“I've been trapped in this purgatory while you slept oh-so-peacefully. Had to postpone my wedding, unable to even see my beloved. He thinks I'm in a coma.”
She sniffed pathetically, dark lashes fluttering as she closed her eyes. Her little act was a bit dramatic for Historia's tastes.
“H-Has he not come to visit since?” Historia wondered. She wasn’t entirely certain of the body-switching narrative, but she decided to play along. It might be the only way to gather information, a lead in hopefully remembering who she was and how she’d ended up in this predicament. The more she let Eternalli complain, the more she'd undoubtedly reveal.
“Well…no.” Eternalli scowled. “Not only is he a very busy man, but even if he had, it's not as if I could approach him like this.”
Historia peered at Juliere and Wraith through the corners of her eyes. “If he’s your f-fiancé, then how could you not tell him? If they know the tru...th”—she jerked her chin at the two men—"then why, of all people, not him?”
Eternalli’s mouth opened slightly before she snapped it shut. It felt like an odd accomplishment to have tripped the duchess up, if only temporarily. Eternalli swished the question around in her head like a fine mental wine, taking several painfully long moments before answering.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she said at last. Historia, in turn, found her hesitation and dismissive nature to be quite suspicious.
“All you have to do...is explain—”
The duchess aimed a finger at the girl. “Revealing our situation jeopardizes more than you know, dummy. Fiancé or not, I can't just go around telling anyone and everyone. I would prefer to keep this on the DL for now.”
"The what?"
"Uh, I mean, in-house," Eternalli corrected quickly.
“Would it not be better to have all the help you can get? It’s not as if we’ve done anything illicit—"
“Stop talking like you know shit!” An explosion illuminated the metallic in her gilded eyes like fireworks. “Anyone would be pissed if they were unexpectedly and inexplicably ripped from their own body.” She fervently gestured to herself. “Just look at me! This gaudy hair color and lascivious figure. My tits are huge, like the smaller end of a D-cup! It is all so unnecessary!”
Historia had understood only half of the strange words she'd said, but decided on a neutral reply.
“Is that so?” Historia responded, growing increasingly annoyed by Eternalli’s unswerving displeasure in her appearance. Historia's appearance.
“I miss this.” Eternalli clutched the locks of platinum on either side of Historia’s borrowed face without warning. “And these!”
Slender fingers wrapped around the soft mounds on Historia’s chest. Her skin prickled as her face heated instantly; bolts of electricity shivered down her spine.
“Stop!” Historia cried, wriggling away as her inner thighs began to tingle.
“Oh, please,” Eternalli huffed, releasing her grasp. “These are mine, anyway.”
“S-Still,” Historia murmured, imploring the strange sensations to evaporate.
Eternalli smirked. "Everywhere you go, men pant and stare. All you're good for is pleasing the eyes of those dogs. Would they care for anything more beyond that?"
Eternalli’s ire was unforgiving and Historia’s
fingers started to ache and twitch. Truly, she wished nothing more in that moment to snatch the mouthy noble with the otherwordly vocabulary and knock her down a peg. But if
she even dared, Eternalli's minions would ambush her instantly.
Instead, she said: “You continue to insult me, so why should I help you? That body”—she pointed to Eternalli—“means nothing to me. I don’t even recognize it. So, what’s stopping me from leaving this place and taking this body with me?”
Historia could hardly contain the caustic smirk simmering at the corners of her mouth. She hadn’t intended to be so venomous, but it granted tremendous satisfaction. Maybe she had the upper hand, after all? Could she possibly negotiate something in this otherwise nonsensical situation?
Eternalli’s expression darkened. It was still unsettling to observe such an exquisite woman, watching her lips purse and tremble, her brows twitch and furrow with each change in emotion. A face, as it were, that rightfully belonged to Historia. Inclining her head to the side, the duchess' crimson locks bounced, freely falling past her exposed shoulders as they reached the narrow waist of her elaborately sewn gown, which hugged her firm figure in shades of silken peach and ivory. She may have been bitter about her new physique but had no reluctance in flaunting its assets with a low neckline and open back.
