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He tilted his head innocently, "Why? What is it that I said?" after a while he blushed, "I didn't mean that!!"

He scowled, looking over at the other. "Don't tell me what to do. I don't like that." The words popped out of his mouth before he even thought about faking his usual "niceness." But he really wasn't in the mood, anyway. So the other would just have to deal with it. He took his own glass and sipped it somewhat moddily. Stupid cold palace...

"That's exactly why you should think first," he said, averting his gaze, a slight blush on his face.

He sighed. "I doubt it. Uncle probably has me traced with some magic or something... Knowing him, he wouldn't trust tehcnology. He always favors magic..."

His eyes gazed sadly at the other, "That's awful. Too bad we don't know how to reverse the spell." He said, his deep voice becoming more sympathatic.

"Yes, you should, you li-.." Dax started, but was suddenly cut off when he felt a large hand on his shoulder. He turned his eyes back to see his unmasked father first offering a warning glare before grinning toward the Prince of Darkness.

"Ah, son. I see you've already met our guest Sayael," the king said. When he was answered with a look of slight confusion from the blonde prince, he continued- "Surely you knew we'd have invited our allied kingdoms as well. The Kingdom of Darkness has presented us with their eldest prince's arrival."

Dax winced inwardly with having been so harsh, but didn't let it show on the outside. He still felt sour about the whole ordeal. "Of course.." he replied, casting his eyes into his drink.

"Well...if you want, we can try and figure out where it is that your Uncle put on you and figure out how to get rid of it." Dyami said, scratching his cheek, trying to think on how they'll pull that off.

The charming smile slipped from his face as soon as the king departed. "I don't need to be very convincing for idiots like him who wish to beleive that their allies are perfectly suited for kindness. Never forget that every snake has its poison," he said with a sly smile that had a certain amount of contained shrewdness in it. He sipped the drink slowly, staring unabashed at the other. After all, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

The prince's steps echoed throughout the dark castle as he made his way to the throne room. Faryn, as the eldest son in the Kingdom of Death, had such spacious quarters, it was as if he ran a separate, smaller palace within his father's castle. How sudden of his father to call upon him! In the seventeen years of his life, Faryn had been kept mostly isolated from his parents, siblings, and outsiders. Any distractions from his studying was forbidden. But as he neared his eighteenth birthday, he found himself being forced to come out his familiar isolation. And, by the devil, he hated it.

A hand reached out and pushed open the ornate wooden door. He had to throw quite a bit of effort into it; these doors were designed for his much larger predecessors. He approached his father and stood before him. "You wanted to see me, Father?" the boy asked, eyes diverted downward in respect.

"Yes. I have an invitation for you," the much larger man replied gruffly. He turned to his son and handed him a sealed envelope. The King was a man of tall stature. He did not appear to be terribly old or weak, but there was an ominous air about him. He was a man who knew he was going to die, yet he did not seem intimidated in the least. He had accepted his fate with dignity.

"Apparently there is a masquerade ball this evening. I think it wise you go. You must keep up appearances of neutrality, after all, Faryn," he continued strongly.

"Must I go? Could you not send Muertian, instead?" the silver-haired recluse questioned. The inquiry was only met with a harsh glare. "I'll take that as a no... sir."

"Don't even think to go against my will. You're going. And I'm calling upon Jillian to escort you," he added. Another look stifled any resistance from the prince. "Go get ready. Now."

"Yes, Father," he agreed reluctantly. Once outside the throne room, Faryn dropped all pretense and stormed off to his quarters. Why the hell did need a stupid escort? And Jillian, no less. Snapping at a few of his servants to draw him a bath, the black-eyed heir was ready and awaiting orders within the hour.

Following his son's reluctant departure, the man chuckled harshly. He knew Faryn detested the idea. But he was still King for several months yet, and he... as any father would, wanted his boy alive to rule for more than a mere six years. Moments later, he dispatched a page to Jillian's residence with an invite in hand.