Ten-years-old and no one had believed such a child could hold so much anger. Her fists curled as she stood over the young boy, her cousin, another prince before kicking him fiercely in the stomach. Princess Zenevieva walked calmly towards the shaking filly, her palms upraised to show that the horse had nothing to fear. The scar on the filly's right hind leg was bleeding profusely. She turned to glare as her cousin crawled away, the whip he used to hurt the horse still clutched in his hands. She almost went after him then, until she felt a hard hand take her by the shoulder. She didn't need to look up to know who had come to stop her from inflicting further damage on her cowardly cousin. Her guard, Lord Lenato, a six-foot-five warrior with dark skin, held her with the hand that bore the long and winding dragon tattoo of the Latin lords.

"Vieva," Lord Lenato's voice was curt even when he used her nickname, "Leave Ambrosio alone. You will do no good with this report before you leave tomorrow."

Vieva growled slightly, darting away from Lenato's grip and heading towards the filly. "He hurt my horse."

"He is jealous," Lord Lenato replied with a sigh. He had repeated it almost twelve times to her father, King Valerion when he first mentioned the idea of giving his daughter a new horse in congratulations for being allowed to begin training at the famous Tortall academy for knights. Lord Lenato did not like the idea of sending the heir to the throne of Belva to a foreign land to seek training to become a knight to another throne. To add to royal insult, Lenato did not want the girl needing to earn her ranks by acquiring different levels before her final examination which from what he heard was worse then any Belza torture. It was much too low a manner by which Lenato wanted his charge to discover the ways of fighting. He had trained her well enough in sword fighting, archery and combat to feel confidence in becoming her mentor as well as her highest ranking guard. However, King Valerion was fond of the King of Tortall, Jonathan of Conte, and believed that somehow his daughter would be receiving a much better training there.

Belza's politics were strong and firm as well as peaceful, however, the coming of the immortals had disrupted this kingdom's calm. King Valerion would be announcing his daughter as the successor to his throne on her eighteenth birthday. With that announcement would surely come threats to her life that both the King and the Queen Uriah would be unwilling to allow; King Valerion had never felt angry towards his wife for being unable to bear him a son. She was a northern foreigner whose beauty was encompassing. Everything about her was opposite to that of the king's dark and sharp features. She held a glow, her eyes sparkled with kindness which only added to her sweeping light brown hair. Her daughter was an exact replica of both her father and mother's best features. She was still chubby, her face and body soft but strong. Her skin held her mother's glow but could not escape her father's tanned skin. Her eyes were that of honey as well as her hair that changed according to her mood and the reflection of the sun. Some days it looked as dark as her father's, others, as soft as her mothers.

The kingdom was beautiful, but the fear of war called on alliances, the strongest that of Tortall. Vieva walked back calmly, her filly, Sabine, following closely, the whites of her eyes darting every which way in search of Ambrosio. Vieva stared at her horse, shaking her head she landed a loud slap to her neck, "Stop it Sabine, you are strong. Don't go and follow his footsteps and turn into a coward," the horse jerked, holding her head up. The filly's nostril's flared as if in defiance. Vieva smiled, nodding her approval. "There, next time he tries to ride you, you give him a good kick in the gut. None of this meekness. It doesn't suit you."

Lord Lenato fought the urge to smile as he walked past the stable-master, Portio. The stable-master walked quickly over to the princess, taking the rein's from her. "Ambrosio, that's a bad child," he said irritably once he saw the wound he would have to nurse. "Run along now Vieva, your father is calling for you. I must mend this if you decide to take Sabine along with you. I suggest for tomorrow's journey you take Wafa," he was pointing at the strong dark mare. Most of the herd here was black, both Vieva's mares were no exception. "Sabine can follow, I'll give you the ointment to mend the cracked wound. You can continue her training when you are at the King's stable in Tortall. They have fine animals there, but none will be as fine as yours."

