AN: Heyy, sorry the update of the story took forever! For those of you who read the older version before, I changed a lot of the plot, and possibly better. So, please don't think it's the same thing as the previous one. Only the beginning and some parts of it are the same...The story is totally different though...Please R&R! Thnx!

Acknowledgements: I would like to thank my fellow writers, especially my friends Kelsey and Jenny for helping me with the plot of the story. I couldn't have done it without you guys! Thanks for believing in me and supporting me!

Princess Cherlin of Armora hates Prince Tristan of Kyrria, and Prince Tristan "dislikes" Princess Cherlin. What will happen when a chain of events occur? What will this lead to? Read on and find out!

Chapter 1

"I hate attending these blasted balls! As if I care about Prince Tristan arriving in our kingdom. He's just another self-centered, narcissistic, and conceited royal. All he ever cares about is courting the rich noble girls and his "grand" fan club. Mother, I've known him since we were babies. He's been a jerk all the days of his sad life, and I highly doubt that that has changed. Why do we need to treat him so extravagantly? God, I don't need to suffocate in this wretched dress because of him!" Cherlin cried out contentiously with her brows knit into a scowl.

Queen Isabelle sharply castigated, "Watch your tongue Cherie! You are one of the rulers of Armora. You need to display responsibility, maturity, courtesy, discretion, civility and etiquette towards the others of our rank and our people. And as for Prince Tristan, you do fully understand that his parents, Queen Ella and King Charmont are our greatly valued allies and close friends. It is with genuine deference we treat them with high regard. Do not speak of them in such reprehensible manner. Now, hold still while Lily finishes your hair and makeup." Cherie rolled her eyes as her mother finished her usual lecture; like she needed reminders of her social status.

But Cherie sighed in defeat, full of aggravation as her maid Lily perfected her hair and applied the last touches. She composedly stood up from her seat, and she took one final glance at herself in the full-length mirror. She felt like a mere doll; dressed up against her will.

Nonetheless Princess Cherlin was a girl with beauty of wonders. She had soft sleek silky raven-black curls flowing down her back and reaching her waist, shining with great brilliance. She had a creamy white complexion with deep blue eyes that seemed to draw anyone's mind. She had small plump naturally red lips and a perfect nose. She looked like the ideal princess. Not only did her pulchritude gleam, but her inner personality was vivacious.

Cherie was an adventurous, outgoing person; willing to get her hands dirty. She loved to explore and meet the citizens of the land; she believed that in order to rule the people, you must know the people. Her hobby was horse-riding through grassy fields, reading, cooking and most of all, archery. She loved the feeling of arrows slipping through her fingers. It made her feel as if her spirit had been released to roam free. If she hadn't been born as a princess, Cherie's dream was to become a female warrior. Even so, she was grateful for her privileged life and her loving parents.

Yet, living in a world of reality, everyone had their flaws. For Cherie, she was granted with her personality full of intransigent obstinacy and outspoken character. To many, it seemed as the princess was unaware to where her high head was; they firmly believed that she was too bold as a woman. She always made sure to get her point across, no matter how uncouth it appeared to be; she was too forward for her own sake. Another principle Cherie resolutely believed in was that a display of emotion was a sign of weakness and vulnerability. And as a future ruler, Cherie knew that it was a necessity to mask them.

However, if there was one thing she loathed, it was balls and banquets. She despised the coquetry of the noble men all around her, young and old, and in particular, she hated the ostentatious girls that shammed to be her friends, only to bad-mouth her behind her back. She clearly couldn't comprehend why so many girls spent hours and hours in front of mirrors, preparing for a ball that wouldn't even last half the night. If she had a choice, Cherie would rather be in a library reading, than listening to endless waltz music. Yes, that makes you wonder, what is wrong with this girl? But one of Cherie's pastimes was reading books about adventure, war, excitement, and best of all, martial arts. Cherie loved venturing to learn about self-defense and protection. She simply didn't get why girls loved to be a "damsel in distress", when they could learn to protect themselves. It was simply incomprehensive why men always had to model a "knight-in-shining-armor". It was too cliché; like all romance stories were. Well, enough about that. Right now, she would have loved to take her horse, Minuit out on a ride. Taking a breath to compose herself, Cherie turned around and started, "I'm ready, Mother."

