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    A dirty, stupid, one minded, thick skulled moron slave was what lots of people would call my father behind my sister's and my back. He was a servant, but he was a personal servant to the king. That's how he wound up falling in love with the king's daughter. No one knows why the king took us in, for he had not approved of his daughter's decision. Our mother had died giving birth to us, so our father was found carrying two newborns, tired and grieving for his lost wife. He had been assassinated that night, the assassin still not found to this day. No one knows why we both have an intricate tattoo somewhere on our bodies, mine covers my whole back. I have, with my sister, lived my whole life inside the castle grounds. Not like it's very exciting, as some people think, but more like a bunch of boring lessons about boring subjects taught by boring instructors that keep rambling for hours on end. But my life was about to change. A lot.

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