Faye
“Rise and shine, Your Majesties.” A cheerful voice roused her from sweet slumber unbidden. At first she just ignored it as some phantom from a lingering dream, perhaps. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be real. Thinking so, she buried herself further into the bed and took comfort in the soft, silky warmth.
Then paused.
Wait a minute, she thought. My bed is nowhere near this comfortable!
Her eyes flew open. She winced. Bright! Too bright! She blinked several times until she adjusted to the light, then looked around. This was not her bedroom. It was way too big and clean. That was her second thought. Too big and clean.
Where am I, she wondered with only slight concern. The room she was in wasn’t simply big, it was expensive. At least it looked so. Paintings, plush chairs, a giant bed. A tall, elaborate window from which that accursed light poured in. The table a few feet from the bed was in itself beautifully carved from some kind of dark wood, and the trays being set down atop of it by a kind-faced middle-aged lady looked to be true silver.
It didn’t quite register at first. The strangeness and potential danger. It was only upon seeing the face of a handsome stranger rising from underneath the covers with a yawn and a stretch that she realized the severity of the situation.
And handsome he was. Actually, handsome alone couldn’t describe him. With hair like a raven’s wing and eyes the color of a clear sky, a chiseled jaw and high cheekbones, he looked every bit a woman’s wet dream come to life. Especially when the blankets slid down his torso during his stretch and revealed a pack of eight perfectly carved abs. It was...it was like a greek god had descended from Olympus. That’s the conclusion she came to. There was simply no way this man was a mere human, surely, not with a body and face like that!
If there was one thing to gripe about it was the fact that he didn’t smile, but in fact that didn’t at all detract from the unearthly charisma and good looks. Actually, the cold indifference, like an Emperor looking down upon the heavens themselves, only served to increase his magnetic charm.
Yet in contrast to the man’s cold-looking self, he spoke words that were instead very warm and welcoming.
“Thank you, Miriam. Have you had breakfast? Why not join us?” The voice was cool and even, but his offer made one instantly know he was a kind and sociable man.
The woman turned and smiled after she finished setting the table. “Your Majesty, when will you stop making such offers?”
“When you finally accept, perhaps.” He replied. “You work so hard, the least I could do is ensure you have a hearty meal to start the day."
As they conversed, she, Clair Bennet, was busy trying to remember how she wound up here.
….Had I gotten drunk last night and ended up sleeping with some rich man, she theorized. He even has a maid!
This was the only logical assumption. She couldn’t recall going out drinking, but she did have a history of blanking out. The meds she took combined with alcohol didn’t quite mix well sometimes. Not that she was complaining...he was a total score. She was just regretful she couldn’t remember what happened!
“Oh, quiet.” The fair-haired woman admonished. “You know people will talk, and what would you do then? The ruler of an Empire dining with the help, you’d never hear the end of it.” She teased.
Um. What?
A snort. “The advantage of being Emperor is that I don’t have to care about harmless rumours like those. Come, eat. You’re thin as a scarecrow.”
“Exaggeration.” The woman, Miriam, laughed. “I assure you, your Grace, I have quite a healthy breakfast myself each day. You needn’t worry. Now, enjoy your meal.”
With that, the pretty middle-aged women curtsied and took her leave. The man sighed. “She really doesn’t know how to take a break. Honestly. I wish she’d learn how to settle down a bit. That darn Miriam, she worries me sometimes.”
.”....Right.” Why did she get the feeling she was supposed to know what he was talking about? Also, what was with that weird conversation? Talking about being an Emperor and whatnot.
Strange.
“Anyway, I should go.” Claire began. “But it was a great time. Really enjoyed myself.” She was sure she did. With a man like him, how couldn’t she? Again, she just hated she couldn’t remember being with him. ”Let’s do it again sometime, yeah? I’ll leave you my number and, uh, if you want to call me later... go ahead.” She finished lamely, smiling as seductively as she could but knowing it probably came off all goofy and awkward. What? She hadn’t had much experience captivating men, okay?
Sweet heavens, please let him call, Clair all but prayed. I’ve worked hard. I’ve earned it, yeah? Yeah, I have.
She rose from the bed and searched the floor for her clothes and found nothing. Then paused. “ Sorry. Um, what happened to my things?” She only had on a frilly silk nightgown and nothing else.
….Hold on.
