Small.

She felt small.

It wasn't because of her size or her young age.

It was the disappointment in the eyes of her mother as she was looking down on her, sword in hand.

"Collect your weapon and get back in position."

She barely had the time to close her hand on the hilt that her mother was flying to her, swing her sharp sword. Somehow, she managed to block the blow before it sliced her in half, but the sheer strength of it knocked her down.

"Mother... please... I beg you..."

"Is this how you plan to live?"

Tears streaming down her face, the young child barely had the time to move away from her mother's sword aimed at her. From an onlookers' point of view, it would seem like an adult woman attempting to kill a small child.

"Get up." the woman ordered calmly as she ruthlessly swung at her daughter. "You are sorely mistaken if you think your enemies will go easy on you because you're a little girl. They will show you no mercy, your tears will only fuel their desire to make you suffer."

The child's face was covered in tears and snot, she looked terrified.

The fight — if it could even be called a fight — was one-sided. One person slashing and slicing while the other was desperately running for her life.

"Stop running and fight for your life," the older woman demanded.

She wanted to do as her mother said, she really wanted to, but the difference in power and skill was too great. She was an ant fighting a giant. She could avoid the blows, but she could never win against the behemoth that was her mother.

From the corner of her eye, she caught glimpses of her father's light hair.

Perhaps he had come out of her office to reason with her mother, to tell her to go easier on their child. Relief washed over her. Her father was always the more reasonable of her parents, he was cold and distant, but everyone in the estate knew he was a fair man.

Seeing him out of his office in the middle of the day, the child could only assume he had come for her. Her torment would be over soon.

"Fa—"

The words died in her throat.

Her father, without sparing her a glance, headed to the spot where her brother was training. the two of them retreated back inside the castle before she could utter another word.

Her attention diverted, the young girl didn't see the hilt of her mother's sword aiming for her head.

 

 

---

 

 

The moment Hazel awoke she knew something was wrong. Even before she blinked her eyes open, she was aware of a pounding agony in her temples and an aching soreness throughout her whole body. Her throat was dry, her heart racing and her stomach clenching with nausea, and instantly her senses were telling her that this was the worst hangover she had ever experienced.

How though? She hadn't had a sip of alcohol in months! How could she when school was milking her dry of her time and energy?

A thought ran through her mind.

[Did I unconsciously pour vodka in my coffee yesterday? Is this why I had such a weird dream?]

It all made sense now. She wasn't losing her mind, she was just a bit drunk and high on caffeine.

Bracing himself, she opened her eyes.

And instantly regretted it as the midday light from the floor to ceiling windows swamped her vision with dazzling white sparks of pain. She groaned, pressing a heavy hand over her face as she willed herself to remain calm.

"Who the fuck opened my windows?!" She groaned.

After a minute or so she decided it was safe to try again, and wearily removed the makeshift blindfold.

She was more prepared this time, though the brightness was still almost unbearably uncomfortable. Squinting, she casted her gaze over to the black velvet divan sitting parallel to her bed, piles of fabric strewn across its velvety surface haphazardly and pillows thrown abruptly to the floor.

Her heart stilled.

[Where the fuck am I?]

She lurched to her feet, discomfort set aside in the face of her growing anxiety. She knew she had fallen asleep in her minimally decorated bedroom, on her single bed.

Where was her gigantic Mareep plushie? Where was her shitty Ikea table that doubled as a bedside table? She obviously wasn't rich enough to afford the furniture in this room, so why was she here?

Either she was still dreaming or something had gone undeniably wrong.

Where was Dominic? She couldn't have been kidnapped without him noticing something.

She froze, considering her own haggard state. Her mind was running wild, speculating that she and her roommate had been drugged and dragged to their own more luxurious version of The Truman Show.

She turned around, trying to spot the hidden cameras and only earning dizziness and more nausea. If she was suffering so greatly, then surely Dom had it worse. He was a lightweight; after all.

Racing heart stuttering in fear, she stumbled forward past the couch, relief swamping his mind when she noticed the door behind it was ajar.

At least she wasn't locked in.

Moving along on frighteningly uncoordinated legs, she leaned a palm against the smooth white surface of the door, gently pushing it open.

Her shoulders sagged as he caught sight of an unfamiliar head of lush dark red ringlets, only to stiffen as she took in an unknown woman’s collapsed form, covered in a thin blanket and huddled in a ball beside the toilet. The door creaked, announcing her presence, and the woman’s dazed reddish eyes blinked slowly open.

“Miss Hazel” The woman rasped, stumbling to get to her feet, eyes bleary and blanket still draped around her shoulders. “I think we’ve been poisoned. I swear I'm not this weak to beer. Someone must have poisoned our alcohol. It must be some sort of neurotoxin, that would explain how it took effect so quickly”

Hazel shifted, her eyes widening in confusion. “Huh?”

Feeling calmer now that at least she knew her opponent was in a worse state than she was, she asked the question that had been on her mind for a moment now.

