An End To All Pain?

Princess Nuala stared blankly out at the hopeful faces of the red robed council members, all leaning forward over the wooden railings of the stands that flanked the throne room to get a better view of the event. Such eagerness and enthusiasm looked ridiculous not only in regards to the situation, but also because those Elvish men and women were always so carefully emotionless. Nuala found herself wishing those misguided advisors could see just how much damage this army, by this time fully assembled and waiting just to the north of the forest, was about to do.

More frightening to the princess even than the zeal of the advisors was the fierce gleam in her brother's eyes as he stood to his father's right, watching the Chamberlain carrying the crown down the hall towards the king. The prince had not said a word to Nuala, hardly even looked at her, since she had run from the throne room in anguish the day before. When his eyes had met hers in the few moments before the coronation had been fully prepared, she had been able to see the yearning in his expression clearly, but also the frustration and the disappointment. It began to occur to Nuala that this gulf in their opinions, and not their father's disapproval, would be the thing to pull them apart. Unlike her brother, she had never heard the prophecies the Angel had given, and so could not comprehend the significance of the idea.

King Balor himself sat very still upon his throne, his expression one of grim resolution and resignation. He had witnessed the Golden Army for himself upon their arrival on the forest's border, from the Furnace Caves. The sight of such a horde had horrified him beyond anything he had ever known, but the promise of commanding them gave him a feeling of power which easily overrode his misgivings. To see the royal seal, the royal seal of his kingdom, embossed on every golden leviathan shoulder filled him with a strange sense of pride. He alone owned the hope of the continuing dominance of his people.

Around the hall, as ever, stood the king's guards, but it was only in that moment, as the Chamberlain approached the throne, that Nuala spared a moment to look at those loyal servants. They were in fact not Elves at all, but Chimera, creatures of only partial Elvish descent, brought into the service of guarding Balor while the others were out fighting. The other side of their ancestry was unknown, but they were truly strange beings, with greyish skin and long, curved structures – like a giant bird's beak – in the stead of faces. They had no visible eyes in this outer skull of bark-like bone, nor did there seem any place for a mouth.

The princess could not pretend to herself that the Chimera did not unnerve her; they were as frightening to her in their uniform apparent indifference as the more familiar Elvish guards. Every one of the Chimera was dressed in heavy black leather armour and each carried a pair of vicious blunt-ended swords on their belts. They stood to rigid attention, utterly unmoving, their hands hovering close to their sword hilts, long jet-black hair pulled back into tight ponytails.

Despite all of her fears regarding the warriors, Nuala could not help but empathise with the Chimera as the Chamberlain slowly unlocked the metal box holding the crown, his every movement appearing exaggerated and impossibly drawn out to her unwilling eyes. The princess found herself feeling very much like those guards; her thoughts on the matter of the coronation and the army were not wanted and were ignored – nothing she said could alter what was about to happen. She certainly could not challenge the king, though she had the right, for such a decision would mean battle…and that she certainly could not do.

As if the very air around her were the bars of a prison cell, Princess Nuala stood to her father's left, bound to watch and doomed to stay silent. Her lungs seemed to take in no air and she found herself fairly gasping for breath as the unostentatious and yet intricate crown was revealed. A collective gasp went up in the hall, as if the advisors had not seen the ominously beautiful object before.

Nuala's hands, clasped in front of her, began to tremble when the prince stepped forward, taking the crown in his hands and turning towards their father. No one could have seemed more at odds with her in that moment than her brother; no one could ever seem so distant, so incomprehensible.

As he stepped towards the king, the prince looked Nuala's way, and the glance was only fleeting, but in those flame like eyes she saw nothing but doom for their world. So it was that the princess found she had to look away from her brother, unable to meet a gaze that brought on such mixed feelings within her. Still, she watched as Prince Nuada placed the crown upon King Balor's head and a piece of the ancient sadness visible in the latter's eyes was replaced by hope. Nuala felt, however, that his misery had not been lost, but simply passed on to her. The pain of her sadness overcame her, and she took a step back, tears filling her eyes when her brother looked towards her angrily this time.

