She moved to kneel in front of him, taking his only hand in both of hers as she gazed up at his bewildered face. "I - wanted to make you feel better." She managed to smile, somewhat nervously as he continued to stare with a dumbfounded expression.

Allen's expression softened. He hadn't expected this--what was he to do now? He hadn't even considered the possibility that she might... "Thank you," he murmured, at a loss for anything more meaningful. "You've been taking care of me since the first day you came."

That's it? she thought. Against her will, her lower lip sort of stuck out in a pout and she squeezed his hand. "I . . ." she hesitated, wanting to say the words but afraid of what he might think. You can't give up on the opportunities when they arise so she finally decided to spout them out. She took in a deep breath, looking deeply into his eyes and touched his face. "I would give up everything - just to touch you, Allen."

Allen's hand was trembling a bit as he took hers, moving it away from his face. It hadn't been the first time someone had sworn as much to him, and somehow it didn't feel right, that she would remind him so much of another woman. "Ayryn," he said quietly. He desperately didn't want to hurt her, but...he wasn't sure yet, whatever he might have felt for her. "Still, we barely know each other. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I couldn't have been more sure of anything else in my life!" She knew there were tears in her voice and she hadn't meant to say such a thing so loudly. It was the fault of her emotions, her frustration in hoping that he would accept her but not able to know how he felt. "I . . . love . . ." She stood quickly and turned away. She couldn't finish that sentence. It wouldn't have been fair to him.

He looked away. He was too distraught and confused--he didn't want her to...to feel that way about him. Because how was he to know that she spoke truth, real truth? Women loved him. It was a mysterious kind of power he held, one that was not always welcomed, and it disturbed him to think that perhaps she was merely infected by infatuation. She was stronger than that, wasn't she? And even if she spoke from sincere affection, why? Why now, when he had nothing to offer her, when he was broken?

It seemed that that very thought occurred to Ayryn just then and she forced herself to turn and face him once more. "You're afraid. Aren't you? That I might not really want you or that you can't be with me because of the way you are. I don't care that your hurt or different. Just - please know that. I care for the person you are. And that person is so beautiful. I wish you saw that in yourself."

"You don't know the person I am," Allen retorted, climbing to his feet. He couldn't let himself believe her, not that easily. "You may know everything about my past, but you learned such things unfairly. How is that real trust?" What a pitiful excuse. Did her declaration frighten him so deeply that he had to resort to these petty accusations?

"Why are you so bitter?" She demanded, raising her voice in frustration. "Don't you want to be accepted? Don't you want anyone to love you again?"

Allen sputtered helplessly on a response. No--he didn't--or did he? He hadn't even considered it, hadn't wanted to...because it seemed so impossible. He didn't want her to know that, even if she'd already spoken as much. "Ayryn, why must you always accuse me like this? I'm trying to learn to live like this. I'm doing all that I can--why won't you let me be?"

"Because I won't let you push someone else away. You already locked yourself up in a nice little sanctuary, away from the cruel world that you know will stare at you, commenting as you pass by and making you cringe every time you hear them or feel their eyes upon you. You won't give yourself a chance because you're afraid! I'm trying to help you not to be afraid anymore!"

Still accusing him. He glared back at her defiantly, as if he could deny the truth in her words that way. "You--what makes you think you can? You have no idea what this is like for me." Somehow, he was able to keep his voice low. "You don't understand any of it. And telling me you love me isn't going to fix anything."

If only she could stop shaking so much. Her confidence was just about spent, her hands growing clammy. Her eyes stung as she tried to force back tears but her voice could not help choking. "I didn't assume it would. I do love you just because I do. That is what drives me to help you."

No, no--it was wrong. Something in this was wrong. How could she be so sure? He had never been so certain. Allen shook his head, unable to accept her words. "Ayryn, you still don't understand. Whatever you think I am, I'm not. Even if I still had my arm, my old life, I wouldn't."

"Then what are you?" She found herself asking automatically, very softly as the tears finally fell. She was so ashamed of herself for crying. Her emotions overwhelmed her and she cursed them. They were the cause for all of this; they caused this whole mess.

"I'm..." Why was that question so hard to answer? Allen raised his chin slightly, pursed his lips. "I'm just a man, Ayryn," he said at last, truthfully. "I worry too much, I make too many mistakes...I care too deeply. And...." He sighed. "And I can't honestly return you affection. I'm sorry, I do appreciate all you've done for me, and I enjoy your company. You are a good friend to me. Do you understand?"