"Where is this? And who are you?"

"You just stay where you are, try to get some water in you. I'll go fetch Sophie... I don't even know how she can still stand, let alone be completely fine, after the gallons of alcohol she ingurgitated.” The strange woman ignored her questions and simply walked past her as she headed towards another door on the opposite side of the gigantic room.

Dazedly, Hazel blinked, glancing back at the struggling woman.

“Excuse me?” She tried, but was promptly ignored.

Hazel tried to make it to the other door but only two steps in, her body warned her that she had had enough and she better sit down before she vomited her last meal right on her own night robe.

A night robe? What is she wearing?

Her body was draped in a silky off-white knee-length robe that was loose enough to be comfortable but form-fitting enough to wrap around curves she didn't know her body possessed.

Feeling a pounding headache coming back, Hazel slowly lied down on the floor next to the velvet divan as she waited for the pain to pass so she could plan her escape.

As she enjoyed the soothing silence and the coldness of the varnished parquet, she heard a shrilly, high-pitched voice coming from the other side of the exit.

“You were not poisoned and neither was miss Hazel.”

“We were not?” Asked another voice that sounded like the red-haired woman who had been using the toilet bowl as a pillow a few minutes ago.

“No.”

The door opened and a small brown haired woman let herself in, followed by the blanket-clad redhead.

“Then what is this?” The redhead asked, visibly irritated.

“You’re hungover.” The black-haired stranger replied calmly.

“Oh.” She blinked. “I’ve never been hungover before.”

The brunette huffed, her lips curling in an amused grin. “Yeah, I gathered.”

The other frowned, finally remembering there was another person in the room. “What is the young miss doing on the floor?!" She exclaimed, loud enough to make Hazel's vision tremble.

"Please! Don't scream near me..."

As she pressed her hands to her ears, a futile attempt to block the shrill noise, the woman was already near her, lifting her up with surprising ease and setting her gently on the divan.

The redheaded woman who had not moved from her position near the door, blinked at them wearily. “Maybe she wants to vomit as well. Are you sure we’re not poisoned?”

The other sighed, massaging her forehead and most likely wondering what she did to deserve this. “...yep.”

The taller woman shifted uncomfortably. “What do we do?”

“Suffer,” the small brunette offered bitterly, lips drawing into a pout. The incessant questioning seemed to be getting to her nerves. Seeing the slight change in mood, Hazel chose to wait before asking her own questions.

“For how long?” the redhead, who obviously didn't get the memo, pressed, eyes widening in worry.

“Until Pradma Hafta forgives you both for not stopping when I told you to.”

The redhead’s shoulders slumped. Her situation was rapidly looking dire for her. “Surely there must be a cure?”

“Yeah,” the other grunted. “Make better life choices. So, I guess you’re stuck then,” she taunted.

The woman near the door opened her mouth to reply but instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea swept through her.

Meanwhile, the brunette turned back to Hazel, "You too miss Hazel! I don't want to be the person to say I told you so, but I remember clearly advising you to exercise moderation. The Crown Prince is already waiting for you in the reception room and you're not even in a state where you can walk on your own."

Hazel was tired. she was tired and utterly done with whatever Larping was taking place around her.

"Listen ma'am, I have no idea who you are but... this is too much for me. I just wanna go home so if you could just lend me a phone, I'll just call my roommate and he'll come get me, okay?"

The redhead and brunette exchanged a worried and confused look before turning back to the haggard girl on the divan.

"It seems the Miss is still drunk...", said the redhead.

"Should we send the Prince away? Miss Hazel can't possibly receive him in this state."

"Ha!", she let out a humourless laugh, "I'm sure Miss Rianon is already entertaining him well enough that he might be willing to wait 5 more hours."

"Watch your words Angela!"

Angela — Hazel gathered that was the redhead's name ; and as for the brunette, she was probably the one called Sophie — only scoffed.

When her gaze left Angela, she was startled by Sophie who had brought her face mere millimeters from her own.

"I-I don't know what you want from me but I swear I'm just an ordinary person. I don't have any money, i-I only have 50 euros on my account right now, I swear. Y-You really shouldn't take my organs either, they're not in a good state, I eat a lot of junk food and I drink more coffee than water. Please spare me...", she desperately pleaded, clasping her hands in a praying gesture.

The woman in front of her only gave her an incredulous look.

"Perhaps you were right Angela…” She then redirected her attention at the cowering Hazel. "Do you remember who we are, Miss Hazel?"

Hazel shook her head. "I just went to sleep and woke up here. please just let me go home", she pleaded once more.

"What’s your name?"

"M-my name is Hazel?" she answered, the whole situation making her unsure of even the most evident things.

"Your full name."

"Hazel Jennings."

The two strangers head whipped towards each other, eyes wider than their eye sockets should allow.

"Amnesia?" the redhead offered, shrugging slightly.

"It seems unlikely… I don’t remember her hitting her head…”

“Have you ever seen Miss Hazel slouch or cower like this?”

