Although her looks may have some small flaws, they are more than made up for by the fact that she is heir apparent to the Bryddic Throne.

The doings of the Princess are unknown to most outside the Royal Circle, therefore her reputation is good: and much propaganda work is done by the Duke of Arilan to keep it that way. 

Riding, hunting, falconry, dancing, and surprisingly bucolic peasant pastimes like skittles, apple bobbing, fighting with staves and wrestling; even chores like churning butter, milking cows and so forth; she is happiest in the company of the peasants of her estates: this is her pastime when she does not have to suffer the dreary round of frigid Royal Pageantry.

Born: 1228

Coming Out Ball: 1240 (Age 12, at which point she could become betrothed to be married in the future).

It was on this occasion that her looks were insulted by the 19 year old Sir Aldebrand of Salain. Legend has it that when she said she was nervous about appearing before the entire court, he told her:

"Do not worry, Princess, just smile, and your crooked and uneven teeth, which are as set-awry as the stones of Wardenclyff Keep itself, will distract them from your enormous Moon-like face and your pig-like, close-set eyes.")

1244: (Age 17) Meets Sir Aldebrand again when she awards him the Silver Amulet at the Wardenclyff Tourney. She comments that "Sir Aldebrand, be of good cheer: the Sun may not have shone upon you in the Joust, but the MOON shines upon you in the mêlée!" 

1250: (Age 22) After visiting for some months with her cousin the Countess of Cordaire, she returns to Court to prepare for the 250th Anniversary Grand Tourney, where she will award the Grand Prix de le Tourney.  

Sir Aldebrand's insult was a watershed in Clothild's life. Before that shattering moment, she had been led to believe by doting parents, fawning servants and obsequious courtiers that she was perfect: utterly and completely perfect.

Sir Aldebrand's insult disabused her of that lie: it made her aware of her physical flaws, but also her intellectual flaws, her inability to spot flattery and lies, first and foremost, but who knew what else? From that day on, she decided to learn, to watch, to listen: to prepare herself for the day when she would most likely be Queen. She studied her father's way of manipulating his subjects, playing them off against each other; her mother's perhaps more sutle machinations; the way her uncle the Duke ran the nation and its complicated taxation system, the way her cousin, the Countess of Cordaire, wrung blood from a stone, or rather taxes from the blood of her serfs and labourers, she learned from all of them and stored up the knowledge.

Sir Aldebrand's insult became almost a touchstone in her life, a lesson she never forgot; and always she sought those who would tell her the truth as baldly as as had he.