I sat on my makeshift throne for hours on end, watching the knights try and fail over and over again. Every man who tried couldn't do it, not a single one.

Lionel, the son of my father's trusted right hand, lost his right hand to it, bleeding all over the sacred site.

Evan, the son of my father's mightiest general, fell and broke his neck on the ancient stone.

Samuel, the son of my father's spymaster, lost his eyes from bashing his head with his own hands.

Even my brother, prince Garth, fell and cracked his skull open years ago. I was only 7 years old when I lost him.

But these men weren't trying to get the sword for a noble reason, no, not like Garth. Garth who tried to raise the sword to protect our people from the western threat.

No, these men were trying to raise the sword for a stupid, unnecessary thing. For a promise that was no one's to make but mine.

For my hand.

For the hand of prince Arrian, future king of Luen. Well, to them it was the hand of the fair princess Lanie.

In truth, this was all my father's ploy. To see which man is the most deserving to be king.

The legend of the sacred sword Leyll says that whoever manages to lift the sword from its stone prison will bring prosperity and power to the kingdom. And my father is a firm believer.

After Garth's death, he was left with me and only me. I was never trained for the crown, for battle, for politics... My only purpose was to be married off to some "noble knight". Father was sure he and mother would produce another heir, another son, even in his age.

His persistence is what killed my mother.

If only he cared to speak to his "daughter" once, maybe then he'd see his son.

"M'lady," Edith, my lady-in-waiting, interrupted my train of thoughts, "if this goes one there'll be no knights left." I only sight, "Edith, my friend, let them perish. As if they care for me." She glared at me, those blue eyes of hers could instil the fear of the gods in even the bravest of men, but not me. The eyes that once terrified me barely fazed me now, the only thing I wanted was for this spectacle of death to end.

"M'lady you cannot speak like that! They'll hear you! Do you want to push every potential husband away?!" I rolled my eyes and sighed, "Look, Edith, by the time this is over I'll have no potential husband." Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, she placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered: "Prince Garth would've loved to see you wed, Lanie."

I clenched my fists, trying my best to ignore her. As if she knew what my brother would've wanted. Even I can't know that. Maybe he would've loved and accepted me as his brother? Maybe he would've turned out just like father? It's something I'll never know.

Just as I was about to take a jab back at her, I spotted an unusual sight in the crowd of knights. A peasant, dressed in simple robes and a simple hat that covered his ears. He couldn't be older than my age. His appearance was also simple, dark hair, tan skin, probably from tending the fields, and he wasn't thin nor muscular. He was just... Simple. Too simple.

Something was off about him, and yet he was so... Handsome?

I watched in awe as he slowly walked towards the bloodstained stone, tan fingers gripped the ancient sword and pulled it out without an ounce of effort. I smiled, as father had instructed me. As I was about to get up from my chair, my muscles sore from sitting there the whole day, Edith grabbed my shoulder.

"He's not supposed to be here." She whispered. And as she spoke the peasant took a rag out of his pocket.

I stared as he began cleaning the sword, my jaw agape. His eyes caught my gaze, eyes as white as the moon. Yet a strange glint glimmered in them. He smiled at me, revealing the gap between his pearly teeth. An unknown heat crept up my face, against all of my wishes.

And then he put it back down into the stone, like he didn't just do something unbelievable. He began to slowly walk towards me, not lowering his gaze, not bowing. My guards surrounded us as he put his hands on my shoulders, still looking at me with those moonlit eyes.

"My prince," he spoke, his voice as silky and as soft as moonlight, "you are cursed."

And with that, he disappeared.

I couldn't sleep that night, my chambers felt cold and my mind was racing. What'd he mean by cursed? How'd he know to call me "prince"? If I truly am cursed, what does the curse entail?

I wanted the answers, but I never got the opportunity to ask. A little thought crept into my mind, "why don't you go back to the sword?" It echoed in my mind, but not in my voice. No, it was the beautiful voice of the moon-eyed man.

But doing something like that could give my father a heart attack, and wreak havoc amongst the guards.

I sat up and looked through the window, gazing at the full moon. Its light outshone the stars, illuminating the blue horizon in a beautiful, silver light. It was as if it was pulling me closer, calling to me. Telling me I need to get out of here.

It turned to the portrait of my family; my father stood to the right, one of his hands firmly on my much older brother's shoulder, mother stood to the left, one of her hands on Garth's other shoulder. The other held me. The portrait had been taken when I was just a baby, father threw out the rest, most likely from the heartbreak. But in his grief, he never bothered to even speak to me about mine...

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"Come then, find me..."

The voice beckoned again. And I made up my mind.

I lit the candles in my room and tied my sheets together. I threw the sheet out of the window, making an escape route. I slowly prepared for my escape, when a knock came from the other side of my chamber's door.

"M'lady? M'lady the hour is late, are those foolish thoughts bothering you again?"