"Why can't you return my affection?" Damn these tears! Maybe she would have sounded more confident, more convincing had they not cursed this attempt to win Allen's heart. There would be no one else if it wasn't him and she was nearly sure of it.

Allen took a deep breath--he hadn't wanted to say these things to her, but there was little choice. She wasn't going to back down. "Because part of me still loves Millerna," he answered truthfully. "I haven't seen her since the accident--I don't expect her to have kept any of her feelings for me, but it would be unfair of me, if I returned your feelings falsely."

"How could you possibly love her when she feels nothing but infatuation for you!?" She reeled. She couldn't believe her own story was being thrown back into her face! The power of the author was growing once more inside of her. "I should have written her to - to run away from this kingdom! Damn me!" She turned, facing away from Allen so that she could properly scold herself. "I had to write her character in the whole thing, didn't I? I could have avoided it but no, I had to write her in! She doesn't even know herself about her love! Damn this story!"

Allen stared at her turned back, his brow furrowing in confusion. Story? What was she talking about? Should have written...? He stepped forward, touching her shoulder. "What are you talking about?" he said sharply. There was a strange apprehension growing in his gut.

She turned abruptly at his touch, her gaze stern and serious. "Your life is all a work of fiction. This particular story was written by yours truly. With the help of a dear friend of mine as well."

"A work...of fiction?" Allen repeated, taking several steps back as if physically assaulted. "Written? What are you talking about? What do you mean, 'this story'?"

What had she just done? Frustration had controlled her to the point of bluntly revealing the truth and she didn't even get to do anything beneficial yet! She'd just ruined everything she had planned because of her impulsiveness. "Allen, wait - let me explain." she said when she saw him taking several steps backwards. "I - I meant . . . this book here that I was looking at on the shelf! I read it before and liked it so much that I wrote a continuation." As if he's going to believe that after you've just spilled the beans.

"That has nothing to do with Millerna and I," Allen retorted, his wide eyes never leaving hers. By God, what was going on? He felt as if his insides were trembling. "What's going on here, Ayryn? How is it that you seem to know everything about us--about me, my family? Explain it to me plainly."

"Your life," she began slowly, "is written. It's a story. A work of fiction written by myself and a friend. Everything that's happened to you, to your sister, everyone you've met, everything you do is a written compilation sitting at home on paper."

"Everything...my life?" He stumbled backwards again, found his chair and sank wearily into it. He was shaking terribly now, torn between confusion, denial, exasperation--he laughed, weakly, and shook his head. "You're...you're lying. That's ridiculous. How can that be true? I'm here...I'm right here, and Celena, and...and you're here." He raised his gaze to her, distraught and pleading. "You're here. How can you be here, if...if we're not...."

"I don't know!" She threw up her arms, exasperated by the very thought. "I don't know how the hell I got here in the first place! At first it was great and I didn't want to leave but now - I still don't want to leave but how can I possibly stay if you know the truth about me."

Allen rubbed his forehead, where a steady ache was beginning to spread. "You...no, it can't be true. You..." His face twisted in an expression of pain as scenes of his life began to flash past, reminding him of all those old agonies. "Our entire life, and everything that happened. You mean--" His eyes thinned as the images surfaced in heart-tearing clarity. "My father, my mother, Celena's disappearance, Marlene's death...even Fanelia, Fried, the entire Gaean war...." His eyes wandered unwillingly to the length of fabric that swayed faintly at his right side. "....even...even this...."

"Everything." She said finally, hating to see such an expression of pain on his face. "But I can bring them all back if you want. Everything. Anything you want." she offered. "Give me a piece of paper and I'll write it all back to you."

Allen continued to stare at her, as if having not heard. "Everything," he repeated, his hand curling to a fist. And suddenly he was on his feet again, towering over her. "Why?" he demanded, his anger raw and biting. "Was it amusing to you--you and your, your friend? To give me happiness after so much suffering, only to damn me? Take your paper--damn your papers! How can you accuse me of cowardice and bitterness, when it was you that stole all I love?"

