Amelia.

The typical Sunday morning in the Raumone household was lively; aromas of fried eggs and crispy bacon wafted through the spacious house, filling every corner and room. Servants bustled about, running in and out through the kitchen and dining room, carrying steaming trays of food and high pitchers of juice and coffee. The clatter of dishes and silverware as they were set out on a long, oaken table, filled the air.

Meanwhile, upstairs behind the large, closed doors that gave entrance to Mark's bedroom, a scene entirely opposite was taking place. While the downstairs of the Raumone mansion was filled with servants bustling about and workers trying to have absolutely every detail of that meal in perfect order, the bedroom was completely quiet. The hands of the tall, grandfather clock that stood in one corner pointed out that it was already 7:15, yet the lights were still off and the curtains had remained drawn. Other than the steady ticking of the pendelum as it swung back and forth in a never-ending rhythm , the room was completely silent. Mark was sitting at the edge of the bed, slumped over with his head in his hands. One wouldn't have to be a genius to understand that he was clearly upset.

Mark was one who usually thrived on punctuality. He detested those who were late to events and previous engagements. However, today he was doing the exact thing that he detested. Only 15 minutes until the scheduled time for breakfast, yet he wasn't even dressed yet. He had been sitting in this same position for nearly thirty minutes, not saying a word or moving a muscle.

Despite what had happened yesterday at the meeting with the Council, his mind wasn't set free from the worries that had bombarded his thoughts ever since the day the meeting was set. Even though it was practically over now, he couldn't help but worry about losing Amelia. He was committed to doing whatever he had to do to keep her with him, no matter how far he had to go. There was no way Mark was about to let some greedy bureaucrat in a suit take away the very person he held most dear.

Slowly raising his head, he glanced over at the child who was still sleeping peacefully, absently gazing down at her. He carefully brushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face and tucking them behind her ear.

"Sir..? Breakfast is ready.." A quiet, timid voice sounded from behind the large, oaken door, followed by a slight, almost inaudible knock.

Muscles rippling and eyes flashing as he rose and quickly strode towards the door, he jerked the door open and came face to face with the servant girl whose hand was still poised in mid knock. Upon seeing him, she immediately began to slightly quiver and took a few frightened steps backwards.

"It's my house, I will be there when I am damn well suited to. Now leave!"

He slammed the door, causing the doorjamb to shake as if there was a violent earthquake shaking the house.

"Mark...?"

"Fuck." He hit his fist against the door, setting four dents into the door from where his knuckles impacted with the wooden surface. Her crystal clear blue eyes widened and she cringed upon the sound of the wood cracking beneath the force of his blow.

She was used to seeing him like this and the sight of Mark being angry with a servant was nothing new. However, despite how many times she had seen this, it never ceased to put her on edge or make her at least, a little bit nervous.

"Come on..we have to get dressed. Breakfast is ready.."

She nodded slowly, rubbing at one eye with a small, balled-up fist as she swung her legs out from the thick, white coverlet and dropped her bare feet to the cold, hardwood floor. Stretching her thin arms above her head, she glanced over in Mark's direction, whose fist was still resting on the door, his forehead leaning against the wooden surface as well. She knew better than to approach him when he was like this, it would only result in something bad.

"Get dressed!" He snapped at her angrily when he noticed she was standing idly next to the bed, merely staring back at him. His eyes flashed again, a hot, angry fire taking over them and transforming his entire facial expression into one of rage and frustration. He stalked towards her, grabbed her wrist in his hand and dragged her towards a door at the back of the room.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mea-"

"Shut up. If you don't want to obey then you can just forget about eating today." He shot back.

He opened the door, threw her inside and locked it behind her.

"Fucking hell..."

"Mark.."

"SHUT UP!"

Reaching into a drawer and grabbing a random t-shirt, he left the room as he pulled it on over his thin, white wife-beater and stomped out of the room, leaving the child locked in a linen closet, alone.