Nyx couldn't forget that fateful night if he tried. You exist to him, now, only in dreams and hopes. His mate- the daughter of Tamlin, heir to all of Spring Court.

You scorned at him at the first meeting, and he was smitten since. You ran from his touch then, knowing who he was, where he came from.

But that was nearly a year ago. Now, he was- to his great dismay- in the Spring Court, with all the nobility of the continent, to discuss an important matter. He wanted to seek you out and try to talk to you- and you had turned him away.

Disappointed and hurt, he sought refuge in the nearby tavern. He mulled over his drink, trying to find a proper way to talk to you without any prejudice poisoning your conversations. He would find you some day, he promised himself. That day came sooner than he thought.

But looking at the scene in front of him- well, this certainly wasn't what he had in mind.

There you were, dancing and singing amongst the drunk, amongst the artists, and amongst the jolly. Dancing in a simple, beautiful dress, barefoot, spinning in circles, your hair down, without a worry in the world.

Nyx could've sworn that his heart had stopped. It was the happiest he'd ever seen you- and it stole his breath away. Your sweet, sweet voice carried on with each song, and it seemed like you knew each lyric. People twirled you around, you laughed among them like proper friends, and in a spur of courage, he rose from his stool and dared to spin you around while he could.

To hold you while he could. If only even for a minute.

You hadn't noticed- not until the music had died down, and you saw exactly whose hand you were holding.

"Hello," he offered, smiling slightly, begging the Gods to let this moment last a second longer. "And what might you be doing here?"