Disclaimer: I am not Sherwood Smith. I do not own any of the characters appearing in this work, except perhaps Serine. I do not even own Danric. (Sniff) But I love him…

Author's Note: In this story, "Beauty" never happened. Serine and Bran are the children of Vidanric and Meliara, and Elestra and Alaerec do not exist. Okay? Then we're good. Hope you enjoy! Please R&R!

My parents, the brave and heroic Meliara and the cleverly valiant Vidanric of Remalna had absolutely no idea what to do with me. They had risked everything for Remalna, which is why they are the most celebrated rulers (AKA: the people love them) that Remalna has ever seen. I'm their daughter. I don't like swords, and I don't like horses, and I don't like the outdoors, or anything that involves heroics at all. In short, I'm a failure.

My older brother, Bran, is everything that this country could want in a ruler. He's smart, brave, and loves the people. Or, should I say, he loved the people. Bran, at the age of nineteen, went, as an ambassador, to a far-away country, and has never returned. Every now and again, we receive a letter, but that's about it. The fist letter stated that he had fallen in love, and was married, with a child on the way.

Let me give you a general idea of my life, before that fated letter.

As the younger daughter of King Vidanric and Queen Meliara of Remalna, I had been allowed to do pretty much what I wished. After all, my older brother was going to be an excellent ruler. You could tell, simply by the way he handled problems in his life. He had wonderful people skills, which was part of the reason that he had been the sole ambassador, an uncommon thing in that day.

From when I was born, until my fifteenth birthday, I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. When I was small, this had included roaming the hills with my circle of close friends: Lady Melody, Lady Aislinna (my cousin), Lady Talysa, and Lady Nicola.

I can't say exactly what made me stop wandering, although I strongly suspect that it was because of the Death Storm, the deadliest storm that Remalna had ever seen. A freak storm, unpredicted, unknown, and it had never returned. Some say that the wizards in the south conjured it.

The five of us had been roaming, as usual. I think that I'd have to say that we were about seven. Melody and Talysa had grown weary, and decided to return early. Nicola had decided to go with, and Aislinna and I had remained, exploring. When the storm started up, we got separated. Aislinna managed to find her way to a nearby fief, but I was trapped outside without food or shelter of any kind, alone in the dark.

After that, I rather lost my taste for exploration of any kind. I became rather timid, and withdrew to my rooms for the most part, except for an occasional meeting with Aislinna, Nicola, Talysa, and Melody.

As we grew older, they all became interested in fashion, clothes, and, most importantly, boys. They liked talking about various flirts, and felt that the more social activities that they attended, the more important they were. I lost interest, perhaps because I still found the male race an annoyance. I couldn't fathom the need for secretive meetings, holding hands, or anything else that connected me to boys.

After that, I retreated even farther into my rooms. I took up embroidery, which I found that I thoroughly loved. It gave me a sense of peace, and that I didn't have to do anything that I didn't wish to.

I often felt lonely, but any time I went out in public, I was stared at, and people went silent around me. I simply didn't fit in. Everyone else was enjoying flirting, picnics, horseracing, and such forth. I left my rooms less and less often.

There were whole months were even my family didn't see me. I believe that they forgot about me. The only person I saw with any regularity was my maid, Lillith, who brought me my meals. I never complained; I simply embroidered. My rooms, were, by now, covered in intricate embroideries, and every now and again I would send one to an acquaintance. After awhile, I decided that I needed to find another art to pursue.

Large oil paintings had become the fashion, so I immersed myself in the painting and learning of such an art. My walls, if crowded before, grew even more hectic. I left my rooms, briefly, to request the use of a storage room to keep my many extra paintings and tapestries in. It was then that my parents remembered me, I suppose, and decided that perhaps I should get out more.

After the first week of 'getting out more' I withdrew to my rooms once again. I had grown too far apart from my peers, and I no longer fit in. The thought of being the center of attention terrified me, and I withdrew, once again, to my life of solitude. My parents didn't object—they were busy preparing my brother, Bran, for ruling Remalna.

In the fall, half a year before my fifteenth birthday, Bran left Remalna, an ambassador to Hilina, a country, while across the sea from us, was quite powerful. He was probably chosen for his aforementioned people skills. Remalna had been having a bit of trouble with Hilina, and Mother and Father hoped that Bran could smooth things over. By sending their heir, alone, they were entrusting Hilina with his safety. It was hard to start a war after that.

