Word Count: 1896

~Avila

The fabric around my waist is pulled tighter, pressing the breath from my lungs.

"Ow," I yelp as a needle pokes my skin, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake.

I look ridiculous. I'm standing in front of a large mirror, staring back at a version of me I don't recgonise.

Since my memory has returned to me, I've struggled to relate to the person I see in the mirror. Coming to terms with the fact that this is me has been harder than I anticipated.

"Apologies Princess, the needle is awfully sharp," the seamstress murmurs, securing the fabric in place with her safety pin.

I stare at the dress she is working on. The fabric, on the outside, is light and flowy, but the structure of the dress is suffocating as it pulls at my rubs and presses into my lungs.

"Stop flinching, dear, and the seamstress won't poke you," Crimson exclaims, brushing my hair back over my shoulder so she can admire the sweeping neckline.

"This is very uncomfortable," I grit out.

When Roel isn't around, Crimson doesn't hesitate to fit me back into a schedule made for a Princess. Apparently my old closet isn't good enough for the new me, with today being only one of the many days ahead of me where my body will be poked and prodded at.

I have suspicions that Crimson is looking for any detail of my body that isn't what it once was, like I'm decomposing before her very eyes...

"We need the perfect dress for you announcement back as Princess," she exclaims, running her fingers along the fabric of the skirt, fluffing it up a bit.

"When will that be?"

"Soon." Her gaze flits up to examine my face. "Ideally you and Vade would be married, so the news would go down better. Unfortunately, despite my limited staff, rumours are floating around about your survival."

The seamstress stiffens, before quickly resuming her work. I would laugh, if I didn't feel so bad for her. It seems everyone around here fears Crimson.

"How are you going to reconcile my death with the Kingdom?" I question. People will want answers that even we don't have.

A girl rising from the dead isn't exactly palatable.

"It won't be simple," Crimson admits stiffly. "They will learn that you were sick, that we had you sent away to stop the spread of the infectious disease. Now, you have returned, healthier than ever."

I flatten my hands against my stomach, feeling the hard bones of the corset. I'm starting to feel lightheaded, and I can't tell if it's from this insufferable dress, or from the lie I will have to tell the people I am meant to rule over one day.

"Why would you tell them I was dead if I were just ill?"

Crimson tucks her dark hair behind her ear, her silver earrings jangling. "Perhaps you slipped into a long sleep. We didn't think you would wake."

"At least there's some truth to that story," I mutter.

The seamstress continues despite this strange conversation, although her eyes are slightly wide. I wonder if she thinks dark magic is involved, like my mother seems to believe.

Crimson draws in a breath, her smile tight. "Ivory is beautiful on you. You look like the Angel you are."

It's clear she is using this dress to send a message to the people. She doesn't want to think of me as a monster having emerged from a tomb. She wants them to see me as blessed, as lucky to have survived some terrible illness.

"When will I be married to Vade?" I ask softly, anxiety bubbling up in my stomach suddenly.

"As soon as possible. There are some traditions we must adhere to before the ceremony, but rest assured, it will happen within months, if not weeks," Crimson tells me, a sense of relief falling over her as the subject turns.

I give her a long look. "Do you ever feel bad about enforcing this arranged marriage?"

"It's tradition. I went through with it, and as my daughter, you will too," she says tightly, shifting uncomfortably.

I sigh. This world is cruel, I'm starting to realise. I'm starting to see why I acted the way I did before I lost my memory, although I'm lost on why I was so close to Crimson when she seems to be the root of my problem.

"I'm not worried about myself. I'm worried about Vade having to be paired with me," I exclaim. He wants nothing to do with me, and I feel pity for the life he is losing by being forced to be with me.

Crimson dismisses the seamstress with a brush of her hand, helping me down from the stool I've been balancing on.

"You are one of the most beautiful women in the world," she breathes, holding my shoulders to steady me. "If he doesn't feel anything now, he will."

"I'm afraid you might be wrong," I mutter.

Our heads all turn as Vade passes by the door, heading down the hallway. I bow my head, hoping he hasn't heard a word from our conversation.

"Vade! Come look at your fiancee," Crimson calls out.

For a moment I think he's going to continue walking off, but to my surprise, he appears at the doorway.

My breath catches in my throat. Every time I see him my stomach twists with anxiety.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Crimson grabs my arm, tugging me toward her.

Vade's jaw tightens, his silvery eyes drawing downward, roving over the sight of me in this ridiculous white dress. I hope he doesn't think this is a wedding dress...

