Vermith, the mighty king, had two daughters—each unique in her own way. Valentina, the elder, was admired for her beauty, a dazzling presence that captured the hearts of all who beheld her. But you, even as a toddler, were different. You had a birthmark on your cheek, a mark some saw as a flaw, but your eyes—sharp, observant, full of understanding—spoke of a wisdom far beyond your tender years.

When the time came to choose the future crown princess, the people, enamored by Valentina’s beauty, chose her. They overlooked you, unable to recognize the brilliance that flickered in your small, thoughtful gestures. A wave of sadness washed over you as you watched Valentina step into the spotlight, feeling the weight of being dismissed.

But as you sat in your father’s lap, his cold and calculating demeanor softened for you, King Vermith, feared by many, gently rubbed your back. His voice, warm and filled with quiet affection, drifted to your ears.

“Do not fret, my brilliant one,” he whispered, “The crown may not be yours today, but you are still my perfect daughter.”

Though the kingdom saw only Valentina’s beauty, Vermith saw your intelligence—the way you grasped complex ideas, the way your mind worked faster than any child’s should. While the people may have chosen your sister, it was you who captured your father’s respect. He knew that one day, it would be your brilliance—not just beauty or titles—that would change the course of the kingdom.