Grace took a few deep, calming breaths as she stood outside the main doors of the temple. Or at least, she tried to. Her corset meant deep breaths were not currently a feasible option, so she settled for a few slow, shallow breaths instead, which just led to her feeling breathless, which in turn led to a burst of hyperventilation.

"Control yourself," demanded her teacher disapprovingly. "Look, here comes your father."

Grace thought a few choice rude words—doing her best to not let them show on her face, because she was certain her teacher would spot them despite her veil—before she turned to the [King], who had indeed just arrived. A neat trick, given that there were no carriages in sight. Had he been hiding behind a bush or something, waiting to jump out at the perfect time?

For that matter, Grace wasn't sure how she had arrived. They'd been in her dressing room, installing her into the middle of a quantity of fabric and makeup that almost certainly weighed more than she did, and then they... were here?

"Well, shall we get started?" asked the [King], offering his arm to Grace and derailing her thoughts.

Grace made several attempts to link her arm to his, but was foiled by the bulk of her dress not permitting them to get close enough together, so they settled for holding hands. Two footmen pushed the door open, just as the music started up within. Her bridesmaids (and where had they come from? She could have sworn they hadn't been there a minute ago...) stepped through first, and she followed behind. Six maids held up her train, stepping in time with Grace as she entered.

Putting on her best air of royalty, she confidently strode down the aisle, listening for the oohs and aahs of the spectators.

None came.

Wondering why she'd bothered dressing up, she risked breaching etiquette by glancing sideways.

The audience were... strange. Just like that maid with the blurred face, they seemed to not be quite real. Like people shaped dolls, but their carver hadn't quite had the time to finish the detailing.

There was something else, too, and it took Grace some time to work out what it was. But once she did, she abruptly stopped walking. That forced the entourage behind her to stop, too, after which it was only a matter of time before the uncertainty spread up the aisle, reaching the band. The music stuttered to a halt.

There should have been confused muttering. Why was there no confused muttering?

"Dear?" asked the [King], sounding concerned. "What's wrong?"

"There are only ten people in the audience."

The [King] looked around at the crowded temple, which didn't contain a single unoccupied seat. "I'm fairly sure there are more than that, dear," he opined hesitatingly.

"No, there's only ten. They're just repeated. Look. There, there and there," she said, pointing.

The terrifying clack of a fan snapping shut sounded from some way behind, and Grace paled, realising she'd just pointed. Compared to merely glancing sideways, that was practically murder.

Forgetting the audience, remembering only the sting of the fan, she resumed her walk down the aisle. Her husband-to-be watched her with a smarmy smile. The smile that let her know in no uncertain terms how much of a favour the wearer believed he was doing by marrying her.

Grace almost paused again, only the threat of physical violence keeping her moving. She was marrying Gordon? Wasn't that ruled out, because of the whole succession thing?

No, there had been the big civil war, and the faction of the [Queen] had come out on top. The mistress who had given birth to the second in line to the throne had been executed, along with all her children.

Hadn't she?

Yes, she must have been. Of course Grace had known she was marrying Gordon! The nobility might be heavily into political marriages, but that didn't mean they were expected to walk up the aisle without knowing who was at the other end! It had just... temporarily slipped her mind. Somehow.

Then why had she been so surprised when she saw him? Who had she been expecting?

The name 'Rose' cropped up again, unbidden.

There was something deeply wrong, prickling into Grace's brain, but the middle of a wedding was not the place to make a scene. Especially her own wedding. She didn't need the reminders from her teacher to know that acting out here would be social suicide, not to mention the problems it would cause her father. Now that Gordon's ascent to the throne was all but guaranteed, insulting him here could cause him to act vindictively towards the kingdom once he started his rule.

"For the good of the kingdom, for the good of the kingdom," was all Grace could chant to herself as she forced herself to walk up the aisle, towards the horror at the end. It helped that there was an equally large horror behind her.

The smile grew yet more oily as Gordon licked his lips.

Grace stumbled as parts of her brain insisted on continuing forward while others suggested that spinning around and running for her life would be a more sensible course of action, resulting in her limbs suffering a considerable amount of confusion as they received conflicting orders on which way to bend. A third part of her brain—a more logical part, that dressed neatly and had been added to humanity by evolution far more recently—pointed out that 'running' was not a verb that was possible in her current outfit.

She just needed to get through the wedding. What was that advice someone had once given her for dealing with a public audience? Imagine them naked? That sounded like really poor advice, and ohmygoddess she was going to have to see Gordon naked later and that was going to be horrible.

This time, she really did pause as her heart rate instantly doubled, the mental image having the exact opposite effect of what was intended, and then she remembered what came after the nakedness and the bile forced its way up her throat.

Desperately trying not to throw up, she tried to settle herself back down by imagining that time he'd been caught cross-dressing in the...

Wait...

When had he been caught cross-dressing? And hadn't he been expelled for attacking the witnesses? Then how was he still in the kingdom?

The sound of a tapping foot came from behind, and a bead of sweat formed on Grace's brow as fear fought against the certain knowledge that this was all wrong. She knew, with absolute certainty, that if only she could remember why he'd been cross-dressing, she'd break open the entire mystery.

Mystery... Something else sparked in her brain as that word crossed her thoughts.

"Right," declared Grace. "Sorry, but I'm getting to the bottom of this."

