Wait for the herald to announce my entrance. Do a small head bow to greet the Dark Lord. Wait for the herald to introduce the Dark Prince. Greet him with another bow. We don't know their customs in a -to be hand twined traditions- so be prepared for anything. Smile and be nice.

The Princess went through the royal protocols Conn had her memorize for the hundredth time. She did try to convince him to either choose between 'smile' or 'be nice' but he just rolled his eyes at her and laughed. This is going to be easy. She hoped.

Fidgeting with the bracelet that circled her wrist. There is no reason to be nervous at all. She told herself as she shifted restlessly in her stand. Everything will turn fine. . She tried again ignoring the heaviness in her heart. 

Màthair, I wish you were here. A wave of sadness touched her heart as she looked down at the bracelet that Lady Erina gave her before she joined the Ancient One.

"Ovia told me you had quite an entertainment this morning", a voice made her jump and spin around.

"Jarle!", she exclaimed seeing his tall figure approaching, "You're back! I thought you'll be arriving tomorrow?".

He gestured around him, "And miss this?".

She smiled sweetly and greeted him as she always did, "Fàilte dhachaigh".

He breathed deeply, "Good to be back". Then he pull something free off his belt, "Here, this is for you", he held a small pouch between two fingers.

Her eyes widened and she did a little skip while holding her hands open underneath it. An excited laugh escaped her as he dropped the pouch in her palms. Though eager to see what exotic secret gift was inside it this time she opened with care. Gently loosening the ribbon that held it close. Just like every year, the pouch unraveled to show a beautifully engraved box. This time it was carved of a hummingbird and flowers that were filed with black pearl lacquer. Breathtaking hues of black, purple, grey, gold, blue and pink softly folded together creating a magnificent canvas that held a warm glint in the light.

"Uh, this is beautiful!" she whispered, gently running her finger tips on the smooth top before carefully opening it. This year's gift was different. In the box laid three small bulbs. She looked at Jarle with a big question on her face, "Seeds?".

He smiled, "Ahh, but they hold a secret for you to find out what they do".

Her quizzical look turned into curiosity, "You're not going to tell me!"

He shook his head, "Chan eil. However, I can only hint this, before you plant them coat them with a drop of your blood".

Seriously! Her eyes widened further with curiosity. Not fair, leaving a girl hanging like that! "Oh, come oooon! Now you must tell me. Please...please... please".

Jarle shook his head again, "First of all, you're a Princess. Do not beg. Second, patience is a fine trade".

She knew once Jarle starts going all wise-wise-y on her she won't be able to get anything out of him, "Fine!", she might not beg, but pout she can certainly do, "I'll wait".

Then she looked at her gift lovingly, "Tapadh leat".

He nodded, "You're welcome".

She closed the box and fixed it back in its pouch, "One day you will tell me where you get those things from".

"One day you will find out", he gave her his usual answer.

"Can you keep it safe for me until... this is over", she handed the pouch back, carefully placing it in his hand.

The royal herald started announcing. "His Highness, Lord Glendon of Dark Fey of Sliabh Scáth".

She felt her stomach starting to tie in knots. Whatever little calmness that washed over her with Jarle's arrival was going back to it previous state of anxiety. Relax! She told herself in a hopeless attempt to ease the knots in her stomach. He might not be as awful as I think. After all, he did give me Jarle.

"It will be alright", Jarle asked reading her flawlessly with the corner of his eye.

She looked at him and nodded with a smile she didn't feel. However, her mind was telling her to ditch the whole thing and get out of there. As tempting as the thought was, she had an obligation. An invitation was sent in her name to the Dark Prince, there wasn't much she could do than see it through. Her hopes of this might be just a dream she could wake up from and leave it behind came crashing. It was happening, but at the same time it felt unreal.

"Her Highness, Princess Ryesen of Light Fey, of Tír na nÓg", the herald announced.

She took a deep breath, "Wish me luck". She held her head up and forced her feet to enter the grand hall.

Ryesen paused by her father at the throne bowing lightly at the Light Lord.Aragon gave her a fatherly smile that strengthened her shaking heart as he returned with a graceful nod. She smiled back at him before turning to face the Darks. 

The stone cold grey eyes that met her made her blood curdle as she fought not to swallow that lump in her throat. She bowed her head avoiding the icy stare. The Dark Lord returned the greeting with a similar one. She'll never be able to look him in the eye for more than seconds. Even though she has attended those annual festivals since she was one, but that hard, blood draining stare and that expressionless face was something she could never get used to. 

