Just five more minutes…. five more….

I looked outside my room. I could see the sun through the blinds, it was already standing quite high in the sky. I had been putting this off for….. I am not exactly sure how long. But for quite some time, that much was clear.

It’s just, I knew what I had to do when I got up. I should have even done it yesterday evening already. This was Damien’s room after all. I could not be seen here the way I looked right now. There would be another ‘Mirabelle’ somewhere in this castle by now….

A Mirabelle that would be frightened and alone…..

I had been planning on helping her. I was going to wake up before her, escort her and make sure she did okay for this one day. Just help her adjust for one day, then tomorrow I would help make sure she would never have to adjust again. One day, that is all that I had to do……

But, what is that idiom again about ‘the best laid plans’? 

I could not really tell you where this amount of trepidation was coming from. It was…. I mean….. I had enjoyed being ‘Bella’. Sure, it was a strange idea to go back to being who I was before. To interact with Al and Gideon and Edmund as the person I was before. To interact with them as if I was a stranger….. as if I was….. 

There was a short knock on my door. “Damien, are you still in there?”

Mother 

Damn it. I was supposed to be out there, being the model…. child. The perfect Whitbee in order to show her that I really was going to obey her and was not up to anything. Instead she would probably be thinking that I was not even going to try and pretend. If she thought that then I might not be able to execute my plan tomorrow...

“I’ll be right out!” I responded. I just had to hurry up and get this over with. I pulled the covers off of me and stumbled onto my feet. I just had to go to the mirror…..

“Are you still…. not ready?” Mother responded, with the slightest undertone of anger. For her though, that meant she was absolutely livid. It was my own fault, I should have made sure I had changed my voice before answering like that. “Hurry up and get ready. Alabaster set up this silly tournament thing in the gardens and is asking for you. Your sister is already there.” 

After that I heard mother’s footsteps echo away again.

The last thing she said was a lie of course. It is not my sister who was there, but a scared young servant girl. A scared young servant girl who I had put in that situation. I took one more deep breath, put on my training uniform and sat down in front of my mirror. I had to do this. For Margaret.

I looked at the reflection in the mirror. Bella. Me. Some part of me still insisted that she was my sister, but the face had become too familiar to really continue insisting on that point.

It had been about three weeks since I last sat in this exact same spot, wearing this exact same outfit. Three weeks since I had changed into the way I looked right now. It felt like a lifetime ago. I tried to imagine the face I needed to go back to, to imagine it overlaying my own, but I couldn’t even picture it all that vividly. I had gotten used to this face. Used to this body. I got used to it all far more quickly then I probably should have….

Think of Margaret.  

Okay! First things first! Those two had to go. I looked down at my breasts. It is odd how normal they felt now. I suppose they had started to feel normal quite quickly after changing. But at least with them, as opposed to my face I could easily imagine them gone. First I willed them smaller, then smaller still, and then my chest was flat again. 

I stared at it. That flat chest. The way it looked. The lack of any sensation there. It felt….. wrong. Somehow. I could not explain it. It just….

Okay, deep breaths. Do not get hung up on this. It’s just for one day. 

Next step. I tried to imagine it again. The face that I used to have. But every time I tried I could not get a solid grasp on it before it was replaced with my new face. My sister’s face…. Bella’s face….

For a bit I thought that was it then. I could not do it. Could not turn back. That feeling should have been panic-inducing. It should have been a terrible one. What would mother say? But instead it felt…. liberating? Almost? I don’t know, something like that. 

Then I remembered what hung above my bed.

A  portrait commissioned by my parents when I had turned 16. Made a bit over a year ago, of a young man’s visage that made my stomach turn. Because it meant I had no excuses. Because it meant I had to go through with it anyway. 

I turned around at the accursed piece of canvas. No excuses. I focussed on the portrait. The stoic looking face. An idealized image of the perfect son my parents wanted me to be. 

I imagined being him again. I had to. And as I did so I felt my face shifting yet again. It should have felt familiar but instead it felt…. foreign. 

Just for one day. 

I cupped my chin, and felt the disgustingly familiar stubble on it. Definitely have not missed that.

I should probably turn around and check my face in the mirror, right? Make sure everything is in order? Oh, and that portrait stopped at the waist, so I should probably change things below that as well, right? I should be able to focus on that and change it.

Then again….. 

It is not like anybody was going to notice anything and I was in a hurry. 

-

I got a couple of interested looks of servants as I made my way through the halls towards the gardens. Part of me worried that I had done something wrong, but they weren’t looking interested enough for that to be the case. They were probably just looking at the young noble that came back after a two week sick period. 

That did not stop me from feeling very uncomfortable being looked at like that. I had endured much more stares of course at the debutante ball, but somehow this was different. I felt nervous and felt a weird sensation around my chest area. 

When I finally got up the last stairs, past a long-haired portrait of my grandfather, I took a good look around. The weather was beautiful. Especially for this time of year. A warm spring sun lazily hung in a bright blue sky and warmed the gardens. It would have been a great day to be outside. If it weren’t for what I was about to have to do…. 