She couldn't hide the fact that his very real presence and height over her feared her and made her tremble all over again. Her eyes wide as they stared in cowardice at his taller form, she took a step back but found that the bookshelves were in her way. She pressed herself against it, wishing for a way out and knowing there was none. After all, isn't this what she wanted? "I - I didn't do it to hurt you. It was just a story! At least until now!"

"Just a story. Just a story? Well, I hope you've enjoyed it, then," he spat. "You have hurt me." He turned away abruptly, too overcome with emotion to face her anymore. "Get out. Leave me be."

"Are you - Are you going to throw me out?" she whispered, turning her head away. She didn't mean for this to happen. She only wanted to help.

Allen resisted the temptation to send her out, to throw her into the streets himself. The tremor in her voice held him back. "I...no. No, you've nowhere else to go," he murmured distantly. "Just...just go back to your room. And not a word of any of this to Celena. I don't think she would extend my same mercy."

She quickly left the room, without a word and trying to calm her whirling mind. He would never look at her the same way again and she didn't think there would be anyone else that would interest her. Not in this world. She wanted to stay for sure but she didn't want to be unwanted by the only fictional character she's ever had feelings for.

The day wore on and Ayryn continued with her work as if nothing had happened. The fabric they had ordered from the dress-makers was delivered that afternoon and had been placed in Ayryn's room along with all the notions she would need. She dove herself in work, sewing and cutting fabric deep into the night. Anything to get her mind off of what happened.

The sun rose and she worked on. It wasn't before long that the same sun seemed to set before she even noticed it was daytime. Again, the night came and she had finished both projects the had promised the Schezars. A silver and royal blue gown lay strewn about on the bed. In her hands, she held the embroidered long coat made of black material. It had a high collar embroidered with subtle gold leaves and ivy. The same on both cuffs. The gown was satin with shimmering silver trim and a sheer, chiffon shawl sewn at the shoulders.

Her hands shook as she gather the garments as she had not had anything to eat for near two days. Slowly, she stood and made her way to Celena's room first, knocking softly.

"Come in!" Celena called. She had been going over some of her studies from the past few days, as she'd been shirking since Ayryn's arrival. Gaean history...bah. She didn't care what the pompous fools in Cesario had been doing fifty years ago. She closed the book and set it aside to receive her visitor, grateful for the interruption.

"I've - I've come to deliver your dress, my lady." She managed a brief, very weak curtsey and held the gown out to her.

Celena smiled, sweeping the gown out of Ayryn's outstretched arms. "Oh, it's lovely! You've done a wonderful job." Celena held it up to her, turned to the mirror. "Thank you, Ayryn. Perhaps I'll wear it at dinner tomorrow." She glanced back over her shoulder. "Are all right, Ayryn? I didn't see you at any of the meals today. I hope you weren't overworking yourself--this dress wasn't so important that I needed it right away."

"I'm fine, my lady." She sighed, turning to leave after a quick curtsey. She closed the door behind her and went to Allen's chamber door, knocking hesitantly and casting her gaze to the ground as she waited for response.

Allen answered the door himself. He wasn't sure who he was expecting, but when he saw Ayryn, his eyes widened a bit. Obviously he knew she hadn't eaten that day--not that he was much surprised by her avoiding him. "Yes?"

Her arms shook as she held out the extravagant suit to him, still averting her gaze and feeling ever-so faint. Just take it, she pleaded. "Your suit, master Allen." she whispered, not even noticing as she let herself call him such a reverent title.

He sighed quietly. "You know that's not necessary," he murmured, accepting the garment. She had spent quite some time in it, he observed, noting the ornate designs in the cuffs and collar. "It looks wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome..." she tried to curtsey but only ended up falling weakly to her knees, holding her head in her dizziness. Don't faint, she said to herself, not here and not now. Quickly, she struggled to stand again, holding onto the doorjamb and pulling herself up. "Forgive me...I - haven't been myself lately..."

Allen frowned at her sudden illness, his first instinct being to support her in some way. He placed his new coat aside and placed his hand on her arm to steady her. "You haven't eaten all day. Why don't you ask Mallie to fix something for you? I'm sure she wouldn't mind, as you've been working all day."

Ayryn shook her head, suddenly realizing that was a bad idea as it made her head worse. "I'm not hungry." she insisted and pulled away from him quickly, starting back down the hall to her room. She didn't get very far before promptly collapsing onto the hard wood floor.

