Never Again: An Irulan Short

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Born into a life of duty and responsibility, Irulan would trade it all in a instant. For the princess, royalty isn’t an honor, it’s a burden that’s keeping her away from the one thing she holds closest to her heart…her soul-mate.

Hers is a love that must remain hidden, because although the mighty Tuatha De Danaan are the highest the Light Court has to offer; even they have their prejudices, and mixing with the Dark Court’s is forbidden. Irulan knows her relationship with Carrie, a refugee from the Dark Court, Fomori, is dangerous for them both. But in all the Land’s, Carrie is the one person that she can trust with anything and Irulan refuses to let her go.

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Irulan huffed and settled back into the crushed red velvet of her gilded throne. As a niece of the ruling king of the Tuatha De Danann, she was expected to be present at all formal functions and had duties to perform pertaining to court; but that didn't mean she had to like it. As a matter of fact, she hated all the double dealing and back stabbing that was common practice when it came to Sidhe politics.

She ignored the procession of Seelie suitors that paraded past her. They were hoping to catch her eye, and possibly enough favor for conversation; or better yet the coveted invitation to dinner. She arched her head back so she could stare at the intricate mosaic's set high into the lightly tan colored walls of the main hall. Candles of every color floated high in the air in mechanical brass holders, bathing the entire room in a multi-hued spectrum of light and enhancing the shimmering pictures. The colorful collection of glass tiles told the stories of her family’s accomplishments and conquest through the years. Irulan spent hours looking at them, hoping one day that her father's image would one day join their ranks.

He should be there now, she thought, but the sacrifice he made for the good of his people would never be known. Only Irulan and her uncle knew the truth behind her fathers disappearance, and Kent wasn't likely to start talking anytime soon.
The frantic taping of her mother Fredonia’s fingers drew her attention away from the images and back to the young man that stood in front of her. "May I introduce Prince Rowan Maximus Devonshire of Tirfo Thuinn, the Land Under the Waves,” said her mother, in a voice that was too syrupy sweet to be believable.

Everyone knows you despise me. I don't know why you try so hard to play the loving mother, thought Irulan as she rolled her eyes behind the curtain of crimson hair that hid the action. Despite her best efforts to look boring and undesirable, because she was a princess, the offers to dance would never cease. And as long as they kept coming, she had to at least dance with one or two of the hopeless lads or face her mother’s unchecked rage.

Irulan rose from her seat, slowly descend down the few stairs and offered her hand to the beaming young prince. He eagerly kissed it before taking it and leading her out onto the immense, black marble, ballroom floor, much to the dismay of the other young nobles. The line behind him quickly dispersed as the disheartened young men dropped their heads and disappeared into the crowd around them.

Irulan and Rowan waited patiently, arm in arm, for her cousins: Princess Francesca and Prince Fazion, to select their own escorts. She shifted slightly trying to balance the uncomfortable weight of the heavily layered dress, but a stern glance from her mother froze her in place. Fredonia appeared relaxed as she watched Irulan from her own, less ornate, throne that sat lower beside hers; but the young princess knew better. She was in for it when she got back to her seat.

Rowan noticed the movement and softly whispered, "Is something wrong princess?”

"Always,” Irulan quietly mumbled so Rowan couldn't hear.

"Pardon me?" He replied, with both eyebrows slanted as he looked at her; unsure if he’d heard her correctly.

"No," said Irulan quickly before her mother could notice the exchange. "Nothing's wrong, something was in my eye, that's all."

Francesca and Fazion finally made their way to the floor and the music began. Over fifty of Tir Na Nog’s finest musicians crafted a fast paced waltz, spurring the revelers into an group dance that was common place at such large gatherings. Rowan lead Irulan in the intricate Tuatha dance, and spoke such kind and flattering words to her that she should have been glowing from the attention, but the look on her face was one of feigned interest.

She tried to find something interesting about Rowan, one little spark that could possibly grow into something more, but there was nothing. Her attention faded quickly as it had with all the others. Her bright green eyes were soon searching the room for another.

Rowan knew the moment any hope of a union between the two was lost. He sighed and led her back to her throne, oblivious of the disapproving eyes of her mother. He placed the smallest of kisses on the back of her hand, before turning and rushing away from the dias; no doubt about to take his leave of the ball. Rowan didn’t want to hear the ‘I told you so’s’, his friends were sure to throw at him.

Irulan stood there and watched him disappear into the throng of Sidhe that represented the Seelie nobility. She sighed to herself after his shape became too hard to follow and sadly turned to go to her throne. Irulan hated the looks of rejection and disappointment that her suitors wore once they figured out that she wasn’t interested, but it couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t for sale at any price. Once she was again seated, her mother leaned towards her and began franticly whispering. "Daughter, I grow tired of your nonchalant attitude when it comes to fulfilling your royal duties."

Under normal circumstances Irulan would have gone our of her way avoid antagonize her mother but she was in trouble anyway, so she threw caution to the wind. Irulan groaned, pulled her long crimson hair out of her face and turned so she could look down at her mother. "Whatever could you mean mother?” She asked with a smirk on her face. “This is a dance, so I danced."

Fredonia reached across the thick arm of Irulans larger seat, took one of her hands in both of her own and dug her nails into the tender flesh; careful to make sure that no one could see. "You know exactly what I mean. You are third in line for the throne, as such you need to find a suitable consort, but you will never do so as long as you continue this standoffish behavior you seem to love so."

Irulan flinched but she refused to cry out and give her mother the satisfaction. "Yes, mother,” she whispered sarcastically as she jerked her hand away. "Must find a man to make mother happy and keep her in the lifestyle that she's become accustomed to." Irulan turned away and let her mind wander in an effort to drown out her mothers heated cursing.

She knew it was wrong to goad her like that but she couldn't help it. The woman was just plain vile at times. Fredonia was of noble blood but not royal. Since her husbands disappearance, her place in the royal court was hinged entirely on Irulan; any love she felt for her daughter was sorely overshadowed by her ambitions to get her as close to the throne as possible.
Irulan focused her attention on the row of women standing against a wall far across the room. Somewhere among the group was Carrie, her lady in waiting. Carrie was the one person in all the FaeLands whom Irulan could trust with almost anything. She searched the bodies, quickly scanning the faces until she found Carries soft violet eyes staring back at her.
Tension she'd felt the entire night eased out of her the moment she saw the soft nod of Carrie's head. It was silent reassurance that she would be safe in her arms later that night. All she had to do was get through the remainder of the wretched evening.

The memory of a stolen moment with Carrie slipped into Irulans mind and caused a blush to creep up the sides of Irulan's face, turning the light roses colored tones of her skin a deep maroon. She dropped her head, trying to contain the smile that threatened to stretch her lips from ear to ear, but she was unsuccessful.

FreDonia's eyes darted between the two young women and a deep scowl settled over her face. It's bad enough she refuses to take a suitor, she thought, now she's taken to flaunting her whores in my face. She reached over to stroke her daughters bare arm, gathering energy in the pads of her fingers and directed it downwards. The shock jolted Irulan as it coursed through her body, causing her bite down hard against her tongue.