Whenever she looked at him she sensed a concealed loathing coming from him that was directed to her and all the Lights. In return she tried to hate him back for including her in a bargain. For sealing her destiny. For robbing her the right to choose how she wanted to live her life. For stealing her right of something as simple as falling in love with whoever she chose. She tried to hate him for all that. She tried to hate all the Darks, but she couldn't. Because hating the Darks meant hating Jarle. Her friend. Her fairtheoir. The one who constantly reminded her that he was a Dark. Even if his loyalty was to her, he was still Dark.

Jarle told her of all the bad things he has done including the day that the bargain was struck, and yet she couldn't hate him. Neither could she hate the Darks who laid their lives to protect her and the lands of the Lights. Instead of hate she was furious. Her fury was pointed solemnly towards the Dark Lord and his son.

The herald called, "His Highness, Prince Alrik of Dark Fey, of Sliabh Scáth".

Up till this moment she hoped that he wouldn't come. That he would ignore her invitation. It was all dream-like until she heard the herald announcing his presence. Ryesen's eyes dropped. This was it! It was real. It was no longer some fictitious nightmare she convinced herself that her mind fabricated. A hand colder than the Dark Lord's stare squeezed her heart. Remember your duties towards fey-kind. Ryesen repeated the words she heard her father spoke with many times. For the sake of the faeries she would comply.

When she finally lifted her eyes, she was struck with confusion that made her motionless. The Dark Prince was kneeling in front of her with his head down. And the rest of Darks followed kneeling behind him in respect. All she could see of him was his tied shiny long black hair and the folded grey-blue dragonfly-like wings behind him over the black rope he wore. He had his hand held out, palm up.

Why was he kneeling this close? And most importantly, am I supposed to put my hand in his? Conn didn't say anything about touching. Her mind ran wildly.

For Alrik, markings on his body started to hum the moment she stepped foot in the hall. The same way they did earlier this morning when that masked Light sentry warned them about the second Orcs attack and fought along side. The humming only grew bewilderingly stronger as she approached. In the middle of his mystification, he was about to check markings' mad reaction on his arms when his eyes caught fight of her. And my when she approached. The humming wasn't the only bizarre thing that was happening with him. There was something stranger going on with his chest as the most beautiful creature appeared before him.

With nothing less than the gracefulness of a Light Princess that accompanied her as she walked to the throne. Her long white dress was flowing around her softly like a breath of mist. The golden yellow majestic wings extending behind her that all the butterflies' wings paled in comparison. That auburn hair cascading like waterfalls warmed by the sunset held with crystal hair combs that titillated the light like the night's fist stars. 

This was her! The princess that the mighty Jarle, the ruthless Dark warrior, spoke fondly of. The one he heard stories about. Not only from Jarle, but also from the Darks that guarded Tír na nÓg. They thought they were being discreet while talking about her, but he heard a few stories. The faerie he visited Tír na nÓg twice just in the hopes of seeing and meeting her. The one who will hand twine with him. His Lady to be.

The markings on his body were still humming powerfully and they began to grow warmer as he waited for her hand. Hesitant softness touched his palm and what once was a warm turned to a blaze that rocked him to the core.

Alrik gaze lifted to their touching hands and his eyes narrowed before his head jerked up and he was captivated by the most exotic wide eyes that stared back at him. Burning amber that gently folded into bewildering mixture of blue and green color surrounded by long flattering lashes. He saw such color only once in his life. That was today's' morning. 

Could it be? He wondered. His eyes followed the arched like fine daggers eyebrows, then lowered to her small nose, to her ambrosial full lips then to the markings of the Lights on the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders. She was a picture of perfection and warmth.

Ryesen felt her heart jump to her throat when he lifted his head. She nearly yanked her hand away if he didn't close his fingers over hers. Eyes as green as emerald gripped her. This was the same Dark warrior she saw this morning. The same one she fought along side against the Orcs, and the same she insulted by telling him to keep her dagger because he needed it more than she did.

Flee! Her brain screamed, but her feet didn't move. She was rooted to the floor. Wait! My face was covered! She thought hopefully. You can't identify someone from their eyes alone, right! Right?

Over the deafening sound of her heart thumping in her ears she heard some Aww-s. Why are they aww-ing? Ryesen didn't dare look away.

She watched him as he lowered his gaze and brushed her knuckles with his lips. What in the name of the Ancient One was he doing?

Only then he let go of her hand and stood tall. Towering, intimidating and ridiculously good looking. He leaned close and whispered so that only she could hear him, "Smile, Princess. Our clans are watching us".

Ryesen swallowed her ire reminding herself of her duties. She took a step away putting some space between them. Then she bowed again, "Your Highness". A forced smile stretching her lips.

Then she told herself, Only for a little while. I don't have to stay until the end of the festival. Keep your eye on the reward. In a few months and you'll get to spend whole year in the human realm and have a break from all this. The self-pep talk was a bit helping, but not as much as she wanted to.

