Berry

You could barely hear the rotting wood of the old steps creaking over the sound of your own hyperventilating. It was dark and cramped where you hid within the doors under the staircase. The hefty footsteps were getting louder. Closer. Heavier…

They were so heavy you could feel the walls of the small enclosure shaking under the weight. But they were slow, cautious even, as if the person descending was scared of what they'd find. The rattling walls drowned out the sound of your breathing, however, you still slapped your hands over your mouth to prevent being heard once they reached the floor and the rattling stopped. Turns out, you silenced yourself just in time. The faint thump of shoes hitting the bottom floor was the last thing that could be heard in the now quiet cellar.

It stayed like that for a moment. A still silence washed over your quaking form. It was ominous, but you preferred knowing that they were no longer moving. Your relief didn't last long, though. The menacing footsteps started again, just as slowly. The only difference was now you guys were on the same floor and they were closer to finding you.

You try to back a little farther into the tiny enclosure but recoil at the feeling of a spider web. In order to keep yourself from freaking out, you remove your hands from your mouth now that you're not breathing as loud. You bring your hands around the compact mirror. Your clasped hands began applying pressure; you planned to squeeze it for comfort. What you didn't realize is that the mirror wasn't closed all the way.

Click

Now you've done it. The mirror snapped closed at your squeeze. The steps faltered, then quickly stomped over to your place of hiding. You could hear them stop in front of the doors that sheltered you. Under the crack of the door you saw light. They must've had a latern to account for the dark cellar. The shadow of the figure bled under the crack and you knew you were done for.

The handle began to twist and you could only curl into yourself and watch helplessly. The door swung open and you were met with the stare of a horror-stricken man. The man's jaw was slack and his eyes were bulging. Those bulging eyes held your equally terrified ones. He fixed his jaw to speak.

"Who are y-"

SMACK.

An older woman smacked his head with a wine bottle, effectively shattering the glass. She raised her now pointed glass toward the man, ready to deliver the final blow. However, the man recovered before she could and tackled the woman to the ground. He wasn't trying to hurt her, just stop her from attacking him. The scuffle lasted only for a few seconds before she had him pinned on the ground.

She raised the broken bottle above her head before bringing it down on the man's chest. He coughed up blood and his arms flailed, trying to get her off. The woman was relentless. She stabbed him over and over again. Each time the glass tore through his skin, it impaled his heart.

"Honey- please… don't," he sputtered, but his efforts were useless. His flailing limbs gradually stopped moving, his heaving chest soon followed. He was dead.

The woman got up and walked over to you. You had crawled out of the understair doors and stood in a corner. You were clearly frightened. The woman's entire front was covered in the man's blood, but that didn't stop her from opening her arms wide to hug you. The blood smeared between your connected bodies and you fought the urge to vomit. You tried to squirm away, but she caught you in her arms, smiling at you with a twisted expression.

"You're okay, baby."

Your eyes shoot open and you sit up with enough speed to almost give you whiplash. Your hands reach up to clutch your head. You looked like a madwoman; your skin was glossy with sweat, and your breathing was more like ragged huffs of air. Looking around your dark room, it dawned on you that you were just dreaming.

You bring your hands to your lap and exhale. Your neck cranes up toward the ceiling as you try to calm down. You weren't in that awful place anymore. This is the present, there was no time to focus on the past. The only source of light in the room was the red numbers of your alarm clock. It was only two in the morning, you should still be sleeping. With a groan, you lay your head back down on your pillow and attempt to fall back asleep.

Your attempt was unsuccessful. It was too dark for you to be comfortable, so you slid out of your bed to plug in a night light. You judged yourself for the childish comfort, but the dark had never been a friend to you. You found peace in the light's inviting glow.

This time, hopeful for no nightmares, you managed to fall back asleep without a hitch. You drifted back into another dream of the past.

