Authoress's Note: After a lot of waiting (oh please, please let there be people reading this), this chapter is finally up. I have just finished Part II of this story and will commence writing Part III sometime this week. Part II is about as long as Part I. I have about 23,530 words or so on the story so far, but not very much of it is uploaded. I will try to upload as much as I possibly can as often as possible, but if I can't work on Part III, I won't update because I need to stay ahead of myself. This story will have four sections, each divided into numerous small chapters.

            Okay, I have something else to say. Thank you for the six reviews.

            I have a comment about Part II to make. Part I is designed to be only slightly incoherent, but Part II is where he gets the Eye. We all know he is going to get it, so I don't think it is a big surprise that he gets it in Part II. Thanks to the complexity of the Eye, Part II is EXTREMELY incoherent and makes almost no sense in some parts. Part III will be the same way. Also, I like using a lot of descriptive paragraphs and I absolutely love incomplete sentences. Should I stop rambling here or get to the disclaimer? Oh! Wait! Please review! Thanks!

            Disclaimer: Don't own "Yu-Gi-Oh" or "Behind Blue Eyes." There.

"No one bites back as hard
On their anger;
None of my pain and woe
Can show through."

- the Who

            I had a dream about Cynthia. The dream was so real. She was in the cell, and the sunlight was streaming through the windows. I heard her whisper, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. She was in the clothes she had been buried in.

            "It's all in the past," she told me, "not the present."

            Those words mirrored my own thoughts when I left home.

            Of course I know I must move on from her, but I love her dearly. When she died, I promised I would be a good father to our son. I would love him and care for him.

            She held her hands together and I saw my son. He was in another dungeon, and the strange man with the turban was with him. There was dust and soot on Cerberus's pale face; I could see evidence of tears.

            I am beginning to think the dream wasn't really a dream.

            Perhaps it is time to reveal how I met the love of my life.

            Lightning streaked through the sky and the downpour had soaked me in seconds. I was in a town near British territory; I don't remember the name of that place. My hair was plastered to my head; I had been mistaken for an old beggar more than once, though I was neither old nor a beggar.

            The inn was revealed in another flash of lightning. The premature night of the storm was forcing me to seek people, though I usually slept in trees. I knocked on the door and was greeted by the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen.

            Her hair was in waves and it fell down her back like sunlight with a form. Her eyes reminded me of Urania; they had the same impossible depth to them. She was wearing a blue dress that matched her eyes. There was something kittenish about her.

            I doubted she was much older than me.

            "What do you want? You're not some patriot from South, are you?" I recognized the British accent immediately.

            This is how I picked up the marvelous accent I can't ever seem to get rid of. It must have been punishment. Then again, desperate times call for desperate measures. I needed a place to stay before I caught a cold. I thought for a moment and tried to analyze the accent. I had done it several times before in front of Urania, and she said that my accent was almost perfect.

            Almost.

            "No, I'm not a patriot," I told her in that accent. "I'm looking for a place to stay the night."

            "And a warm meal, by the looks of it!" she said. "You're skin and bones!" I caught an Irish edge to her accent; I decided not to press.

            She brought me inside. "We have a room for you. My name is Cynthia Brown. My father owns this in. If you need anything, just come to me and I'll give it to you. Now, are you going to stand there gaping or are you going to introduce yourself?"

            "My name is Maxamillion Pegasus. You can call me Maxam."

            "Oh, so you're the Pegasus boy. Merchants talk about you; your father is really big down South. What's a little rebel like yourself doing up in these parts?" she asked. Her voice was lowered.

            I looked at her. I had not known anyone knew about my family. "My family and I don't see eye-to-eye. I wasn't wanted there, so I decided to leave them."

            "I see."

            "Tell me, what do the merchants say?"

            "They say you're a rebellious little troublemaker who's quite the lady's man."

            I looked deep into her eyes. "You might say that." My eyes caught and held her for a very long time. Her face went lax and I was wondering if I should kiss her.

            She let out a long laugh then and pecked me on the cheek. "You're a very interesting boy, Maxam!"

            Her wet hair hit me in the face.

            "And you're a very beautiful girl, Cynthia."

            Cynthia stopped mid-stride and turned around. "A lot of men say that to me!"

            "Well, it's true."

            I remember nothing until she unlocked the door to the room I was to stay in. As if she had been indecisive before, she grabbed me by my lace collar and gave me a deep kiss. That was the most surprising event of the evening. Our lips parted and she threw the keys at me.

            "Have a nice stay, Maxam."