Under no circumstances did anyone mistake Nix's status equal to Queen Vixandra's. Yet, despite the chasm of social standing between them, the queen's handmaidens invited, without the chance to decline, Nix into the royal carriage. For a moment, the elf wayfarer entertained the idea her lover's mother warmed up.

The only other time the queen spoke to Nix amounted to, "Leave my son's bed, you pointy-eared hussie, before I reduce you to cinders!"

By Hera, this woman could stare down a dragon!

Nix, despite her centuries of age, and adherence to the philosophy, 'What I will be, I will be,' wilted under the queen's gaze.

"It is my understanding," Queen Vixandra remained professional, and the small hairs on Nix's neck raised, "you joined my firstborn son in battle. Did you encourage Prince Wilhelm to fight on the frontline?"

She warmed up, alright. The queen is burning.

The elf swallowed away her oncoming stutter. "Encouraged is a particularly strong word, your majesty--"

"I'm told you loosed arrows over his shoulder."

"Not over his shoulder, per se--"

A growl escaped the opposite side of the carriage that reminded Nix of the violent animals on barbarian lands. Out of survival instinct, the elf's eyes remained glued to the floor. A challenge now, even the humor of it, spelled disaster.

"That boy is a stupid misfit," Queen Vixandra said, "Listen here, elf, and listen well. You protected my firstborn, so I will privately reward you later. However, under no circumstances, will I let you sully his future with your fruitlessness. Walk, at length, behind the victory parade. Do not speak to him and do not be seen. Don't even admit you were there. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Get out."

Nix stumbled out of the carriage. From her place in the ditch, the carriage rolled away, followed by a contingent Royal Spellswords and victorious soldiers. Her throat scratched, and, only once, she wiped her eyes. When the queen cut, she cut deep; a master butcher expected more slices for the same slaughter.

"Fruitlessness."

"Come again, pointy?"

Nix glanced up from the washboard and flashed an apologetic grin, "Sorry, thinking out loud."

"You've been doing that a lot lately. What's this new trend? I thought elves didn't like to think too deeply on things?"

The hard-working castle maid next to her scrubbed the clothes in the steaming-hot bucket, with red hands, and didn't break stride. The girl aged only sixteen, yet endured a harried look Nix noticed on human women over forty.

Nix consciously matched her cleaning pace. An elf's strength was common knowledge in the Wilmand Kingdom, and humans tended to grow impatient if elves worked slower. Her lapse in concentration already earned an irritated snort.

"Are you familiar with the phrase, 'nax ira'mas?'"

"Can't say that I do."

"It approximately translates to ｢no satisfaction through life｣."

"I'll make a note of it," the maid huffed, "Can I ask you a question?"

Nix cringed then smoothed out into an inviting smile, "Of course."

Once the maid plopped the soaped clothes onto a clean board, she asked, "What's an elf got to be dissatisfied about? Your kind is pretty and strong and hyper-competent, and you're lives are many times longer than ours. Hell, if you're randy, you can ride any human man you want, not like we human woman can compete, and not worry about pregnancy. Take you, for instance, you get to mount the prince of the kingdom. So, I really don't get it. What's this nax ira'mas crap? If you dislike it here, go home."

"You're right. My apologies. Please, forget I said anything."

The maid scooped up her half of the laundry and splashed it in Nix's bucket before she stomped away.

Why am I still here? This is the longest I've stayed in one place.

Nix's thoughts flowed like a stream, and she attempted to remember her childhood. Invariably, she recalled the only memory remaining, meeting an elf boy and kissing him. The one and only time in her life.

Like all elves, her lifespan extended longer than her memories. Human scholars labeled the phenomenon 'catastrophic mnemonic interference,' and newer experiences gradually erased older ones.

These shifts in mind created phases of maturity for an elf. They renamed themselves at each stage since the person they are now might be entirely different than before. Before meeting Prince Wilhelm, and a lifetime of loneliness, she named herself Nix, the elf word for, ｢no｣, or, in context of names, it meant, ｢she is no one｣. She intended the name as a coping mechanism. Nax ira'mas could be spoken as nix ira'mat, which translated to, ｢she who failed to satisfy nature｣. A pun.

After the queen dressed her down, it lacked humor.

Why can't I have a half-elf child?

Nix tapped her fingernail on the prince's window.

She snickered at his shocked expression when he looked and saw her hanging upside down on the window frame. "Can I come in?"

Prince Wilhelm smiled like a kid stealing candy, grabbed her shoulders, and yanked her through the window. His impatient mouth smashed on hers, and their tongues wrestled.

"Where were you?" he breathed.

"Oh, you know, about. I'm as free as the wind."

"So, why are we still clothed?"

"I certainly can't think of a reason..."

They raced to strip and tumbled onto the canopy bed. Sometimes, Prince Wilhelm's egotistical enthusiasm made her believe he could satisfy what nature demanded. The bed's curtains rippled.

"Chasing the dragon isn't literal, it's a metaphor," she giggled, "That's the first one I saw killed."

"What? What's it mean, then?" Prince Wilhelm asked.

"The barbarians mean, 'We chase strength,' or, 'Follow the strong.'"

"I see." He gave her a wicked grin, and his teeth nibbled down on her ear.

"You bastard!"

He mumbled around gently clenched teeth, "Don't you think I'm strong? See, I pinned an elf. Say it. Say I'm the strongest!"

"You're flamberge is the most powerful, you brute! Stop, damn it! Oh, you fucker, that's it!" Fed up with his assault, she spun and gripped his manhood with both hands.

"I surrender!"

"Who's the strongest?" she asked.

He tensed up when she tightened her grip, "You keep that up, and my greatsword will harden."

She licked her lips, "Then I should be a good blacksmith and temper it on my anvil, once more."

"Because I have a fetish for elves. Doesn't everybody know that?"

"Clearly," Nix tilted her head at Prince Wilhelm's answer, "But, let me ask you something else. Where are all the other elf concubines?"

"Huh?"

"You're not going to try and tell me the heir to the kingdom can only obtain one mistress?"

Prince Wilhelm scratched his chin, "How many do you think I need? I hardly keep up with the one I have."

"The elf doesn't see it that way." She winked at him.

He returned a grin. "Well, if 'the elf' says so."

Nix rolled over and let her head hang over the edge of the bed. "If you were born as an elf, then you would have three or more wives by now, and who knows how many kids. You'd be very popular. Well, you already are among us elf maidens, but, more."

He rubbed her ear between his finger and thumb. She shivered and tolerated it.

She continued, "You'd want for nothing. Not like here. Women would compete to impress you, with hunting and fashion, and they'd eagerly attend to your every fantasy. They might duel, too. Taxes are redirected into the pockets of the men. If a wife no longer impressed you, then you could send her away, no consequences, and no one would be allowed to complain." Nix chuckled. "She'd have to pay you a severance, too. One man is born for every seven women, so, there's always a parade of beautiful--"

Prince Wilhelm cut her off, "I'm returning to the Five Kingdom's Congress in three days. I'm taking you with me, and I won't accept no for an answer."

Nix realized she held her breath, so she silently released and inhaled, "If you wish. Your mother will be furious."

"She likes you, you know."

"You've told more believable lies."

"I'm serious," Prince Wilhelm trapped her ear again, but rubbed it gentler this time, "If she didn't, then you wouldn't make it one foot in the capital, let alone in the castle. Besides, she might be the queen, but I don't intend to capitulate to her every demand. A firstborn should cause some trouble for their parents."

Nix stared at the ceiling. "Well, there's that, and," she rolled to face him and slipped a hand between his legs, "a mistress should cause problems for her prince, right?"