A/N: "T" here. Well, here's that side story I promised. However, this takes place somewhere around chapter 15, so this is kind of like a spoiler. My reason to add Arthur's point of view here is because he barely shows up next chapter, so this is to compensate his absence. "J" would also like to add that she enjoyed editing this. It's funny how I hate Arthur, but she totally loves writing him to the bone. I hope you'll enjoy this...

We would also like to thank The UK's Only, Angel the Neko, JoyOfSoul, futurepsychoperson, RasalynnLynx, and FallingStar17. We appreciate your reviews and we appreciate all of those readers out there who are reading our fanfiction. You guys know who you are. :)

Side story: A Frank Confession

If you ask me why I'm so haughty and insufferable, then you have practically given me the permission to return you a snide remark, plus a well deserved spit in your general direction at the ground, depending on who you are. If you rudely comment on my eyebrows, then you are typically begging me to bring about your doom, which I am inclined to use a voice synthesizer and give Francis a sex call to visit your house the next day. Call me evil; I do not care. You may insert my conniving laugh here. Even though I am aware of these bad qualities of mine, at the same time I am a humble gentleman on the outside, so they balance each other out. Recently I have been reflecting upon myself, particularly on my relationship with my new wife- Marie Everdeen Bonnefoy. I can vividly remember that day; when two years ago I proposed the idea to Francis to take Marie's hand in marriage, even though it was just based on a fluke.

Francis and I are like cats and dogs, fire and ice, his food and my (delicious and better tasting) food. Even though we hate each other's guts and bicker for the sake of bickering, we eventually had to come to a compromise. I was disgusted by the endless amounts of corpses and graveyards that I visited in the past; and each blonde-haired young man who lay lifeless on the ground with his eyes closed, reminded me of that boy when I was twelve. When we reached a stalemate, I had no other choice. I hooked up my phone and gave Francis a phone call. Sure, I did tweak a bit and prank called him a couple of times before I could actually have a conversation with the man, but that's not the point now. Kiku, who was alongside me the whole time, rearranged my schedule and escorted me to the Lapiz Kingdom for a meeting between Francis and I. The bearded man glanced warily at me as I entered his court and seated myself at the far side of the table; he seemed nervous, even though I am younger than him.

The table wasn't too long, unfortunately, so I was close enough to see every detail of his despicable face. We went through the procedures like any civilized king, until he raised a flag complaining about the complications about the border and the insurgents plaguing our kingdom's armistice.

"Why not let me marry Marie then?" I insinuated. His wine glass crashed into the floor, sending thousands of shards sliding across the floor.

If I had not been trying to avoid getting my jaw bumped by the table that Francis had flipped over, then I would have been clutching my stomach, guffawing and pointing at his ridiculous frog face. His expression was hysterical; it was a perfect mix between him getting kicked in the crotch by a horse and figuring out that his lover was a transvestite. His face really was priceless. It was just a fluke. There was no intention behind the joke. But apparently it had struck a sensitive note within him. He fell to the ground on his knees, which was still covered with glass and running wine, and slammed his fist onto the glass encrusted floor. This was so unlike Francis, never have I've seen him act this way before.

"Non, Non, Non, Non, NON!" He continued to bang his bleeding fist onto the floor. What first came to mind was that: Wow, this man is a doting brother who suspiciously refuses to hand his dear, little sister. I know she was dear to him; but then another thought entered my head: What if I were to kill his beloved sister before our treaty, then he would've been crushed and desolate. I would win! But, insolently, that's not what came to pass.

After we saved our wedding, after we experienced her first ball, after we celebrated her 17th birthday, and after we survived the Jade Palace, I slowly began to comprehend why the girl was so precious to her brother. She is a headstrong girl with the basic morals and the fundamental decorum each woman needs; but overall, she was undoubtedly meant to be a knight or some other occupation of the kind, because the role of a princess is certainly too mild for her taste.

Sadly, I cannot love a woman like her. My heart is devoid of love and compassion; I can only be a humble man in rare moments. However, she is a likeable companion for me; and although I may never get to see the day when I say these words out loud, she might be the best thing in my life.

I walk over to the same room where I had discussed our engagement with Francis a couple of years ago, with a scorching handprint on my left cheek since I groped her butt earlier. I don't see what's wrong-the action is similar to giving a massage, except it's in the lower regions…

Lately, I have been feeling a bit like a stalker because every single window that I've looked out of, I can see her below me either dancing in the rain or hopping from place to place. I smiled. If Ivan wishes to fight me for her, then he has another thing coming because I will not give her up.

Therefore, if you ask me what I think about my marriage, I am disposed to turn my head around and give you a smirk because we both know that neither of us understands the answer. Yet, whenever she's here beside me, I discreetly whisper to myself, "I regret nothing."

And, I truly don't.