-

The air felt lighter. Maybe it was because you were finally out of the slums, or maybe it's because of the blonde boy standing right in front of you. You had never seen another child before. Heck, you just learned what you looked like not too long ago after spending your entire life in the dark. You first saw your own appearance after receiving your compact mirror a couple of months ago, though due to the lack of light in the cellar, you could rarely use it. You had to rely on sunlight peaking through a crack in the wall to see your reflection most of the time. Days where the sun shone bright enough to do that were rare, but always savored.

You were so deep into your thoughts that you didn't notice the boy was now staring daggers at you. He was ignoring you before, but he must've been tired of you looking at him like he was a spectacle. His glare scared you; you weren't used to being perceived so intensely. You opted to slightly hide behind your mother, the same woman who was covered in that man's blood a few days prior. She was having a conversation with the boy's parents, the King and Queen.

"We cannot imagine the grief you must be feeling at the loss of your husband," the Queen spoke. Her son looked like a spitting image of her.

"Yes, we hope the royalties your daughter inherited from your husband's murderer helps soothe the ache. Obviously, it couldn't even begin to make up for losing your spouse," the King spoke and then gestures to you. "But, considering you had an illegitimate child with said murderer, and he was a physician to the royal family, she will eventually inherit his belongings, property, and money. Though, those royalties will stay with you for now, as she's still young."

Your mother wiped the tears from her face and smiled at them. "I couldn't be more grateful, your majesties. I'll make sure to keep her inheritance safe and sound."

You looked up at her, watching as she wiped her false tears from her cheeks. You couldn't believe your mother had pinned her crime on your supposed father. Your mother told you stories about him as you were growing up in the cellar. You didn't know the guy, so you didn't feel too bad for him. But, watching him get dropped into the pit earlier made your stomach churn. It was a big deal considering he was a physician for the royal family.

Rubbing your thumb over the compact mirror in your pocket, you sigh. When your mother handed you this mirror, she told you it was a gift from your father. When you asked about the flower-like pattern, she told you that he tinkered as a hobby and puts that sigil on everything he makes. He said it was part of a series. You loved your gift, but too bad you'd never meet the man who gave it to you.

Your mother's voice broke your train of thought. "…Are you listening, baby girl? I said to go play with that young boy. Us adults are going to talk some more," she spoke softly then leaned down to your ear with a whisper. "Make nice. That is the prince you're going off with. And don't reveal our little secret."

She pat your back and you followed the boy into the palace gardens. He seemed uninterested in you and your mother's sob story. The boy only complied to be your guide because the King told him to. You told him your name and asked for his in response.

"Tamsy." His response was curt and concise.

You nodded and sat on the white bench beside him. "That's a pretty name."

"I know. I'm often told. Just like I'm often gawked at and internally scrutinized," he speaks bluntly. He was referring to your earlier staring. "Before you ask, no I'm not telling you where the scars came from, so you can think of a new question."

Oh.

His scars hadn't even crossed your mind. You were too in awe at seeing someone your own age. "How old are you," you try to sound polite.

"Fourteen." His response was still rushed.

"I'm twelve," you smile and he doesn't return it. You decide to explain yourself. "Actually, that was the reason I was staring you earlier. I was… starstruck."

"Starstruck? At what?" The prince seemed curious now.

"I've never met another child before. I'm only accustomed to seeing my mother's face."

"But the slums have other children. How could you not see them?" This response was slower.

"The cellar," you replied and his eyes widened. "It's a long story."

"I have time."

"Wait so, your mother cheated on her husband with the royal physician and you were conceived. Then she kept you a secret from her husband by locking you in a cellar until you were twelve. And the only reason you're not in the cellar now is because she killed her husband and pinned it on the physician." Tamsy's shocked expression made you giggle. "You might need to rewind this for me. It's a lot. Plus, babies are really dependant on their mother, how'd she keep you a secret and alive?"

"Told ya it's a long story," you quip. "I have no problem going over it again and providing more details."

"Go on, you have me intrigued."

"My mom was experiencing some weird symptoms, but she wasn't showing and she was still getting her period. She went to see the royal physician for a check up since they had an affair. When my father told her she was pregnant, they both wanted to keep me. So, she went through with the pregnancy. But since my father had such high status, he couldn't risk people knowing he had an illegitimate child. Meaning, my mother had to take care of me so no one knew he had a child while being unwed."