Allen was at her side before he realized he'd moved, helping her to her feet once more. He...he hadn't forgiven her. It was just his nature, he reasoned. He was just helping her out. "Are you all right? I told you, you need to eat something and rest." He leaned her against the wall a moment as she collected her wits.

"I don't need to eat!" She said stubbornly, pushing him away. "I just - want to go to my room and stay there . . . sewing until I rot." She almost sounded drunk as she spoke, sinking to the floor as she leaned against the sturdy wall.

He stared down at her, feeling a pang of....guilt? How could he, after all she had caused him... He shook his head and crouched down at her level. "Ayryn," he told her softly, but firmly. "Don't be ridiculous. You need to eat."

"I will be ridiculous if I want to be." Did that make sense, she suddenly asked herself. "I don't expect anything from you, just like you don't expect anything from me. I just want to live out the rest of my life as it is. Even if I die of starvation."

"There are so many things I could say to you right now," Allen murmured, watching her with an odd sense of sympathy. "Most of which you've been saying to me all along."

"Just leave me alone." She wanted to stand but found the room spinning about her. She had to shut her eyes to keep from getting a headache. She didn't even notice herself gripping the sleeve on Allen's blue coat. She attempted to stand, to get away from him and more unwanted confrontation.

"That's not fair," Allen observed, keeping his hand on her shoulder to hold her steady. "You have no right to be upset with me, Ayryn. Now come on--I'll get you something to eat." He tugged her gently, urging her to make the effort to stand.

She didn't try to pull away this time, whether she gave up or was just too weak to fight, she couldn't really say. Stumbling alongside the tall man, she kept blinking slowly and felt as if she would fall asleep any minute. Somehow, she ended up in the dining room and sitting at the table there. She couldn't even remember when they had gotten there. "I'm not hungry." she protested weakly.

"Yes, you are," Allen retorted. He found Mallie in the kitchen, thankfully, cleaning up a bit, and asked that she might prepare something simple. That accomplished, he returned to Ayryn and took a seat beside her. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, of course I am. Besides an irreparable broken heart and an incredibly guilty conscious, I'm peachy!" She lay her head down on the table as a sudden dizzy spell overcame her.

He couldn't help but smirk a bit at that. "Irreparable broken heart indeed," he murmured, leaning back in his chair. "Hearts mend, Ayryn. You should know that--you...created me that way. Did you not?"

"Honestly - I didn't create you at all." She admitted softly.

"Well, you must have had some faith in me." Allen frowned only slightly, and gestured to his stump of an arm. "You didn't do this to break me, did you? I'm still here."

"That - is the only thing I'm responsible for. This world and everyone in it is someone else's creation made into a series of fiction that I grew interest in. So much that I wrote my own variation - a continuation from where the series ends."

Allen's frown deepened, trying to sort out and make sense of her words. Someone had created him....she had continued to create him. He wondered, then, exactly how much he could attribute to this mysterious woman. "In any case, do you not think you speak a bit prematurely?"

"Prematurely? Explain that." She narrowed her eyes at him in contemplation.

"You are a young woman," Allen complied, his tone even and compassionate. "I understand your wanting to stay here, but is your home so terrible? Do you not think it folly to...to love a man created on a whim?"

"No." She answered without emotion. She sighed, looking at him seriously, "If I'm stuck here, why waste my time worrying when I could be enjoying - the fruits of my labor so to speak. Or, someone else's in this case. The point is I've always liked you. And I always thought of you as daring and incredibly handsome and - all in all, an ideal that I could never even consider having. Until now, at least. Or - at least until I ruined everything and told you the truth about your life. Now you'll never like me. Not like that."

"Ayryn, you don't want me," he said firmly. "It's not right to love a fantasy. It's...painful." He pursed his lips and glanced away briefly, but quickly returned his full attention to her. "And if you recall," he added gently, "I turned you down before you mentioned my origins."

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth, though she tried to hide her tone, "I remember." How about sex? Just for kicks...she turned her head away. "What am I going to do now? There's nothing left for me. I can't even get the main character to fall in love with me! How pathetic is that!?"

Allen smiled. "Perhaps it means you are a better writer than you thought," he said pointedly, "that the characters are taking on lives of their own."

"Great...lives of their own. While it's a good thing for the characters, it sucks for me right now." She looked at him, almost in desperation, "Come on. Tell me that I'm at least - I don't know, pretty or something. Do you think I'm pretty?" She bat her eyes in an almost comical fashion.

