Once upon a time there lived a young girl who loved her father very much...

Isabeau Verlorendred worshipped her father. The little girl followed him around everywhere, never getting in the way, just wanting to be near him. If he ate breakfast, she sat beside him stealing tidbits off his plate. If he was practicing his swordwork she would sit under a tree nearby and play with her toys or just watch him, endlessly fascinated with how good her daddy was with a sword. If he was meeting with visiting nobles or doing the various paperwork that came with running a successful manor, she would sit quietly on his lap, 'helping' him as much as her little three-year-old brain would let her. Isabeau never grew bored when she was with her father. Life was too interesting and she loved her daddy enough that she would do anything for him. Just as Ruadhri was her mother's little doll, Isabeau was her daddy's princess.

The logic of a child rarely makes sense to any but themselves. Isabeau's rationalization was that since Ruadhri, her elder sister by a year, was their mother's special angel, then Isabeau must be her father's. Darien, the baby a year younger than Isabeau, didn't count because he was a boy. He was his father's too, but because he was a boy and the heir to the manor it was different.

It would be ten years before another man would enter her life. A man who was still a boy in many, many ways.

When Isabeau was five the balance changed. Someone, to this day she can't remember who, though it was most likely Ruadhri, informed her that noblewomen didn't follow their father's around. They were supposed to learn from their mothers how to be the perfect lady, well versed in all the gentle arts, not play with wooden horses carved meticulously by her doting father while he practiced the sword. Ladies didn't get covered in ink 'helping' their fathers write letters and do the ledgers, and they most certainly did not eat what the men ate. Ladies ate their own foods off their own plates, like mother and Rue. Ever gullible, Isabeau believed what she had been told and strove to be that perfect lady, even after Rue started learning the sword from her father and helping him run the manor. She explained to Isabeau that as the first born child she should learn this stuff, and Isabeau believed her. After all, why would her beloved sister lie?

This set a trend for the rest of Isabeau's developing years. She did the usual childhood things, taking lessons, playing with the local children and just plain enjoying herself, though she needed to be rescued frequently by Rue, her self-appointed protector, from various situations she had managed to get herself into. Naivete and gullibility are a terrible combination in a Cairhienin noble, no matter how low ranked, and if it were for Rue then Isabeau would have gotten in over her head with the wrong crowd a dozen times over.

The logic of a teenager rarely makes sense to anyone, least of all themselves. At times it seems that even they don't know why they think and act they way they do, much to the despair of their parents. Their attempts at logic are just a screen to hide the inner confusion that engulfs the soul. All teenagers suffer from the irrational mood swings that accompany hormonal changes; the differences are how they choose to handle their new, volatile selves.

It wasn't until Isabeau was thirteen when she noticed something was wrong. All teenagers know they're different, but in Isabeau's case she really was. She had grown out of the childhood games of running in the streets and playing make believe; now when she spent time with the other young noblewomen they would sew or embroider and gossip. Though the topics of the gossip ranged, one thing was an oft-repeated subject: men. It was always this noble that one girl fancied, or that commoner who was so handsome, don't you agree, Izzy? Isabeau felt...not precisely uncomfortable during these conversations, more detached. They didn't affect her. Yes, she knew who they were talking about, but she didn't understand what all the fuss was. They were just boys that they used to play with, but now they were objects that the girls coveted. She didn't understand, though she pretended to care. After all, it's what was expected from her. It was another year before Isabeau figured out her problem.

Henry: Do you really think there is only one perfect mate?

Leonardo da Vinci: As a matter of fact, I do.

Henry: Well then how can you be certain to find them? And if you do finally find them, are they really the one for you or do you only think they are? And what happens if the person you're supposed to be with never appears, or she does, but you're too distracted to notice?

Leonardo da Vinci: You learn to pay attention.

Henry: Then let's say God puts two people on Earth and they are lucky enough to find one another. But one of them gets hit by lightning. Well then what? Is that it? Or, perchance, you meet someone new and marry all over again. Is that the lady you're supposed to be with or was it the first? And if so, when the two of them were walking side by side were they both the one for you and you just happened to meet the first one first or was the second one supposed to be first? And is everything just chance or are some things meant to be?

The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, they tell me. There is a purpose for everything. What happens will happen; everything is meant to be. They say it, but they don't mean it. They say the empty words because it gives them comfort knowing that if they make mistakes, they can blame it on the Hand of Fate. But if life were truly fated then would people be so close minded? If all of our decisions were fated, would there ever be a wrong decision or a mistake made? If anything can be blamed on the winds of fate then why are there bad things in the world, and bad people?

I have a secret.

I'm a bad person. No, that's not exactly true; I've done wrong things. I live a wrong existence. I don't follow the Dark Lord or do anything to hurt people or commit crimes. Unless of course, it's a crime for loving someone. I guess it is, depending on who that person is, and who you are.

I have a younger brother, Darien. I love my brother very much. Yes, it's sweet for me to love my family. You don't understand. I <I>love</I> my brother in a way no sister should love her brother. He is the light of my life, the meaning of my existence. I don't love another person the way I love Darien, and I never will. Nobody knows my secret. It's mine and mine alone and if anyone, even my sister and best friend Rue, found out, I will be killed.

It's a hard life in Cairhien. All the plotting and deceit. You can't trust anyone. I don't. It's safer that way. That's why nobody will ever find out my secret. I'd rather die then let my secret passion for my own brother be known.

I know it's wrong and evil and disgusting and any other number of descriptions I can't bear to voice right now. Do you think that though hasn't crossed my mind? I know I can't ever have Darien. I know that we could never, ever happen. But that doesn't stop me from loving him. I've loved him my entire life and always will.

I've lived with this terrible secret for four years. I had hoped at one time that if I ignored them then maybe the feelings would go away, but they haven't. They've only intensified as my brother has grown up into the wonderful man I always knew he would be. Love is like a wine, I've discovered. The longer you wait, the stronger it gets. I just hope my love for Darien doesn't turn into vinegar.

I am a terrible person; I know that, I accept that, but still that doesn't stop me from loving Darien. I don't know if anything could. I don't know if I would want anything to.

My heart aches with my secret love for Darien, yet I don't dare tell a soul. I don't even whisper it out loud, or write it down for fear of someone knowing. I keep it bottled up inside in a place only I know of. I don't even dare tell Darien, for fear of what he would do. Just as I would rather die than have someone know about my secret, I would rather die than hurt Darien in any way. I love him so much if he were to hurt it would break my heart. I can't imagine being the cause of that hurt.

I would rather die than let anything happen to Darien.

I would rather die than let anyone find out my secret.

I would rather die than be separated from Darien.

I would rather die...

Talkin' to herself, there's no one else who needs to know...

She tells herself, oh...

Memories back when she was bold and strong

And waiting for the world to come along...

Can't find a better man

Can't find a better man

Can't find a better man...