Chatoyant rivers of tender moonlight cascaded onto the Earth below while fanciful thoughts of merriment frolicked through your mind. Your day, up until this moment of clarity, had been far from what you would deem enjoyable. Your daily routine consisted of you being embroiled in the kingdom's politics, social pressures, and affairs of the state. Aside from the politics, you were engaging in scholastic activities (via your mother), going to council meetings, or receive mentoring from your councilors. But, when you did have some fleeting moments to yourself, you would donate to the poor, read poetry, or do needlework. This was the very basis of your life, the life as the princess of Astora.

Despite your royal duties and obligations, you fancied speaking to warriors. You spoke to them after they had trained and when they returned from war. Their stories of blood and war terrified you for the majority, but they put a twinkle of adventure in your eye. You could never engage in such barbaric battles yourself, but it was interesting to hear of them. You had heard stores of all kinds throughout your days, but no stories compared to the hopes and aspirations of one warrior in particular.

You do not remember him by his looks or signature scars, but by his superior strength displayed on the training grounds. He was a curious man, full of youth and vigor. His wit and gusto had certainly struck a chord in you over the years of speaking with him. He had brought back little tokens and trophies for you from his ventures out into the unknown lands. You fondly remember giggling at his snarky remarks that he tended to shout at his rivals during sparring. His stories of grandeur gave you the inspiration to craft needle work for him. Although...you had yet to muster the courage to give him your gifts. You know these feelings of adoration to be true.

Your mind had wandered and become lost among the gentleness of the light that poured down from the heavens. Permitting the light to envelop your thoughts even further, you rested your head rested gently upon the sill of a stained-glass window of your sleeping chamber. Something mystical about it appeased you in the most jovial of ways. The moon had a similar hold upon your heart and mind as the brazen warrior did.

Your romantic feelings had blossomed truly over the course of many years, though…you feared the worst and pondered if the feelings were mutual or not. The magic of the moon had been dashed from your eyes and your hands tugged at the sleeves of your amaranthine colored dress. In frustration you picked up your needlework for the knight you had made. Its imagery glared back at you with hostility of the unknown. It was a stitched image of the sun with a mighty gold steed rearing triumphantly in the middle.

Sudden frustration overcame you and you thrashed the work onto the floor near your bed. Tugging slightly at your [your color hair] locks, you dejectedly tried to gaze back up at the moon in hopes of returning to the fantasy of being forthright with this mysterious man. How could such a mysterious being have such a forceful hold upon your emotions in this manner? It drove you mad, truly it did. A great and powerful feeling of passion and fear stalked its way into your mind, attempting to disrupt your moments of solitude.

"Truly…I have committed the greatest folly. I have fallen in love." you muttered to yourself, clutching your hand against your bosom tenderly. Your heart had begun to beat with haste as you recalled what he had said to you earlier today.

"You really are fond of chatting with me, aren't you? If I didn't know better, I'd think you had feelings for me! Oh, no, dear me. Pretend you didn't hear that!"

His voice rang out clear in your mind as you recalled him saying this to you. Did he reciprocate the feelings for you? Or was he merely toying with you and flirting in jest? With a sigh of defeat, you laid yourself upon your bed.

"Oh Solaire…what have you done to me?" you muttered hopelessly to yourself.