As she walked down the street, her red scarf blew in the winter breeze along with her dark brown hair; a jingling came from her coin earrings as she turned her head around quickly, looking as if she had heard something, dismissing it as paranoia, she continued to walk. Her pale skin took a rosy shade due to the cold wind, her silvery grey eyes practically glowed in the dimming light of the evening. Not too far off, on the roof of a nearby building, sat a hooded figure that seemed to watch the girl with intrigue. Underneath the cloak hood, was the face of none other than Nuada: prince of the elves, killer of man. With such a title, why would this person be following a human? Not even he knew, as another gust of wind blasted, it forced his hood back to show snow white hair and skin, black lips and vibrant gold eyes, strong facial features, a very handsome elf. Nuada pulled his hood up again, as he kept on watching the girl; he saw something in the background. Two men walked up behind her, he saw the glint of metal; a knife. They were about to harm her, something in the back of his mind nagged him, telling him to go save her, he wanted to fight against it, but he knew that if he didn't save her, his conscience would keep on nagging. So he swiftly jumped from window balcony to window balcony until he was at the ground. One of the men had already grabbed her and held a knife to her throat, but not before he killed off the other man, and held the bloody spear tip to his throat. "I suggest you let her go and move along, before you meet the same fate as your friend," the other man looked toward his fallen comrade. He smiled a manic smile, threw the girl down and tried to charge Nuada, but not before he felt the spear go through his chest. He looked down to his wound, and to his killers eyes, he saw how they differed from his, and breathed out, "Wh-what are you?" Nuada wrenched his spear from his chest. "Something you forgot long ago," Nuada spat, then looked to the girl, she was starting to stand up, and then looked up to her savior's gaze, and looked into his golden eyes, "Thanks." It was then that Nuada truly looked at the woman that he'd been trailing for a few minutes.

He saw that her almond shaped eyes were a startling shade of light grey, and that her facial features were statuesque with high cheek-bones, and full rosy lips, all sitting on very pale skin that was almost translucent. She had a curvy body, not plump, but not sickly, enough to make every man eye her, she also stood at decent height, not short, but not a giant either, and her strait brown locks cascaded down her shoulders. "Woman," he barked, she didn't jump, "What is your name?" he demanded, she still held his gaze, "Rowan." She replied, 'Such an interesting name for a human,' he thought, "What's yours, hero?" she asked,

"Nuada," he replied as well.

"Let me see you." She demanded, he then spat,

"How dare you try to order me, you insolent human," she recoiled from his anger,

"I'm sorry, but I just wanted to see who I'm thanking," he looked at her as if she had two heads, 'Why a human act as such, they are all barbaric pigs!' He then removed his hood and came into the artificial lamp light, Rowan finally saw him, but did not shy away, quite the opposite really. She slowly came toward him,

"You remind me of a story," she breathed, as if in a dream,

"And what tale would that be, human," he stated coldly, she stopped,

"I have a name, Nuada, and it was a story that my Grandmother told me. About an elf prince that had an unstoppable hate for the humans, and begged his father to create an army so strong, nothing, let alone human, could defeat it. He stopped, eyes wide as he looked at this human, Rowan, "And what befell this prince?" he asked with sudden interest. "He still hated the humans, so he exiled himself forever," she finished. He smiled at her, "You are an interesting case, human-,"

"Rowan," she corrected.

"Rowan," he started, "I will be seeing you again," and then was embraced by the shadows as he walked back out of the light, Rowan tried to follow him, but saw no trace of him, she then cocked her head to the side,

"And he say's I'm interesting . Hmm, Prince Nuada..."she spoke, and then walked home without any incident. But in the shadows was the very elf she was thinking about the whole time, in return, he was thinking about her.

Once inside her apartment, she then went to her office/art room, by trade she was an artist and musician. Her walls were covered with drawings and pictures', sitting next to her desk was her guitar, and in a small black case was a flute, her best instrument. She had been playing it since she was in middle school, but she wasn't going to play it today, because right now, she was in the process of drawing her hero tonight. Hours passed by, and the pile of crumpled paper piled up in the waste basked, each containing a picture that she thought wasn't good enough to show how he really looked, none of the previous attempts had a life like feel, for it was from memory. If he was here, it would be a different story, since he wasn't, memory would have to make due. Rowan was sitting there for so long that she fell asleep at her desk, unbeknownst to Rowan; Nuada had been watching her the whole time. As soon as she fell asleep, he jumped to her balcony and into her room, the window was unlocked, so it was easy to come in. He didn't do anything, just sat there and wondered why his body told him to go to her.

Morning came and Nuada was still there as the morning came, and as she awoke, she stretched, and then turned to the window, only to see a figure she didn't know sitting on her window sill, she tried to jump out of her chair, but the chair didn't move as it was supposed to, so she and the chair fell back in a heap. Once she stopped, she looked to see that the figure was Nuada.

"Is this how you greet all of your guests?" he inquired,

"Guests don't usually come through my window." she quipped, he gave a small grin,

"Your banter is quite refreshing," she stopped from rubbing the back of her head and looked at him with wide eyes, he saw her, "Why are you looking at me that way?" She shook her head and smiled a bitter sweet smile,

"Nothing," she started, "I'm just wondering why I'm standing here alive, because clearly, you're the Prince Nuada from the story."

All emotion fell from his face as he charged her, his spear blade below her chin, "I could kill you," he seethed, "quite easily, but then I would never hear the end of it." her face assumed the look of confusion, but didn't press on. Nuada already seemed befuddled enough as it was.