Thank's to Martini the Brave for the help! Gotta go cos I have more coursework to do...NOOOOO! Enjoy!

.:A Birthday Surprise:.

"Father's having the Huntsman take us hunting today in the Royal forest," one of the littlest Princes announced boastfully at the breakfast table, smiling gleefully. "I bet we'll catch a deer!"

One of the Princesses looked unimpressed by our brother's talk. "Well I think you'll fall of your horse at the first sign of a chase. You couldn't ride in a straight line, not even if your life depended on it."

"I can too!"

"Please!" Nanny shouted angrily, glaring around at the younger children with disdain. "Nobility does not enter into such childish arguments at the breakfast table, do you understand?" She glanced at me as the little ones returned to their food once more and muttered, "Honestly, you'd think they'd been raised in a barn sometimes."

I smiled and coughed back a laugh. My half siblings were all unruly, disobedient misfits who would much rather spend the day chasing each other around the palace gardens than learn how to dance or wield a sword. I wasn't permitted to say so, but I had to agree with Nanny's remark.

"The children of the King? Raise in a barn, I hear you say?" I gasped outright and twisted round in my seat to face the open door to the nursery. The man in the doorway smiled broadly. "Then I've come to the right place!"

"Harte!" I leapt from my seat with joyful cry at the sight of my older brother, rushing to the doorway into my brother's embrace. The Crown Prince boomed with laughter as we hugged each other tightly, ignoring the excited chattering from the little princes and princesses at the table. "Harte, thank the gods you're safe! How long have you been here for?"

"Oh, a couple of hours," my older brother replied casually. At thirty-one years of age, Prince Harte was tall and bearded, every inch his father's son. From the severe-looking face, cool grey eyes and squared shoulders, Harte was the spitting image of the King, yet he was still able to bear the company of his little sister when he managed to get away from Court and his own family. "Calm down, Elle, you look worried!"

"You've just come back from a war!" I cried, so relieved to see him safe that I had to hug him once more. "You should have sent me a messenger to tell me you were all right."

"I had...other matters to attend to first," Harte said, then winked at me knowingly. "My wife was happy to have me back, shall we say?" Then he pinched my cheek fondly. "But enough about me, Elle, it's your birthday tomorrow, and the banquette tonight. It would appear as though you are now my not-so-little sister any more. Are you excited?"

I nodded eagerly and motioned to the hallway. "Do you wish to remain here or can we talk?"

"Let's talk," Harte replied, taking my arm and pulling me out of the nursery. "You shouldn't be taking breakfast with the bloomin' born-in-a-barn parade. I hear father wishes for a marriage between yourself and the King of Casarno, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And have you ever met him before?"

I hesitated as we walked, frowning slightly. "I have heard of him, but I have not met him face to face. He fought the dark sorcerers from the Western lands out of Casarno, when they were sent by the witch queen, Heldrida, who had planned to overthrow him during his first year as king."

"That's correct," Harte replied heavily. "But I'm not sure why Father wants this marriage with Casarno – they rely heavily on their magical powers. The King of Casarno himself is a Sorcerer of the Eight level, one of the highest ranks in the world." The hair on the back of my neck tingled as he spoke those words. "He will be at the banquette as well, hoping to meet with you. I would suggest thinking carefully before excepting such a marriage."

I looked up at met Harte's eyes. They were serious and frowning. "Pray tell me, would Father allow me to reject such a suitor?" The Crown Prince was forced to look away. "I thought as much. But tell me, Harte: how went the war with the dwarves?"

My brother's face suddenly paled in the gloom of the hallway, the eerie blue light of the stained glass making him look sickly and drawn. "If you have heard anything of noble battles and triumph beyond our wildest dreams, forget them. The uprising was strong, Eloryn; stronger than it has been in over a thousand years. I've never seen so many of the dwarf kings so united together for one cause, and we...we couldn't let it continue. It couldn't be tolerated, or else jeopardise both our father's and my future rules. It was hideous, bloody. The enemy knew how to fight, and their will was like that of the iron they forge! But we had to win in the end – it was inevitable. Our armies are too fearsome, our might too great. Their shall be no retaliation, at least not in our lifetime."

"Your Highness?" a voice called from up ahead, making us start and look up. A young man was hurrying down the hall towards us, sword bumping gently against his thigh.. The young man smiled, then he then turned to my brother. "Highness, forgive the abrupt interruption but your King and your uncle, My Lord of Igorance, wish to speak with you in the King's office."

"And you would be?" Prince Harte asked quietly.

The man bowed at once. "A thousand apologies. I am one of King Rychard's personal secretaries."

He pulled an identification card from the pocket of his flannel shirt and handed it to my brother, who glanced at it then nodded. "All right. Forgive me, sister, but it seems as though I really must hasten to our father's call."

"Don't hasten too fast," I joked, as Harte let go of my arm and made to follow the secretary. "We don't want you straining yourself."