You may be surprised that I knew these things. Well, just because I didn't get out much, didn't mean that I didn't know what went on in Remalna.

I hadn't liked seeing Bran leave. Something told me that I wouldn't see him again for a long, long time.

The day that Bran left Remalna was the first day in several years that I appeared before the public. I stood with Mother and Father, and waved good-bye. A single tear rolled down my cheek.

On parting, I had given Bran my best work. It was a tiny oil painting depicting the Nenrik Brook, where Bran and I had played, in my adventurous days. The brook was bubbling, and you could see our fallen log, which had served as a bridge. The log was huge and covered in moss, with wildflowers growing out of it's decaying body. In the background was a colorwood forest, and the Remalnan Mountains.

Hilina agreed with our treaty, and sent us a Letter of Peace, just days before my fifteenth birthday. Days after, we received another letter—from Bran.

Dearest Mother, Father, and Sister, (The letter read, in Bran's scrawl)

Hilina has, as you probably know by now, agreed to our Treaty. The rulers of Hilina, King Bilve and Queen Leila, are quite nice. Their daughter, Crown Princess Sylvia, is even nicer. (At this, I received my first warning signal)

I have been quite content at the Court in Hilina. I have been treated well, and have enjoyed my stay immensely. I miss you all, of course, and regret that I am not back for Serine's fifteenth birthday. (I smiled slightly; surprised that he had even remembered when my birthday was)

Here is where I must tell you what I suppose will be bad news. Although I love Remalna, I have found a home in Hilina. And, although I suppose I will never, ever, truly love Hilina as I do Remalna, Hilina holds something that Remalna never will.

The love of my life. Princess Sylvia, the only daughter of King Bilve and Queen Leila, and I have been married, less than a week ago. I am truly sorry that none of you could be here on our wedding day, for we feared that you would forbid the marriage.

I know you will beg me to return, but please do not. I am happy hear in Hilina, and, although I will always miss Remalna, I cannot leave. I now have duties here, as Princess Sylvia and I will one day occupy the throne.

I hope that this will strengthen our ties with Hilina effectively. I am sorry. I will miss you. You are all invited here, to the royal palace in Yerlay City (the capital of Hilina, Serine) whenever you wish. However, please do not come to beg me to return. I shall not, and it would only distress my beautiful bride.

Please do not be angry: Serine can be your heir now. She'll do great. (Here, I decided that my brother was officially loosing it. Correction: He had already lost it) Give my love to the people.

Love,

Bran

I stared at the piece of parchment that had so totally changed my life

In one letter, Remalna's hopes fell. Instead of their brilliant and heroic Crown Prince, they were left with me: a Crown Princess who would rather embroider than look at a book, let alone pick up a dreaded sword.

I perfectly enjoyed my role as not having to do anything except for show up at occasional Court functions, so you can imagine my displeasure at receiving the news that I would one day rule a country.

So began the lessons, of figures, and letters, of so many languages that my head would pound, and I couldn't embroider. I had to speak millions of languages, learn more Court manners, and, in short, learn how to rule a country. However, I'm sure that I was failing miserably. My guess was confirmed when I was summoned into my parent's private quarters only a short year after my brother's first letter.

"Serine," my father had said, as I stepped into the room. His face was tired-looking, and there were telltale shadows under his penetrating gray eyes. His hair, as always, was pulled neatly back, but wisps of pale blonde hair fell out of place, another indication that he had not slept recently.

"We have received reports of your lessons," he nodded towards Sir Rodrern, the scholar in charge of my studies, whom I hadn't noticed. "We are more than slightly concerned about your apparent lack of interest in the affairs of this country."

My mother nodded. Queen Meliara of Remalna was praised throughout the country as the heroic countess who had sacrificed everything for her country. Her hair—sung about by bards for its glorious blend of colors, all colors from the famous Remalnan Colorwood Trees, was braided into its usual coronet, and her dark blue eyes looked tired. I wondered vaguely at the fatigue that my parents showed. Usually, they showed no hint of strain.

"We feel that we must endeavor to interest you in Remalna, for it is your future," my mother said, "For if you don't tend to it and care about it, Remalna will die."

I nodded wearily. I wished I were back in my room, with my embroidery. I was creating a masterpiece at the moment—it was truly gorgeous. Overlapping threads in different stitches created the picture of a flowering meadow, a great forest of colorwoods framed by the Remalnan Mountains.