Why am I wearing a nightgown? I should either be naked or in my undies! And is it just me, or did I gain weight?
The Adonis sitting next to her raised a brow. “Are you feeling unwell? You’re acting strange...perhaps I should fetch a doctor?”
“Who?” She asked. “No, nevermind. Look, just…” She trailed off. He’d put a hand over her forehead.
“I don’t feel a fever.” A frown.
She swatted his arm away. “Dude, what the hell. I’m not sick.” She was starting to grow annoyed. “Forget it. Where’s my things? I’m not going to ask a third time.”
By now she was starting to grow worried. What’d happened to her? Why couldn’t she remember anything from last night? Where were her clothes, her purse? Where the hell is she, and why was this guy saying all these strange things like she was supposed to understand what he was talking about? Things just didn’t add up, and she was beginning to feel a chill that had nothing at all to do with the cold.
She felt her heart pound in her chest as she started to imagine all kinds of scenarios. Had she been kidnapped? Had she been drugged? Oh god, why is it always the hot ones who’re crazy? This is insane!
“Faye-” The man touched her arm.
“That’s not my name!” Claire snapped. “Let go of me!”
A sharpness entered his eyes, an urgency. “Something’s wrong here.” His brows furrowed. Then shook his head. “That’s it, I’m definitely calling a physician. Whatever’s going on, I doubt it’s good for the baby.”
The words made her blood turn cold. Baby? What baby?
And she looked down. She didn’t know why. But something made her. And when she saw that small but obvious swell at her stomach a wave of nausea struck her out of nowhere.
She noticed something else, too.
These aren’t my hands. My hair isn’t this long…
Panic. Full, hard, panic.
Claire pushed on his chest. Her breath came in ragged pants at that point. Something is wrong, very wrong.
This...this had to be a dream. A nightmare.
Claire’s heart pounded in fear and confusion. Her blood felt cold and her scalp turned numb. She backed away from the bed, from him, and ran for the door.
He called out to her just then but the words were distant.
Then it hit her, like a bat to her head. Claire’s vision swam. The world turned dark and her eyes felt like they’d pop right out of their sockets. Her entire body felt cold and numb, as if her blood had stopped moving. She fell to the floor as an intense wave of pain burst to life between her brows. People and places that she had never seen before burrowed themselves into her psyche. Not just that, either. There were sights, smells, tastes….all kinds of memories that were not her own assaulted her senses like she were living them all at once.
It was too much, far too much.
“Faye, hold on…Faye? Faye!”
As consciousness faded, the last thing she heard was the sound of her husband calling her name.
But I don’t have a husband….
***
“Sire, it’s been hours. Please, you must eat. There’s nothing you can do by staying.”
“It’s not about being able to do anything. It’s about being here for her. That’s all. And besides, I’m not in the mood for food while she’s like this anyway. What man could eat when their pregnant wife falls over for reasons no one can explain? I’ll eat when she wakes.”
A sigh. “Very well, your Majesty. I’ll leave you then.”
Claire could hear the two voiced clearly enough, She recognized them both. The were exceedingly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
A series of footsteps echoed, followed by a closed door. Her body felt cold. But her hand, her hand was warm.
She opened her eyes and found her palm being held by another. It was that man again.
Julius, a voice whispered. Her’s. It’d come from the depths of her mind. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was certain this was his name. The name of Albright’s Emperor. The name of her husband. Her puppet.
She remembered everything now. Who she used to be, and who she is now. Tears rolled down her cheek upon the realization. And with them came a wave of revulsion direct at none other than herself.
“Faye? You’re awake.” Julius rose from his seat at her side. But that ever-bright and kind face seemed to have dark clouds pass over it once he saw her sobbing. “What’s wrong? Why’re you crying?” He asked.
Of course he would. He loved her. Or thought he did. Well, why wouldn’t he? She’s made sure he did. He couldn’t have known his feelings were just a result of extensive and subtle works of dark magics, after all.
Faye grit her teeth in hate.
I had no idea that guy’s mother was such a devious little witch! No wonder he turned out so wicked.
She was, of course, referring to the fact that this was, in actuality, the world written of in the story titled “Love’s Blessing.”
And somehow she’d reincarnated as the main antagonist’s, Licht Albright’s, mother.
A fury was born in her heart as she recalled all the evil things she’d done in her pursuit of power. It sickened her to remember the details of her own cruelties. It sickened her because now she wasn’s just Phaedra, but Claire too.
