~Author's Note~

I came up with the idea the other day, and I thought why not publish it? So here goes! I hope you like it! I do not own the characters, as you all know ;)

The night was a bit chilly for a spring evening, the sun had set not so long before and the sky was as dark as the deep sea. The noises of the people in the streets made him a little irritated every now and again; he found it annoying that he lived right next to the market, and that the market was still open in the evening. There were times that he wanted to move away, but he would manage -at least he thought. In addition, he never really was home, only for the night. Throughout the day, he spent his time training with the Fianna and trying to make sense of things in his life; why he was alone, why he had no family to turn to and why he was a knight in the first place. His life was as meaningless as a speck of dust flying in the wind. He had nothing to offer and nothing to do for himself.

A knock on the door had made him jump a little and he whipped his towards it. After the knock did not persist, he went back to the kitchen and tried to focus on preparing dinner. It was something he always did and tried to make himself feel a bit better -the knock again.

Rolling his bronze eyes, he slowly made his way for the door, it was possible that a turtle was much faster than he at the given moment. After reaching the door, he opened the wooden block and was rather disappointed when there was no one at the door. Of course -the children of the block would always play these kinds of pranks, maybe even leave smelly things at his doorstep, like horse droppings or rotten eggs. His gaze dropped to the floor expecting to see something disgusting, except what he saw was worse.

A baby. So tiny and fragile. Skin ivory white, tiny hairs shining gold only visible by the torches that were hung around the town, casting dancing shadows and light upon the child and the stone doorstep. The straw basket cradling the baby like arms of a mother, keeping the child safe from the chilly air along with a blue wool blanket. Something so fragile at his doorstep -it made him gulp.

His heart dropped and he could only think how horrible it was to leave a child to some stranger. He knew exactly what it meant -the baby at the doorstep -and he wished that he could turn around, close the door and forget all about it. And he did just that. He took a deep step back, closed the door slowly and closed his eyes as well, as to avoid the problem altogether -trying to erase the baby's face from his mind. He saw nothing. There was nothing at the other side of the door. His chest constricted along with his lungs and he took a deep breath, trying to push the image of the pale baby in the jasmine yellow straw basket away even more. Hesitantly making his way back to the kitchen, he picked up a knife to start cutting the lettuce. Some one else would collect the child and bring it home with them; he needn't worry about it. There were people that could actually afford the child and pay for education and all. He needn't worry about it.

It had been about half an hour and the guilt was already starting to claw at his mind like a lioness; urging him to hurry back to the door -but he refused. He would not take the child in. He had no means of caring for it even if he did want it. Plus, he had not a single slice of time to give to the child amidst his knightlyduties and training.

Someone would pick the baby up, he tried to convince himself over and over again, others were not nearly as heartless as he was. His hands were stained with blood of countless men, he wouldn't be able to be such a great father. He had no experience with children. Come to think of it, he was a bit strict. Children hated strict parents; didn't they? Why would someone even leave this baby for him? An even more puzzling question was why was he trying to put himself in a parent's shoes?

He let the knife down and clenched his hands into fists. No. No child was living in this house. But it's only a babe. No. No, no, no, no. What if no one takes the poor babe? What will you do then? You'll see it again in the morrow and by then you surely must take it under your wing.

"I said I that was not keeping it." He hissed out loud, his words leaking with something near to hatred, but not quite there yet. Running a hand through his hair and ruffling it he sighed. "I am the First Spear of Fianna, I am a loyal Knight. I have no time for children. That is my final decision." Who was he talking to? The angel on his shoulder of course. But that little voice persisted to take the child into his care. He wouldn't do it; never. Not to mention, he was not a children person -maybe he had already brought that justification up. He wasn't going to claim the child.