Amelia.

"Amelia, come out of there."

She shook her head violently and shrunk back farther into the crevice behind the sofa. Her long, thin arms were wrapped around her knobby knees, which were tucked tightly under her chin. Tears were streaming down her face, and dripping onto the dark carpet beneath her.

"I promise, he won't hurt you. He's not even nearby." He assured her, and extended his hand out to her, hoping she'd take it and crawl back out from behind the couch, so he could at least attempt to comfort the child and hopefully, make her stop crying.

"I d-didn't mean to m-make him mad.." She whispered, an occasional hiccup interrupting her speech and distorting her words.

"It's not your fault, Lia." He replied, using the nickname he had been using since she was a toddler, "You did nothing wrong."

"He hates me, Charlie." She whispered as she began to gingerly crawl out of her hiding place and into Charlie's arms. She curled up in a ball on his lap, wrapping the fabric of his shirt inside her fists, weaving the material in and out of her fingers.

"No, love. What he feels for you is the farthest possible thing from hate." He mumbled, more thinking aloud to himself than speaking directly to her.

He picked her up and carried her out of the living room and up the long, spiral staircase. Past the second floor, up to the third where Mark's bedroom and office were both placed.With one arm, he pulled open the heavy, wooden doors that served as an entrance to the latter. Mark was sitting at his desk, staring absently into the blue, glowing screen of his laptop computer. One hand was supporting his chin, the other clutching a stack of papers.

"There's an auction tonight, and we're attending. I need to pick up another boy to work outside after last month's incident." He mumbled to Charlie, completely ignoring the fact that he was holding Amelia.

"Are you sure you want to show up? Especially after the Council-"

"I'm not going to let them bully me away from showing my face in public, Charles. If gossip has been spread, then gossip has been spread. It's their fault for being so damn nosy.."

Charlie shrugged before setting Amelia down on a nearby couch. She sank into the black cushions and leaned against the arm of the sofa, using it as a pillow to prop her head before she closed her eyes. Amelia always slept in his office, the gentle hum of the computer soothed her to sleep, and no matter how angry he had been minutes before, it all seemed to vanish once she entered that room. She was completely content with the world, curled up on his black, leather sofas while listening to him tap away at the keys of the computer's keyboard.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me," Charlie hollered as he left the room, not clarifying exactly who he was speaking to.

As he headed back down the stairs, an exasperated sigh escaped his lips. He had known Mark since the two of them were kids, they had been best friends since the day they had met. Even though they had their fights, disagreements and occasionally, the physical brawl; they had always come back to their friendship again. And when Mark began to go down the path to his career, he stuck by him. Although he didn't agree with some of the doctrines behind this particular line of work, Mark had a way with convincing him otherwise. He always had an aptitude for selling a point; no matter how outrageous or controversial.

"Sir? I'm looking for Master, someone is at the door and they wish to speak to him.." A young servant was suddenly standing at the bottom of stairs, her strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun at the top of her head.

He nodded absentmindedly, thinking about all of the possibilities this could mean. The visitor must be someone from the Council, that is the only explanation. They could not have chosen a more inopportune time to pay a visit.

"He is in his study, working.." He rattled off, his mind still focused on the Council and what they could be seeking or expecting now. She began to climb the stairs but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist, not roughly of course. Charlie never hurt anyone, especially Mark's property. "Better yet..I'll get him. You can return to your duties."

She nodded and dashed out of the front hall, probably off to the kitchen or some room that needed dusting or sweeping. Who knew, their work was never finished.

He ran up the stairs, his long legs easily taking two in a stride. He ran off down the hallway and burst back into the office he had left not two minutes ago.

"Fucking hell!" He shouted, spilling his coffee all over his desk. Amelia fell off the sofa and let out a piercing shriek. Drenched in coffee, he glared at him as if to ask, "Why?"

"There's someone at the door." He panted, leaning against the doorframe for support as he attempted to catch his breath.

Mark facepalmed and let out a heavy huff of frustration, "Charles, that's David Cooper. He's here to help me with some financial things. Jesus Christ, you are such a paranoid baby."

"Hey!" He shouted at a servant-boy who was passing by, "Come in here and clean this up. If it's not fixed by the time I return, you're not eating for a week." He growled to the boy as he pushed his way past him and headed back downstairs.

Charles followed Mark out of the room, one could hear the two of them bickering about something as they power-walked down the spiral flights of stairs. Eventually, their voices faded into indistinct echoes that ran together like the water used to rinse paintbrushes after an artist finishes their masterpiece.

Amelia was left alone in the office, still on the floor nearby the sofa where she had collapsed, the servant boy staring down at her with a blank expression, his bright green eyes absent from any emotion other than weariness and exhaustion.

"So, you're the princess."

She said nothing, but then she never said much. Especially to the servants, the only people she ever talked to were Mark and Charlie, not that anybody else actually wanted to talk to her.

"Whatever. Get out of here, okay? I have work to do." He snapped and gestured for her to leave with a wild flick of his hand.

She nodded and quickly scrambled out of the room, nearly tripping over her own two feet as she fought to get away from him as soon as possible. She ended up in Mark's bedroom, hiding under the soft, white blankets; curled up into a ball. Somehow, she always ended back here. No matter what the situation was, this was where she felt safe. Either this bed, or in his arms. Despite how angry he was, he's the only one who could ever make her feel entirely secure.