"Die, you peasant!"
A blur of red hair, and three feet of fury, came soaring into the air, crashing into Stark's belly, a little elbow digging into his gut.
"Argh!" Stark buckled, coughing as his eyes suddenly shot open. But just as he woke up, he saw another tiny figure diving right at him, this time...
Right at his face!
Crunch!
The tiny elbow found its way to his nose, cracking his head back and onto the edge of his bed, his head bumping against the hardwood.
He winced, his hands clasped on his head.
The door to the bathroom swung open, and Vivian, his betrothed, walked in. It took only a moment for her to realize what had happened, then she smiled knowingly.
"My goodness, are you okay, dear?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Stark froze at the sight of them. His mind was hazy, and soon his vision was blurred by tears. He was crying, but he could not piece together what the problem was.
Was it the pain?
No, it could not be.