"But newborns are very needy, she couldn't keep you in a cellar at that age," Tamsy pointed out. He was getting suspicious of that hole in your story.

Sensing his suspicion, you try to clear up the confusion. "Exactly, they both knew that they couldn't hide me by putting me in my mother's custody. So, the physician used his connections to get a private nanny, Miss Dubois. I don't remember a thing about her though. She took care of me until I was two. Then couldn't look after me anymore because she became pregnant herself."

Tamsy's mouth shapes into an O and he nods, finally understanding. "So after Miss Dubois found out she was pregnant, you were given to your mother in the slums?"

"Yes. When I was 2, I started living in the cellar…" Your voice trailed off and you had to take a breath to keep from getting emotional. "I spent the next decade locked in there. I feared every day her husband would find me."

"I'm astounded that he didn't. You mean to say he never walked down there? For ten years?" Tamsy couldn't believe his ears.

"Her husband was afraid to go down there. He believed it was haunted," you explain. "You see, that was his childhood home. He lived there with his parents until the incident."

A short silence followed. Tamsy looked at you like he was waiting for a response, but you never spoke.

"The incident being?" The prince raised an ash blonde brow.

"His father murdered his mother and threw her body in the cellar. He then killed himself in there because he couldn't bear the weight of what he did. My mother's husband thought they haunted the space. He was afraid he'd have the same fate."

"It seems he did suffer the same fate; though, he was murdered by his wife, not the other way around." Tamsy looked up at the sky in thought. "I think I'm familiar with that case, actually. They called it brutal crime of passion by a savage. No one in the Upper Class could believe that a husband would kill his own wife."

You simply nod along, thinking about how your mother's husband's fears were eventually validated.

"So what convinced him to go down there a couple of days ago? It led to his death." Tamsy tilted his head.

Your throat closed at that question. Shame was bubbling in your chest and you avoided his eyes. He noticed your sudden discomfort and slowly reached a hand in your direction. "If you don't want to tal-"

"No it's fine!" You scooch away from his reaching hand, not wanting to be touched. He takes the hint and lowers his hand. "Well… if I'm being honest… it's my fault."

"…Did you lure him down into the cellar?" Tamsy's speculation makes you twist your face.

"No, nothing like that." You pause and think over your words. "Well, nothing purposely like that."

You try to gauge how Tamsy's feeling, but his expression in unreadable. You sigh and cup you mirror in your hand before showing it to him. "So, you know how I told you I'd never seen another child before? Well, since there were no reflective surfaces in the cellar, I didnt know what I looked like for years. This mirror was a gift from my father, the physician. My mom gave it to me in his stead."

Tamsy shrugs. "How does that tie into your mother's husband's death?"

"The mirror was practically useless. I had to rely on cracks in the wall to get a glimpse of sunlight on my face so that I could see my reflection. A few days ago, after my mom delivered my dinner to me, she left the cellar's door a little cracked. I could see the light coming in from the house's kitchen." The way you spoke made it sound like a distant memory.

"I saw it as an opportunity to see my full face. So, I climbed the stairs. I was mindful of which one's creaked, so I thought nothing bad could happen. I sat at the top step for a while looking at myself in the mirror and that's when it happened."

"That's when what happened?" Tamsy interrupted.

"I was getting there, be patient," you bite. "What I didnt know is that the mirror was casting a concentrated light outside the door. I only realized after I heard him make a remark about seeing a moving light. He said he was going to investigate and I freaked out. I rushed to hide in the understair doors."

Tamsy seemed to finally be getting it. "So, when he went down to investigate, your mother caught him off guard and murdered him down there. Then she pinned it on the royal physician," he hums. "The court believed her because she said that her baby's father wanted to have custody."

You agree with his statements. "Yes, she told me she planned it all out. As long as she lied about him having a motive, it made sense," you explain. "It was logical to assume that the royal physician would try to recreate the past murder and incriminate my mother by saying she wanted to murder her husband the same way his father murdered his mother."