There was no way she, a person born in a modern world, could stand for the woman’s evil deeds. It only made it worse to know she had done these things with her own hands.
It was a strange feeling. She felt more like Claire...but she was undoubtedly Phaedra. Could it be said that she’ suddenly developed a sense of empathy? Of morality? That’s it. That’s how it felt. Like she’s been frozen in ice up to now and only with Claire’s awakening did she fully understand how twisted she’d been.
This morning she had entirely forgotten about her life as Phaedra and had momentarily fallen entirely into the personality and memories of Clair. Only after a bit of time did both memories and lives harmonize.
Except she didn’t understand why she’d suddenly remembered her past life? Or why she’d reincarnated as a character in some random story she’d read from her previous world. She’d read stories with similar settings, though, and never once did that question ever get an answer.
As such, she simply chose to move on.
More importantly….
Holy. Fucking. Turtle eggs.
She was married! To a hunk! An Emperor. Even!
….Fuck yeah!
Faye did a mental fist pump. Boo-yah. You did it, girl. You won at life.
“Nothing’s wrong. “ She replied with a smile, wiping away the tears. “I’m just happy you’re the first person I see when waking up. I feel so lucky to have such a caring husband.”
Did it matter that he was under a spell? No! She’d slowly undo it and earn his love the right way from now on, so of course it didn’t matter!
And the fact she was pregnant? Well she’d been a 30 year old single in her past life, she was super ready for a hot husband and a cute son!
Who the hell said my baby has to grow up to be some villain? Screw that nonsenes. Phaedra might have had world-conquest on the brain, but Claire is perfectly fine with a simple married life as a graceful Empress.
And luckily her personality is the one with the keys to the car.
“Really? I’m glad.” The man’s smile, it was melting her poor little heart.
She pat her stomach affectionately.
I’m going to be the best mommy--and wife--ever, dammit!
***
Licht
The pain didn’t register at first. It was instead the cold, sticky wetness that alerted me something was wrong. The point of my sword, held towards the bowed head of my foe, trembled. My strength fled and my arm grew weak, so weak that I could no longer grip my own weapon. It fell and clattered to the ground with an unpleasant clang.
It was an arrow, I saw, jutting from my chest and covered in blood. I stared at the pointed tip almost in bewilderment. Whose blood? It had not yet dawned on me. Only once I caught sight of xa certain face off in the distance did I realize the truth of the situation.
“Bell! Now!” She shouted. The urgency in her voice, as much as it was expected, hurt far deeper than the wound she’d inflicted. Even more, it angered me. Enraged me.
My foe heard her exclamation and raised his head. I could see a light pass through his eyes. Hope. Determination. He reached for my fallen sword.
My fury subsided, replaced by scorn. Hate. And with it came power. Adrenaline pumped through my veins like a raging tide. My boot stomped on his hand and I felt the crunch of bones beneath my feet. I scoffed at him. At her.
I would not die from this alone. An arrow to the heart?
“Not enough.” I sneered. And took him by the throat. Holding him aloft for all to see. The soldiers surrounding us dared not step forward. Even in my wounded state, they would sooner fall upon their own swords than face me.
...I would snap him like a twig. I would wring the life from his neck. And I will do so for no other reason than that it would hurt her.
“NO!” She screamed. Her beautiful face, so fair and delicate, was wrought with horror, disbelief and pain. Her voice broke through the wild, cacophonous noise of war. And for a moment all turned silent. The strength of her will burst forth and caused the battling warriors to fall to their knees.
“Licht, please!” The woman begged.
I resented how much her tears still held such power over me.
I hated that the only thing reflected in her eyes was fear. Once, there had been affection. Once, there had been love.
It didn’t matter.
I’d won.
***
“Your Highness!” Someone called. “Someone call Arthur,” The man, for this gravelly authoritative baritone could only be a male’s, commanded. “The prince has been injured.”
I felt a presence by my side. Confused and sporting an agonizing pain between my brows, I felt instinct take over. My brain took in all manner of information and in a mere fraction of a second I assessed my condition, judging myself whole and able. Meanwhile my body simply felt my surroundings and acted.
I rolled away and sprang to my feet. I was holding onto a handle. A sword. Wooden, I could feel. My arm thrust forward.