Slowly, Balor stood, and absolute silence fell in the throne room. As they had with the arrival of the crown, every being stood utterly still, varying expressions of awe and amazement visible on their pale faces. It was true that, for the first time since the death of his queen, King Balor stood straight again, his very presence commanding absolute respect and speaking of royalty.

"I am King Balor, ruler of the magical realm of Bethmora, leader of the Golden Army," he proclaimed, his voice resounding strongly in the hall, "Are there any here who would challenge my right?"

The king's words were answered with silence, something which gradually seemed to grow into its own sound, freezing that moment as one long still in Nuala's memory. Then the stillness was broken as a low rumbling invaded the silent hall, and the ground shook. Balor remained untouched by the sound, knowing full well what it meant, while the advisors looked to each other with more than a little fear evident in their eyes.

Meanwhile, by his father's side Nuada stood with fierce light in his eyes, a look that could so easily be perceived as madness; a look that filled his sister with dread. A grim smile showed on his face, his hand reflexively reached for the hilt of his sword – which was not there, of course, for no weapons were permitted in the throne room. Nuala could not suppress a sob at this sight, wishing her brother's mind could be on anything other than war, death and pain.

Revenge had spurred the prince on, revenge against the humans, who had attacked the princess. That knowledge made her feel guilty, and Nuala felt the first of her tears fall onto her cheek. She looked down at the dusty ground, imagining the movement of the mighty golden constructs she had never seen and somehow knowing that without the slaughter at the human settlement none of this would ever have happened. The princess jumped then, feeling Nuada's touch running across her cheek as if he were right there beside her. For a moment all her thoughts spun, and even the Golden Army seemed insignificant.

"They have awakened," the prince pronounced softly, and yet somehow those words once more silenced the advisors and they stared at him this time, though he did not return the look, instead choosing to turn his gaze towards the princess. He could see the confusion as clearly in her eyes as he could sense it, and could not hide a slight smile as he found he could continue the illusion of touching her cheek…He was so lost in the very idea of this that Balor's next words succeeded in startling him rather violently.

"I believe it is time to meet this army of ours," the king smiled, stepping down from his throne's stand, "I bid you all come with me to meet the bringers of new hope to Bethmora." A cheer went up at these words as the advisors filtered out of the room, leaving only the guards and the Elvish royalty in the hall.

"Father," Nuala began, but Balor shook his head, raising a hand for silence and turning to look over his shoulder at his son.

"Nuada, you should go to see this army of yours," the king said significantly, and still the prince paused, feeling his sister's distress, "Nuada!" Balor said a little more sharply, and his son frowned before eventually turning sharply on his heel and stalking from the room.

"Father, please, do not force me to witness these death bringers," the princess pleaded, "And if you will not then let me go, my place is no longer by your side if you have fallen so low as to kill as freely as the humans do."

"You think I would let you go, Nuala?" Balor sighed, "I am not so unselfish, and you are not so disloyal. You will stay with me in my court. You are the last…sane one among us, I fear, and I cannot lose you now. I left the mighty underground splendour of the city of Bethmora when your mother died, when I felt I could not cope with the memories. I cannot lose you, too, you who remind me so much of her," he turned away then, shaking his head, "No. You will come with me, where I can see you, where I know the prince cannot touch you, and you will look upon your saviours: the Golden Army."

With this, King Balor took his daughter by the arm, fairly pulling her along with him from the hall, and then heading north through the palace until they were once more in the simple shelter of the trees. Not far from here were gathered the advisors, the prince nearby, and all of them were staring fixedly ahead, down a steep decline in the ground and over the flat land beyond.

As if drawn by a kind of morbid curiosity she had known nothing of before, Nuala stepped forward, too, subconsciously by the side of the prince. The sight laid out before her was like nothing she could ever have imagined, like nothing she would ever wish to see again. Row upon row of terrible golden giants, each stamped with the seal of Elvish royalty, stared blankly back at her, filling the fields of flowers, darkening the world around them, taking the shine from the waters of the sea itself, once glittering so splendidly to the east. A red glow emanated from every construct's chest, filling their empty heads and glowing vividly from their eyes as one by one they moved to stand to rigid attention, hundreds of tiny cogs and links working within them to move joints and lift metal plates.

