I'll Protect You (Original Version)

The Order of the Dragons aren't very orderly at all. Trust me.

Dedicated to dolaon because it's her birthday (: Happy birthday, love!

* * *

"Here's a mocha macchiato with two shots of expresso, very unhealthy, if I may add," Elijah said, settind down my drink.
         "A caramel cappachino, which proves who's the sanest amongst us all," he muttered as he passed a mug of whip cream and caramel syrup to Zen.
          "An iced coffee with half and half, along with hazelnut syrup and four shots of expresso," Elijah concluded, and the look on his face said it all as he slid the second to last mug towards my brother, who was already typing furiously away at his laptop.

"How do we find them?" Zen asked. "I mean, shouldn't you give somone a clue before sending them off on a quest?"

Zen had my mind thought. Words from the phone call were still whirling around in my mind. This wasn't like just another scavenger hunt. This seemed more like hide-and-go-seek. Only this time, it wasn't just a house and all its rooms you could choose to hide in--it was the whole darn world.

I was a hyperactive person, so as Elijah and Zen discussed their thoughts, my feet were tapping impatiently against the floor, my fingernails doing the same on the edge of the white mug of my drink. I couldn't concentrate well as my mind conjured up everything suspicious that had been eating away at my brain--Sophia and her uncomfortable actions around Logan, Alec somehow getting the real information, Six disappearing.

Then my mind somehow wandered back to Alec's words at the very end of the phone call: "Good luck finding the pot of gold at the end of the of the rainbow."
         My mind trailed over to rainbows and leprechauns, and how some myths stated that they either lead you to the pot of gold, or they tricked you and sent you awry. Others say they guarded their treasure in Ireland. I'd love to go to Ireland. I'd been there only once, but I didn't see any leprechauns--

"Ireland!" I blurted out. "They're in Ireland!"

Zen and Elijah gawked at me, as did every other late-night coffee lover in Elijah's coffee shop. "Seriously?" Elijah asked, his voice a great deal softer than mine.

"Seriously," said Archer instead of me. "I can't believe it took you that long to figure it out."
"Oh, shut up," I snapped, punching Archer on the arm. He laughed and messed up my ponytail, causing several strands to shut up. "It wouldn't hurt for you to give up the title of 'Quickest Thinker in the Room' for once, you know," I grumbled.

"Only in your wildest dreams," he grinned. "So I guess our little dark noble and the prodigy have gone on a trip to the land of leprechauns."
"Isn't that where Flynn is right now?" Elijah asked. "We can just call him to intervene with their plans and save Logan."

Before hope could take wing and soar around in my chest, screeching the relief I felt running through my veins at the very moment, Archer shot the hope down. We all stared at him as he shook his head, his eyes wide.

"Do you want Flynn to get killed?" he pointed out. "Sure, he's about as good as I am when it comes down to all of our skills, but he's just one man. I'm betting that they have a plethora of brain-washed little soldiers like on the show Nikita that are just waiting to give up their life for our enemy."

"Then what do we do?" I asked, my voice quiet. "They'll hurt him, Archer. And the longer we take, the more Logan will get hurt. They're torturers as well as idiots. Watch: they'll start sending us photos of the damage they're doing to him every day."

Archer then took my hand; he grasped it in both of his hands and held it tightly with a confident look blazing in his dark eyes. "Park, I promise you we will get him out of there, alright? I cannot afford to have you being scared at this moment. I need you to be strong, so we can do this together."

He was right--I wouldn't be able to help Logan if I was going to sit and brood all day, fretting like I was some useless damsel locked away. I was the princess of Cimeria, younger sister of Archer Sparrow, daughter of William Sparrow. If anyone was going to bust down a door and rescue Logan, it would be me.

"Alright, so where do we begin?" I said, a more tough edge to my voice. Archer grinned proudly before letting go of my hand.
"We have to wait for the rest of the legendary members of the Dragons to arrive," he said. "They're already on their way." A smirk was on his face as he pointed to his laptop. "Is it alright if I say, 'Prepare for battle?'"

* * *

"You said the 'prepare for battle' line three days too early," I complained as I shuffled through a bunch of papers about Irish castles that Archer had given to me. It had been three days, and all I had been doing was reading papers about electricity and power, castles, and hiking trails. Meanwhile, my brother was glued to his laptop, typing faster than when he played piano.

"Try flying in from Russia and Scotland in a matter of a day, then come complain to me," he brushed off. "They're taking the fastest jet here, and they're using agency jets."

"Park, sweetheart, you just need to have a little patience," my father said as he came up behind Archer. "But, Archer, you'd work a lot faster if you accepted the help the agents in town offer to you. Elijah and you can't man this whole operation by yourselves."

"We're not by ourselves," Archer countered. "I've got little Sparrow and Asian-genius-fake-ginger to help."

Archer had resorted to being distrustful of everyone that wasn't on close terms with the family. He refused help, shut down the house, and spoke to barely anyone outside his comfort zone. Archer made us do the same thing, cutting off connections from most of the entire world.
          He hadn't slept either, and the consequences were starting to show through that strong act of his. Archer had gone freakishly pale, and dark bags under his eyes. He drank black coffee hours upon hours, his eyes glued to the screen of his laptop, his hands either typing themselves to death or scribbling-slash-sketching something in his notebook.

My father and I exchanged worrisome looks--this behavior was very much like Archer's, but it was still something to be troubled over.

"Don't overwork yourself," our father warned. "You still need to carry out the plan as well as making one." He strode away, leaving ourselves to the work we had in store. But I didn't resume reading countless papers about the castles in Northern Ireland.

Because, just then, a chirping noise rang from his phone. At the same time, the doorbell sang its chime. Leaving Archer to his text, I got up to go open the door. Standing on the porch was Zen, looking a bit uncomfortable alongside with Sophia, who looked very confused about the situation.