A/N: This is the story of Elestra Renslaeus (the Princess of Renslaeus, Vidanric's mom) from birth to Mel's revolution. Will focus mainly on her relationship with Alaerec and her relationship with the Merindars, particularly Arthal and Galdran. I should get better.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. I was born on Savona, in the village of Tanliff-Savona, our capital. My father had only been to Court four or five times, for short periods, and during one of those, he met my mother, a social butterfly and a flirt. For two years, they argued, fought, and bickered through letters, and then he returned, and they began courting. But that is a completely different story.

I grew up taking frequent trips to Athanarel, spying on the Court leaders (who were formal and elderly), and living in the library. From when I knew what a library was, I consistently snuck off from my governess and went there, after a brief stop in the kitchens for some milk. The first time I remember doing this I was two. I couldn't read then, of course, but there was a section where there were picture books, sometimes with words and sometimes without, and I loved looking at those. Because of this, we went through governesses fairly quickly.

Of course, I began to learn things like etiquette and such when I was around three, and I learned how to embroider, paint, and play the harp, as well. However, the harp was my favorite. My first harp was very small, for I was a little puny, but now it would be considered a lap harp for me. I still play it as a lap harp, even now. 'Tis a very old harp, for sure, but the sound is beautiful.

However, I was always around adults. During this period, my mother had several miscarriages, probably due to all her time on the road. She was always lovely, my mother, with auburn, waist-length ringlets, emerald green eyes, and a slim, tall, pale figure. But I always remembered her looking thin and wan and ill, her belly swollen but her face gaunt. She was still lovely, but her beauty was overridden by her illness.

My mother and my harp teacher were the closest things to friends I had my first few years. But my mother was too busy, and I only saw my harp teacher twice a week. So I turned to books.

I made my first friend when I was four. I was in the library hiding from a new governess (the scariest one yet), looking at a picture book, sounding out the words, which were not making any sense. Then I heard a voice.

"That's upside-down."

I jumped and dropped the book. "What?"

"I said, that's upside down. You're reading it all wrong."

I turned and saw a girl maybe a year or older than myself, with long, thick dark curls. Her large brown eyes sparkled a bit.

I looked at the book, and then at the girl. She was right.

I put the book back on the shelf and said, "Who are you?"

She extended a dainty (well, dainty for a five-year old) hand. "I'm Lady Ermliana Argaliar. And you are..."

"Lady Elestra of Savona," I said. "I'm going to be duchess of Savona someday." I felt like I had to brag. She seemed so royal!

"Really?" Ermliana asked. She appeared genuinely interested. "How old are you? I'm nearly six."

"I'm four and a half," I replied. "Do you read in the grown-up's books yet?"

She frowned. "I think I could, but my parents won't let me. They said I have to wait until I'm eight."

I sighed. "I never see my parents. My mother's sick all the time, and her tummy's all messed up. My father's busy. We travel from here to Savona a lot. It's tiring."

"Tiring? From here to Savona? How about from here to Renslaeus?"

We both jumped again, only this time I fell off my chair. I stood quickly, and climbed back onto the chair, where I could see better.

Standing there was a tall boy, his pale blond hair elaborately braided and gemmed, and his outfit ridiculously fancy. He had dark gray eyes, and a mouth that seemed more prone to laugh than cry. He looked to be about nine, but I wasn't sure.

Ermliana said softly, "Renslaeus? Isn't it that the—er—"

The boy said dully, "province that's nearly its own country? Yes. And someday I'm going to be Prince of it. Alaerec Renslaeus, Marquis of Shevraeth."

Ermliana and I introduced ourselves. The Marquis smiled and said, "Would you like to come to tea with me? Mother's a little overbearing. It would be nice to have some company."

Ermliana curtsied and agreed. I couldn't curtsy without falling, so I said, "Well, if my nanny doesn't catch me, I'd like to."

We never even got to Alaerec's tea. We spent the rest of gold-candle running all over Residence trying to escape my governess and the army of servants she sent looking for me. When Norilse, a maid, finally found me just after green-change, I had friends for the first time in my life.

Ermliana and Alaerec occasionally made me feel stupid and small, simply because of their life knowledge. So whenever I had free time, I was reading. I read just about everything, to be well-rounded; political satire, plays that were written down, histories, biographies, and plain old stories. By the time my brother was born when I was six, I had read most of the books I could read in the Savona library, the ones I could read being the shorter ones with larger print at the bottom of the shelves.

My brother was an education in himself. Named Jhussav after a king from five hundred years back, he was sweet dark-haired, and strong for a baby. He cried a lot, and nearly killed my mother. But afterwards, she had never been so healthy or beautiful. Papa often said she looked as though she did before I was born.

That made it sound like it was all my fault.

Ermliana and Alaerec comforted me. But as we grew, our relationships changed. Alaerec was still as close to us as ever, but more composed, and rarely smiled. His face was contorting into a Court mask, his voice becoming less inflected, his eyes growing darker and more serious. I did not see why. Our king—he was not the best, but he was not a dictator—was not in any sort of trouble; he kept his family from killing each other and the Orbaniths and the Khialems from destroying the country with their land battles. Although pirates were a constant threat, most were being controlled by Norsunder ("the only good thing Norsunder's ever done," my father said). There was nothing serious going on at Court—not even in secret. As I was young and friends with the kitchen staff (I often took tea and other meals in the kitchen to escape various governesses), I heard information not everyone knew. And there was nothing going on.

Ermliana became betrothed at eight years old to Derec the third, soon to be Baron of Orbanith, who was thirteen and certainly not planning on getting married until ten years after his Flower Day. She was quieter, sadder, paler.

I didn't seem to change much, other than the fact that I now had a brother who was small, squalling, and needed changing six times a day. But everything around me seemed different, and strange.

Maybe I was just growing up, I decided.

Post-A/N: This should get better. That sucked. But anyway, I'll post the next chapter as soon as possible. Please, construct and praise. Flames will be given poison and then their heads will be cut off, and adorn the palace gates. laughs manaically