Mistletoe: An Artemis Fowl fanfiction

 Mistletoe 
~an Artemis Fowl fanfiction~

 

 

Christmas Eve, Seven years after Artemis Fowl II and Minerva Paradizo met

Minerva Paradizo and her family were invited to the Christmas Eve Grand Ball in Bordeaux, France. Most of the famous and richest clans and families in Europe are invited. After all, she was a Nobel Prize for Physics nominee, and her father, Gaspard Paradizo, is a famous European cosmetic surgeon.

But on that evening, an unfortunate had befallen her . . .

She went outside the Grand Pavilion, wandering alone in the huge grounds, as she always did during social gatherings. She left her father, and their security man, Juan Soto, inside. She preferred solitude over the company of people but tonight . . .

. . . It was the one place she did not wish to be . . .

“Minerva Paradizo,” a cold, deep voice said, with a distinct air of Irish. “Pleasant surprise.”

Minerva stood frozen on her spot. That voice . . . That accent . . . That voice that only belonged to a particular person . . . The voice that she hadn’t heard for seven years . . .

She turned. And she couldn’t believe what she saw. But there he was, Artemis Fowl, leaning on a tall hedge, holding a wine glass on eye level.

“A—Artemis?” She stuttered. Minerva couldn’t believe herself for stuttering. In front of Artemis Fowl the Second. “W—what are you doing h—here?”

Artemis raised a brow. “My family has been invited in the Grand Ball, Minerva. And maybe I should be the one asking, ‘What are you doing here, Minerva?’”

She bit her lips. Of course it made sense. The Fowls are one of the wealthiest families in Ireland. Of course, they would be invited.

“N—Nothing. I just asked you what you are doing here, as in here, in the grounds.”

Artemis sighed. “Well, if I must say it, I was just strolling on the grounds, then explored the hedge maze, and found you here. Would you care for a stroll on the grounds?”

Minerva nodded. They strolled together, passing gilded arches and a miniature bridge over a small stream. As they walked together on the stone paths, a deafening silence spaced between them.

“Where’s B—Butler?” Minerva asked, just to break the cold silence between them.

Again, Artemis raised a brow. “Butler? Why would you be asking about Butler?”

“I—I—” she started stuttering again. “He’s been a friend to me—during the time you were gone. I encouraged him to read fiction.”

Artemis nodded. “If you must know it, Butler is with my parents. I last saw him having a conversation with your security man—Juan Soto.”

Minerva didn’t say anything. The Fowls’ bodyguard and the Paradizos’ having a conversation? It would have made sense.

Artemis stopped in an arch. “And about one thing, Minerva, I have learned that our fathers had been once childhood friends and schoolmates in Oxford.  Who would have thought of that?”

She stared at him blankly. Never before it had occurred to her that her father and Artemis's were once childhood friends or schoolmates . . .

“Uh—it had—”

“Mistletoe, darlings!” A female voice cooed from a distance, interrupting Minerva from telling Artemis that it never once occurred to her that their father were once friends and schoolmates.

“What mistletoe?” she blurted out. She happened to glance up, only to catch a glimpse of a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the arch where Artemis and she stood.

She glanced at Artemis, only to see his stoic façade shaken with surprise and dread. “Artemis? Is something wrong?” she asked.

He was about to say something, when another female voice said, “Mistletoe, dearies!”

Minerva happened to glance at the direction of the voices, spotting two figures behind the oak trees, their forms obscured by the shadows.

“B—Bu—But—” Minerva whined desperately, but the two figures wouldn’t stand for it.

“Oh, dear, he’s waiting,” one of the figures said. Minerva didn’t understand it at first, until she could do nothing but to look back to Artemis. His features changed, not just because the moon illuminates him, but somehow calmer than the surprised look he had for a while.

She met his cold, stoic gaze . . . and that slight curve on his lips . . . forming a perfect, mischievous smile. “Shall we get this over with?” he asked, with an uncannily calm air.

Minerva blushed. She couldn’t come up with an answer, which was unlikely about her.

Artemis leaned closer to her, and as their lips were just an inch apart, he sprang up a strange but otherwise alluring comment:

“Did you know that mistletoe is poisonous, Miss Paradizo?”

Minerva would have come back with a snappy remark, like ‘I knew that, Artemis. There’s no need to tell me,’ if not for the fact that her lips were preoccupied at that moment.

After the surprisingly tender kiss, the Irish lad held her hand and once leaned again, but this time to whisper:

“Merry Christmas, Minerva.”