When her fingers toughed the skin under his bangs, the sensation already told her that something had happened to the skin there. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, as Edgar released her left hand. Awkwardly, she sat on his lap, straddling his legs while doing so. Edgar made no move to stop her, which wasn't surprising from (f/n)'s point of view. Still, he let her bring up her hands towards his face.

Resting her left hand on his right cheek, she used her right hand to carefully push back his bangs. Her fingers brushed against the damaged skin again, but she made no move to pull back. When she had his bangs behind his left ear, she turned her gaze towards the left side of his face. She ran her right thumb over the skin there, as she remained quiet.

Edgar just wanted her to say something; for once he couldn't tell what his muse was thinking. The only thing he knew was that she wasn't wearing a face of disgust. She would've pulled back by now. So, what was going through her head? Was she just too shocked to utter even one word? With her silence, he became even more worried that she would reject him because of his facial scars.

Still, it felt strange having someone other than him touch that part of his skin. The sensation was oddly comforting when it wasn't accompanied by a tinge of pain. Perhaps, it was because it felt as though she was accepting him even more, as her delicate fingers glided over his skin with a gentle touch. At same time, though, he didn't know if it was just her genuine curiosity that was keeping her from retching with revulsion.

"How did he do this to you, Edgar?" she inquired with a soft voice, as she removed her hands from his face.

He tried to read the emotions in her voice to see what would come as a result of showing her. The element of curiosity was clearly present, but he picked up potentially the notes of sadness and even hate. Had he planted the seed for loathing towards his brother in his beloved? If so, then he had truly benefited from letting her see the left side of his face.

Taking her right hand in his left, he rested her hand back on his left cheek and leaned into it, while his hand rested on top of hers. She blushed faintly at the intimate gesture, as he started to explain, "My brother and me were in the kitchen cooking spaghetti. I was eleven at the time, and my brother was fifteen. While we were cooking, it would seem that my brother thought to get back at me for the attention that our father was giving me. So, when I turned around to put the pasta in the boiling water, I found the pot removed and felt a hand on the back of my head. Before I could do anything, Frederic was holding my face up against the stove flame.

"I tried to turn off the stove, but he grabbed both my hands with his free hand. When he pulled my head back, he doused the flames with the boiling hot water. My screams alerted those in the house, but by the time anyone reached the kitchen, I was on the floor in too much pain to say anything. I was immediately taken to the hospital, as my brother told everyone that it was an accident and that I had tripped into the stove. My father didn't believe him, but he couldn't confirm his suspicions since I had passed out from the pain.

"Once everything had been settled in the hospital, our father entered the hospital room that I was in. Since we were the only two in there, he wanted me to confirm my brother's side of the story. I told my father that it was false and told him the truth of the situation. Frederic received the punishment of having to remain in his room for an entire year without ever coming out, since my father decided to let him continue on his path to taking over my father's job when the time came."

"Wait, why? Wasn't your father furious?"

"My father was enraged, but taking away Frederic's attention for an entire year was torture for my brother. I heard him begging to be let out almost every day for that year. He would be at it for several hours at a time even. Still, my father, despite his feelings towards him, kept him because he was proving himself to be excellent at the social and finance aspects of the company. So, my father decided to be generous enough to give him a second chance and had me promise to let Frederic take over when he was on his deathbed. There was also the fact that Frederic was still my father's son, and my father didn't have it in him to disown my brother."

As he pulled his head away from her hand, he released her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her closer to him. Her cheeks gaining some heat to them, (f/n) rested her head on his right shoulder to hide them. "Why didn't you go through surgery to have your skin repaired?" she further asked out of curiosity.

"I didn't see it as necessary, since I don't go out that much. Besides, I want to remind my brother of what he did to me; I want him to see the hatred that he created in me for him. If I remove these scars, I lose that; he will no longer be able to see the nightmare that will constantly haunt him. By him viewing that nightmare every time that he looks at me, he knows that I haven't forgotten and that I could strike back at anytime. These scars let me have a power over him that I wouldn't have otherwise.

"Even if he doesn't see the marks, since I almost always have my bangs over them, he still knows they're there. My only concern is ... your opinion on them, (f/n)." His hold tightened on her a little, as though he might lose her that very moment. "Are you sickened by them? If so, I apologize for showing you my scars; I'll always keep them hidden from you if you want me to do so."

A quiet chuckle left her lips, as she rested her hands on his arms. She signaled for him to remove them from her, and he did so with caution, since he couldn't predict what she would do next. Resting her hands back on his face, she smiled and replied, "My feelings for you wouldn't disappear merely because of some scars on your face, Edgar. Rather, they're helping me to understand you better. I now know why you started to hate your brother; I now know why you were so angry when I told you that I spoke with him willingly. So, I'll help you with your plan in whatever way I can."

His heart skipped a beat at her words and the charming smile on her face. Edgar's gaze softened, as he leaned his forehead against her. To his absolute joy, his muse, his beloved had accepted his scarring, his physical flaw. Truly, he had found the perfect inspiration. Without any warning, he pressed his lips against hers, as he moved to lie on his back. He took notice of her widening eyes and blushing cheeks, while continuing his action.

Removing his arms from her waist, he glided his hands down to her hips, while she slowly started to kiss back. He soon flipped her onto her left side and wrapped his arms back around her waist. His hands slid under her pajama shirt and moved her closer to his body, which now lay on its right side. A chill ran up her spine, as his hands pressed harder into her skin. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, while their legs entangled themselves.

Their lips parted for a moment to catch a breath before Edgar crashed his lips onto hers again, though, harder this time. He bit at her bottom lip gently, asking for entrance, as she permitted it. His tongue slid into her mouth before he explored every crevice of it. (F/n) allowed him to dominate the kiss completely, as she found her hands going down to his shoulders. Her grip on them increased as each second went by, while she pulled him closer to her.

They parted for a second time, catching their breaths. Edgar proceeded to kiss her one more time on the lips, this one quicker than the previous two. When he pulled away, (f/n) placed her hands upon his chest and gave him one last kiss for the night on the tip of his nose. A gentle smile graced his lips at her action, while he kept his left hand around her waist and positioned his right hand at the back of her head. He rested her head gently upon his right upper arm, and her forehead touched his chest.

For himself, he placed his chin atop her head. He enjoyed the closeness to his muse thoroughly; he didn't know if he would ever be able to sleep alone again. Now more than ever, he wished to finish the winter holiday doll, so that he could show his beloved how beautiful he thought her to be.

Nothing could compare to her. Her warm breath, which he could feel on his chest, brought him wonderful comfort. The way her strands of hair flowed against his fingers like silk was exceptionally soothing. When her lips were pressed against his, they fit perfectly on his. Tastes of dark chocolate and blueberries lingered on his tongue, while her luxurious skin tempted his fingers to stay against it forever.

Moving his chin back, so that he could peer down at her, he saw that her eyes were closed and that she breathed steadily. She had fallen asleep in his arms willingly; she trusted him to protect her while she slept. Sadly, his plan to remove his brother from his position would require putting her back in harm's way.

Granted, if his brother so much as laid a finger on her, he would increase the consequences that would be dealt to Frederic. That attention seeker had no right to even lay a finger upon the precious being in his arms. She was a gift that only he could enjoy and place his lips upon.

"My lovely muse sleep soundly, for tomorrow shall begin the final stage of the last process. By the end of it, you'll stand on a pedestal made of the finest things. I'll stand close by, admiring every aspect of your otherworldly beauty. Goodnight, my beloved," he whispered before he drifted off into sleep himself.