No sense in putting it off. I could see the training grounds from where I was. A sizeable crowd had gathered around the fighting pit, consisting of a couple of White Guard members including uncle Ivar as well as my father, his council and the young noble from yesterday. Next to him was mother and hidden almost entirely behind her was a young girl looking identical to the way I had looked this morning. 

I also spotted Al, standing  some way apart from the crowd, in a prime position to watch the fight in the pit. With a great sense of trepidation I made my way over to him. He had asked for me, after all. When I was going up the stairs to the little podium he was standing on he turned around to face me. He looked me over from top to toe in a way that made me quite uncomfortable. 

“You must be the fabled Damien I have heard so much about!” Al initiated the conversation, while gesturing for me to come closer. 

I nervously approached and went to stand beside him. I wanted to answer affirmatively, but something stopped me. In some sense I didn’t want to say that I was. I mean, I was of course. But if I actually said it, then that would fully mean that I wasn’t Bella anymore. And that…. why was that so hard? Who was going to believe I was ‘Bella’ when I looked like this?

Al did not let my silence deter him. Instead he simply continued the conversation as if I had already answered. “I must say, you really are the spitting image of your sister. I spoke with her a bit earlier, though she wasn’t all that talkative today. Quite soon after meeting her your mother insisted she had urgent business with her guard captain. It seemed like my company was unwanted today.”

“I will-” I responded. ‘I will speak to her later then’ was what I wanted to say. But I had not been prepared for the sound that had come out of me. Too deep, too sonorous. It was probably what it was supposed to be, I had just gotten used to it sounding differently…..

Al looked at me expectantly, with a hint of amusement. 

“I will speak to her later then.” I said, in an ever slightly more bearable tone.

I had to wonder what Al had said to Margaret that caused mother to take her away to the other side of the arena. It was quite obvious from Al’s tone that he considered the way in which it had happened pretty rude. Once again I was angry at myself for not getting ready sooner. I should have been there to support Margaret. I had let her down….

Al had turned to look back at the pit. I followed his glance and was surprised by what I found. It was Gideon and Edmund, facing off, practice swords in hand. They both looked pretty worn out, which was surprising. Edmund was pretty famous for his swordsmanship, so I would not have expected Gideon to last all that long. 

As I was thinking that, Gideon went in for a swing. One foot, then the other, sword-swing with his full body weight behind it. Edmund had already moved his sword into place to  parry of course, but as the blades made contact Gideon flicked his wrist and cut over his opponent's sword. Edmund narrowly dodged his face out of the way of the incoming blow. 

Gideon was good. Where had the scared demure boy gone? 

“So who do you think will win?” Al asked. “There is a small betting pool going on. Most everyone put their money on the prince of course, so if there is an upset I stand to gain a sizable amount.”

I stroked my chin thoughtfully, pretending to think it over. To be honest I had never been all that good at this sort of stuff. As I made contact with my chin though, I noticed something odd. No stubble? I mean…. it was good there wasn’t any, but….

“Are you okay?” 

I suddenly felt something else that should not be the way it was. Or, well maybe they should be that way, but were not supposed to, or….. in any case. I could not help but feel the slight push of breasts pushing against the fabric of the tight training uniform. They were significantly smaller than they had been this morning, but they were not supposed to be any size right now.    

I looked back at Al who had followed my gaze. I was not sure I had ever seen him look surprised before. 

“I…. uh,” I stammered. How was I going to explain this.

Al didn’t say a word and instead just looked around the arena. Everybody else was paying us little heed, instead focusing on the spectacle of sword against sword going on in the pit. Then Al’s hand quickly shot out.

I felt an extreme sense of nausea and the world went topsy-turvy. When I could see again I was looking at trees and grass that were luckily the right side up again. I could hear some distant shouting that sounded like it was from the arena, so I was not all that far away from the arena. 

But I could not see them, which meant they could not see me. 

It was just me and Al. 

“You really are the spitting image of your sister, are you not?” Al said with a smirk.

Whether or not that was a good thing, remained to be seen. 

LiuNora

Heya, so sorry it's been so long. Almost two months since the last update, time sure flies!

I was kind of busy and this specific chapter was also kind of hard to write, so it took a bit longer, but here it finally is! Chapter 15 will be up late this afternoon ( 5 pm CEST) as well. 

Chapter 16 is about half done, so it shouldn't be another two months before it's out at least :). 

Oh! And as an aside I did have one other writing thing I worked on in the meantime. It was a Secret Santa Gift Exchange thing, where me and 25 others all wrote a short story based on a prompt given by one of the others. It includes a whole bunch of stories by talented authors such as Elamimax (I didn't ask to be the Demon Queen), Rooibos (Trolls and Tribulations) and Skadia (Omen of Change) to name just a few. The whole thing is available on itch for $5 Santa's Secret Transfic Stash by Rooibos Chai and 25 others - itch.io in case you happen to be interested.