"She wanted to make sure the option of a copy cat murder was off the table," Tamsy exclaims.

"Exactly." You lean back. "Wow that was a lot of information I wasn't suppose to tell you. My mom told me it was our little secret"

"Don't worry, I can keep a secret between friends."

"Friends?" You look back at him with surprise.

"Yes, we're friends now." He flashes you a smile, finally showing you a kind expression.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Groaning into your soft pillows, you smack a hand over your alarm. You sit up and rub the sleep away from your eyes. Your hands find there way to your head to soothe the headache you woke up with. Must've been cause because you had such an info heavy dream.

If you didn't literally live through those events, you would've been so confused on what was going on. Remembering Tamsy's little stupid bob made you chuckle. That was before you helped him dye his hair and eyebrows blue, before he lost his pinky to that trash beast. He looked so different back then.

Despite the laugh, your mood was still dampened from the traumatic dream. You hated how often your past would come to haunt you at night, always with perfect accuracy of how the events played out.

'Maybe it'd be best to clear my head with some more wedding planning? Yeah, that's what I'll do.' So you got up from the bed and stretched. You took a shower and made your way to Tamsy's room. Even though you remembered him leaving last night, it still saddened you to see that he wasn't there when you opened his door.

Opening his closet, you take out the bin of wedding ideas and materials. After a while of looking through magazine's for bridesmaids dresses, you decided to make sure all your bridesmaids were listed on the VIP guest list.

You flip through the tiny book and check names off as you find them. But, you end up accidentally knocking the book on the floor. You were worried about the pages because it landed face down and open, but when you picked it up, tattered pages were the least of your concern.

"Journey to the ground," you read the pages aloud to yourself in confusion. "Mimic's symbol directly resembles that of Macaca Icol's friend?"

'Who is Macaca Icol? This is my handwriting… what do I mean by journey to The Ground?' All of this was confusing you but you continue to read on.

There was so much in here. With each page you read, it felt like you were unlocking a severed memory. It kind of hurt your brain. "The Ground is full of color. Even the tacos came in a red and white checkered tray!"

'Tacos… it's like I can remember the taste. This is crazy. What's going on?' Still, you flipped all the way to the last page you wrote on.

Your eyes widened in fear. "Who is amo…?" You had written about a woman trapped behind bars in the dark. It was scarily familiar, both in the sense that you've lived through this and in the sense that it mimics your life as a child. You drop the book and try to collect your thoughts.

Tamsy's name appeared many times in the pages. If only he were here to answer your questions. 'If only he were here… wait, he could be!'

You pull out Mimic and summon Tamsy's clone. You summon your own clone, too, so you can ask her questions first. Pulling her to the side, you question if Tamsy truly took you to the ground.

"What happened earlier this week? Where did Tamsy take me?" You try to sound calm, but the anxiety was clear in your voice. You shove the book in the clone's face. "Was it to The Ground? What is this?"

She scans the pages and looks up at you. "This appears to be some notes you took when Tamsy took you to The Ground." Her short answer only confirmed your suspicions, which only made you more confused. Why couldn't you remember anything?

You take your book back, walk to clone Tamsy, and point at the pages. Your finger runs over the sentence mentioning the black book Tamsy had brought. Your memories were slowy piecing themselves back in your mind. You remembered him using the book on Amo. You remember him using his book on you. Though, you weren't sure what it did. "What is this black book for? Tamsy said it was his joke book, but he's lying."

Tamsy's clone looks at the sentence and then back at you. "I don't know."

You furrow your brows. "How do you not know? You're an updated clone, you should have all his memories from the day you were created to his full past. The only memories you shouldn't have is from dates after your creation! He's definitely had this book before then."

The clone simply shrugs. "I am not at will to tell you."

That's when it clicks for you. Sure, your clones carried the same memories of the person they were cloned from, but they also carry that person's will. If the original person wouldn't want a certain secret revealed, the clone wouldn't reveal it either. They're exact copies, it only makes sense, but you'd forgotten this simple fact.