Allen's smile widened. "Yes, I do. I always thought you were lovely," he said truthfully. "But I think you are a bit too strong for me, Ayryn. You know me too well."

"I'll pretend I'm ignorant about everything about you."

"I don't think that will work." He glanced up just as Mallie entered with a bowl of soup, some tea, and a bit of fruit. He thanked her and waited until she'd left before returning to their conversation. "Can you not accept my friendship?"

"Yes." She nodded, looking at the meal and picking at a piece of fruit. "But - could I ask for a favor?"

"You can ask," he replied smartly.

She noticed the bowl of fruit contained engleberries - or raspberries from her world and she smiled. "Do you think - well, would it be alright if . . . you held me? Just once, so that I would know how it felt like to be held by you?"

Allen nodded slowly--he'd anticipated something of the sort, and was glad in that she was not asking for more. "If I do, will you eat?" he asked pleasantly.

"Could you do it after I eat?" Dessert, she thought.

"As long as that food disappears, that's fine with me."

"Well, here. You can help." She offered him a raspberry with a wide smile, knowing he wouldn't take it. She was also not as ruthless as she had written Celena to be, making him eat a handful of them on a picnic day.

"No thank you," Allen carefully declined, watching her suspiciously. "I'm sure you knew by now that I detest such things."

"I wrote that quark about you. Originally, no one really focused a your character's simple likes or dislikes." She ate the berry and started on several more, speaking around them, "So I thought it'd be funny if you hated engleberries. Or raspberries where I come from. And even more hilarious when Celena forced a handful of them down your throat." She smiled but desperately tried to hide it.

Allen scoffed. "So that was your doing? I suppose you find my discomfort amusing." He stole a piece of melon from her plate, popped it into his mouth.

"Not - really. I didn't. . ." she sighed and began on her soup before continuing. "Are you referring to your arm? Or lack thereof?"

"Are there more things I should know about?" he asked, only partly joking.

"No, nothing entirely important. At first I was completely against the idea actually. After all, I - didn't want to hurt my favorite character." She flashed a smile at him.

"And?" he prompted, stealing another piece to at least uphold the image of being casual. "What changed your mind?"

"It - seemed a great challenge for me to write. And, just like the next person, I love a good challenge. So . . . I began writing, with that friend I told you about. Honestly, I couldn't have gotten anything done without her." She smiled fondly at the memory. "But when I first saw you with my own eyes - I don't know, I almost fell apart with guilt. You said so yourself that since I got here, I have done nothing but help you. Guilt can do a lot to change a person."

"Perhaps it is a lesson well learned, then," Allen murmured. "But...you didn't know, when you wrote it, that...that it would become more than what it was. Did you?" He watched her carefully, wondering at his own motivation in asking.

"You're right. I didn't know. But then again - it's what made the story. I never meant to hurt you intentionally because I didn't like you. I didn't even know you could really exist and I could really do the things - rather, do what I have done - that I wrote. Honestly, Allen - right now it's what makes you who you are. It's something that won't break you and that's what makes the story interesting. Though, I'm still sorry. I can't change it now."

Allen sighed quietly. There was no way to change it now...perhaps that had been his intention in asking all along. He glanced away. "It's...well, I can't very well condemn you for something you didn't mean to happen," he murmured. "After all, many of the very books I've been entertaining myself with of late have been somewhat tragic. But it still hurts." His lips twisted in a grim smile. "If not for me, then the countless others. But no, I cannot blame you."

"Thank you." She whispered sincerely. "I'm sorry about the pain - when it happened. I could have a least made it so . . . so it didn't hurt."

"There's no use worrying of such things now." He faced her, his smile growing in warmth. "I suppose...I just have to learn to live this way. It's no different than fate, is it? I'm yet alive. I...have that to be thankful for." He paused, remembering something she'd said before. "At least, you chose this, rather than Celena...."

"Oh, yeah . . . about that...." She bit her lip. It would be wrong of her to tell a lie, wouldn't it. She braced herself for the rebuke, waiting to be thrown out for good when she let it out, "She would have died - but I didn't tell you the end of the story..."

Allen held up his hand. "I don't want to hear it," he told her firmly. "I am not yet so comfortable with the idea as to hear all your intentions. Let us just leave it at that."