Just as she placed her foot outside the door, a familiar but despiteful face was presented in front of her. The gentleman had dark, but soft brown curls, rich hazel-green eyes, with a mocking grin plastered on his face. Shocked, Cherie screeched, "What in the world are you doing in front of my room!" Before he had a chance to utter an answer, Cherie hastily turned around, and slammed the door shut in the gentleman's face. Shocked and angered, Cherie questioned, "Mom, what is HE doing here?"

Lightheartedly, the Queen answered, "He's here, as our guest of course. He's traveled all the way from Frell. Plus, this is a banquet given in his family's honor."

"You KNOW what I mean, Mother! I mean, why is HE, standing in front of my room? I mean, why isn't he at the ball?"

Mockingly confused, the Queen responded, "Oh darling! Haven't I told you? Oh dear! I must have forgotten! You know how hectic it was in the past week! Well… I had the honor of asking Prince Tristan to be your escort for the dance. You must have a partner, Cherie! I've requested for him to wait until you were set. Goodness! He must've waited a long time! It's been well over 30 minutes since the opening of the ball. Let us get going." Before Cherie had a chance to react, she was pushed out the door, where she was face to face with the Prince.

He had a playful grin dancing around his face, as he offered sardonically, "YOUR HIGHNESS, may I have the honor of accompanying you to the festivity? It would be deeply appreciated."

"Why, YOUR MAJESTY, it would be my pleasure. I am flattered by your offer," returned Cherie in the same tone.

"Shall we?" With that, Cherie placed her hand stiffly on top of Prince Tristan's and together, they began descending down the grand staircase.

Cherie retorted softly, "Why did you even oblige to my mother's request? I can't imagine you choosing to do it on your own will."

Tristan answered, "For one thing, I was just being polite. Plus, it's you I don't like, not your mother. Unlike you, your mother is quite amiable. And another thing, as a future ruler of a country, I have to have the ability to differentiate the discrepancy between my personal life and my public life."

"Yea, like you'll make a hell of a ruler. Your public life? Wow, you're really pathetic. You're no different from the last time I met you. Probably even worse." Cherie continued with a disgusted look on her face.

"So, you were just trying to maintain your well-kept "image". Aren't I right? It's really sad how you try to keep up your charade. I'd be the first one to laugh in your face once your façade cracks. I appreciate your offer, but I don't need your charity." Cherie walked away with compressed anger and a flushed face. Livid thoughts flashed through her mind. 'How dare he! How dare he belittle me! I don't need any charity from him! Does he think I'm some inept princess? I'll show him! Let's see if HE can manage his fragile travesty after this!'

She was continuing down the staircase in a huff when she was abruptly swiveled around. The compulsion caused Cherie to loose balance, and Cherie anticipated a hard fall. It was then that she remembered that someone was still gripping on to her wrist, and now, her waist. When Cherie looked up to identify who the person was, she was astonished and incensed to see Tristan. As hard as she tried to push him off her, all her attempts ended in failure.

In one swift motion, Tristan pulled her back up and returned Cherie back on her two feet. As Tristan glanced sternly towards the princess, he received a cold, steel glare from her, standing with her arms crossed over her chest.

"What do you want? I thought I made it crystal clear that I am perfectly able to escort myself to the ball. I'm not like you; worried about my fragile self-image and wasting my energy every single day trying to preserve it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ball to attend." Glowering dangerously towards Tristan, Cherie snapped around on her heels and began descending down the stair case.

But once again, Cherie was interrupted before she reached the last step. Tristan was yet again standing in front of her blocking her way. When she attempted to rejoinder, Tristan beat her to it.

"You do not know a single thing about me. You have absolutely no right to say that to me whatsoever. Just because I was in the picture of your childhood doesn't necessarily signify that you know me. I suggest that you keep your opinions to yourself when you can't fight for it." Tristan finished in an unexpectedly strange calm tone.

This unnerved Cherie. She's never experienced this side of Tristan. It was nothing like his usual self; obnoxious and self-important. What was wrong with him? Well, then again, she WAS impulsive. She didn't even specifically remember what she said to him. Cherie snapped back to the present when Tristan continued.

"And as a princess, you should be able to separate your emotions from your role as a ruler of Armora. I don't think what you're about to do defines authority. Don't you think? We both understand absolutely clearly that we hate each other. But you're going to have to deal with me tonight. And although you ARE unbearable, I'll try my best. Shall we?"

Her confusion from moments before dissolved instantaneously. 'I must've been hallucinating! A different side of Tristan? Ha! He only has one! And he should be talking about himself! Me being unbearable? Right back at him!'

