This entire thing was pretty much a Monkey’s Paw situation. I had wished for a better life, but I didn’t think it’d result in me dying.

The ‘better life’ in question is pretending to be a character that’s been fictional to me for years. And she’s a character who literally doesn’t have to worry about money.

Bills? Paid. Food? Always on the table. Is she cold? She’ll have heat. Is she hot? She’ll have a pool and a balcony to sit on to catch a breeze. She doesn’t have hand-me-downs, she has “family heirlooms”. She’ll never have clothes that don’t fit. She’ll always have time to pursue her true desires. She’ll never have to make sacrifices. She’ll never experience being on the brink of homelessness. She’ll never fantasize about running away from it all. She’ll never be a have-not.

Ideally, all I would ever have to do is just sit in her family’s house and live my best life wearing her face like a horror movie slasher.

But…that’s not why I was brought here.

Maybe in this world—because it’s a story—change can be much easier. Sure, it was more complicated than the show ever displayed it and—in some cases—not even accurate. But it was still simplified.

More than that…

“I’m in a position to change things for people. Edith Khanna is a Duchess.”

"Duchess Regent, and that's merely a ceremonial position until Sweet is fully sworn in as the Duke of Lochlake Valley.”

Faye and I decided to walk the rest of the way to the Khanna Estate after hopping off the streetcar. The sounds of the city thankfully drowning out our conversation. I felt reinvigorated by a new sense of purpose. It’s like the good feeling you get when you CAN actually spare some change for a homeless person, when you make a kid laugh on a bus, when you can donate to someone’s online fund to help get medicine, when you help an old lady with something and she says “thank you, baby”.

“Maybe our role in this wish is to help destroy the Conwyns. Completely destabilize the Empire by cutting off its head.”

We passed a man sitting on the sidewalk with a rusted cup holding it out for change. Without really thinking, I tossed a gold coin into his cup and kept moving. I saw Faye glance back from the corner of my eye before she stared back at me. She clearly wanted to say something but stayed focused on the conversation.

“I…see. But if my family is overthrown, there will just be a new head. Much like a Hydra. One of the other royal nobles will claim our spot.”

“Right because the secret to defeating the Hydra is to cauterize the wound where a new head would form.”

“And you think this can be done through public opinion?”

“I KNOW it can be done through public opinion.”

“But there are already fringe groups of anti-monarchists.”

“That’s the thing. FRINGE. It’s easy to ignore fringe groups and cast them off as outliers. Take a group of 50 and if only one of them is saying lets lower taxes, all those in power have to do is say that they’re crazy or naïve or too idealistic or something that stops that other 49 from taking them seriously. But if the number of people asking for lower taxes goes up to 35, then it starts becoming a problem for the ruling power.”

“Alright then, answer this: what stopped those other people from speaking up before?”

“So many factors. Some of them thought that by being obedient, they’d be rewarded by the status quo and they sit there waiting for that reward, even on their deathbed. Others are too scared of change, so they stick with the status quo because they can’t envision a world where they pay less taxes. And then some others are too busy trying to survive to really focus, but if they focused even for just one minute, they’ll realize their money issues come from the fact that they’re being overtaxed. The status quo employs different tactics because you can’t catch every fish with the same type of bait.”

“And if you use different bait, people will be too busy arguing to do anything about the ones in charge.”

“EXACTLY!” I pointed at her in excitement.

“So you want me to go along with a plan that will inevitably harm my family?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh please, do even like any of your cousins? You never seemed to in the show.”

“In fact, I do. Apollo and Selene.”

“Ok then, well, we’ll figure out how to keep them out of harm's way IF harm does come.”

“Which it will because the royal nobles will NOT give up their power that easy.” She huffed.

I flashed an evil grin. “Not unless we use different bait.”

“Go on.”

“You’ll have to help me majorly with this one. I know for a fact that the royal nobles stick together whenever it concerns the aristocratic nobles. But if each family is convinced that they can gain power by going against the Imperial royal family, they’ll no doubt snatch up the chance, am I right?”

