Alysse woke with a start, sweating. An uncanny feeling crawled up her body.

She was being watched.

Her hand reahed out and grabbed the candelabra by her bedside. A silhouette of a man was visible near the window. Alysse raised the candelabra, ready to catch him unawares.

"Do you plan on killing me, love?" The sky cleared and moonlight washed over the smiling face of the Crown Prince of Ivoria, Vincan Pearl.

Alysse sighed with relief and tossed the candelabra aside. "Prince Vincan, you might be seen."

"This is my palace. I'm free to go anywhere I want."

It was Morinns' second-to-last day at Ivoria. For nearly a month, Alysse and the Ivorian prince had been meeting like this. They liked each other, yes, but neither of them could work up the courage to tell their families. For the most part, because they would be tried for treason if they did so.

"I like it not, meeting this way," said Alysse.

"What choice do we have?" He hopped off the windowsill. "You leave on the morrow. I couldn't bear to see you go without a proper goodbye." He stepped closer.

Alysse retreated till her legs hit the bed. "Someone might hear us."

"Let them."

"We could lose our heads for this."

He smiled. "Then I'll go to the grave with you."

As the sun rose, Alysse found herself lying the bed alone, for Vincan was gone. She already missed the feeling of running her hands through his platinum hair. She would see him again -- she was glad to be sure of that -- when he would visit Ishtar on the voyage after his coronation.

"You look beautiful today," said her mother during breakfast, eyeing her clothing.

Alysse looked down at her dress. She was in white silk and cloth-of-gold, the first time she had worn colours after her father's death. "Yes, thank you, Mother. I decided it was time to leave the mourning behind. Besides, we are in Ivoria, so I thought it would do them honour if I wore their royal colours on our last day here."

Rion spoke up from the head of the table. "Rather early to let go of the blacks, don't you think, Mother?" He pushed his crown up so that it nestled perfectly in his curls.

"Don't pester her, Rion," said their mother. "She looks good in white."

"I'm sure a certain prince thinks so too," whispered Bellona from Alysse's left.

The Queen Mother looked up from her food. "Did you say something, Bell?"

"I asked Alysse to pass the duck stew."

"We have servants for that," said Rion with a mouthful of bread. Bellona chose not to reply to that. As for Alysse, she was trying to refrain herself from kicking her dear sister under the table.

They were soon joined by the Lord Commander. "Bright, sunny and pleasurable, is it not?" he said cheerily. "I hope the weather holds up at the sea. Did everyone sleep well?"

"Alysse didn't," said Bellona, smirking.

Is kinslaying still a crime? "My chambers were cold," Alysse explained.

"'Tis summer, sister," said Rion.

Thinking quickly, she replied, "I left some windows open."

Rion gave her a suspicious look, but didn't probe the matter further. Bellona, however, was straining to contain her laughter.

The princesses were soon told to go back to their chambers to dress. Alysse was already dressed, so they both scurried to Bellona's chamber.

"I ought to drive that sword of yours down your throat," said Alysse.

"I'd like to see you lift it first," her twin countered.

"I despise you."

"I loathe you."

The girls burst into a fit of giggles and dropped down on the featherbed, where they stayed, talking and laughing till it was time to leave.

Before they knew it, they were on the ship, sailing steadily towards Sundale. Alysse watched as the coast of Ivoria disappeared into the horizon.

Her sister tried to comfort her. "You will see him again."

"Four months is too long. And after his visit is over, what am I supposed to do then?" She reached out to hold Bellona's hand.

"You let go, Alysse. You let go. And you know we cannot speak of this to anyone. Rion is King now, and he wouldn't see your love, he would only see the law." Bellona tried to hug her, but she pushed her away.

"It isn't that easy, Bell. You'll understand when you fall in love."

With that, the princess turned on her heel and left, leaving Bellona utterly helpless.

Karena's heart thumped hard in her chest. Zoricus was a good swordsman, she knew. The last thing she wanted was to witness the demise of the Crown Prince.

The Lord of Rannhold was already in the arena, bronze arakh in hand. His gilded armour shone brightly in the midday sun. He looked up straight at her in the balcony and gave her a confident smile. She didn't return the gesture.

The stands were full of spectators. A dramatic event like this was a welcome respite from the dull lives of Bluehaven's peasants.

Her mother took a seat between Karena and her father, Lord Eryk Fawn. The royal family occupied the seat of honour; the King and Queen in in their gleaming crowns and Revirion's sister Princess Alysse wearing a delicate pink gown, her blonde hair done up beautifully.