Cherie was about to reject, when Tristan's voice rang through her mind. "As a princess, you should be able to separate your emotions from your role as a ruler of Armora." As unlikely and awkward as it sounded, Tristan was right. She was a princess. And a princess has a role, a role that cannot be avoided. Even though she did detest Tristan, her country came first. Responsibility definitely came before personal troubles. Sighing, Cherie placed her hand on top of Tristan's and together, they stepped down the last few steps of the grand staircase.

When she glanced sideways towards Tristan, he returned her look with another one of his annoying insufferable smirks. He was back to his old self, whether if that was a good thing was highly questionable.

Tristan commented, "Wasn't that a lovely encounter after two years, PRINCESS?" His remark dripped with sarcasm.

With her fiery temper, Cherie replied, "Well, I was planning by no means to see you again. It's not really a pleasant promenade in the park when I'm around you. You're so incommodious!"

Feigning as if he was upset, Tristan exclaimed with a moue, "You upset me, PRINCESS Cherlin! We have been such good friends! And our LONG history together! I thought you enjoyed my company. You sadden me, YOUR GRACE."

It seemed that their previous incident was forgotten, as if it never occurred. The two were back to their usual bickering and quarreling.

As if her nerves were at its end, Cherie retorted, "You are already taking advantage of the last bit of patience I have! You are so intolerable! It's just a wonder when I see all those infatuated coquettes circling around you!"

Prince Tristan smoothly returned, "Aha! So, you're admitting that I am handsome, charming, attractive, and charismatic! You're covetous of them, aren't you?"

Before she could release her apoplexy, Cherie noticed that she had reached the last step and was now in front of the main entrance to the ball. While she waited with a seething and burning fury, she saw her parents, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabelle standing in front of King Charmont and Queen Ella of Kyrria.

With her rage temporarily forgotten, Cherie fell deep in thought. She's known Queen Ella and King Char (as he requested) ever since she could remember. Tristan and Cherie's parents have been extremely close ever since their alliance. Not only did the alliance prevent both kingdoms from becoming invaded, but it pulled both kingdoms together. Cherie admired the couple immensely. She never met such lovers, who cherished each other so much, other than her parents. She wondered if she would ever meet anyone even close to them. It was a true wonder how such an incompetent jerk like Tristan came to be. Just as she was in the middle of her thought, someone pulled her out of her daydream. Coming back to reality, Cherie snapped to Tristan, "What now?"

Rolling his eyes "Thought that you might need a heads up. Just in case you didn't notice, we're about to be announced. At least try to look like you own some regality. Wouldn't it be a grand entrance; you stumbling down the stairs "with poise" in front of your people."

Feeling herself reddening with both mortification and anger towards Tristan, she coolly retaliated, "Let's just get this over with. Unlike you, I am the more mature one here." Tristan simply snickered at that comment.

The two exchanged glares when the page announced, "Presenting, His Highness, Prince Tristan Marcell Nicholas Revelin of Kyrria and Her Highness Princess Cherlin Lorelle Amelia Frances of Armora!" With a long sigh of apprehension, the two cascaded down the stairs gracefully and lowered their head slightly in acknowledgement. As soon as the two stepped down to the ballroom floor, Cherie hastily removed her hand from Tristan's. Without looking back, Cherie turned the opposite direction and headed toward the punch table. All she had in mind right then was how much she detested Tristan. He was nothing but an anathema! He constantly made HIMSELF portrayed as a chivalrous and a suave gentleman while characterizing her as a careless, bungling pococurante. He was NOTHING close to being a dignified noble. And now, her feet were killing her, with the heels of the miserable shoes cutting into her skin. She had discovered yet another reason to dislike such useless footwear!

Cherie leisurely poured herself a cup of punch and set down on a nearby chair. Whilst taking sips from the cup, Cherie slowly surveyed the guests in the room. She noted that most girls were dressed in posh and daresay revealing gowns that reached far beyond the boundaries of a respectable lady. There was just enough fabric to cover them. Cherie thought, 'How is it possible that anyone dress in such revoltingly revealing gowns!' She also noticed the latest fashion styles and hair up-dos. It was such a pity that it didn't look appealing on any of them. Of course, she was not at all astonished to see the girls literally flocking around Prince Tristan. Even from a far-away distance, she could make out that the ladies were hanging onto him in desperation. Cherie thought, 'Just as I thought! Enjoying female company. I see SOME people never change!'