“True. Every family is always clamoring to marrying into the Imperial family.” Faye stopped in her tracks and I followed suit…my eyes latched onto her frozen form as the gears turned in her head. “That’s what happened with the Gavelles and the Bootes.”

“Ok, the Bootes I remember are Patience’s family but how are the Gavelles connected again?”

“Apollo’s mother is Hecuba Gavelle. She died of disease, but there are rumors that she was poisoned by agents of House Boote.”

“Ohhhh. Is it true?”

Faye stammered a moment. “I couldn’t tell you. I’ve always been told she caught the Frost Flu but rumors persist merely because many were fond of Hecuba more than they were fond of my aunt-in-law.”

“Ok, but…if the Gavelles thought that…maybe…there was some truth to those rumors…would they turn on your uncle?”

“They might…but they just as well would focus primarily on the Bootes.”

“That’s fine with me. That’s two houses fighting right there. Only four more to go.” I say with a smirk.

It took a moment before Faye smirked back, finally catching on. It was interesting. We were literally arguing a few moments ago, and she even yanked me by my shirt, but you wouldn’t even be able to tell.

It was like our clash from earlier didn’t matter in the face of a shared goal. One that would require a lot of planning.

❮❤︎❯

We approached the front gates casually, much to the surprise of the man standing guard. A lanky ginger man who no one would suspect of being able to keep out undesirables if they were judging based off stature alone.

But I supposed what most knights and guards in this universe lack in magic. They make up for it by being skilled with enchanted weapons. Powered by registered arcanas to be able to do all sorts of things, from duplicating ammunition to flaming swords.

I could see it in his little booth. A crossbow with the telltale arcane etchings that look like a combination of Nordic runes and witchcraft symbols, the original showrunner probably just picking what symbols looked too foreign to an American audience. There’s no telling what it does, but the only people guaranteed to find out are trespassers, presumably.

“Miss—I mean, Lady Elvira!”

In my world, he’d be described as having a southern drawl. Well…he’d probably be described that way here too, considering he had the same accent that Ginny in the show did, meaning he was probably another immigrant from Lyona.

“I had no idea we’d be expecting you…on foot.”

I nodded with a friendly smile. “Can you let me in?”

“Uhh………yeah! I-I for sure can. Y-you don’t even hafta ask me that. Hang on, miss—I mean my ladyship!”

He quickly exited the booth and approached the gate’s center, fumbling with the keys before opening one of them wide enough to let me and Faye in. I gave him a small wave as we walked past and he waved back with a goofy-looking grin.

As we passed a car seated nearby and walked up the steps, I leaned towards Faye.

“He’s kind of cute.”

“Elvira would never fraternize with the help.”

“Oh please! You don’t know me well enough to assume I wanted to hook up with him. I meant that platonically.”

“I’m sure you did.”

A loud, dramatic huff caught our attention once we reached the top of the stairs.

“Finally! Here I was thinking you were being a real brat and hiding in your room, but I guess your handmaidens weren’t lying when they said you weren’t here. Doesn’t excuse them for not letting their crown prince in.”

It was him.

“We need to talk about what happened last night…and what in the rivers are you wearing?”

Solomon.

He was standing there in a mostly green suit with the blazer having a mint green and white Sheppard check design. He held a bouquet of orange lilies which would’ve been…a little sweet if not for the scowl on his face that indicated he was put up to this and truly wanted no part.

I felt my shoulders slump. “Great…it’s you.”

“Considering how you embarrassed me last night, I think I deserve a warmer welcome than that.”

“No, you deserve to be escorted back to the front gate.”

“Cousin, what are you doing here—”

Solomon raised a finger, shushing Faye. “Nothing from you.”

“Oop.” I couldn’t help but say as I threw her a side glance, and she looked pissed.

“I let your motor mouth run rampant last night and look where it got me. Every time you’re near, Elvira does things she regrets.”