You flop on his bed and think. You sit there for a good 10 minutes, racking your brain for a solution. Thankfully, the time spent helped you remember something Tamsy told you years ago. Tamsy knows way more about vital instruments due to constantly visiting The Ground. He's supplied you with much knowledge on the subject.

You grab Mimic and open a drawer to grab an engraving tool. You bite your lip, questioning if your memory was correct. You didn't want to ruin your mirror for no reason if you were wrong, so you decide to try to ask clone Tamsy. "I think Tamsy said that when a Giver etches their name onto their vital instrument, it would reach it's full potential. Is that true?"

"He did not lie. That practice is used among many Givers. I imagine yours would become pretty powerful with that addition." At his confirmation, you bring the tool to the bottom of the compact mirror.

You were hoping that if you used this technique, the clones would give up any information you asked for. You needed an answer about that black book, and you needed it fast. It doesn't take you too long to finish etching your name into yout jinki. You take a deep breath, this is the moment of truth.

You activate your jinki to test its aura. It glows the same color it always did, but it felt different. Stronger. You deactivate it and turn to Tamsy's clone. "The black book that Tamsy carries, what is it? And what is it used for?"

Without hesitation, the clone responds. "That book belongs to the Watchman Series. It's power allows users to rewrite the memories of specific individuals."

You freeze and feel your hand begin to shake. You remembered Tamsy referring to the Watchman when he tied you up. There's no way he'd use that on you though, right? "Did he… use it on me?"

"Since my creation date, I don't know. But before that, no he has never used it on you. However, it would be likely given the fact that when you both returned to the Sphere, you were unconscious. Now, you say you don't remember the trip."

'Okay, so their memory is still limited to their creation date and dates before. That's useful to know,' you note. You sit back on the bed and put your face in your hands. 'There's just no way. No way Tamsy would ever do something like that to me. He'd never.'

Your eyes were filling with tears, but you didn't want to cry so you tried to hold it in. You look around for anything to distract you until your eyes fall on the compact mirror in your hands. You turn it over to look at your name now etched into the back of it. You focus on it and hope it can take your mind into a better place. Soon enough, you were reminiscing about your past.

"You're very attached to that thing," Tamsy remarks. You were wiping the glass of your mirror down for the third time today. "Don't get me wrong, I get that it was the only thing you had that could resemble a human. I've just never seen someone take so much care in an object."

It's been about a week since you met Tamsy, but since he requested you as a playmate, you've gotten surprisingly close. Well, it's not so surprising that you would cling to new people you trust. Being in captivity for so long, you longed for companionship for years. It was expected for you to get unhealthy attachments to people very fast.

"I treat her nicely, because she treats me nicely," you reply without looking up.

"She?" he questions. "You gave it female pronouns? You treat it like it's actually alive." He peers down at you. You were sitting on the floor while he was on the couch in the palace's common room.

Putting your handkerchief away, you finally look up at him. "She is alive. She's my first friend ever."

He squints at you, clearly thinking you were crazy. "I know it keeps you 'company' and whatnot, but friends speak to you and share common interests, like me. That's just a mirror."

"She talks back to me."

"Talking to your reflection doesn't coun-"

"Check this out!" You make a very concentrated face at your reflection and take a deep breath. "How are you?"

It's quiet for a few moments. Tamsy opens his mouth to call you crazy, but he's quickly shut up by what happens next.

"I'm good! How are you?"

'It responded!?' Tamsy's eyes went wide. "H-how did you just? What just happened?"

You look up at him, but he notices that your reflection on the mirror doesn't follow. It continues looking forward, as if it was looking at you holding it. "I loved her from the moment I got her; imagine my surprise when I found out she could speak back!"

'Wow, she was really lonely,' Tamsy thought as he side eyes you. Despite occasionally thinking you were weird, he thought you were the most interesting person ever. "That's pretty cool, actually."

You smile up at him. "Wanna speak to her?" When he nodded, you joined him on the couch. You guys spoke to your reflection for hours until a servant popped in and told you your mom was here to pick you up.