It took no discernible prompting from the duchess—just a single, infelicitous look—before metal sliced the air, and Historia found herself very suddenly and very stiffly staring down the point of finely honed steel.
“You’d dare steal the body of Her Grace?” Wraith inquired, so terribly calm yet somehow threatening, all the same. “You’re stupidly bold, thief.”
Of course, Historia thought, swallowing past the bind in her throat. She’d nearly forgotten despite the constant reminders. Eternalli was a noble. Not some minor aristocrat of inferior lineage or an illegitimate child. She was the sole heir to this duchy, one that seemed quite powerful, at that. In retrospect, Historia was foolish to think she could blatantly imperil the duchess’ body without consequence. She was threatening an noblewoman, regardless of whatever station she might have possessed herself. Though, based on the way she'd been treated thus far, it could not have been more influential than a duchess.
Something about Wraith's low timbre made her purloined body quiver, though her certainty whether the autonomous reaction was entirely her own or not was tentative. The feelings were so otherworldly at times that she sometimes felt out-of-body when they happened. Historia sensed the radiating umbrage as distinctly as she saw the ethereal being reflected in the gloss of the knight's heterochromatic irises. Her features were slight and elven, as delicate as the wispy pappi upon the head of a dandelion. One gust of wind and she’d splinter into a hundred white pieces. Comparatively, she was opposite in regards to appearance to the duchess. Where Eternalli exhibited the fierceness of a lioness, Historia was a frail, little flower.
Wraith's sharp jaw tightened when Historia still said nothing. “Now, you have nothing to say?”
His sword never budged, aimed to kill what he could not truly kill.
Impudently connecting gazes with him, Historia murmured, “If you wish to kill me, then do so.”
Wraith's upper lip twitched faintly. “I’d slice your tongue out in a heartbeat if you were not inhabiting the duchess’ body.”
Another spell of restless quiet swathed the air between the four. Then, begrudgingly, the girl relented. She laughed bitterly, daringly brushing aside the blade. Wraith was set to reposition the weapon when Eternalli held up a hand. It took no further instruction for her uniformed hound to withdraw, sheathing his sword.
“Let me be real with you,” the duchess began, annoyed by Historia’s disinclination. “With my power and resources, do you really believe you can escape? Do as you please? Until you return my body, you do as I say. I'm a duchess, after all.”
“And if I refuse?” Historia had an idea what the answer would be, but the bitter part of her sought the challenge of asking anyway.
“Keep fucking around and I will throw you in the dungeon.”
“Your Grace!” Juliere exclaimed. The duchess tossed a jagged glare, but the butler pushed on, unperturbed. “Should we throw that girl in the dungeon, harm may befall your body. The dungeon is absolutely no place for a duchess.”
He had a point, which made Eternalli’s threat as ineffective as Wraith's. She’d never do such a thing to her precious body.
“We won’t starve or abuse her,” Eternalli assured flippantly. “Naturally, she’ll be taken care of. It is my body, after all, but I'll guarantee she never see the light of day again. And once I find a way to switch us back—and I swear to Ephemeralis, I will—this body will spend the rest of its miserable existence in my place, slowly putrefying in her own feces until the last of her rotten, dying breath slithers from—”
Historia cut her off with a scornful chuckle. Everyone seemed slightly taken aback by her audacity to laugh at the duchess.
“You’d throw me in prison for the rest of my life?” Historia asked, an amalgamation of fiery emotions churning within. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“I'll throw you in prison for disrespecting a noble and stealing from me, a duchess. The first one alone is enough to sentence you to death, by the way,” Eternalli informed her bitingly.
It seemed Historia had run out of options. Whether that was permanently the case or not, she had no leverage to manipulate to turn the tides in her favor in that moment. The best she could do was to accept. To accept how things had turned out and to, in the very least, play along. She'd tell Eternalli what she wanted to hear while she figured out her next move behind the scenes.
“Well, I’d rather not end up in the dungeons,” Historia muttered, eyes dropping to her hands once more. "Especially not for the rest of my life."
“Good choice.” Eternalli smiled, though it never reached her eyes. “Let's start with something simple.”