Alysse caught Karena's eye and smiled. The two had become close friends ever since Revirion had told his sister about their escapades. The girls had grown fond of each other.

Alysse tilted her head towards Karena in gesture that said: It will be fine. Don't worry.

Karena mouthed the words thank you before turning her attention back to the arena.

When compared with Lord Rannor's, the young prince's arrival was ... anticlimatic.

The guardsmen announced his name in a booming voice and the crowd cheered deafeningly, but the prince himself was dressed simply: leather sandals, red tunic and hose. A worn scabbard hung from his belt. And most surprisingly, no armour.

One look at him and Karena knew he was doomed.

Zoricus was evidently overjoyed. He raised his arms, attempting to win the crowd over to his side. "Is this your prince?" he bellowed, pointing towards Revirion. "Is this he?"

Revirion hooked his thumbs on his belt and looked at Zoricus, unamused.

"Revirion Morinn! You dare touch my wife-to-be? What kind of a man dares encroach on another man's property? Your royal blood isn't -- are you yawning?"

"Why, yes," Revirion responded. "Your talk bores me. I thought this was a fight of swords. I'm not as good with words as you are, cousin."

Blatant lie, Karena noticed. His prowess with words was the reason they were having the duel in the first place.

Revirion drew his longsword, and taunted Zoricus to attack. His feet were firmly in place, like he was going to run any second.

Zoricus charged at him. He swung his arakh at the prince's legs. Revirion jumped back and circled around to attack his enemy from behind. The longsword clanged against the armour.

Karena was on the edge of her seat. Her spirits sank as she realised there was no way Revirion would beat Zoricus. The Lord of Rannhold was older, more experienced, and above all, wearing armour.

Back and forth the cousins went, dodging and parrying, attacking and defending, on and on.

Revirion kept himself facing west, keeping the sun in Zoricus' eyes. Gradually, Rannor's pace slowed. The armour was heavy, and it was tiring him out. Revirion had miraculously avoided major injury, using his agility to keep Zoricus on his toes.

Rannor was evidently losing his patience. "Fight! Fight, you coward!" he yelled.

A swift attack from his arakh grazed the skin of the prince's arm. Red blood came flowing out; but nothing seemed to faze him. He countered with twice the speed, and Zoricus barely managed to block his attacks.

Breathing heavily, Zoricus removed his helmet and tossed it to the ground along with his shield, to see his opponent better.

Stumble. Fall on your sword. Karena silently prayed to all the gods in the House of Life.

The curved bronze arakh shone even brighter as the sun climbed higher in the sky. "Your skills are rudimentary at best, cousin," Rannor sneered as he swung his blade.

Revirion met the arakh with his longsword and twisted his wrist. The arakh's curved blade hooked onto the hilt of the prince's sword. With one swift pull, the Lord of Rannhold was disarmed, his blade tossed to the other side of the arena.

Revirion aimed a sharp kick at his breastplate and Zoricus went crashing down to his knees. The prince grabbed his cousin by the hair, tilted his head up and placed his sword at his throat.

"Don't make me do this, cousin," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Zoricus spit blood out and laughed. "You'll never be half the man I am."

With a roar of anger, Revirion brought his foot down on his cousin's ankle, breaking it. "Yield!" he yelled.

"Never!" Zoricus roared back.

The prince pulled his cousin's bejewelled gauntlet from his hand, wore it and aimed a punch at his face. Revirion put his entire weight in the swing. His fist hit Zoricus straight on the nose. The Lord of Rannhold fell to the ground, unconscious.

He won, realised Karena. He won! He won!

Revirion Morinn was on his knees in the arena, mumbling a silent prayer to the Warrior God. It was only then Karena saw the exhaustion on his face. Beads of sweat trickled down his face as he moved to exit the area.

Alysse tapped Karena on the shoulder. "Come, we should meet him at the door to the fortress."

The girls hurried out of the balcony and descended the steps to meet the prince at the arena's exit.

"I have never been prouder, brother," said Alysse as she embraced him.

Karena had tears in her eyes. "You won." She threw her arms around his neck. He was soaked in sweat but she didn't care.

"Not me. We," he said as he hugged her back tightly. "We won."

A/N: So this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but that's only because I realised it had become too long and I had to split it in half.

On the good side, this means I'm almost done with the next one.

I hope you liked it, it was short and sweet. Enjoy the warm fuzzy feeling while it lasts because you're gonna hate the next one

Keep those comments flowing. Byee!