The king had stepped up before the Golden Army, the rain misted wind sweeping his long hair and white cloak to flutter out behind him, the new crown gleaming almost impossibly in the autumn light. He was utterly fixated on the army ahead of him, and so he did not see the prince take the princess's hand in his, the twins moving closer together, seeking comfort from each other faced with such a scene. For even Prince Nuada felt dread at the sight of such a horde, and besides he would not allow his sister to feel such fear and sadness without his comfort.

"I am King Balor," their father proclaimed once more, his voice somehow ringing over the land with force enough for the whole army to hear, "And I am the wearer of the Golden Crown. We are at war with the humans; I hereby command you to destroy the western settlement of theirs nearest to the forest, and from there to destroy their armies."

No answer was given to this command save once more for the rumbling of the ground, the whirring of cogs and wheels as the army turned as one and began to march towards the human settlement. Nuala and Nuada both watched the Golden Army go, but with thoughts directly in opposition with each other. For the princess feared for the life of Elatha and his bride, who were seeking shelter in the human settlement doomed for destruction, while the prince hoped for the deaths of those very same lovers.

Once the order to the army was given, King Balor turned away from the constructs, towards the forest. He could not bring himself to look at his daughter, knowing the pain he had caused her, and so he never saw that the twins were together. He simply sighed wearily and headed once more for the palace, his advisors in tow, inadvertently leaving his children alone together.

"Nuala," the prince spoke her name with unmatched reverence, his voice somehow reaching deep into her mind and filling every one of her thoughts with the knowledge that he was by her side, his skin touching hers.

"Do you truly find my pity tiresome?" the princess asked quickly before her brother could continue, knowing that if he did she would never be able to bring up the subject again. After all, she had hurt him with words as badly as he had done to her.

"No," his arms were around her by this time, and she could feel his lips moving against her jaw as he whispered the word into her ear, "I spoke in anger. But…is it true that you believe I have the cruellest of hearts?"

"I do not know," Nuala answered honestly, finally looking away from the ruined fields to meet the prince's eyes, "I hope not. I hope you can prove me wrong," despite those words, anger flared in his expression, and he pushed her back harshly so that she stumbled and almost fell.

"I have done nothing to make you think of me that way!" he cried furiously, "Nothing! The decision to build this army was taken by both our father and me, not me alone. Yet you, you of all people most beloved of mine in this world, seek to vilify me! I swear, Nuala, that if there is ever a day when you do break my heart, I will make absolutely sure yours breaks as well."

"Your words give me no comfort," the princess said softly, wrapping her arms around herself uncomfortably as her brother's glare continued to blaze into her and the rain truly began to fall, "But they make me fear I was right. I wish I could hold you back, Brother, I wish I could save your life. I wish I could truly forgive you for the things you have done to me and the horrors you have set in motion."

"I..."

"No, please listen," Nuala sighed, approaching the prince slowly at first, nervously, and then more swiftly, putting a finger against his lips for silence and finding herself pressed closely against him, his hands on her waist, his eyes somehow still blazing with ferocity though his touch suggested something altogether different, "You must try to help yourself as much as I try to help you. Hold yourself back – you have control enough to burn me with your glance and at once seduce me with your touch. I trust there will be no more death threats from you," she whispered, reaching up and putting a hand over his eyes, "You do not have to burn with anger. There are other emotions just as powerful and far less destructive. Because, Nuada…when I told you I was not afraid of you, I meant every word, but now I could not say such a thing and speak the truth. For I do fear you…more than just a little, I think…and yet I feel I could not live without you," with these words she pulled him down towards her, still shielding his eyes.

"Please, you must forgive me," he murmured, and his voice was torn with the pain of everything she had said to him, "Do not fear me."

"Then finish what you started," Nuala bade him gently, stepping away quickly before he could kiss her, "Finally fulfil the promise you made. Let nothing stop you this time, for every time we have been halted and I can bear it no longer."

Without a word the prince took her hand once more in his, returning to the relative shelter of the forest and making his way towards the palace. Instead of entering this place however, he took Nuala around it. To them both it felt an eternity before they had reached the appropriate area of the palace, the place where none would dare seek them out: the prince's chambers in the western side of the structure. Upon silent feet they entered, reaching the door without being seen – something which seemed a rarity for them in their own home by that time.

