The young Elven prince, Lavaar smiles to himself as he slides his lean muscular arm out from underneath his companion from the night before. He looks down at the beautiful young Elven woman. Her blonde hair is a desirable and rare color among his people, the last remnants of their once powerful allegiance with the Eastern Elves. Her bare breasts are exposed shamelessly from underneath the steely blue sheets. If he did not have somewhere to be soon he would consider picking up where they left off.
Evaleen lays before him the image of a perfect wife, but she can never be his queen. Not if he can never become king.
As long as their stubborn father refuses to name a successor, the tension remains between himself and his older brother, Vareon. And he knows first hand what sort of foul thoug
