There is a desire for you that burns within me. A shimmer of hope that you will be able to look past our deep differences. Your hazel eyes scare me as they look in my direction. I look away, when really it is you who should look away. I was told growing up that everyone was not to look me in the eye. I don't want to look away from yours, but I'm afraid of what I might see. You shouldn't like me, let alone love me in any sense of the word.

I'm too young for you. Not to mention that I'm partially a completely different race from you, and that I'm royalty. Maybe I don't rule over your people, but I still have to rule over mine. I grew up in a palace with servants and maids. You grew up in a small home with only a mother to care for you. My own mother sold me into slavery. At least yours gave you love. I tear up, and you move over towards me.

That burning for you burns brighter as you take me in your arms. You don't have to ask what is wrong because everything is. The others look at me, not knowing what to do. They annoy me. I do owe them my life, so I don't complain, but I hate their concern. It makes me feel so insignificance. I know what they think. They don't want me ruling over them any more than my own jealous mother. Why would they? I feel like I don't know anything about the world of the Fey.

Maybe that's why I like you so much. You do care, and I can relate better to humans. I'm such a freak. My mother was right. The tears are coming down my face accompanied by huge sobs. you embrace me tighter. You don't ask questions. You hold me. That's all I ever wanted.