As The coronation of the saints approached, Arwen sat at the library, his nose buried in a book of spells as usual. As a Dawn Saint of the elves, his duty would mean ending the night and casting day upon the land of elves. Something that sounded simple, especially if you were a human, but it required immense magical power — something Arwen had but never felt confident enough about.

A Saint in elf terms meant someone who looked after all other elves, maintaining peace and harmony along with guiding other elves towards the right path. It is said that those who are born twins are the only ones destined. And Arwen, along with his brooding twin, Haldir were known to be blessed with immense magical powers.

"My Dawn Saint, would you be so kind as to advise me on the matter of my arranged marriage?" A soft voice echoed from the corner. Arwen looked up slowly, strands of light blonde hair dusting over his face.

"Of course, your highness." Arwen replied softly as he closed his book, his signet ring with a green gemstone on it catching his eyes. For a second, he was reminded of his duty to serve, not only common elves, but the royal family as well.