I sleep poorly that night. I can’t quell my nerves so I toss and turn in bed, wrestling with angels and demons in my dreams. I wake once and see them hovering above my bed, but even that is a dream, and I wake from it as well, in a cold sweat and panting. My room is dark and empty. At least so far as I can see.

“I know you’re out there,” I say, but nothing responds. It’s just the room, the furniture, the fire. I feel cold.

Am I getting sick? Do I want to be sick?

I slide out of bed and sit by the hearth, and wait. Wait for the morning, wait for food, wait for someone to tell me what to do.

I am tired of waiting.

At the first crack of dawn I open my door. The elf guard startles.

Was he sleeping?

“Good morning. I‘d like some food,” I say.

The elf rubs his eyes. “Sorry, not breakfast time yet.”

“I’d like some food anyway.” I’m tired of getting yanked around. I’ll at least get some grub when I damn well please.

The elf shrugs. “There’s a dining room in the base of the palace. It’s mostly servants though.”

i.e. not something I would be interested in.

“Sounds good to me,” I say and walk right past the sleepy elf.

“You have to walk around the back of the palace,” the sentry calls after me. “They won’t open the main door at this hour.”

Fine by me.

The outside has an ethereal feel to it. The dawn has yet to fully vanquish the night and the still-lit torches mingle with the natural rays of the dueling suns to bath the stone in a warm, welcoming light. It’s a pleasant glow that guides early morning travelers along their routes. And many travelers there are. Common elves moving back-and-forth and side-to-side across the worn stones on their way to service whatever the grand nobility requires that day. And those nobles? Well, they are likely still asleep, and missing out on this beautiful morning.

Not every good thing is reserved for those higher-up the social ladder.

I walk to the palace, still just as impressive as yesterday, and behind it as instructed. There is only one guard around back. I ask him about this purported dining room. It’ss once again emphasized that it’s designated for commoners, but I insist. So instead of climbing up stairs I walk down them. I walk down lots of stairs. The palace has a series of hallways radiating underneath, and then below those are tunnels. At the end of one of those tunnels is a cavern. And that cavern is referred to as a dining room.

There is a bustle of activity inside and the smell of stew, or meade, or something. It’s likely lots of smells that have soaked into the wooden tables that stretch from one wall to the other. With no windows the room feels smaller than it should and it’s definitely too dim as the torches along the wall are simply no match for the enormous area they strive to illuminate.

I wait in a line along the south wall to obtain what appears to be some sort of flat bread and meat mix that could have been leftovers from elven pets for all I can tell. I get a few glances as I gather my food since I don’t fit in. A human in the palace? Eating with us? That must be what they think. I wonder how much the elves know about humans, about me. I’m sure rumors fly through this palace just as they do in any other. And even more importantly, I wonder what they could tell me about the elf Lord, his court, this Kingdom.

I sit next to two elves who look about my age. Of course, they are likely older since the elven timeline is extended. Still, the fact that they don’t look any older makes it easy to ignore the age gap. I give them a friendly nod and a smile as I sit down. They promptly move two seats away from me.

Friendly folks, these.

“They weren’t moving away from you,” a hushed voice whispers behind me. I turn to my left as an elf sits down beside me. And not just any elf. My jaw drops at the sight.

My waifu.

She’s bereft of her royal attire but stunning all the same. Her simple robes do nothing to hide her face which is as perfect as ever with her green eyes and soft, pink lips.

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“I come down here sometimes to escape the drama above.” The elf princess gives me a smile as a thread of fine silver hair slips down across her face. “Lucky I picked this day, eh?”

She smiled at me! She likes me! Maybe we’ll get married! Maybe I’m psychotic!

”Ugh, maybe, umm, yes, I mean.”

Smooth move, dude. Smooth move.

She giggles quietly. “It’s so weird how we’re the same yet different ages. Don’t you think? The human and elf years I mean.”