Tamsy could see you were sad to go, but he didn't know why. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know… it's just… even though I'm out of the cellar, it still feels kinda lonely at home. I think I'm getting used to having you around. That's probably weird, huh? I haven't know you for long."

Tamsy looks at you for a moment before holding out his right pinky. "I promise, as long as I'm alive and we're friends, I'll never leave you lonely, okay?" You could see his face was tinted red, you assumed he must've been embarrassed to say something so cheesy. Still, you smiled at him and help up your own pinky.

He wraps his finger around yours, sealing the promise. You say your goodbyes and run off to greet your mom before she could get upset about you taking forever. When he's out of your sight, Tamsy looked down at his pinky and smiled.

That memory managed to calm you. Putting mimic in your pocket, you smile. Back then, you didn't even know you had awakened your vital instrument; you didn't even know what a vital instrument was, you just thought your reflection was magic. That was before you even knew that you could make physical clones.

You checked the time and saw that it was already near the time you were supposed to meet with Eloise. You absorb your clone into Mimic, but leave Tamsy's out to continue to fill in for him. You rush back to your room to freshen up and by the time you're done, Eloise is knocking on your door. When you open it, she smiles and greets you.

"Good morning, your majesty. How do you fare?" Eloise always sounded so regal. She's told you before that she speaks that way in hopes that it'd rub off on you. She knew you didn't enjoy your elocution etiquette lessons, so she thought a casual approach would be better.

"I am…" you take a moment to think of a fitting pompous phrase. "I remain in good spirits."

Eloise must've known something was up because she raised a brow at you. When you didn't respond to her look, she dropped it and led you through the halls. About halfway to your destination, you cracked.

"Eloise, I must tell you something."

She looked over at you with a concerned face. You sounded stressed. "Yes, my liege?"

You don't have the wherewithal to ask her to just call you your name for the millionth time, so you just continue with your thought. "Well, not so much as tell you- more like, I need to ask you something."

"Anything you need, I am here for."

The empty halls suddenly felt really loud to you. The echoing of your synchronized steps didn't help the alarms blaring in your head. You needed to figure out how to form a question about Tamsy without mentioning Tamsy. "Okay, so um…" You stare at your feet as you walk, trying to distract your mind so you can speak. "If you felt like someone was lying to you- like a big lie, what would you do?"

Eloise hummed and looked up at the painted ceiling to ponder your question, then she answers. "Well, I'd do the only thing I can do. Get to the bottom of it. Find out the truth, no matter the means."

"Alright, that sounds sensible, thank you." You weren't really sure how you could get to the bottom of something like this, but you knew you needed to question Tamsy. Sure you can ask his clone, but he can only tell you Tamsy's past memories. It wouldn't be helpful, besides you want to hear it straight from your real fiancé. You want him to tell you because he wants to tell you, you need to know he trusts you and that you can trust him. Unfortunately, you didn't even know when he next trip back is.

Eloise opening the door to the fitting room broke you out of your trance. She smiled at your mother as you went further in. Your mother greeted you both with a wave, the wedding ring on her finger caught your eye.

"There you are! You are just as slow as ever." Your mother's voice reeked with false kindness. "You were supposed to be here 2 minutes ago. Thank you for bringing my daughter, Lady Dubois." She turns from Eloise back to you. "Get out of those clothes, you have a dress to try on!"

In an effort to not sigh or roll your eyes, you bite your cheek and nod. You make quick work of the outfit you had on and your maid and Eloise handed you your dress. Though, your mother ended up waving them both off. She said something about this being a bonding experience while she helped you into a petticoat.

Your mother examines Eloise as she departs. "That girl looks just like her mother."

She pokes your stomach and scrutinizes it. "I must say, you seem a little… different from when I last saw you. No matter. It's nothing a corset can't fix." You had no reaction to her rude words; you were used to this behavior from her. Constantly criticizing your appearance was her favorite hobby.

"Perhaps you're right, mother." You found it best to always agree with her. Now, you were stepping into the huge gown. Your mother was going on about how amazing her second wedding was.