"What is it?" Nuada asked softly, closing and bolting the portal behind himself and seeing his sister standing in the middle of the room, her expression somewhat forlorn.

"You chose to go and fight," she mumbled, "You chose to go and fight rather than…stay with me. I know so much has happened to stop…this, but you actively chose to go to the war. Can you prove my words wrong?"

"They are not comparable, Nuala," the prince told her calmly, approaching and putting his hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his arm, so he pulled her closer, holding her to him in a gentle embrace.

"Are they not comparable for you?" Nuala whispered tentatively, "I can sense your emotions with every kill you make, and never once have you had any feelings of guilt, shame, remorse, or even pity. It scares me, Nuada. I love you too much to ignore how your treatment of life is becoming increasingly callous."

"How can you even begin to think that death…and the taking of lives…is more important to me than you?" Nuada growled, and it was with confusion that the princess found she enjoyed the feeling that sound created between them, shuddering through them both, "If the king had not…found us I think none of this would have happened. Do not misinterpret my feelings towards you, Nuala," the prince whispered, "I love you more than any thing and any being," his hands were shaking as they moved to her back, seeking the fastens of her dress as he backed her into the wall.

"Then show me. Prove it to me," the princess told him, only to gasp when Nuada's impatience got the better of him and with one sudden, vicious jerk, cloth and lacing tore free, fluttering slowly to the ground, almost unnoticed as the Elves kissed.

His lips were so warm and urgent against hers, his touch so gentle on her skin, that it seemed impossible for this to be wrong. If this were not meant to happen, wouldn't she have the strength to resist? In the past it had not been uncommon for very closely related members of the royal family to be betrothed – siblings, even, to keep the bloodline pure. Yet never like this. Not twins.

Yet Nuala found it impossible to think of him as a brother. Not in every sense. They had been kept apart for all their lives previous to this, and now come together with shocking force. She loved him, and she felt insane for it, but she truly loved him, and could not wholly see what was wrong with it.

But the king had decreed that they spend no time alone, and yet there they were, locked away in the prince's chamber by her suggestion…finally…

"No, we mustn't!" Nuala managed to gasp, stepping back out of his reach.

The prince looked at her darkly for a long moment, his golden eyes locked fiercely with hers.

"Is that what you truly wish?" he asked, and as ever his voice alone had power enough to make her body go weak.

Still, fighting her instinctive reactions, Nuala took a step towards the door. Even so, her eyes were still staring almost desperately and definitely longingly into his. When Nuala took another step forward, the prince took action of his own.

Before she could move again, he took hold of her and pushed her back against the wall. She tried to step around him – a movement that felt more like an excuse to go closer to him than anything else – but he took her shoulder and slammed her back harder.

"No," the princess murmured half-heartedly as his hand gently circled her throat, and she attempted to turn her face away. That action was stopped more by her own reactions than his hold on her, and he leaned closer anyway, kissing the side of her neck, by the curve of her jaw, lightly once. She needed to kiss him, more than anything…

His lips found hers again, and this time the princess did not have the will to pull away. She could feel herself beginning to relax against him as the kiss slowed, and when he did move back a little, she leaned closer and he smiled in triumph. Soon, it felt like all that was holding her up were her arms around his neck and his body pressing hers against the wall.

"Do you say 'no' to me now?" the prince asked softly, and Nuala shook her head, pulling him back to her slowly, savouring every forbidden second as they kissed again.

Nuala was not truly aware of the moment when her dress slipped from her shoulders, all of its lacing utterly broken, rustling quietly downwards to lie in a silken heap upon the ground. She was, however, very much aware of the prince's touch seeking over her skin, and her own hands were shaking as she sought to unfasten the red sash around his waist. For a moment the knot caught and she inadvertently pulled him to her. Suddenly feeling inexplicably nervous, she looked up to meet his eyes and her breath stopped when she saw the emotions blazing there.

"You are afraid," Nuada noted softly.

"You made me so."

"Then let me take it away."