The Light Lord voice rose as he welcomed the Darks announcing of the beginning of the annual festival. Slowly the hall started to empty as the Lights and Darks moved to join the gathering.

"Shall we?", a gruff voice asked.

Ryesen couldn't not flinch. She wanted to refuse. She deeply, truly, undoubtedly wanted to refuse. But then again, she nodded and walked in silence. 

Alrik didn't bother her with saying anything, he too walked in silence. Which allowed him to witness the love and admiration of the Lights towards their Princess, as well as the respect of the Darks. She surprised him when she greeted some of the warriors who were assigned to guard Tír na nÓg by their names. She warmly greeted everyone. Her face would brighten and her smile would shine when they talked to her or waved at her. However, her smile would wither away when she glance in his direction. Not to mention the good two foot distance she kept between them. 

She wasn't the only one though. Most Lights they came across had the same expression. They would approach her cheerfully, until they saw who was walking next to her. They would then bow respectfully, before folding back.

An old, white hair Light was trying to approach her in a slow pace. Alrik saw him before. He was there when he visited Tír na nÓg the first time. He slowed his pace when she did so the old faerie could catch up them. The deep wrinkles of age lined on his face, the skin thinned and softened over his veined hands and his voice quivered when he spoke. Nevertheless, he still held the grace of fey in his walk. "Ryesen, dear. You look beautiful", he cheered.

She smiled, "You're always a sweet talker, Laigh".

Alrik watched him belly laugh before kissing her cheek. His eyes shining with a fatherly admiration holding both her hands in his. Then Laigh looked passed her and bowed his head, "Dark Prince".

Alrik returned the gesture.

If Ryesen learned anything from her position as the Light Princess, was that to set her own feelings aside. She might not stand being in the same place with the Dark Prince or his father, yet she will fulfill her responsibilities as best as the Princess should. Introduction was one of them.

"This is Laigh, the best apothecary the Lights have", she smiled at the old faerie.

"Now who's the sweet talker", Laigh pinched her cheek lightly and lovingly making her giggle.

She had no idea how the sound of her laugh settled with Alrik. Neither when she tugged her hair behind her ear. Or when she smiled. The hum of the markings on his skin was becoming restless as they moved. Then again, all her shining dimmed down to nothing when she looked him. Nonetheless, she treated him with the respect and hospitality of the Lights.

Laigh left them to greet the Light and Dark Lords and that awkward silence was back. They reached the arena where the festival was held. That was when he stopped walking and announced, "I'll be taking my leave now, Princess".

Ryesen spun around surprised. Why would they insist on her attending the festival if he was leaving before it started?, "Why? Isn't this what you wanted".

He met her eyes, "It was. However, it is not what you wanted, was it?".

The drop of her gaze and her silence answered his question.

Ryesen avoided looking at him. She was thinking how she was going to slip away from the moment she entered the hall. Now, with him leaving that just made things easier on her. 

Then why was she feeling as if she did something wrong. Smile and be nice. Conn told her. She couldn't smile when she look at him. And for being nice, she only performed her duties. She wasn't a pleasant company no matter how hard she tried.  

"All Darks are welcomed at Tír na nÓg annual festival", she recited her father's words as she tried to ease her guilt.

To Alrik, it was clear as day that she couldn't endure being with him. Even at this moment, even when she was telling him that the lands of Tír na nÓg was welcoming his visit, she couldn't stand being close to him. Maybe one day that would change, but until then, "I'll attend the festival when you want me to. Even after we fulfill the bargain and hand twine, I'll only come if you want me to".

Ryesen lifted her head and stared at him in confusion. His gaze was intense for a moment then it softened. 

He reached for her hand, "Until then it was nice seeing you again princess".

His touch was like fire burning her skin. She wanted to pull away, but being surrounded by their clans stopped her. Wait! Her brows pinched for a moment. Did he say again? He recognized me! "H... How...". 

Her eyes followed his other hand as he pushed his black robe aside. As gasp escaped her when when she saw it. Hooked to his belt was a familiar white and gold dagger.

 When she looked back at him he was brushing her knuckles again with his lips. "How did you...?".

Alrik didn't answer her. He only stared down leading her follow what he was looking at. His thump gently touched the bracelet that circled her wrist. Her eyes widened and she quickly slipped her hand away from his.

He took a step back saying in a voice a tad louder, "I guess you can take it from here, Jarle".

Not a second later, Jarle showed up, "Your Highness".

Alrik bowed one last time then lifted his head. He lingered there for just a moment as his eyes drank her in. Imprinting her in his mind with all her majestic beauty before he turned to leave. The humming of the markings slowly coming to silence and the blazing heat they omitted when they touched began to cool gradually.