“Fuck!” The man cussed as he raised his own wooden armament to block my attack. It was useless. The mana flowed swiftly and freely within my veins, giving me ungodly speed and strength. He’d lose those arms, both snapped in two like broken branches.
Luckily for him it was at that moment I opened my eyes and stopped myself from crippling him. This was obviously not a sudden desire to show mercy, no. It was because I knew this man.
Marcus Vanderlind, my father’s chosen Master-at-Arms. Somehow he felt much taller than last I’d seen him...and younger, if not by very much.
My gaze narrowed. “You should be dead.” I should know. I killed the man myself years ago. I didn’t want to, but it had been unavoidable. He was, unfortunately, a very loyal soldier of my father’s.
I paused. My voice. Why was it so small and weak? No, before that how is it a dead man was standing in front of me? Was this a dream, perhaps?
A memory, maybe. They did say your life flashes before your eyes in times of near death. And the four spears it took to take me down would certainly accomplish that. So, was this to be how I spend my final moments? Reliving all my 26 years in the span of a few fleeting seconds as I bled out on the ground? How wretched.
“I think I might have been just now.” The man grunted. He frowned. “That move just now, it…” He trailed off and shook his head. “No, that aside, are you alright, my prince?”
Strange. It doesn’t feel like a memory. I feel in control of myself, and the way he’s reacting to my words…
My head continued to throb. It hurt but was at a tolerable level.
And the wind at my cheek, the grass beneath my boots…
I came to a concerning conclusion.
This is no memory or dream. It’s too vivid. I would not feel such sensations so clearly otherwise.
So what, then? What is this? I’m clearly not dead. But I was surely dying. I knew it deep in my bones at the time. And now here I am, an old acquaintance at my side. Did I already die? Is this the afterlife?
I glanced around me. The Imperial Palace’s training grounds. No, this was not my afterlife. It was too peaceful. And were this the Marcus I knew he’d surely have tried to hurt me by now. He promised as much with his dying breath, swearing he’d be the first in line to torture me upon my arrival in hell.
“What year is it?” I asked, feeling a sudden wave of vertigo that caused my vision to blue. I swayed, steadying myself with the wooden blade.
“What?” Another frown. “Nevermind that, lay down and wait for Arthur’s arrival. I’ve a feeling you hit your head too hard on your way down. You may be concussed.”
“I asked you the year. Don’t make me ask a third time.” I replied. I was in no mood for nonsense. “And bring me a mirror!” My voice coupled with Marcus’ towering height--not to mention the fact the man himself was before me--caused a disturbing theory to take root. It was an unthinkable hypothesis, but I more than anyone knew that I should not be alive right now. And the Palace’s appearance, it’d changed. It was the spitting image of what it’d been in my childhood.
Either this was a very personalized hell or something far stranger was going on.
***
230 Baldis.
Impossible, I thought, my fingers roaming along the fresh-faced reflection in disbelief. It’s really me.
Only younger, less damaged. His natural black hair still having not yet turned the pure, unblemished white from years of exposure to dark magic that most thought merely a previously lost trait from my lineage.
Impossible, I thought again. I had never seen my natural hair color. This couldn’t be me. It didn’t make sense, this change.
But the truth was staring back at me clear as day. At the least, this was no dream. Certainly not hell. I suppose if I was truly back in the days of my youth one may consider me not far off, though. I did, before. But I ended that hell myself. Or thought I did. So why am I back? What’s more, why has my hair become this inky black instead of its normal silver?
I wasn’t fool enough to think all my experiences, my memories of the future, were simply figmets of my imagination. What, then? Were these memories not yet lived? Perhaps I was a seer of some sort.
However that power did not run in either side of my family and that did not account for my hair. Though now that I think of it my body was also uncharacteristically healthy. My arms were not as thin as I remember and there were no bags under my eyes.
Strange, very strange. I had not rid myself of the drug’s effects until well into my 17th year. Yet now there is no sign of the substance at all….I’m healthier than I should be at this age. How?
I put down the mirror and leaned back in my chair as a kindly young man with long locks of hair was finishing up the putting away of his tools.
Arthur. The castle’s chief physician. I remember him well. Even somewhat fondly. Another good man.
“I am well, I take it?” I asked, watching him closely.