Very slowly, as if only then realising that they had eternity, his fingers lightly circled her wrists, steadying her hands so that she could slide the knot free, unravelling the sash easily. He watched her eyes for every second of this, and slowly the fear she felt ebbed away, just as he had promised. For a brief moment the princess could forget all of her grievances and sadness; she had no thoughts of the Golden Army or death at all.

Quickly the prince turned away to pull his tunic free, and soon the garment joined Nuala's dress at their feet. When Nuada looked back around, the princess's gaze fell to his scars, and she consequently remembered hers, something which made her look away self consciously until he caught her in his arms, cradling her against him with an arm around her waist and his other hand tangled in her hair.

"What is it?" he asked of her, his lips brushing hers gently with every word.

"The scars…my scars I mean…they do not mar…I am not…you do not think…"

"I think that you are beautiful," the prince promised, kissing her more obviously, more deliberately, then unashamedly taking in her appearance, his eyes blazing, "No creature is as beautiful as you. I cannot take away those scars, for I gave them to you…I cannot take away the pain of anything that has befallen you…but I can love you, I will love you. Have no more fears, think not at all but of me, or not at all of anything if you must; just…feel."

When next they kissed, Nuada lifted her from the ground, spinning them both around and stepping across the room before gently lowering her onto the bed. The princess could not suppress a gasp when he joined her, settling over her and pressing his left palm to her right as he did so. For a long time they remained utterly speechless, Nuala unable to think of anything beyond him and the way he moved against her, within her, and the emotions and feelings he created. Not only that, but she could feel everything he could through the link he had made by pressing his hand to hers.

The world became inconsequential because he had become everything, to the point where his hair caressing her skin felt somehow as beautiful as any gentle touch and yet somehow so much more intimate. His body was shuddering against hers, his breathing coming in fast gasps…and he did not look at her, his face obscured by those same shimmering strands of white and gold.

"Nuada," the princess whispered eventually, her voice catching, and she touched a finger to his chin, tipping his head back so he had to look into her eyes. She had not expected to see tears glistening on his cheeks, and could never have imagined the gentle smile that showed on his face when he looked at her. Amazed, Nuala touched her free hand to his face and he turned towards that contact, a wordless sound of love, passion and increasing ecstasy escaping them both.

"Please," he gasped, "This is…this is so much more…I cannot…explain…"

"Then your tears are good?" the princess smiled, though she already knew the answer.

"Of course. I adore you and you are…" here he gave up with words, kissing her deeply instead, and drawing back too soon to try and regain his breath, "Then let this be my apology, my gift to you…let the world just spin away." And she surely did.


The sun shone with unmatched radiance in the sky that day to Nuala's eyes as she lay there, watching the brilliant rays streaming through the window space to shimmer on the prince's hair. He was staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his breathing as she did hers. Something was troubling him, the princess could feel it as she kissed away his tears, so she pressed her lips to his and felt his heart race, even as his thoughts calmed.

"You were right," she whispered against him, "This is right. Nothing ever felt so right or good to me. And I know what you meant when you spoke of hiding inside of me," she added softly, feeling him smile.

"That I could do for eternity," he admitted, gathering her closer against him and sighing regretfully.

"What is it?"

"I have to go," Nuada groaned unwillingly.

"No! Not again, please."

"I will return soon," he promised quickly, kissing her again before she could respond, "But there is something I must…oversee first, before it is too late," the prince told her, letting go and sitting up, only to turn back around and lean closer again, drifting a hand over her cheek, "And rest, for you had no sleep last night, I know it, and perhaps will have none in this night to come, though I hope that shall be for…better reasons."

With that he stood, swiftly dressing, and Nuala closed her eyes with a sigh, knowing she could not stop him. When she opened them again, he was gone, the door remaining firmly bolted from within. She smiled at the memory of the last time he – they – had left a room through its window space, and the happy expression faded as she thought of all the horrors that had followed that joyous moment.

Meanwhile, Prince Nuada hurried through the trees with grim purpose, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword-spear with unconscious force. He did not like what he sought to 'oversee', but he also felt it was his duty to see it done. For he sought the death of Elatha; a traitor to Elfland but also the prince's oldest friend.

The ground continued to rumble ominously, a sound that grew louder and louder the further Nuada came to the western human settlement bordering the forest. This told him that the Golden Army were at least still carrying out the first stage of their orders, so perhaps he would be in time to witness the last moments of destruction.