Faye smirked. “Regrets? Every regret has always had to do with y—”

“This is between Elvira and I.” His yellow eyes focused on me. “The only damage control I can think of is for you to go to the press and tell them you had a mere lapse in judgement.”

“Oh, how convenient that the damage control puts all of that on me. Reminder: if you weren’t being the Bicycle of the Capital and a massive jerk, I wouldn’t have gotten pissed off.”

“Excuse me!”

“You’re excused.”

A smirk of disbelief formed on his face. “What happened to your decorum? Have you committed to letting Faye drag you down with her and her madwoman of a mother?”

“What’s the point in having decorum with you? You don’t know how to have common decency with anyone you think is beneath you. I don’t have to respect you.”

“And this is why I don’t respect you. You’re nothing more than a follower.”

“As if you hate women being your followers?” Faye remarked.

“I’m the future of this empire. They should be following me not you.”

“Remember how you’re supposed to be apologizing to me?” I butt into their convo.

“I have said nothing about apologizing. I said damage control.”

“Well, I want an apology. And since we’re so desperate for the press to be involved. You should issue me an apology in front of them. Admit to being a royal toy boy and that it’ll never happen again.”

“Have you gone mad?!? Has my cousin really rotted your mind?!”

Faye smirked. “I think it’s quite reasonable, cousin, wouldn’t you say?”

Solomon glared at Faye and then turned his attention back to me.

“You are in no position to demand such things!”

“So, I’m not getting an apology, then?”

“Absolutely not!”

The front door opened, revealing a plump man in a deep dark blue suit. He bowed towards me.

“Lady Elvira, welcome home. Lady Faye, we are grateful to receive you again.”

I turned back to Solomon. “Then this conversation is over.”

I attempted to walk past him, but was yanked back. He held a tight grip on my arm. Seriously, are all the Conwyns this aggressive?

“SOLOMON!” Faye shouted at him as if that was all she needed to get him off of me.

“Your Royal Highness, I beseech thee to unhand Lady Elvira and stop causing trouble.” The doorman pleaded.

He ignored the both of them, his eyes staring down at mine. Almost instinctively, I went to punch him...

'Don't.' 

Only for Faye to beat me to…well, the punch. The sound of her fist colliding with his skull caused the doorman to wince, but he came forward and removed Solomon’s hand from my arm during the distraction.

“Lady Elvira, are you alright?” He gently asked me.

I nodded. “You’re not getting crap from me now.” I told him firmly.

Solomon, still reeling, looked at Faye, who was shaking away the pain echoing through her hand from the hit.

“You struck me?”

“Tch! Don’t be dramatic. It’s not the first time, and if you keep acting like a brat, it won’t be the last.”

“My mother will hear of this.”

“And so will mine.”

“What’s going on here?” A voice cut through the situation.

It was two women. A burly man trailed behind them, carrying two suitcases. He was clearly the driver, but could easily be mistaken for a wrestler. One woman was black with dark brown skin, black curly hair, and a pair of piercing green eyes. Her friend was white, her nearly pale skin being heavily complimented by her dark brown straight hair. Almost as if they were a duo. The first was wearing white, and the other wore black.

But…I didn’t recognize them.

“Oooh, I love drama.” The brunette spoke.

“Lady Cotton, welcome home.” The doorman bowed. “Lady Blanche, welcome to the Khanna Estate. We’re grateful to receive you again.”

Cotton?

…………………………

Cotton’s…a girl?

❮❤︎❯

A/N:

Ideally, I envision Blanche’s voice to sound a little like Betty Boop’s. Like imagine Betty Boop saying “I’m gonna have him break your knees” all with the cadence of Stu Macher.

Also, it’s such a challenge writing dialogue sometimes because most of these characters have this transatlantic accent. Meanwhile Evelyn just…speaks like an American raised on early 2000s teen movies. Ironically, Evelyn is even more challenging because she's the type of person that casually curses and I can't exactly...write that on here lol but I promise to shitake mushroom my way around it for comedic purposes.