Vieva fought the urge then to shed tears when she realized she was to be leaving the rest of her most trusted companions. Dark velvet noses pushed their heads out, leaning their chins on their stalls. Their dark eyes blinked at her, all looking as if they were questioning her, asking if she had to leave. The famous Belza horses, especially the best bred that lived on the royal grounds held an attachment to the Princess. She could not speak to them with words, but her mere presence was famous for calming the wildest of stallions. She spent every morning in exercise with both the domesticated and wild herds. Lord Lenato followed her on his own gelding, the famous battle horse Mercucio on her early morning runs. She had long legs that he suspected would only grow longer in order to catch up with the young fillies and colts that raced with her.

Vieva finally turned away from them, thinking optimistically she would at least have Wafa and Sabine by her side as well as Lord Lenato to keep her company and stop her from being home-sick. She picked up her skirts and jogged quickly towards the palace. She had mixed feelings about becoming a page of Tortall, wondering at first why she wasn't allowed to just train with Lenato. Her father had explained that she was to become a knight – again, the prospect excited her. She had heard of the Lioness, Alanna, and Keladry of Mindelan. Her father and mother, as well as visiting nobles had told her long stories about their successes. She wanted to be strong like them and hoped that she would be accepted, unlike the rumored ten girls who, with the new rule of Tortall which allowed more women to enter knighthood, failed miserably. Only one girl had made it to Squire after Keladry – but she was killed as soon as she stepped foot in her first battle.

Vieva was uncertain if she liked the sound of the women that she would be meeting in Tortall, hearing of their reddish hair, their height and their bulky demeanor. Vieva looked down at herself, she lived in a culture where most women were sleek and short. She was sleek, but she was tall for her age thanks to her Germanic mother. She made a face when one noble had joked about her being as tall as the Knight Keladry. She didn't want to keep growing, she was still a girl, after all. "Father," she finally called, stepping into his study. "Will I have to cut my hair?"

King Valerion looked up at his daughter from the papers he was sifting through. He tried to look at his daughter with seriousness, but the crinkling of the corner's of his eyes gave him away. "Vieva," he said, patting his lap for her to climb on. "You will not do anything you don't want to with your appearance; however, I suggest you listen to your training master and to all the teachers and most of all, the king when you are there."

"Must I leave?" She asked then, more timidly then she had ever. Vieva only grew quiet around the horses and her father. Her boisterous and bossy charm was only experienced by those she was not as comfortable with. She had a fiery temper and a tough mouth to clasp in hopes of silence.

"Yes," he replied, stroking her hair. "You must remember what duty is to your country, Zenevieva of Belza. It is your priority. You must serve, protect and love your kinsmen and always remember who you are. You have an amiable and fiery spirit – allow that to drive you and not hinder you in your endeavors. Don't ever let anyone pull you down, even in the thickest and most painful of trials, Vieva."

Her father's words echoed in her mind as her horse, Wafa, neared the palace of Tortall. They had been traveling on horseback for the past ten days. It was exhausting but Vieva felt only most at ease on the back of a horse. Her dark mare glanced momentarily in the direction of the young filly that hadn't lost her energy, gawking curiously at the sights around her. Wafa snorted in what to Vieva looked like a scolding, a soft smile came to her lips then, "Sabine, you've irritated Wafa enough. Behave, you still have a wound to mend. Bouncing around and trying to chase mad rabbits won't do you any good, and it's not polite to stare."

Sabine's lips quivered, sending out an annoyed breath of air as she drooped her head in response.

Lord Lenato slowed his horse to a halt, dismounting in one swift movement. Vieva followed suite, staring up at the palace that attempted to intimidate her. It was more ornate and grand then their own palace, but it looked lovely in Vieva's eyes. She grinned then, her worry about home-sickness suddenly disappearing as she strode forwards, rushing past Lenato. Lenato stared at the two mares that his charge had so quickly run away from, shaking his head, he barked for one of their man-servants to take the horse's reins. Vieva never left her horses unawares and quickly let out a shout to remind her of her lack of proper manners, "Vieva!"