Eventually the line of trees fell away to reveal the familiar valley and the settlement of wood beyond. Only this time the roundhouses were aflame, dark smoke rising up into the air, thicker than it ever was from their crude chimneys. The ground was awash with blood, torn and beaten bodies lying strewn everywhere. As he stared, watching the unstoppable waves upon waves of golden constructs crashing through the homes of the humans, killing all they saw, even Prince Nuada's heart grew heavy.

"What loss the world must endure," he sighed, "What pain and death must our lives be filled with before all is well and safe, as I have never known it to be?" But in those few moments with her. Moments he longed to return to.

A high scream pierced the thick air, and the prince looked up sharply from his thoughts to see the two he had half-hoped not to: Elatha crouched in the shadow of one blazing roundhouse, hunched over his human bride, trying to shield her from the notice of the army. But the constructs were not so fallible, and one of the golden leviathans paused, seeing the golden haired warrior.

"Elatha, my old friend," Nuada sighed, and as he watched the metal titan approach the two crouched by the burning wood, his expression grew hard again, "You brought this upon yourself."

No pity could the prince find in his heart as he saw Elatha flung across the ground to land with a resounding snap in the bloody soil. He did not stir, and so never saw the construct run Siobhan through with the blade serving as its hand. She shuddered, flailing aimlessly for a long moment before it sent her flying too, into the flames behind her. Nuada did wince at the sound of her screams.

Meanwhile, Elatha did eventually move, or try to, but his attempts to raise himself failed utterly, and with a cry of pain he fell back, his expression one of grief as he realised he could not help Siobhan. Then he saw the glimmer of gold to his right, across the valley, and he turned his head in confusion in time to see Prince Nuada looking back at him coldly.

"Farewell, old friend," the prince bade Elatha, turning away just before the member of the Golden Army advanced on the 'treacherous' warrior and killed him, too.

As he returned to the forest, walking through those familiar leaves, Nuada's feet felt heavy, every step dragged beneath him. He could remember all of those times with Elatha, fighting among the trees with fallen twigs, the fairies wheeling around them joyously in the air. Where had all of the happiness gone? Why did everything have to end in death? He saw then, too late, that Elatha had only ever been a loyal friend, never seeking to harm the Elvish land, only ever wishing for happiness with the one he loved. What right had Nuada to choose such a thing?

"None," he whispered, stumbling to a halt and sliding down to the ground against a tree, hiding his face in his hands and groaning from the unfamiliar weight of sadness settling upon him, "What have I done?" the prince gasped, but no answer came, only the gentle sighing of the trees in the wind.

No rage filling him as it had with the attacks on his sister, only a terrible feeling of grief and loss, Nuada stood once more, feeling as if even that action were nearly impossible. He did not know how to handle the pain he felt, he could not understand that the emotion tearing at him from inside was guilt.

Wandering among the trees with no thought of his destination the prince felt like a child once again, lost and very much alone, with no friends, no one to care for him at all. How rarely his father had been to visit him, seeing him only enough to instil the pride of royalty within him, to teach him the ways of a prince. That pride had been the cause for the end of Elatha's life, and finally he knew that.

Even the scenes of the human deaths tormented his mind as he walked, subconsciously returning to his chambers, to Nuala. Something about those recent and very new moments with her had made him vulnerable. Nuada could feel everything he had been able to ignore before, but the need for revenge still ate away at his being just as the guilt did. He could feel the sadness of losing the species of humanity, but he could not feel remorse for it. As far as he was concerned, the humans had to die for the world to return to the happiness he had never known.

Just as silently as he had left, the prince returned to the room through the window space, seeing that sleep had indeed taken Nuala and she lay in oblivious, peaceful repose upon his bed. Once more tears stung in Nuada's eyes as he watched the princess and he slipped out of his boots, pulling off his tunic, too.

The prince could hardly keep his movements steady as he lay down behind Nuala, almost tentatively putting his arms around her and feeling her sigh softly, whispering his name without any of the condemnation he had half-expected her to.

"I wish I could always wake in your arms," Nuala sighed, allowing her senses to slowly come alive. She could feel his body, warm against hers, his right arm resting over her left side, his hand tracing through her hair.