Though she lacked the eagerness to return to a body she did not recognize, Historia knew doing so would potentially earn her freedom. The duchess would have no reason to keep her afterward, possibly wishing never to see the girl’s face ever again, considering the circumstances. It was all conjecture at the moment, but it was she had. For now.
Patience, Historia thought. Bide your time.
“…marry him in my stead,” Eternalli finished. Historia blinked slowly, floating back to reality. When she presented the blankness of her expression on her face, Eternalli was quick to catch on yet again. Her observant nature may have been the only redeeming quality of the otherwise vile woman.
“Idiot,” the duchess exhaled, garnishing her irritation with a roll of her eyes. “Listen closely this time. Marry my fiancé in my stead—”
“Wh-What—”
“Pretend to be me. Lock him down, so no one else can even think to steal him away until I can figure our little problem out—”
“A-Absolutely not—"
“In return, I will—”
“I said, no!”
“Release you.”
“Are you listening?” Historia yelled, nearly jumping from the bed in disbelief—or rather, imagining she would have, had her stamina not been sapped by months of immobility. “I will not marry your fiancé!”
Eternalli seemed genuinely confused. “Why not? It'll only be to your advantage. You'll lose way more refusing than you would otherwise.”
“I have no interest in someone else’s lover,” Historia stated adamantly.
“I hope not,” Eternalli huffed, horrified by the thought. “I don’t need you to have interest in my man. I only need you to marry him. As me. In the meantime, I'll continue seeking the solution to this body-swapping dilemma.”
“Let me help do that instead. Send me anywhere you need to. I can—”
“Are you crazy?” Eternalli gasped, putting a hand to her chest in horror. “Dummy. Why would you ever think I would send my body out there where it’s dangerous?”
“Then I can do research—”
The duchess threw her hands up, shaking her head. “No! You help by doing the one thing I ask of you. Marry my fiancé. If I know my body's safe, then I can focus on what I need to.”
“Do you not care if someone else marries the person you love?” Historia shifted her approach. “If you love him so much, how could this not make you sick?”
“I love him so much, I would do anything not to lose him,” the duchess declared, as if proud. “I've already postponed our wedding once. Any longer and someone else is bound to snatch him up.”
“Does he not love you enough to wait for you?”
Eternalli set her lips in a wooden line. “Stop wasting your breath and just do as you're told. I’m not asking for anything more than to attend the ceremony and live as me for the time being.”
“Then your nuptials won’t last longer than a day,” Historia snorted. “When we fail to consummate the marriage, then your union will be annulled.”
Eternalli’s jaw tightened. “Well, then that's the only time I'll let you be that close to him.”
Sure, it was technically Eternalli's body, but with Historia's mind trapped inside, it felt entirely wrong. She was uncertain if the duchess' devotion was admirable or borderline unsettling, considering she'd allow someone else to lay with her lover.
“If you still fail to find a way to switch us back in time and he desires an heir, what then?”
Eternalli looked as if her teeth would shatter if she clenched them any harder. “I will fix this before then.”
“How do you know th—”
“Just stop!” Eternalli cried. “You have no choice. If you want to avoid being executed, then shut your trap and do as you're told! Not only am I a duchess, but I am the future queen, so you would do well to keep yourself on my good side. If not, I swear to make you suffer for the rest of your life.”
With that, Eternalli gathered her skirts in preparation to depart. The sentinel fell in step with her without a word, looming over the duchess like an oversized shadow as they made their way toward the doors. It was the butler who lingered momentarily, scrutinizing Historia with a guarded glare.
“Listen to Her Grace and you will be rewarded handsomely,” he cautioned. It was harrowing hearing him warn instead of berate her of all people. “Make her angry and you will regret it. This is not a threat but a warning.”
All Historia could do was stare, her thoughts a mangled mess. There were hundreds of them rampaging in her mind, but only one stood strong, clinging to her brain in desperation to be recalled.
Future queen.
If the duchess was set to become the empress, that could only mean one thing: her fiancé was, indeed, likely the most powerful man in the empire.
The one. The only.
The emperor.
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