Harte turned and pulled back a face in response, looking all of eleven years old. I laughed and waved, before turning back round to face the hall.

The banquette was a fine chance for my father to allow his decorators to transform the Great Hall of the palace from its usual antique glory into something even the elven visitors had to confess was astounding. For the first time in many years, all attention seemed to be on my – I felt sick with nerves. I stood at the side of the King, Queen, Crown Prince and his family, greeting the guests with all the Royal gratitude and politeness expected of me. When my uncle, the King of Igorance, stepped forwards to greet me, I smiled and curtsied to him. He took my hands, face proud.

"I still cannot quite believe that my little sister's daughter is almost a grown woman," King Rychard told me quietly. "You are so much like her, Eloryn."

I didn't know quite what to say, for I could only take his word for it. "Forgive me, Sire, but I have never seen a picture of my mother. But I am sure that you are right in your words."

Rychard smiled. "Of course I am. If you ever need help, Eloryn, you know where my kingdom lies. Seek me, for I shall not turn you away."

"Your Majesty is too kind," I replied, then grinned as he walked away to rejoin some minister or other. My smile wavered and threatened to disappear as a burly young man, dressed in the robes of a sorcerer, stepped forwards towards the thrones to pay his respects. I knew exactly who he was from the moment I saw him, for how many sorcerers were permitted to wear the crown of a king? It was the sorcerer-King from Casarno.

"King Bacall," my father said in his gruff tone, "it is an honour to have you amongst us tonight."

"I am always pleased to be invited to the palace of my Tirriusan cousins," the King of Casarno replied graciously. "I have travelled many days to be here today, and your hospitality had been warmly received."

Father nodded, then glanced at me. "King Bacall, may I introduce to you my daughter, Princess Eloryn? I trust our agreement still stands?"

The King of Casarno turned and bowed to me, and I allowed him to take my hand in his own to kiss it gently. "My lady, it is an honour to finally meet you at last. Your Majesty, if your daughter would permit our agreement, I would sign the certificates of holy matrimony right now. The rumours do not lie – her beauty is truly great!"

"You flatter me, Majesty," I cut in quickly, seeing the pain of the long-lost years flash across my father's face. "I thank you for your words, and I hope that the banquette does not disappoint you."

Bacall's lips twitched upwards briefly. "I would only be disappointed if you were to deny me the honour of a dance?"

Father was giving me one of his looks I could tell, so I nodded against my will as Bacall released my hand, fingertips stroking the skin and making me shudder. His hands were as cold as ice. "Then I must not displease. Until our dance?"

"Until our dance," Bacall agreed, then bowed once more and left, leaving me to rub my hands to warm the skin his own hand had touched. Harte moved to stand at my side.

"What did you think of him, sister?"

"His hands are like the skin of a snake."

Harte smiled grimly. "His hands aren't the only thing as cold as a snake. His personality seems warm and friendly, but believe me when I say that that is only an act. I hear he is quite the little back-stabber when the mood takes him."

"Does Father know this information?"

"Probably. But I suppose he would marry you to a camel trader if he could, so long as it removed you from our homeland." His words stung, making me stiffen and bite my lip. Harte cursed under his breath. "Forgive my words, but I only speak the truth to you. I only ever have done."

"I know." That was what had hurt me so much. "Thank you, Harte."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my uncle's secretary slip into the Great Hall. I watched his movements through the crowd as he made his way towards my uncle, face serious and slightly...what? Frightened? Something bad had happened, I could see. My uncle spotted him and made his excuses to the judge he had been speaking to so that he could see what his secretary needed. A hushed conversation later and Uncle Rychard had turned as pale as his secretary.

"I wonder what is wrong," I commented quietly, smiling graciously as a noblewoman curtsied to me. Harte was also watching Uncle Rychard. "He looks worried."

"A report from Igorance reached us this morning by messenger hawk," Harte replied grimly, barely moving his mouth. "The city of Sewel has been attacked by the Dark Knights from the North of Igorance. Our uncle was awaiting the number of people killed, but... He must finally know the number."

Music sounded as the musicians struck up at the front of the hall, and Harte sighed and shook his head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw King Bacall heading towards us through the crowd. I sighed, looking at Harte, who raised an eyebrow at him. It was time for my first dance with King Bacall.

"Princess, this is a great honour you do me," Bacall said humbly, leading me down towards the dance floor. His hand on my arm was clammy and heavy, yet I bared it due to Father's eyes watching our every movement. "And just think, such dances at this may become frequent events if you go on to do me the honour of becoming my wife."

I smiled thinly, bracing myself as we turned to face each other. I curtsied. He bowed. His arm snaked around my waist. "My lord, I would be honoured, I am sure."

And then we began to dance.