"We have decided," my father said, "that perhaps it is the tutor that is in question." He gave a slight bow to Sir Rodrern, who looked cross. "We have chosen for you, instead, a different tutor."

He made a slight gesture with his hand at the door—which I recognized as the personal summons of the King, from my teachings—and the doors opened, to reveal a new figure.

The person came forward. He must have been around nineteen, or so, close to three years my senior. He was built rather like my father, tall and light-boned, possessing a kind of natural grace. He had the same pale yellow hair and assessing gray eyes, which seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

I glanced at my father, mentally comparing. My father was slightly taller and the man appeared more muscular, I thought, eying him surreptitiously. Both faces were unreadable.

"Daughter," Father said, "may I present to you, Prince Vidanric, of Erethel?" He said, naming a country to the far east of Remalna.

"He has your face and your name?" I asked, unable to control myself. I flushed slightly at the stranger's bemused expression.

"Forgive my daughter," Father told the stranger. Someone who didn't know father would say that he was perfectly unreadable—but I knew better. He was quite annoyed at me.

The stranger bowed. "My parents, after having many sons and daughters, heard of the victorious Vidanric of Remalna. Since I was the youngest son, and it seemed unlikely that I would travel, they named me after him—in hopes that I may have his mind and courage."

Father smiled slightly. "Prince Vidanric, my daughter, Crown Princess Serine."

"Princess Serine?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Serine. As in, serenity. Only spelled differently." I said.

I could have sworn that Prince Vidanric was hiding a smile.

"Serenity, ay?"

I nodded.

Mother cleared her throat. "Serine, Prince Vidanric is to be your new tutor. It is our hope that he will inspire you to learn more and to take an interest in your country."

I nodded. "Yes, Mother," I responded, dully. I glanced at Sir Rodrern to gauge his reaction, but he appeared to have left already.

I smiled slightly, and then remembered that there was no cause for smiling. This new tutor could only mean more study time. Great. Just what I needed.

"A ball will be held in your honor," Mother informed Prince Vidanric, "You and Serine will lead."

Had I been anyone who was not Court-trained, I would have groaned aloud. Another ball? Grr….

Wonderful. I hated leading balls. I loved the dancing, but I hated being the center of attention. This meant that, in addition to my Flower Day Ball, which would occur in a couple of weeks, that I had to lead, and be the center of attention, in yet another ball.

At this moment, you may be thinking: she's nothing like her parents! Well, its true.

I hate being the center of attention, as well as stupid things like sword waving, galloping across the countryside on a horse, living in the outdoors, and spending hours of time in pursuit of intelligent studies. In conclusion, I dislike most of my famed parent's activities.

I love, as mentioned before, embroidery. Of any kind, whatsoever. I love to dance; it gives me a kind of freedom that I rarely feel. I also love to paint, or sketch. These are more artistic approaches to life.

You may be thinking: how could someone like this ever attempt to rule a country? Let me tell you: I have no idea. I think my parent's must have expected a miracle, or a late occurring gene, that would somehow appear and make me a different person. I sadly disappointed them.

I was left alone with Prince Vidanric.

He studied me. "Well, Your Highness, shall we begin?"

I shrugged. "Just so you know: I don't answer to 'Your Highness'. I answer to my name, as do everyone else I know. So whatever you've learned in Erethel, it's different here."

He smiled slightly, the first trace of emotion besides sarcasm that I had seen from him yet. "Serine, shall we begin?"

"Whenever you wish, Prince Vidanric."

"I don't answer to 'Prince anything'," he said. Was he mocking me? "I answer to my name."

However, as he soon learned, I refused to call him that. I had to think of something interesting, something that would annoy him…

We began re-capping everything that I had learned under Sir Rodrern. It only took us about two days. I could read, write, do figures. That pretty much summed it up.

Oh, and I knew my parent's history. That was one area that I excelled at—according to my tutor. I didn't agree—after all, the legends of my famous parents' had been pounded into my head since I could talk.

I could recite everything that had occurred in the last, say, twenty years. Every decision, political or personal, I knew. As I was reciting this to my tutor, I had a sudden idea.