Her thoughts then returned to the previous events that took place moments before. It left Cherie so unnerved and terribly befuddled. At one moment, he was being his vainglorious self, but the next he was this strange yet deliberately frightening person. The way he spoke to her was so stern, calm, yet dangerous. When he looked at her, it made her feel as if he could see right through her! And the last thing he said was so…so…so right! Didn't that sound weird? Yet she couldn't deny the fact that Tristan was correct. And then just after that, he returned to his old self, toying with her temper. He was so puzzling! Did he have a duel personality? She's never been so perplexed! Sighing, Cherie shook her head, attempting to rid herself from the thoughts rushing through her mind. She returned to paying attention to the ball taking place; anything was better than reminiscing!

Right when she took the last sip, a number of gentlemen walked up to her, and requested for a dance. Knowing that she couldn't decline all, she obliged to a young man that dressed to be of nobility. Reaching out her hand, Cherie walked on to the dance floor, and began dancing to a moderately fast-paced song.

Suddenly the gentleman amiably introduced, "Princess Cherlin, I am Stephen, a knight-in-training, and the son of Arthur, Lord of Argolia.

Politely, Cherie returned, "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

He continued, "Enjoying the ball, your highness?"

Cherie courteously replied, "Ah, yes. Quite an event, I must say. Another chance to make new friends. I am enjoying myself, thank you."

Stephen commented, "But my lady, your visage betrays your words."

Startled, Cherie questioned, "Pardon? My lord, what do you speak of?"

Stephen chuckled, "Your highness, I am simply stating what any other person can openly observe. It is quite evident that there is another place you'd rather be."

Flustered and at a loss of words, Cherie stuttered, "I…I…well that is…"

Noting her discomfiture, "There is no reason to be abashed, for I am at guilt as well. In all honesty, I'm afraid I only attended the ball today in place of my father."

Easing back, Cherie laughed, "Oh, and I thought that I'd never encounter another person as candid as I am! Please, call me Cherie. Since you were frank with me, I must tell you, I detest formalities."

"Of course, as you wish. And I'd prefer Stephen. Yes, formalities are unnecessary, for it seems like it leaves an awkward gap between two people that cannot be closed. I'd much more willingly be cordial with the people I meet rather than being stiff and formal, don't you agree?"

Cherie couldn't conceive the fact that she actually found a friend, of all places, at the ball! She agreed, "Of course! But wouldn't it be a spectacle if we approached the king and queen and addressed them as Isabelle and Ferdinand? And instead of presenting ourselves with obeisance in their presence, we wave and shake their hands? I can't begin to fathom the awe-struck faces of my parents!" And they continued on; talking of everything and anything, debating and contradicting each other, with all ending up in whole-hearted laughter.

Finally the ever-lasting dance reached its end, and Stephen and Cherie broke apart. After reviving from her latest fit of laughter, Cherie remarked, "Stephen, I'd just like to say, thank you, for I wouldn't have been able to survive the night without your pleasant company. I spent the last few days in such waste! I have tried to come up with my devious plans to escape the night!"

Stephen returned, "Same here, Cherie. I would have been utterly bored, if it wasn't for you. I thank you." With that, Stephen rested Cherie's hand in his and placed a light friendly peck.

Cherie returned the favor with a smile, and the two stepped off the dance floor. Just as more couples began heading towards the dance floor, Stephen said, "Cherie, may I ask you a question?"

She teased, "Depends on what it is. Nevertheless, I'll consider it. Yes, you may."

"Well, I was just wondering…if you are well-acquainted with Prince Tristan."

A sudden glint of uneasy discomfort and anger flashed in Cherie's eyes as she warily replied, "Actually, yes. I've known him for quite a while. But why do you ask? Are you conversant with him?" However, one of them disappeared as fast as it came.

Stephen chortled, "In fact, yes. I am one of his good friends. He is a reliable comrade of mine."

Shocked, Cherie commented, "Wow, Tristan actually has friends? That seems like an extremely unlikely notion to me. I'd believed that he was too proud and cocky to befriend anyone. But Stephen, how do you know him? Aren't you Armorian?"

Stephen noted that Cherie definitely had something against his fellow friend. He clarified, "Yes, I am Armorian. However, as you know, my father, Lord Arthur is Armora's ambassador. I travel around with him quite often in his journeys to other kingdoms. And well, Kyrria is one of the most frequently visited realms, since we are such close allies. We've met in Kyrria and became great friends. Wow, I've never heard anyone consider Tristan like that before. I guess I've been too accustomed to the ladies admiring him. And I've never thought of him as proud and conceited."