The roar caused the entire front of the hall to shake. Vieva cringed and slid to a halt, huffing before running back, "Lena—oh." She saw her two mares blinking up at her in curiosity. She sighed, trudging back down the steps, her mouth in a tight line. "I'm sorry. I won't run off without making sure that Sabine and Wafa are properly in their stables."

Lord Lenato nodded his head, walking towards the palace as he left Vieva to go tend to the horses. She glanced at their man-servant, Portio's son, Benecio. "Must he always cur my fun?"

Benecio smirked, shaking his head. "Your highness, you forgot about your horses in your excitement. You needed not insult-"

"You're going to lecture me too?" She stared at him, her mouth agape.

Benecio chuckled, "This is your last time, Vieva, run along."

Vieva grinned. She gave both her horses a kiss, "I will tell you about everything inside, I promise!" Vieva ran into the palace as she had earlier, running down the hall to go find where she was to be staying. She stopped suddenly as a group of men were taking most of the space in the hall, her hood fell as she gaped at the knights who were talking in low hushed tones. Gareth the Younger stopped talking to Nealan of Queenscove as he spotted the flighty youth, "Hello Princess," It was Neal's turn to look at her.

A loud gruff sound came from behind the crowd of Knights. To Vieva's surprise, the annoyed noise came from the newly knighted Darian of Kacela. He was tall, dark and incredibly handsome for his age of twenty. Each knight that stood before her now had a tale to them. Vieva blinked in awe and curtsied quickly before opening her mouth. "You're all those great Knights of King Jonathan, aren't you?"

Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak raised an eyebrow in question to her boldness, "Yes Princess, that we are."

Lord Lenato had found his charge with Lord Wyldon in tow. His face grim, quickly scooped up the princess in his arms, wagging a finger at her, "Zenevieva! You do not address such respected men with such terse language. You must learn to obey and be disciplined, this is what-"

Vieva was embarrassed; she began squirming to get out of his embrace. "Lenato! I cannot breath! Put me down!"

The little princess caused most of the knights to laugh. Sir Ayden and Lord Wyldon did not find it as amusing.

"You should not be picking her up, Lenato," Lord Wyldon reminded him, "She will need to stop depending on you as a page. And that begins today."

Lord Lenato put her down, shaking his head. "I shall be at the courts of the king but I will be checking up on you, little one."

Nealan wondered if Lenato called everyone little. The dark-skinned man was intimidating even in comparison to their tallest knights. He wore noble's clothes, dressed mostly in black. The Latin Kingdom of Belza was known for its liking in the color. Darkness usually meant evil to most men, but to Belzarians, it was a thing of beauty. "Princess Zenevieva?"

The proud girl turned towards Nealan, batting her pretty eyes, "Yes?"

Sir Owen let out a huge bout of laughter and continued thereafter when the Princess wrinkled her nose in further annoyance before turning back to look at Neal.

Neal did his best to keep the smile out of his eyes, "Do you know where to go?"

Lord Wyldon interrupted quickly, "Come Princess. You must learn there is no favoritism behind these walls. All princes, princesses and men are treated in an equal manner. You will not address elders with such brusque fashion. Get moving, page."

Vieva opened her mouth to argue before she was met with Lenato's dark eyes. She frowned then, bowing instead of curtsying as she followed after Lord Wyldon.

Neal smirked, "I'm glad Lord Wyldon decided to come back to train this one."

Raoul chuckled in response, "That's the girliest page I've ever seen."

Damian frowned, "Let us get back to our work. Let Lord Wyldon attend to her. That is the least of our worries."

Gareth the Younger looked curiously at the young Knight. He had been squire to Paxton of Nond, the old knight-master of the deceased Joren of Stone Mountain. His seriousness never wavered, his duties never less then perfect. He wondered if the good knight would ever loosen up.

Raoul had won the bet earlier that summer. They'd never think so.