“Yes, my lord. You are perfectly fine. Maybe even healthier than last I checked you, if you can believe it.” I really almost couldn’t. I was never a sickly child but it would be a stretch to say I had the vitality of other youths. That woman made sure I was kept weak.
“ Marcus fusses too much.” The man chuckled. He had a warm laugh. His entire demeanor was as such. Needless to say, he had a superb bedside manner. “Well, not that this is a bad thing.”
“Indeed. I won’t keep you then.” My words were clipped, almost cold. I knew it, but acting a child was no skill of mine, “ I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.”
The man looked at me strangely. I smiled. Was there even a need to pretend to be one? The answer was no.
“Is something wrong, Arthur?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing, your highness. I just feel like you’ve also matured in the time I haven’t been by your side.”
He meant weak. Naive.
”Children of royalty are often forced to grow up fast.” I responded. Gods know that was true. Choice is very limited when you’re young and vulnerable.
“I suppose that’s right, but don’t grow up too fast now, okay? Kids should have the luxury of being kids, so I say wait a few more years before you decide to be mature. You’ll have plenty of time to be an adult when you are one.” He grinned.
“You’ve wisdom beyond your years, Arthur.” I drolled. “ Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
“By the way, before I go…” He paused before taking a step out the door. “Will you visit Sarah again soon? I think she enjoys your company, my lord.”
I noticed it, the increase in his heart rate. He was nervous.
“Sarah…”
I remembered her, too. The man’s younger sister. Yes. She was still alive around this time, wasn’t she? A bright girl, but very ill. Died before her 14th winter. Not that Arthur knew about it until her 20th winter.
Arthur was a man with great skills I didn’t wish to lose, so right before my coup I’d kidnapped the girl and used her to conrol him. She’d died a mere two years after but I kept the fact hidden. When he eventually did find out there was no consoling him. He took his own life in the end. Of course, much like many others before him he also cursed me before his demise.
I felt it was a great waste.
Compared to men such as Marcus who were merely skilled in combat, I favored people with a passion for knowledge much more. You could replace a soldier, even a very talented one. No big loss. But the mind of someone like Arthur was not so easily found and cultivated.
“Then I will remember to stop by sometime. I could read a book to her, perhaps.”
I did feel somewhat regretful towards the girl. I could spare her some of my time in return for the misery I’d once put her through. She wouldn’t live long anyway.
I could almost hear the release of bated breath. “Thank you, my prince. I think she’d love that.”
I nodded. “I will visit soon. Consider it done. ”
“Well then, I’ll be off. Have a good breakfast, your highness.” He said as a small team of servants entered my chambers.
He took not even two steps out before they all heard a frantic voice from down the hall!
“Sir Arthur.”
“Yes? Whatever is the matter?” A quick exchange was made. “What? The Queen has had another spell? I see. Lead the way.”
I barely paid attention but the word ‘Queen’ still caught my ear. My mood fouled instantly. But I ignored it and sent the servants awayonce they finished setting down the trays.
I needed more time alone to think. This second life of mine...this second chance I’d unexpectedly acquired...I had to consider the implications. The possibilities. I was not the type to panic at what I could not yet understand. I was the type to research the matter until I did.
To that end I felt consulting the Imperial archives would be an excellent first step. This phenomenon should have a precedent, surely. Although if not I was fine with that, too. No need to look a gift horse in the mouth, after all. I simply wished to know the exact nature behind my situation. Who knew if there was a price to pay? I had to at least look for more information. If I found nothing I’d just have to progress without and hope there were no other surprises.
As I sat there eating my thoughts drifted.
A second chance, huh…
Memories of past grievances resurfaced. One face in particular burned bright in my mind. I recalled the earlier mention of the Queen. My mother the Queen.
This could be fun.
***
Kathryn
“Rose colored hair and cerulean eyes...I’ve found you, little princess.”
Those were the last words I’d heard before being lifted and carried over the shoulders like a sack of potatoes.
The indifferent-looking man with the strong pair of arms who took on the role of my kidnapper wore a bright silver chestplate and a majestic black cape with a radiant golden sun displayed between his shoulder blades.
I knew him well: The most trusted man of the Albright Empire, Knight-Commander Tristan Carlisle. In the story Love’s Blessing it was him who had been the one to kidnap Princess Kathryn as a political hostage against the kingdom of Belmonte. In other words, me.