"Well, it's a strong possibility that you've never met his "other" side. I mean, for all we know Tristan can be a two faced charlatan. Who knows?" Cherie suddenly noted the irony of what she just said. In one way, that was partly true.

"I doubt that's the case Cherie. In all the years I've known him, I've never seen him as a guy like that. Tristan is a good lad. Maybe you should try to open up your perspective a bit more."

Cherie thought to herself, 'Open up my perspective more? I don't think I need to know anything more about him. Oh no, any addition will just accumulate on to the messy confusion growing in my mind.'

"Over the years, Tristan has proven over and over again to me how much of a vain, arrogant, proud, and annoying jerk he is. And believe me, I'd know, because I've grown up knowing him," replied Cherie intuitively. What Stephen didn't know was that Cherie had only given him the stereotypical answer.

Meanwhile…

From far across the room, Tristan sighed in aggravation as the obsequious ladies encircled him, and stared his way in infatuated adulation. Most girls were waiting for him to request a dance, but none were upfront enough to request themselves. He felt as if he was in an ineluctable position. As he looked beyond the teeming ladies in total misery, Tristan espied a sight of Cherie.

When he looked closer, he spotted a smile that was dancing on her lips. As he looked on in bewilderment, he was not at all expecting one of his best friends, Stephen to be good-naturedly chatting with the princess. How was that even possible? She was a termagant! And so judgmental! But now, she's having a friendly conversation with his best friend?

Full of growing curiosity, Tristan affably excused himself from the suffocating group of courtesans. "My ladies, your company has been delightful. However, as the honoree of this banquet, I must attend to the other guests. Pardon my vacancy." As soon as he was out of hearing range and out of reach, Tristan muttered, "What does it take to have some privacy or some space? Ugh, they were literally on top of me. I thought I was going to die. Ah, well, this is just another downside to being a prince." Shaking his head in disgust, Tristan began sauntering over to the couple he had spotted earlier.

They were just as the last time he espied them; conversing genially with each other. To Tristan, it seemed like an impossible mystery to solve; how was it that the princess was so…benign? With his brows knit into a furrow, Tristan finally reached the couple with only a short distance separating them.

Just when he started to take the last few steps, he was unexpectedly stopped short. As he listened closely to the discussion between the two, (although it was immoral to eavesdrop) Tristan was taken aback to realize that the subject of their exchange was HIM! They were talking about him! Tristan remained still as he heedfully paid attention to the conversation.

Stephen was defending Tristan as he finished, "Wow, I've never heard anyone consider Tristan like that before. I guess I've been too accustomed to the ladies admiring him. And I've never thought of him as proud and conceited." Tristan silently reminded himself to thank his old friend for the loyalty he displayed later.

Tristan returned his attention to the princess when she exclaimed, "Well, it's a strong possibility that you've never met his "other" side. I mean, for all we know Tristan can be a two faced charlatan. Who knows?"

'How dare she! How dare she sham me behind my back! And to say that she was the more mature one out of the two of us! Oh, I'm not letting this go easily! She has no evidence to express me as such! She has no knowledge about me!' Tristan was fuming when Stephen came to his justification again.

Once again, Tristan was indebted for the way Stephen was proving his fidelity, coming to his guard against unjust accusations. "I doubt that's the case Cherie. In all the years I've known him, I've never seen him as a guy like that. Tristan is a good lad. Maybe you should try to open up your perspective a bit more." Yes, Stephen was a good friend.

Cherie than came back with a counter remark. "Over the years, Tristan has proven over and over again to me how much of a vain, arrogant, proud, and annoying jerk he is. And believe me, I'd know, because I've grown up knowing him."

This explicitly set Tristan off. 'Oh, this is the last straw! She's crossed the line! She's way past the boundaries! I have heard enough! This just proves how hypercritical that princess is! Things have to be set straight!' His mind set, Tristan began striding towards the couple with a scorching glower flashing through his eyes.

In a dangerous tone, Tristan approached the couple with a greeting. "Good evening, Princess Cherlin. I hope your night has been passing smoothly. Ah, I see you have met Sir Stephen."

AN: So, what do you think? Was it good? Bad? Better? Worse? Interesting? Boring? Please comment! R&R people! No flames though- I still accept friendly critiques!