She nodded, pushing away the empty bowls and tea cup. "I'm finished eating." She stated.

"All right then." Allen pushed back from his chair and stood, offering his hand. "Then, as promised..."

"Not - in the kitchen, are we?" She looked up at him, taking his hand and squeezing gently.

He smiled. "No, of course not. I'll take you back to your room." He helped her to her feet, and folded her arm under his. He began to lead them out of the dining room.

"My room's a mess..." she complained though not without reason. "Fabric and lace everywhere, needles and thread strewn about..."

"Well then, what would you prefer?" he asked lightly.

"Your room?" She suggested with shrug.

Allen nodded vaguely. "Very well, then." He took them down the appropriate corridor. Perhaps this was some act of seduction, he thought with a bit of a smirk. Every once and a while, he lost himself when with this girl. Strange, that.

Ayryn opened the door to his room when they got there, since Allen's arm was taken otherwise he would have done it himself. She went inside while he went to light a candle. She looked around for a place to sit and the only place large enough for two people was - the bed. I hope he doesn't think I'm trying something funny, she thought worriedly as she took a seat on the soft feather downed mattress. "It's dark..."

Allen returned from the lantern to sit at her side. "There's not much to be done about it," he said with a bit of a shrug. He watched her intently, waiting for some indication. She too had been waiting patiently before she figured she was to make the move. So, gently, she scooted up close to him and hoped he would follow with the rest.

Allen smiled faintly as he wrapped his arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. He had expected to feel somewhat awkward, and yet felt nothing of the sort. She was simply warm and delicate.

She breathed the scent of him and nuzzled into him fondly. "Rosewater." She commented softly.

Allen frowned against her hair. "Rosewater?" he repeated curiously.

"You smell like rosewater." she reiterated. "It's beautiful. My favorite scent. I love roses. Pink ones." She sank lazily against him, determined to enjoy this moment for all it's worth.

He wondered briefly if she had been the one to grant him such a cologne as his favorite, and sighed quietly, forcing such thoughts aside. It didn't matter, he told himself, gently messaging her shoulder. Just hold her a while,. Just have peace, for a while.

"You're so warm...It's been so long since I've felt another warm body next to mine. And at least you're nice to look at." She played with his cravat gently.

Allen chuckled faintly. "If you say so," he murmured.

She sighed sadly. He didn't really care. He's doing this as a favor, remember. She pushed him away gingerly. "I think we should stop..." she said reluctantly, and was already beginning to regret it.

Allen unwound from her slowly. He admitted quietly that it had, indeed, been sometime since he too had enjoyed the simple warmth of another human body beside his. But he couldn't be cruel to her. "Are you all right?" he asked gingerly.

"No." She answered honestly. "I'm very stupid, actually. I'm putting myself in a situation that will do neither me nor you any good. All this is going to do is toy with my feelings apart from making you uncomfortable. So perhaps it is best that I bid you a - goodnight." She lowered her gaze and was ready to leave but - not yet. She just couldn't leave yet.

He nodded slightly. He was too confused at the moment to offer any thoughtful response. "Yes. Good night, Ayryn. And thank you, for telling me the truth."

"Right. The truth." Still, she didn't move from her spot on his bed. She hoped, being very naive, that he would stop her or comfort her or admit that he too had not had the same feeling in a long time. She still hoped it would come and when it didn't, she waited still.

Allen waited a moment longer, watching her expectantly. He so hated this part... "Good night, then," he prodded gently. It wasn't especially that he even wanted her to love--only that she had to, for both of them.

She shook her head and laughed without humor. "I don't want to go."

"I know. But it's late." He smiled against the dark, hoping to keep their parting light. "And you could use the rest."

Will I truly be alone for the rest of my life? She asked herself, closing her eyes against more tears that threatened to spill, and stood onto her feet. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course." Allen tried not to notice, convinced himself that he didn't notice. He did not stand, only watched her. She had to be the one to walk away.

"You can be really insensitive sometimes." She huffed bitterly, not caring about her tears anymore.

Allen sighed. He should have known it wouldn't be this easy. "Ayryn. Please, just go to sleep," he said gently. "You're tired."

She wiped away her vain tears and nodded in a agreement. "I know I'm tired. Goodnight, Allen." Sadly, she turned and left his room.