"Dear?" asked the [King], suddenly looking nervous. Part of that was because his daughter was acting up in front of someone who had a pretty good chance of sacrificing his country in order to take revenge for even a quite small perceived slight, but mostly it was because Grace had just stolen the ceremonial sword from his hip.

The audience remained quiet, the half-finished dolls seemingly content to watch the display in silence, so Grace held the sword to her own neck, point down.

"Dear?" repeated the [King], his brow containing even more sweat than Grace's.

Grace pulled downwards. There was a loud tearing and ripping as the sword sliced through fabric more valuable than a small island.

Grace stepped forward, leaving the ruins of her dress behind, standing in the middle of the aisle in little more than her corset and drawers. The dress, even with the damage Grace had just inflicted, remained upright, possessing sufficient structural integrity that a wearer wasn't actually required to hold its shape.

Another slice of the sword, and her corset fell off too.

"Finally, I can breathe again," she sighed.

"I appreciate your eagerness, but I must say I do not share your love of exhibitionism," declared Gordon, not looking at all angry. "I fear my charm has caused you to act inappropriately, for which I..."

At that point, he stopped talking, because Grace had chopped his head off. She wasn't yet completely sure he was fake, but things had reached the point that she'd rather risk it than listen to another word from his mouth.

Sometimes, despite her earlier claims to Rose, royalty really did need to engage in some mild beheading.

She pointed the sword, still dripping with blood, at her own father. "Who the heck is Rose?" she demanded.

"Uh... Uh..."

Once again, the sound of a fan snapping closed caught her attention, and Grace turned towards her teacher.

"What the hell is wrong with your head?!" she exclaimed, the closed fan no longer suitable for hiding behind, revealing a completely bald sphere without eyes or nose. A vertical, fanged maw ran its entire length, top to bottom.

"Oh dear, I didn't realise my education was so lacking," declared the... the... It couldn't possibly be her teacher; her teacher had a face! "We must rectify this immediately."

She slithered forward, her torso gliding smoothly instead of bobbing up and down as one normally would when they walked on feet.

"Dad. What the heck is that?!" she exclaimed.

"That's your etiquette teacher, dear. Are you sure you're feeling quite alright?" he asked, apparently already having got over the fact that she'd just beheaded the [Crown Prince] of a neighbouring kingdom.

Grace looked around. Really looked. It wasn't just the repeated half-real audience. That one maid she'd focused on had been a little... blurry, but now that she paid attention, all the others were the same. Unreal people, nonsensical reactions... what sort of place was this?

"I'm dreaming," she declared. "I'm in a dream, just like Rose when she... Dammit, Rose again. Who the hell is Rose?!"

"You will not use that language in front of me, young lady," declared the monstrous thing wrapped in human clothing, raising her weapon for a blow.

Grace flinched. Despite the relative value of a sword in combat compared to a hand-held fan, years of ingrained conditioning took over, and the sword clattered to the floor as she shielded her face with her hands.

Blow after blow rained down on her, leaving the poor princess whimpering as her arms turned red. Her father—if the person standing behind her really was her father—did nothing to stop the assault. Everyone else—audience, maids, the temple's clergy—simply watched impassively, their expressions wooden and unmoving.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she cried.

"So I should think. Now, let's try that again, shall we? And this time, behave. You are supposed to be a lady."

Grace looked up at the sound of music, confused to find herself back outside the temple, the doors open wide as her sisters—the bridesmaids—stepped through. Even from this distance, she could see Gordon standing at the front, head still firmly attached. She was back in her dress. From the way she suddenly struggled to breathe, it was obvious that even the corset was in place beneath.

Something inside Grace snapped.

She motioned as if to take her father by the hand, but instead once again drew his sword, throwing it in a simple overarm at the thing that was pretending to be her teacher. For a brief moment, she couldn't care less about the consequences, whether this was real or not.

The sword stabbed straight through the creature's heart. Or at least, where her heart would have been, had she been human. Given that she simply looked down and tutted, she obviously didn't find the damage concerning.

It did, however, distract her sufficiently for Grace to grab the fan.

In this world, even outside of dreams, belief had weight. Thanks to mana, reality could be rewritten by a sufficiently strong image, maintained over time. Grace believed her tutor had been a monster, and so in this nightmare, that was how she appeared. But whatever little, inconsequential things she believed about the teacher, Grace really believed in that fan. She didn't believe anything about it, as such, but she certainly believed in it. Having grown up with it, she feared it more than any weapon. There was no boogieman, no monster under the bed, that carried more terror with it than that simple construction of paper and wood.

She brought it down on the creature.

"Oh," commented the [King], as flat and emotionless as he'd been all day, despite the viscera hanging off his nose. "She seems to have exploded."

Grace sighed, then smacked the temple with the legendary-tier weapon. Once the dust had settled and the screaming had stopped, she slapped it into the ground.

The planet exploded, leaving Grace in darkness.

"... Welcome back..." said Mystery. "... Congratulations... You're first..."

"Huh?" exclaimed Grace. "Where am I? Who said that?"

"... I'm Mystery...?"

"Mystery? What sort of stupid name is that?! But fine. If you don't want to tell me who you are, at least tell me where I am! Where's my real dad?"

"... Poo..." replied Mystery, unsure what else to say.