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Twenty-three. And you are…” She pauses and I sit-up a little straighter. “Seventeen?”

“Eighteen,” I reply, perhaps too quickly.

She raises her hands in mock defense. “Alright. Alright. Eighteen it is then.”

I fumble with my hands on the table, unsure where to place them. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come on so strong.”

She laughs again. “Come on strong? Just wait till you meet my fiancé. Then you’ll see what ‘coming on strong’ looks like.”

fi-an-cé.

I struggle to even think the word clearly. “Sorry, did you say fiancé?”

She tilts her head. “Of course. What’d you think I said?”

Son. of. a. bitch.

“Oh ah nothing. I mean, I was just checking.”

“Checking on what?”

I grit my teeth. “I just wasn’t sure what you said, alright?”

“Oh, ok. No need to get testy about it.”

This is going terrible. I need to find a way out. I’m going to start hyperventilating or something. I get a chance with my waifu and she’s freaking engaged. That didn’t happen in-game. There was no fiancé.

What the hell is going on?

“Listen,” I start. “I’m sorry, but I should really –”

“Oh there’s no need to apologize.” And just like that she’s bright and cheery again. “Just a misunderstanding. We’re still getting to know each other after all.”

No, you’re getting to know me. I know you well already.

I don’t respond and mindlessly shove meat into my mouth.

If she notices my discomfort she doesn’t mention it. “You’ll like him I bet.”

“Like who?”

She laughs. “My boyfriend of course. He’s coming with you on your quest.”

I gag on my meat and cough several times.

“Are you ok?” she asks.

I take a drink and compose myself. “Coming with me? You mean he’s going to be my companion for the dungeon?”

She twirls her beautiful hair thoughtfully. “A dungeon? There aren’t any dungeons here I don’t think.” She smiles. “Just trees, trees, and more trees.”

I shake my head. “No, I mean the quest to the elder wood.”

Her green eyes twinkle with excitement. “You’ve heard about it then. Isn’t it exciting? I’m sure you two will prove yourselves worthy.”

This sounds terrible.

“Wait, what does he have to prove?” I ask.

“That he’s worthy to be my father’s heir.”

I jerk back in surprise. “His heir?”

The princess leans forward, her words softer and even more alluring. “Yes, we are to be married, but father won’t accept him as heir. My fiancé is an outsider you see.”

“An outsider? You mean he’s not an elf.”

The princess giggles. “Don’t be silly. Of course he’s an elf. But he’s outside the circle of nobles. He has no royal blood in him.”

I can relate to that at least.

“The other nobles would be outraged if father chose him,” the princess continues. “He needs to do something incredible, something even greater than his other feats. This can be it! This can secure his position in the court!”

Lucky him.

I plow some crumbs around on my plate.

The princess punches me playfully in the shoulder. “Hey, don’t be so glum. This is gonna be great. For both of you.”

“I’m sure it will be, Luna.” I mumble.

She doesn’t respond and I look over to her. Her face is down, the smile faded.

Crap what did I do now?

“How did you know to call me Luna?” She asks quietly. “Only my closest friends call me that.”

Shit.

“Oh, ugh, I must’ve overheard it,” I say as casually as I can. Of course that’s a stupid excuse. I remember from the game that she only shared that nickname with her most trusted friends. Everyone else has to use her royal title of Princess Lunestra.

She looks at me closely, her friendliness and enthusiasm replaced by a cool suspicion. “Must be,” she says sarcastically.

I know that look and it infuriates me. “Oh now you don’t trust me, huh? Because I know your top-secret, super special, nickname?”

“It’s not about the name, Ethan,” she replies. “If we are going to be allies in friends then we have to trust one another.”

Friend zoned again. It’s just like high school. New place. Same rules.

“I don’t want to be your friend,” I say fiercely.

She jerks back.

“In fact, I’d be just as happy to never see you again. You and your stupid boyfriend.”

And with that I leave her with my unfinished food and stomp off.