Him.

Chapter XIV

"Is she alright?" One of the men asked, her sudden fall warranting the other to grasp her quickly and place her in a chair.

"Well, it's your fault! What do you care?" He yelled vehemently, rushing the officer away from Haya's fainted body. Erik tried his hardest to make sure she was alright, but they made their way over as well.

"We care," the other officer said in his accent, asserting his tone above Erik's even despite the fact the masked-man was much taller than they both were, "Because she is our queen."

Erik's eyes widened.

"You wanted to kill her mere years ago, what changed?" He hissed.

The man laughed at him, but his audacity was cut short when Erik approached him intimidatingly. Erik was not short of any intimidating factor, it just seemed that these men easily forgot that small detail.

"Our king is dead, and she is the only one who can take the throne by heredity. We do not wish to elect, the family is generations in, so it would be a shame to remove them now."

Erik was dumbfounded to say the very least, and he had hardly ever been in that state. Then again, when one learns that the woman one once loved is the queen of a country, one tends to be a little speechless.

"She is the queen?"

The men nodded simultaneously.

"Why address her as Mademoiselle Beauregard then?" Erik asked suspiciously, his mind creating actual solutions to this unreal situation.

"Respect in your country. We are little enough liked as it is."

Erik pursed his lips, wishing that it hadn't to be that way... wishing that his country were more accepting than it was. But sadly, there was no say in it for him. Since he had been a victim of the discriminatory behavior himself, he could only sympathize with the men... as much as he didn't even wish to.

"There is nothing I can say to sway you to leave, is there?"

The men shook their heads.

"E-Erik," a scratchy voice hummed, and as a drowsy Haya opened her eyes, Erik was right in front of her with his hand in hers, threading their fingers together.

"It's okay," he said quickly, "They are not here to hurt you, Haya."

She looked over at the men who bowed in respect, but the only thing her beautiful eyes did were furrow the eyebrows above them.

"Why are they here?" Haya directly addressed Erik, refusing to acknowledge the officers.

"To tell you something very important."

Erik gestured to the men, but he still held Haya's hand, her warm skin and soft fingers interlaced with his making him rather content. The feeling was purely joyous, and yet his mind whipped him for such a thought. A thought that slowly became evanescent.

"Your grandfather has passed on, and the only heir to the throne, your majesty, is you."

Haya's eyes widened, and she couldn't believe what they'd told her. Erik only knew because her hand squeezed his tightly enough to cut circulation off. Not that there was any pain, he'd been numb of that for a while now.

"Me?"

"Haya," Erik said gently, pulling her face to his with lithe fingers.

"Erik, did you hear that?"

He nodded, attempting not to show her how he felt about the whole ordeal, he'd only come there for her music. Then again, he doubted it had ever been the music. It was the connection to her the music offered. Erik didn't want it to die.