The wind was cool against my skin as I slipped out of the great Hall and into gardens beyond. A breeze lifted, catching at the fine silk of my dress and making the skirts whisper along the ground as I walked out onto the balcony, away from the dancers and the well-wishers, most of all hid darkened looks behind painted smiles. But I wasn't just hiding from them, nor from Bacall – who had insisted I danced with no one but he. I was hiding from my father and his burning words.

As I had seated myself on an empty seat at the back of the room, I had heard the King boastfully talking to one of the elfin guests. He had sounded drunk, his words slurred, and yet he was still able to string together a sentence that burned at my soul and made me wish once more that I could die.

"Eighteen-years-old," Father had been saying loudly. "Eighteen-years-old, and still a virgin! Even our Prince Harte had caught the love of a serving girl by that age!"

I couldn't bare to be in the hall any longer, and so I had fled out here onto the balcony to join the other guests who had tried to escape the heat within the palace. They smiled as I exited the hall, but otherwise they stayed well away from me, as though I held some deadly curse upon my skin that they dared not catch. Why couldn't this blasted party be over and done with? This was a political shindig – I was only a pawn in the middle of it to be toyed with. And humiliated. I hated my father for his words to those strangers, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it.

A servant appeared behind me with a tray laden with glasses of shimmering champagne. I saw him bow out of the corner of my eye and picked up a drink from the trey. "Would my lady like a drink?"

"No thank you," I replied quietly, voice wavering. "I'm not very thirsty."

The servant sighed deeply and settled the drink back down on the trey once more, his crystal blue eyes humble. "You look pale, my lady. Is the party not to your pleasing?"

"Oh, it is a wonderful. I just... Never mind."

"Are you sure a little champagne won't help ease the stress of dancing, my lady?" Again the glass was offered to me, and this time I couldn't help myself and took the glass from the man. I drank deeply, suddenly parched. "There, see? I told you that a drink would make you feel better."

I handed the glass back and cast my eyes across towards the city bellow us. The capital sparkled and shone, the glittering lights from the houses captivating me again. The whole of the capital was stretched out before us and seemed to burn with fire. And then everything blurred, the whole world spinning violently.

"My lady, are you all right?" the servant asked anxiously, as I stumbled, only just managing to catch myself on the balcony railings. He snared another passing serving man and pushed the trey into his hands. "My lady, you do look awfully pale. Here, let me take you back to your room."

"No!" I gasped, shaking my head, yet still the servant pulled my arm around his neck to try and steady me. "I can manage, I'm just..." My head spun again and I groan, nearly losing my footing. Still the servant was walking, leading me down the stone steps into the palace grounds – but why? "Where...are we...going?"

"Keep walking." His tone was sharper now, harsh and cruel. It turned my blood to ice, but as I tried to pull away I felt my balancing betraying me, and I feel heavily against him. "Get up!"

I couldn't. On the border of consciousness I heard the servant – or was it a servant? - curse angrily and swept me up into his arms. I was limp, as light as a rag doll in his arms, and I could not even scream out for help. I was falling asleep. Sleep would be welcoming. And then the shadowy world of the palace gardens turned black.

I don't know how long I slept until I began to dream once more. I walked quietly along the dirt track, feeling as lost and hopeless as ever. I was in the forest of tall trees, whose barks glistened and shone brighter than the moon at night. These soldiers of white light dazzled me, forcing me to cast my eyes to the ground. It was only then that he came, appearing behind me and laying his hands on my shoulders. I continued to walk, and he was standing right behind me. He was floating along just inches from the ground, something that had always scared me, but tonight I was not afraid. I couldn't have felt more relieved to feel his familiar presence behind me if my life had depended on me.

"Are you crying?" he asked quietly. "What is wrong?"

"I'm in trouble - terrible trouble."

The man behind me stiffened slightly, hands clenching on my shoulders. "What? What has happened to you? Where are you?"

"I don't know." I was so afraid that I felt my steps slowing. "I've been...I think I've been abducted."

The urgency in his head was plain. "Let me help you. I...I am a magician. I can help you, if you let me--"

"No!" I cried. "What if my kidnapper is stronger than you?"

"You think he's a magician?"

"I... Yes, I think so."

I heard the man click his tongue on the roof of his mouth as he thought, then heard him cough uneasily. "I have some important business to attend to at the moment, but as soon as I can spare the time I will dream of you again. I want to help you, all right? If only to see your face at last."

And then I woke, and thought for a moment that I had died. Darkness consumed everything around me, darkness coiling around me, reaching out to suck me into it. I shrank back away from it, terrified, only to feel an icy wall against my back. My hands, I realised, had been chained above my head with invisible iron. Magic, I realised – so my abductor was of magical origin. I wanted to scream out loud, to hopefully attract the attention of someone nearby who could help me. But I didn't get the chance. Far above my head there was the creak of floorboards, and the deep coughing of a man. There was a harsh squeaking noise, a grating of chains, and then a crack of light blinded me from up ahead.

Someone was entering my prison, and I doubted that they would be friendly.