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Once upon a far away place there were twin princesses. One was beautiful, her very face radiated innocence and perfection. She had many suitors, and when ever she would walk in the castle gardens, the flowers themselves would turn their faces to her beauty. Her name was Ameena, meaning "sunrise". Her long golden hair would always catch the sun's rays and her face, flushed with life, would always smile upon the morning light.

The second daughter was the younger of the two, and was called Nattana, meaning "of the night", for she was opposite of her sister in every way. She too had golden hair, but it was paled, like the flower petals of the winter flower. Her skin was of porcelain, just as fragile and delicate. She was not beautiful, nor as lively as her sister, but she was talented beyond measure. She wove tapestries of incredible skill and elegance. Thus, no suitors asked for her hand, but many came to marvel at her craft.

Neither spoke their feelings aloud, but secretly, each sister was jealous of the other. Ameena, though she was beautiful, was like a flower in a pot, and could do nothing other then sing and dance. And Nattana, though her skills were legendary, never felt the love that she could portray so elegantly in her tapestries. So the mutual resentment grew within them, and though the sisters each grew in beauty in their skill and appearance, inside was a twisted snake of hate.

One cold winter's day, a ball was held, in honor of the princesses birthday. Lords and ladies, and dukes and duchesses came from all over the kingdom, to honor the beloved sisters. Nattana wore the gown she had made herself, from the silk of the silkworms of the far Eastern Kingdom. Her hair, now almost as silvery as the moon, hung over her shoulders, and her pale face glowed with the coming nightfall. For the sisters were only as beautiful as night and day, and thus, to see both in their greatest beauty, the ball must be held at sunrise, or sunset. Ameena wore the golden dress of the royalty of the Southern Kingdom. Her golden hair was on fire, brilliantly illuminating the hall as she entered. She held her head high as the sisters entered together, Nattana on the left, and Ameena on the right. They walked down the hall to the table with all the guests, day and night, hand in hand. The Beauty and the Artist.
(To Be Continued...)