That is to say, the person who held this body before me, at least. If one were curious about that little distinction, well, it’s because it’s been nearly a full week since my transmigration into this world. So you see, it’s been quite a shocking experience these past few days.
After the panic and disbelief settled I did have thoughts of running away before my kidnapping. Or at least warn my family of the attack. As any sane woman would.
Except…
“Onward, Sir Tristan!” I exclaimed from behind him nearly ten days after my capture. “Carry me to my beloved!”
Ah, I couldn’t wait! Finally, I get to meet father!
...Oh. Um. Sorry. That’s confusing, eh? To explain, I didn’t mean my own father. I mean the kind, handsome, dazzling, warm and father-like ruler of the Albright Empire, Julius Albright.
Perhaps more famously known as the father of the story’s main antagonist Licht Albright. The evil, dastardly villain who sacrifices his poor father to grow his dark magical powers. Agh, just remembering my beloved Julius’ tragic end makes my blood boil and heart ache! To die by the hand of his own son, how cruel! Such a splendid man was cut down before his time...it was too much. I couldn’t allow it!
To that end the first step was, of course, to become his wife.
Operation Seduce the Villain’s Father was officially a go...hehehe.
“How many times must I repeat myself, Princess….” Julien began for the hundredth time. “His Majesty is a happily married man. I don’t know why you have such a fixation on him, but your affections are pointless. Not to mention his marriage, you’re also much too young.”
I pulled his hair. “Quiet, you! I’m tired of your nonsense. Why can’t you ever be encouraging?” And he’s only saying that because he doesn’t know the horrible things the bitch Queen is doing. Let’s not even talk about her mistreatment of her husband, the disgusting things she’s doing to her son Licht were already sickening enough to warrant her demise! She’s the entire reason the boy went on to become such a monster. The poisoning of his mind via exposure to dark magics, not to mention all the psychological and physical abuse no child should have to endure from their own mother, were what turned him into the dark, cruel tyrant he’d been in the novel.
And obviously as his future Mama it’s my responsibility to give him all the hugs and lead him down a proper path.
“You want to be a homewrecker. Why should he be encouraging towards that, huh?” One of the knights spoke up. A red-haired young man with boyish good looks who, like the others, followed on horseback through a verdant forest.
“Hush, Oliver. I am no homewrecker. The opposite, in fact. Hmph. You’ll see.”
“Pretty cheeky for a prisoner.“ Eivor, a big bear of a man from the northern Isles from the look of him, commented rudely.
“Political hostage,” I corrected. “Completely different. Also mind your tongue. This is the future Queen you’re speaking to, okay?”
Every last man and woman present--with the exception of the ever-stoic Julien--started roaring with laughter.
My heart burned in fury!
“Oh...heh..hehe….okay, okay, that’s enough.” Oliver wiped a tear from his eye. “Stop your pouting, princess. Alright?”
“I’m not pouting.” I ground out.
A raised brow was the only response. How irksome, this guy…
“You’re sulking, certainly.”
“Am not.”I insisted.
He smirked. “Are to.”
Insufferable!
My eye twitched. “Tris,” I called.
The man sighed. Then reached over and clapped the annoying Oliver behind the ear. The young knight yelped and nearly fell off his horse.
‘
“The hell was that for?” He cried, clutching the side of head in shock and pain. “Are you her guard dog now or something?”
Tristan spared him not a glance. “She’s just a child. Don’t upset her.”
“She wants to oust our Lady!”
“You think our Lord has such heavy tastes?”
Oliver narrowed his eyes. “...Oh no you don’t. I know the punishment for slander.”
“Then keep quiet.” Julien replied calmly. “It’s not as if she has any chance anyway.”
Another round of chuckles.
They’re provoking me! They’re clearly provoking me!
“Tsk. You’ll see. You;ll all see. Hmph!” I ground my teeth. “Don’t underestimate the charm of this Princess. Look at me. I’m already so cute at this age. One can only imagine how transcendent my beauty will be in a few years more.”
Hurray for being Heaven’s favorite child! Being the heroine, who can stand in my way? With a flick of my wrist I could reduce all obstacles to ash! Ahahahahaha!
I cackled quietly to myself, thanking the universe once again for it’s generosity.
Forget that Bellamy whats-his-name. This Lady is after a much bigger prize.
Oh, father...soon...soon…
“How much longer?”
“We have another three days at minimum.”
...It’s not soon enough, dammit!
