A Twist of Bad Luck

If you had a choice, what would you choose? Would you rather have platinum, diamond studded ring, or a stubborn old mule? You would most likely pick the ring, wouldn't you? Well, yeah, that's what most people would do. Unfortunately, I'm not most people. So, what did I go and pick? The stupid, old mule, of course. I never regretted it, really. Never… until a twist of bad luck.

It was a promising morning. I stepped out of the castle, past the moat, for just a second…and he came up to me.

"What is it, Dorondera?" I asked, without even a hint of interest. "Oh, nothing, your majesty," he knelt down, on one knee, and gently kissed my hand. He got up, and bowed. Yes, how you normally greet a princess, here in Mornahlia. "Why did you do that, peasant?" I asked the stable boy, still blinded by vanity. "Because you know I love you, Korina," he said, grinning mischievously. Though I would never admit it, that smile flattered me, so.

I blushed, and realizing this, once again took on a noble look. For, I was a princess. I couldn't be with this…this creature! Besides, I was engaged. A noble, beautiful prince, my bridegroom was. Rich, too. Any girl denying such power would be foolish. I was not what I considered foolish. To others, though, I was.

I was way to stubborn to allow a stable boy-a peasant-to even talk to me. Why should I have, anyway? He couldn't offer me riches, or power. What I didn't know was that I was wrong…very wrong.

You see, I was so wrong that I didn't realize that love was a power far beyond any other. He could offer me that. He would; but, unfortunately, I, at first, chose the ring: Prince Dytolorde.

He was a pale-skinned person, eighteen, like me. It was said his eyes glowed blue-green. His well-groomed hair shone like the sun on a diamond. This story amused me. I wasn't so sure what he was really like, for, I had never met him. Even so, I didn't care. He was a handsome prince-that's all I needed to know.

Now, you're probably wondering what this stable boy of mine looked like. He had a silly grin that her wore everyday. He also had an impish grin, which usually signified that he was going to do something rather sneaky. He had shaggy, messy brown hair. I know they are practically the same thing, but only saying "shaggy," or "messy" wouldn't get my point out. Yes, that's how bad it was. His tan skin was always covered in dirt-I don't know, but, I think he rolls around in the stuff. At age eighteen you would expect him to be at least a little more mature. We've known each other since age four, and he hasn't grown a bit, since.

Now that I have described the lovely prince, and bumpkin, I can describe myself. I'm a beautiful, lovely, radiant, amazing girl. My rainbow eyes sparkle like the sun on the waves. My golden, platinum, hair shines, even on a cloudy day. My face glows, even when it's not before the hearth. I have a perfect figure, and I'm flawless. Or, was I? I was impatient, spoiled, bratty, and vain. I believed I was the most beautiful girl in the world, but, even if I was beautiful on the outside, my heart was as cold, bitter, and empty as a frozen wasteland.

"Anderaliana!" my mother called. "It is time for you to try on your lovely, new dress, love." My mother came running, in a queen-like, dainty manner, past the patio, over the draw bridge, through the forest, and to me. I knew that because:

1. I'm psychic

2. I have vision like a hawk, pterosaur, and eagle combined. Yes, I do have a brain hidden underneath my pretty face.

I know what you're wondering: "I thought her name was Korina! Why did her name change, all of a sudden?" Well, my dear friend, I have two names. As princess of Mornahlia, I am supposed to harbor two names: a royal name to use amongst my courtiers and workers, and a country name, to use among family and friends. Since, unfortunately, Dorondera is my friend, I allow him to call me by my simpler name.

"Anderaliana," my mother gasped, having ran a good mile, or so (she actually runs pretty fast, for a person of her standards.). She smiled, and all of a sudden, her bracelet (we have magic bracelets that can do anything; I have one, too. The ones for boys are watches.) jingled a sweet tune. This served as a phone, in our country.

My mother answered her bracelet. We call them comlets or watchcoms, if you must know. She responded to the person on the other line with a series of "yes" and "no." Pretty typical, really.

Finally, my mother hung up. "Oh my," she said, looking worried. "What is it, dear mother?" I asked, curious about what troubled her. "The prince is coming," she said, simply. As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Dorondera looked like a blow had been made to his stomach. I suddenly felt queasy. Next thing I know, the lights go off.