"I intend that you shall," came the quiet response, "Regardless of everything our f…King Balor tries to do to stop us."

"What is there left to stop, I wonder?"

"I do not know, but we are too bound by so many things for him to be able to predict how we will evade his laws and his attempts to enforce them," Nuada told her.

"Promise me that I will be here with you tonight and that you will not have left me by the morning," the princess said, a little desperately, after a brief pause, raising herself so she could look at him properly, "Please do not go anywhere, do not leave me."

"I cannot promise what I do not know," the prince sighed, and when he saw the disappointment evident in Nuala's eyes, he frowned, "Would you have me lie?" he demanded sharply, and the princess shook her head hastily, putting a finger over his lips.

"No. I understand," she told him, "It was an unfair thing to ask of you," as she spoke, her hand paused in its movement through his hair, and she glanced back into his eyes in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"Are these scars?" the princess asked softly, seeing several curved black lines on his right temple, reaching out like ripples of water from his hairline.

"No," Nuada told her, "They have always been there."

"Then we do not share everything," Nuala whispered, leaning down and kissing the natural pattern, "It is beautiful."

"You made me break a promise to myself," Nuada smiled suddenly, though his eyes continued to hold inexplicable sadness, and the princess looked at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Before," he answered absently, pausing to kiss her shoulder and apparently far more occupied with tracing patterns over her back than speaking, "Before we met, I made a promise that I would never trust anyone but myself; I am a warrior, I was alone. You made me break that promise, because I trust you – I must trust you – and I have put all of my trust in you…my life is in your hands."

They paused a moment then, staring into each other's eyes, her right hand linked with his left. His honesty amazed Nuala, and she felt she had to show that to him before their conversation could continue. After a moment, she remembered their first words to each other – his suggestion of her rank, and her teasing of his being a warrior. Slowly, the unfamiliar light of mischief showed in her expression.

"Trust? Brave words for a warrior," the princess remarked, laughing when he bit playfully at her shoulder in retaliation and pulled her back against him, kissing every inch of skin he could reach, "Is this my punishment?" Nuala asked softly, turning her head to the left in order to once more look up into his eyes.

"Oh, it is only just beginning," the prince promised, turning her over onto her back and once more resting above her, kissing her until they were both too breathless to continue. However, as his lips moved from hers to kiss her neck and began to move down further, she sensed something was wrong in his thoughts.

"Something…happened when you left me," Nuala whispered in horror, and instantly the prince stilled, snatching his hand from hers too late and sitting up, turning away as she spoke again, "Elatha…and his bride. Oh no, no! All that destruction and all that pain! The world will not bear it. Nature will despair…the Elves will fade." This Golden Army must be stopped. It should never have been made.

The prince could hear his sister's sobs, feel her shudders as she leaned her forehead against his back, tears streaking over his skin. She looked up, however, when she felt his breath catch, too. Swiftly taking his left hand firmly in hers before he could pull away again, she felt his misery and guilt, his anguish over Elatha's death and the memories of those carefree times as children, playing among the trees. Nuala could sense his loneliness and his feelings that she would never forgive him for allowing his old friend's death.

"No creature can do everything," the princess whispered softly, putting her arms around him and kissing his cheek, pulling him back down onto the bed with her, "You could not have saved him against such endless horrors. You could never have killed him," she added after a moment, though she did not truly believe those words. It occurred to her that he could only feel remorse after the mistakes had all been made.

"If I had not driven him away he would be alive now. We could have given him shelter in the forest, instead of condemning him to the doomed settlement," Nuada sighed, his voice broken as his grief washed through him like an unstoppable tide so that he turned around in the princess's arms, hiding his face against her, "You make me vulnerable. You make me feel where I never could before."

"Then that is a good thing, for it proves to me that you do not have the cruellest of all hearts, far from it," Nuala smiled, confused that she could find such peace from that thought considering what had just happened, "And you are not alone. I will always be in you, as I promised, you will always know undoubtedly that I love you, I promise it on my very life," and all she could do was hold onto him tightly as his body began to shake with grief, as the agony of loss took him over and he began to understand what it felt like for one's heart to break.