"Very," he murmurs stiffly.

I open my mouth to say something, but he quickly walks away. My shoulders deflate, a cold feeling opening up in my chest.

He hates me.

Emerick is wrong about Vade, and so is Crimson. He can't stand me, I doubt he ever could. I don't think Emerick has anything to worry about between him and I, even when we are married.

Crimson leans over to whisper in my ear. "See?"

I go to shake my head, until dark shadows emerge in my vision, forcing me back a step. A sharp pain digs in between my temples, the shadows turning to pure darkness before swallowing me whole, forcing me back into the pits of my memory.

My vision returns and I'm sitting in my room. I recognise aspects of it - it has the same colour palate and the same furniture - although the duvet is different, and there are unfamiliar paintings and drawings plastered against the wall.

Once again, I'm within my own body, yet watching on without any control, experiencing a memory once lost in the depths of my mind.

I'm sitting at my desk, staring down at a drawing of a man. It seems to resemble Emerick, and by the stains on my fingers, it's clear I'm the creator of it.

Suddenly I turn, looking toward the door.

It's Vade, although he looks different to how I remember.

He's still handsome, but his stature is gaunt, and he has a wariness about him. All the muscle I've seen on him in real time is gone in this memory, and he seems far younger. Worst of all, his shoulders are bent over, and he seems unsure of himself.

"You could have knocked..." I hear myself grumble, my hands quickly pulling a book over my drawing.

"The door was opened," he responds quickly.

I sigh, rising from my chair. "What do you want, Vade?"

He sticks his hand out, holding a bouquet of flowers. They are a mixture of yellow and orange peonies. He must have had to hunt for those, considering every tree here sprouts pink blossoms.

"I brought you flowers, from your mother's garden," he exclaims awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Aww, thanks." I take them from him with a sardonic smile before dumping them onto the desk.

Vade frowns. "They are going to wilt."

Present me feels a deep sadness and regret for seeing him so dejected from my obvious rejection, although I can feel the irritation burning through the edges of the memory.

"I'm kind of busy right now. Drawing," I tell him, motioning to the desk.

The edges of his lips quirk up. "Can I see?"

I step in front of the desk, blocking his view. I'm obviously hiding Emerick's face, which shocks me deep to the core. Vade is trying to reach out, to be kind, and I'm shunning him, hiding my secret lover.

"I don't even show Pria my unfinished work, so no," I snap, pushing at his chest, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

His brows draw together, although to his credit, he recovers from his hurt quickly, pulling over a mask of impassivity.

That is the Vade I know today...He conceals his emotions expertly, which is skill acquired out of necessity, thanks to how I've treated him.

"Alright, have a good day," he mutters.

Before he can leave the room, I seem to have a change of heart. Grabbing his sleeve, I turn his attention back to me. Standing up on my tip-toes, I loop my arms around his neck, leaning close.

Part of me wishes I could flinch back. This is far too intimate, and it feels wrong. The Vade I know hates me, and now I see why...

"I forgot to tell you how handsome you look today," I breathe, casting my gaze down to his full lips.

He's stiff beneath my touch, his breath hitched at my proximity.

"Avila..." He murmurs, stunned.

I pout. "What? You don't want to kiss me?"

Vade's eyes trace over my face, conflict stirring in his expression. He seems to be contemplating whether this is a trick or not.

The dark, cold feeling in my stomach suggests that's exactly what it is.

"I'm tired of this game." He pulls my arms away from around his neck, stepping back. "Are you going to be like this when we are married?"

I drop the smile, scowling at him. "We aren't going to be married."

The harshness of the way I bite that out causes physical pain to erupt in my stomach, forcing me out of the memory.

I let out a gasp, the darkness melting away to reveal I'm back in mother's fitting room. I've fallen to my knees, the dress pooling out around me.

"Avila, you okay?" Crimson is shaking me, grabbing either side of my face, forcing me to look at her.

I blink for a moment, trying to come to terms with what just happened. I experienced another memory, except this time, I'm not emerging out the other end curious...

I feel sick. Empty.

"I'm sorry, I just feel a little faint," I excuse, resting my palm against my forehead.

This memory proved many things. First, I truly am the monster everyone has eluded to me being. Vade was nothing but kind to me, and I was being cruel, attempting to seduce him to shift his attention from my dark, terrible secret.

Second, it revealed that Vade did once have feelings for me.

And now, I'm terrified he still may.

💙••💙

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~Midika 💜🐼