It all started because of my sister's ridiculous claim of being more beautiful than any woman, even the Imperial Princess, Maribelle.

We were children running through the streets of our country Venice. We were playing a game of tag with my tomboyish sister, Miranda who was the complete opposite of lady-like.

Miranda argued: "I am the definition of beauty."

My other friends laughed at her and I completely agreed with them as my wild-spirited and reckless sister was never meant to fit in the society of elegance and decency. Never a day in her life had she worn a gown, she preferred pants as they were easier to run in, but because of her spectacular ego and high opinion of herself, she bragged about her beauty and bewitching looks.

Just as she was speaking lies I decided:

"I shall go to the castle and paint a portrait of the Imperial Princess, then we shall truly find out whether Miranda is a liar or a beauty."

We were wild and naive, as the son and daughter of the Captain of the Royal Guard we had always received special treatment from the people of our country, although we had tried our best to make ourselves a bad reputation because it was enjoyable to do so.

To be honest, I never wanted my father's fame and honor, instead I wanted to carve out my own separate path. The townsfolk tolerated my acts of slyness for some time but afterward, they started to throw things at me and my friends whenever we passed by.

Miranda was running from her pre-planned royal future, she was to be married to a duke or a high official but she used her fierce ego to make a bad impression of herself, silly attempts to avoid her fate. Although my sister was just as radiant as a diamond, she was sharp around the edges ready to pierce anyone who tried to steal her away.

Miranda had our father's blond hair and our mother's emerald eyes. Her hair looked so shiny that the other girls claimed it was woven from the sun itself. I never admitted that my sister was beautiful as she always liked to outsmart me in every possible aspect of life.

I was reckless and arrogant, I never admired my father, nor did I show any gratitude towards the humbleness of my mother and I will regret these mistakes but since I never like people who mourn over their sins, I mask my regret with slyness and sharp tongue.

Anyway, it was a terrible idea to paint a portrait of the Imperial Princess but I did it because I wanted my father to lose his job so that he'd come back home and spend some time with his family.

My entire life is the definition of foolishness and regret but she brought happiness as a gift for me. I had visited the castle many times so I knew where the guards were stationed and how well guarded the castle was, although I had never met the Queen or the Princess.

The King held meetings with my father very often so I had seen him. The princess was said to be unlucky in love by a fortune teller so she was kept high in a tower, out of the reach of Love, but who knew that love would actually come to her and she wouldn't have to chase it like people usually do.

My friends had told me to climb the tower with a rope, at midnight so the guards might not see me. Miguel and Samuel were sons of generals under my father and had the same stupid ambitions as me, so they helped me infiltrate the castle.

Miranda however refused to aid us as she was actually afraid that we might actually succeed in our mission and she'd have to accept her defeat at her own game.

Of course, we had befriended older soldiers and they had taught us half the tactics of being a spy and swordsman. I was naturally the best among my friends when it came to wielding blades as I had trained day and night just to be recognized as a good son in the eyes of my father, however, that effort was futile.

Anyhow, we had mastered the art of archery as well so Samuel shot the soldiers with hallucination darts, and they fell down unconscious, and when they would wake up, they would talk absolute ridicule and nothing else.

Miguel threw the rope in a lasso shape that its grappling hook attached itself with the handle of the windows of the Princesse's balcony. As I slowly but steadily climbed the tower, the cold air of the night turned the marrow of my bones frozen. I had decided not to look down or turn back once I had begun the climb, back then I was a child no older than twelve and it had been a struggle to reach the top but in half an hour's time I had reached my destination.

Miguel stood there holding my supplies of paint, as once I had reached the top of the tower, I would use the same rope to pull up my supplies, as I did so my friends waved goodbye and left as we had planned.

After all, someone had to convince my mother that I had gone for special training with my father's best commanders. The paint and my canvas were heavy but somehow I managed to pull them up. The windows were tightly shut and locked but no worries as Miranda had taught me how to pick up a lock.

I stealthily entered the princess's room hoping that she wasn't involved in some late-night fancy ball because then our efforts will have been for nothing.

And there she was, sleeping peacefully like an angel from heaven in her large bed. Her room sure was unusual for a little girl's room as it was filled with books, cosmetics, dresses, and letters.

As I tiptoed my way to her bed, I dragged my stuff along, and just as I was going to capture the beauty of her radiant ink-black hair and her soft lips that were curved in a smile, she must have been dreaming.

I, unfortunately, tripped by entangling my boots in her long bedsheet that was sprawled at the sides of her bed.

I fell with a violent thud that shook the bed quite violently. I prayed that the odds were still in my favor, and no one showed up to execute me but the Imperial Princess woke up. And as she rubbed her angelic eyes as she stared at the boy who was laying entangled in her bedsheet.

She only blinked once with her hazel eyes, then gave a sharp cry.

And I Demetri was dead.