It was Edith, but I had no time for her. I needed to get out.

"Do you wish to speak to me about them?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I began climbing down.

"M'lady? Princess Lanie?!"

The panic in her voice was clear, and soon I heard the door bursting open.

"Princess?! Princess!"

She screamed, but I didn't care. I had one goal in mind: get to the sword. I slid down the sheets, careful not to fall and ran.

I ran as fast as I could, the wind flowing through my long hair and bringing hints of cold to my face, my bare feet feeling every stone beneath them, yet it felt amazing. I couldn't help but smile and laugh. I felt warm and I had the moon to guide me, and guide me it did.

I found myself in the middle of the field of flowers where my makeshift throne still stood, and so did the sword of myth. I walked towards it, extending my hand to dare and grab the hilt of the mighty sword, when a tan hand stopped my pale one.

"My prince, perhaps you should wait before you take the sword."

That silky voice filled my ears, echoing like a beautiful melody.

"You're here" I smiled at him, just now noticing how much of a mess I am. Strands of my hair fell onto my face, my feet were dirty and my nightgown was soaking from the rain.

"Of course I am," he smiled back, moving a strand of hair from my face, "I've been expecting you."

My face went red, and yet I didn't understand why. He was a stranger, nothing more. I had just met him, and he gave me a cryptic message and popped out of existence. Yet he felt so familiar, so warm.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions, my prince, but we should get out of the rain first, don't you think?" He extended his hand towards me, and I took it without question. My feet rose from the ground and I soon found myself high above the flowery field, I closed my eyes in fear. No matter how beautiful the night was, the height definitely wasn't.

"Don't fear my prince, we're here." The moon-eyed man spoke once again, gently setting me on the ground. I opened my eyes to another beautiful field, but it wasn't like the first one. No, this one was filled with white flowers glimmering in the moonlight. It was serene, no wind, no rain. Only me and the moon-eyed man.

He ran his hand across my arm, smiling.

"Now, perhaps an outfit meant for a prince?"

He giggled, and I blushed in embarrassment. And yet in the blink of an eye, I found myself in a beautifully royal silver shirt and a nice pair of pants, complete with a cape and a silver crown. A crown that was not mine.

"That's better," he smiled and sat down on the ground, gesturing for me to sit down as well. I sat next to him, ready to finally ask him about everything. But he began speaking before I could even start.

"You know, none but those who are worthy can lift the sword. None without elven blood, that is. Except for one. The one chosen. You humans like to believe silly things about the chosen one."

He removed his hat, exposing his pointed ears. He gave me another gentle smile, gesturing towards his lap. I just stared at his ears.

I've heard tales of elves, but never truly believed in them. But here one stood right before me. With the most handsome yet perfectly simple face.

I laid down on the ground, resting my head on his lap. I just couldn't resist.

"You like to believe that the chosen one must be noble, rich, brave... In truth, the chosen one is chosen by the sword. Or by its makers. My ancestor forged the sword, and I'm the last in my line..."

He ran his hand through my hair.

"Humans usually make deals with us, my prince, to draw the sword. But you-"

"What of my curse?"

I interrupted him, hoping to get my answer faster. Yet I quickly shut my mouth quickly after I realised what I've done, but he just laughed.

"Eager, are we? Well, your curse comes from a deal your father made, to have a spare... He made a deal with a river spirit, that his wife may bear him a second child, but she could not."

His eyes took on a sad gleam, yet he still seemed so calm. I, on the other hand, wasn't.

"And so you were born, but elven and human blood don't mix well... So your curse began, to never have children, to never love another human and to die far too young..."

He seemed even sadder, but my thoughts became clearer. Yet a fear still lingered. He ran his finger across my cheek.

"No, my dear prince, the fact that you're a man is not part of the curse, it's simply how you are..."

He ran both his hands through my hair again, and I felt my long light curls fall from my head. And I smiled to myself.

"But I can help you, my dear prince. My magic can balance your blood, but only if that's what you wish."

"I... I do. I wish for you to stay with me like this forever..."

I didn't even think at this point, it didn't matter that I just met him.

He ushered me to get up from the ground and grabbed both of my hands.

"Well then,", he caressed my cheek, "it's time to go."

And in a blink we were flying back towards the ground, our hands interlocked. In a panic, I blurted out "Arrian." And he laughed once more, "Lirie Leyll." The elf spoke back.

And soon I found myself embracing him in a kiss.

A gentle, soft kiss 'neath the moonlight.

I awoke on the ground next to the sword of Leyll, surrounded by peasants and nobles alike, Edith and my father towering above me, concerned. And then I saw him, standing in the crowd, smiling at me. My hair was still short, my clothes the same noble silver as they were last night.

I pushed my father and Edith away, and walked towards the sword. I grabbed the hilt with one of my hands and pulled it out of its ancient prison in one swift motion.