The brunette’s eyes returned to Hazel.

“Hmmm…,” she hummed pensively. “Something is definitely wrong with her, but i don't know any poison that has this type of effect. If they were going to poison the miss, why not just kill her instead of... this?"

Angela, suddenly looking more composed, closed the door behind her though she didn't come any closer to the other two women. "What do we do then? Should I send a message to the Lady?"

"Only if you want the both of us to lose our head. No. We can fix this! She's not dead, she's not sick, she's just a bit confused. We can find a solution. Angela, I left you something that could help you on your nightstand. Go ready yourself. I'll take care of miss Hazel for the time being. Be back in no more than 30 minutes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I'll get her ready to meet his Highness and jog her memory a little. She'll remember everything in no time."

"If you say so..." Angela did not sound convinced, but still she obeyed Sophie. Before she closed the door, Angela sent Sophie an affectionate smile. "I'll be back in 10 minutes."

Hazel, whose mind had been a mess of confusion since she woke up, was brought back to reality by Sophie calling her.

"Miss Hazel, I know you are confused right now but I need you to listen carefully. Your name is Hazel Vedar, you are the daughter of Lord Elias and Lady Maeve Vedar and the sister of young lord—"

"Haron Vedar..." Hazel cut her before she could finish her sentence.

As Sophie listed the names of characters from Lovely Goddess one after the other, Hazel came to an impossible realization.

[This can't be! No... That's impossible.]

"You remember! thank Pradma Hazn!", Sophie exclaimed, hope written on her previously anxious features. "What else do you remember?"

"I-I- Where is... I need a mirror." she fumbled with her words as she bolted to the full-length mirror near the palanquin bed.

What she saw there wasn't her usual black braids and golden brown skin. It wasn't her in her own reflection.

Light silver hair, dark brown skin and golden pupils. Her reflection matched the description of Hazel Vedar, the villainess of her sister's story, perfectly.

As she gradually realized what was happening to her, she stumbled backward and almost fell before she was caught by Sophie.

She felt herself growing more and more nauseous as a plethora of questions and protests came to her mind. Her breath grew ragged as she started hyperventilating but she refused to open her mouth for fear of puking. Her knees were barely able to hold her up.

"This can't be real! Thi-This has to be a dream..."

Unable to stand it anymore, she scampered to the bathroom and emptied the content of her stomach under the increasingly worried gaze of Sophie.

“What’s wrong with her?” An anxious Sophie asked her colleague.

“How would I know?” Angela shrugged defensively.

Sophie rubbed her temples harder and harder, hoping that pain of a cracked skull would lessen the headache she was getting.

“I should never have listened to you. What was I even thinking?”

“But we had so much fun!!! How can you say it was a bad idea when you got to enjoy the adorableness that was a drunk Miss Hazel? You should be thanking me.”

“Yes, you’re right. As a matter of fact,” she started, pushing a newspaper in Angela’s hands, “I’m sure the Pratheen Morning Sun is thanking you too.”

Looking down at the paper, Angela was met with a photo of Miss Hazel downing a whole bottle of wine. The title read : ‘Barely of age and already unhinged. Should we expect an alcoholic future Empress?’

There was jumping to conclusion and there was this. 

“What the fuck!?”

It wasn’t like this was an uncommon sight for young ladies and lords. Many of them had a respectable official coming of age party immediately followed by a night of debauchery, alcohol, gambling and sex. All Miss Hazel did was go to a bar and have a few drinks. It was very tame in comparison.

How did they even recognize her when her signature silver hair wasn't visible?  They must have been following them for quite some time. Or maybe someone tipped them off. She wouldn’t put it past them to bribe the mansion’s employees. Well, these unloyal dogs didn’t need much to bite the hand that fed them. 

The Morning Sun wasn’t a particularly reputable source of information but their influence was undeniable. The mere title of their frontpage could make or break a person. Had it been anyone else, she would have been worried for them, but what she felt at that moment wasn’t worry, it was anger.

“How dare they taint Miss Hazel’s birthday with this kind of bullshit! That bottle was already half empty anyway.”

“This is your fault, you know,”Sophie reprimanded calmly. 

“Miss Hazel wanted to go too! Why am I the only one getting yelled at?”

“I didn’t yell.”

“It felt like it. You have your I’m-angry-but-I’m-pretending-not-to-be face on.”

Sophie closed her eyes, breathed in and breathed out in an attempt not to lose her patience. “I’m not angry, I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed with you for influencing Miss Hazel with your impulsiveness, and more than anything, I’m disappointed with myself for going along with it.”

“You’re so unfair.” Angela whined as she leaned lazily on Sophie’s back, her arms snaking around her waist. “Who do you love more, Miss Hazel or-”

“Miss Hazel. Obviously.”

“Sophiiiiiie! Why are you like this?! I have a heart, you know. And it hurts.”

“Let me go. Quit being a baby. “ The other woman chuckled as she tried to free herself from Angela’s grasp.