"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.

"I did, they told me whilst you were unconscious."

She closed her eyes, firmly breathing in and out to persuade her nerves to remain calm.

"You are telling me I am a queen of a country? A country that recently attempted to kill me?"

"We apologize for that, miss," one of the men said, "the parliament apologized with their deepest sincerity."

Haya scoffed, but Erik could tell she was trying to hide that fact. The poor thing looked disturbed, considerate, and mortified all at the same time. In all honesty, it was pretty morbid.

"Now we must request," the opposing man said, his deep voice startling the silence around them, "That you come back with us. You have a choice, of course, but please think on it, your majesty."

"The country would deeply appreciate it."

Haya inhaled sharply, "I know nothing of running a country!"

"That is why you have associates, Mademoiselle."

Haya looked so conflict ridden, it was ridiculous. Erik hated the conflict and war on her face that obviously affected every inch of her being.

"We will give you time."

"Tomorrow at the latest," the other officer agreed, and they bowed once again, walking away from the young woman who could become their queen; if she chose to do it.

The first thing Haya did was throw herself into Erik's arms, the man encompassing her almost immediately afterwords.

"Erik! I don't know what to do!"

Haya slowly began to cry, the warm tears soaking through Erik's thin shirt.

"I know, my love, I know."

That arose more questions than it solved, but Haya had seemingly missed the endearment, Erik realized thankfully.

"What should I do?" She asked with a small sniffle, her doe-brown eyes peering into his with tears glistening in their edges.

"I cannot decide that," Erik muttered as he caresses her face, his long fingers dipping under her chin to trace her collar bone, "Only you can make the choice of whether to become a queen or..." Erik trailed off as his fingertips reached the hem of her dress, "Or come with me."

He removed his hand as she pulled a look of disgust. Haya sprouted from his grasp and stood up, wobbling on her feet, but Erik was up moments later in case she fell.

"Don't, do not give me choices like that, Erik! You are married, I cannot go with you even if I wanted!" Haya ran a hand through her hair anxiously, tears streaming down her tan skin.

"If you wanted to? You've always wanted to from what I recall!" Erik bit back, his temper raising.

Haya, however, stuck her hands out in the air in surrender, "Let's not do this right now. I have to make a decision on whether or not I can go lead a country."

Erik pursed his lips and drew back knowing she was right in the end. Their estranged love-affair was trivial compared to this as of now.

"You are very capable of doing whatever your mind sets out to do. I hate to bring this up, but you wanted me to love you, and so I have."

Haya looked at him fleetingly. She was biting her nail, arms crossed over her chest.

"What if I fail? Will they kill me?"

Erik rushed to her and took her hand, soothing it with his own.

"You will not fail. I doubt you ever truly have."

While she looked reassured, Erik couldn't tell. There was so much going on in those eyes of hers, and dear gods she looked positively beautiful. The light was dim, as it was just them in the corridors, and he felt awful. But that was how he saw her. The young woman with mixed skin, her beauty surpassing many Parisian beauties, was in his arms and there was nothing to do of it. Absolutely nothing... but let her go. Or at least convince her to do so.

"Go, Haya. Be a queen and be treated the way you deserve to be."

She looked weary, but Erik could tell the idea was mulling over in her head.

"Tell me tomorrow what you decide, think it over a bit more in your room."

Haya nodded and looked at Erik appreciatively. It was the kiss on the cheek he wasn't expecting, the foreign feeling from her of intimacy and romance. What was he doing sending her away? Was it for his benefit truly or for hers?

Maybe it was neither.