The afternoon goes as usual, though you begin to notice more and more students with brightly colored hair, even among those who you never would have thought would try dyeing their hair. You run into Prince Remelias a few more times in the hallways between classes, but it is not until your last class of the day that you find yourself in class with him (and his numerous servants).
In art class, you and Prince Remelias are paired together to draw portraits of one another. You both take a portable easel, find a quiet spot, then sit across from one another and begin to draw. You consider yourself an adequate artist, but the prince’s skin and hair were not the color of most people’s, so you have a hard time matching their exact colors. But, for some reason you feel compelled to capture the prince’s immense beauty on paper, so you work hard for the entire class period perfecting your portrait of him.
He was likewise hard at work, elegantly sketching upon his own easel. At the end of class, you both show each other the drawing you had made.
“Ah, Sir Doe, you have the soul of a true artist,” Remelias sighs contentedly, bowing slightly and making you blush. “If we might have it, it shall hang in our gallery alongside our other commissioned portraits.”
“Umm… thanks,” you say nervously, assuming that he was just being polite. Nonetheless, you hand the portrait to him and he carefully gives it to a nearby servant to safeguard. With that taken care of, you look closely at the portrait that the prince had drawn of you…
The portrait was so perfectly realistic that it could be mistaken for a photograph, though it could not possibly be of you. The young man in the portrait’s hair is streaked with pastel blues and greens, and slightly pointed ears poke out from beneath smooth and wavy hair. The face resembles yours a bit, if slightly more slender and fine. Perhaps the prince was more used to drawing elven subjects, and needs more work drawing humans properly?
In any case, the prince begins to heap praise upon himself, saying, “We would have you know that we have trained with art tutors since we were born, and they all speak well of our abilities... Not that we are bragging of course.”
“R-right, of course,” you say, not wanting to contradict a prince. “It… it looks just like me!”
The prince smiles and hands the portrait to you. “Of course it does,” he says, smiling kindly at you. “Sir Doe, if we might say so, we believe that you seem like a good sort. We believe that you and I make a good pair, and we would like to spend more time with you in the future.”
All this ‘royal we’ stuff is making your head hurt, but you think that you understand what he is saying here. “Sure, we can hang out sometime… Uh, your highness,” you respond with an awkward bow, which seems to satisfy the elven prince until the end of class.
After class is over, you grab your things and get ready to leave for home, still a bit confused about the prince’s portrait of you. However, just as you were about to step outside, you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you see a stern-looking and well-dressed elven man standing with his arms clasped in front of him.
“Umm… can I help you?” you ask, having a feeling that this had something to do with the prince.
“No, you cannot help me,” the elf says pompously. “However, His Highness has need of you. Be honored, for he has chosen you to be his ilymwe.”
The elf stands there staring at you intensely, obviously awaiting a bigger response than you are giving, which was simply a look of confusion.
“I’m sorry? I’ve got no idea what that is,” you say, brushing a pastel lock of hair from out of your eyes. “Anyway, I’m really busy, so whatever that means, I don’t think I can do it. Tell the prince I’m sorry.”
“Oh, I hope I didn’t give you the impression this was a choice on your part,” the elf says. He pulls a thin wand from inside his breast pocket. “But perhaps I should have been more clear. Ilymwe… What would be the word in your language…?"
As he continues to think, the elf gently taps the wand on your forehead, and you feel a surge of warmth spreading out from the spot he touched.
“Ah, yes! When I say that His Royal Majesty Prince Evergreen will have you as his ilymwe, I mean that you will be…”