Shevraeth. What my mother had called my father when she hated his guts. An appropriate name, I thought, under the circumstances. I was also learning that, not only did I dislike the fact that I was being forced to learn, that I extremely disliked the man who was teaching me—he made me feel extremely stupid.

To my great distress, I was learning under his skill as a tutor. I was rapidly learning the entire history of Remalna—and it wasn't because Remalna was boring, oh, no. It was because I was interested.

Our lessons were interrupted several times. My parents loved to come in at the most obscure times, to see how we were doing. And, I suspect, to make sure that I wasn't doing anything inappropriate with the Prince of Erethel, who, need I add, was only a couple years older than me, and relatively handsome.

They should have known me better. Although everyone my age at Court had several flirts, or was twoing, I had no desire to flirt at all. I could personally see no need for it—it was just a waste of time.

"Why don't you go to more social engagements?" Shevraeth asked me, one day, as he talked about the formation of Remalna, during the Great Wars.

I shrugged, slightly. "Never really saw the need to, I guess," I answered, "I used to go all the time—there was a circle of girls that I was quite good friends with."

"Then?" Shevraeth prompted.

I smiled slightly. "And then we all grew up. They got interested in boys, and flirting, and the latest fashions. That, I suppose, was when I retreated to my rooms." I paused. "I didn't leave. I couldn't, I felt so out-of-place. I didn't like flirting, and I still don't. I don't fuss over what I wear, because I don't really care. We were just too different, I guess. So I got caught up in my embroidery. It became my life."

We sat in silence.

"Why didn't you ever educate yourself about your country?" Shevraeth asked, still, I suppose, slightly puzzled about my ignorance.

I sat, pondering the question. "I didn't want to rule," I said, finally. "And I didn't have to. My brother, Bran, was the heir. He was great—heroic and intelligent and he loved the people. Got along with everyone, too.

"Then he went, as an ambassador, to another country. We never saw him again. We received a letter that he'd fallen in love, was married, and his wife was going to have a child, and that he wasn't coming back. So I became the heir. I now had to learn to rule a country."

I smiled sadly, "Nobody had ever thought I would have to rule, so I was allowed to do what I wished, even if that happened to be embroidery, all day, every day."

He nodded, his face unreadable.

We continued about Remalna's formation during the Great Wars.



I dreaded the ball in honor of my new tutor. Nevertheless, it came all the same. I received a visit from my cousin, Aislinna. She was the daughter and heir of my mother's brother, Lord Branaric, and his wife, Nimiar. She would one day be the Countess of Tlanth, where my roots came from. She was the only one, my age, in Court, whom I still kept contact with.

"I hear you're going to open the ball tonight," Aislinna said, as she sipped her tea, delicately. My cousin was beautiful. She had dark brown hair, which curled delicately over her shoulders. Her skin was pale, and her dark blue eyes were gorgeous, sparkling without a hint of malice. Some said that she looked like Lady Tamara Chamadis used to look, in her prime. I suppose that she must have inherited the look, but there was one major difference: Aislinna possessed none of the nastiness that embodied Lady Tamara.

I nodded to Aislinna.

Aislinna smiled at me. "You're nervous," she said.

I nodded again, and sipped my tea. Tonight, I'd have some lemon tea, I decided. Lemon for the nerves.

"Why are you nervous?" Aislinna asked me. "You're leading a ball with a handsome man!"

I smiled slightly at her choice of words. "Remember, Linna, I dislike being the object of everyone's eyes. And I don't particularly care for my tutor."

Aislinna smiled slightly. "You know," she informed me, "if you got out more, people wouldn't stare at you so, when you do come into public view."

"What does that mean?" I demanded.

"You never leave your rooms, except to go to your lessons," Aislinna said, "Nobody ever sees you. You're the heir, Serine! They want to know you, to see what you're like!"

I barely managed not rolling my eyes. "They'd be quickly bored of me."

Aislinna grinned. Then her smile turned wicked. "How about this," she said, "come to the ball, ("I have to," I muttered.) and act differently. Be less inhibited! You always act as if you don't know what to do! You seriously need to go places more often. Feel the fresh air!"

I couldn't help it: I rolled my eyes. "Right."

"Please," Aislinna begged. "For me?" She pouted slightly.

"Linna, that might work on your suitors, but it doesn't affect me," I laughed.

"Please?"

I sighed. "I'll think about it."

"Okay," Aislinna grinned. "Now, what are you going to wear tonight?"