Only now, after a quarter of a century can I admit my true heritage... I am a changeling. I have never been baptized and thus have always been vulnerable to such malicious spirits. When I was born, I had golden hair, that now, though there is little left, is brown. My eyes are generally "green" but change color from near silver to black based on my surroundings, my cloths, and my mood. And whilst I was young I came down with Scarlet Fever. Later in my life I was diagnosed with only what doctors could call a viral infection of the lymph nodes. I have never been particularly good at anything for few things hold my interest long enough for me to find perfection in their art; yet I am naturally talented in everything. All of these signs point towards one clear explanation. I am not the child I was born to be. That child was stolen by elves or fairies, I'm not yet sure which, and was replaced with me. One perk to this is that I can claim my elven heritage and seek out the kingdom, if any yet live, to fight for my birthright as royalty.
Yes, it is late, and I'm still working on the book, steeped waste deep in medieval folklore. You should try it sometime, the welsh isn't so bad after you dive in.
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