I'll Protect You (Original Version)

A duet isn't complete without sparks flying.

There was an awful lot of activity going on downstairs.

Yeah, I  know I should be down there, waving goodbye to my parents like all the guests that had come to spend a few nights at the palace. My place should be in the front of the crowd, wishing my parents a safe journey as they headed into a bullet-proof limousine, off to a jet that would take them to somewhere beautiful and relaxing.

Instead, the children of William and Giselle Sparrow were: one--cooped in their room studying a secret way of alchemy. And two--sitting in a private music room up on the sixth floor, her fingers dancing softly against the ivory keys of the grand piano.

I had always liked this room. It was just a gigantic sqaure shaped room, with one of the walls being pure glass (bullet-proof, undoubtedly). A grand piano, a glossy edition of Yamaha's finest, sat majestically by the window-wall. A cello, bass, violin, and viola were clumped neatly in one corner, looking finely polished and preserved. Several guitars, electric, acoustic, and classical, were held up by their stands on one side, with small piles of music books stacked nearby. 

Archer had asked for a drumset, but my mother hated that idea, almost fainting every time she imagined hearing drums echo loudly down the cavernous hallways of the palace.

 My unnaturally sensitive ears could pick up the rambunctious noise of the other clans, some loud and shrill, others complaining, a few sounding rather excited. From the fifth floor, the noise level had been turned up to full volume, and even headphones plugged deep into my ear with the music practically on blast couldn't completely destroy what other sounds I heard in my surroundings.

So now I sat up here, out of the golden dress, and in a pair of dark blue sweats, a yellow cami and dark gray tank top as my earlier curled hair tied up into the messiest ponytail known to history.

Thee songs I had played at first were merely scales. Then they turned into cheerful, hum-worthy tunes that my fingers quickly played. But soon after, the sound took on a melancholy, nostalgic, and almost sad melody.

I was holding in tears, alright? Jasper had poked his head in (his hermit hole was upstairs on the seventh floor, along with Archer's) and asked me why I was so depressed. What, so I couldn't play sad piano songs without being questioend?

How sexist.

Wait, that doesn't make sense. Music-ist? Or was it...just pure stupidity from the both of us.

I didn't know. I didn't feel like learning anything more tonight. After I found out just how angry Logan was. How I found out that Archer had written a letter to my parents, congratulating them with his deepest love, but saying he just didn't want to see us. Darkwood had also informed me that before they sent him and the henchmen off to kidnap Jasper, he had overheard that the girl had another plan to hurt one of the princess' close ones.

I didn't even get cake. What was that even about? The only daughter doesn't even get a bite of the most delicious looking thing in the whole wedding? The one she helped choose?

A groan escaped my lips, and my head fell foward repeatedly, lightly smashing it against the top of the keys, creating an ugly sound that vibrated around the room. With every head-smashing action, I reprimanded myself mentally for my idiotic mistakes that I had ever made.

Including the one from ten years ago when I had thrown apple pie at Archer's head when he said he was leaving.

My actions did start to hurt after a while. And by a while, I mean right away. A painful whimper pushed itself out of my clenched teeth, my trembling hands pressing themselves to my forehead. There wasn't any blood, surprisingly.