She had gotten married to one of the king's knights. It granted her higher status than when she was receiving the benefits from you being an illegitimate child of the royal family's physician. She didn't even love the man, she just loved his power. She's always been like this, seizing every opportunity to take her to the top. That's why she was so invested in your relationship with Tamsy. If you became queen, her status and wealth would raise like never before. It's hard to believe that such a greedy woman used to live in the slums.

Even though she wasn't a good person, and she got on your last nerve, you still loved your mother. Anytime Tamsy brought up the idea of executing her or taking away her status via forcing her and her new husband to get an annulment, you decline. He was never this aggro about his disdain for her until he learned that she used her late husband's death against you.

Tamsy thought it was unfair how she would constantly remind you that she killed her first husband for your sake. You agreed with him, but you did feel guilt for the man's death along with the execution of the innocent physician. You thought it was your fault her husband died, but unbeknownst to anyone but your mother, she had always planned to kill him.

Your mother was born and raised in the slums. A hatred for that forsaken place brewed inside her since she was young. She believed she was suited for a loftier lifestyle, but as she aged, that seemed less likely. She ended up settling for her first husband, a man who was also from the slums.

It wasn't love, it was just a stepping stone to greater things. The man was sterile, so she devised a plot to use him to meet highly trained medical professionals. Her plan was set in motion the day she met the physician. She knew luring him into a relationship would result in you. All she had to do was get rid of her husband and blame her secret lover to gain his riches. She could finally buy a house in the upper class area. From then on, she was living the life she had always longed for, but she wasn't satisfied. She was never satisfied.

You winced at a harsh tug to the drawstring of the corset. "That's a little tight, mother."

She tsks at you. "Nonsense, my child. Your groom wouldn't want his bride looking like a whale on your special day." She was exaggerating, but it still hurt. "When I got remarried, I went on a three week fast, be glad that I'm not making you do that… Though you could use it."

You stay silent to avoid her coming up with anymore hurtful remarks. She takes the opportunity to start talking about her husband, again. She forces you to call him your father. Unsurprisingly, she only married the knight to get richer and even higher in status. "Your dad and I were talking the other day." Your annoyed sigh was luckily covered by a gasp when she tugged the corset again. "We were discussing the prince and your relationship with him. We think you guys look very good together."

She stood in front of you to straighten your dress. "Keep it that way." Her deadly stare pierced your soul. "I saw you looked a little upset when you walked in. I can only assume it's about him." She gave a squeeze to your shoulders. "I don't care what arguments or disagreements ever occur, you agree with him no matter what. Don't mess this up for me. He says sit, you sit. He says lie, you lie."

Your breathe hitches under her intensity. You knew she was invested in the success of your relationship, but not to this degree. Preferring not to push the matter further by telling her off, you inquire about what she said. "But what if, hypothetically, I felt he was lying to me?"

"Then you march up to him and demand answers." She finished fixing your front. "When he tells you what he was lying about, you forgive him instantly. There is no room for grudges in marriage. We need this to be a success. Becoming part of the royal family is a big deal. If you screw this up, we could get exiled back to the slums or executed."

She cups your face, putting on a sickly sweet tone. "I worked so hard to get us here." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I even had to murder my husband for you. So do this one thing right for me." She kisses your cheeks and moves out the way do you can see your dress in the mirror.

It was like a true princess gown in all white. You looked beautiful, but you couldn't even focus on the dress. Your mind was occupied with your mother's words mixing with Eloise's. One thing was clear. You needed answers and you needed them from Tamsy.

There was a problem: Tamsy wasn't expected back on the sphere for who knows how long. That left you with one option: you had to get to the Ground, and you knew just how to do it. All you have to do is hope that fate plays out in your favor

A/N: Welcome to lore drop central!

I understand this chapter may have been hard to understand due to the large amounts of info dropped. So, if you have a question regarding the fiancée's backstory, please drop it into my ask box so I can respond with a post.

Fun Fact: Miss Dubois, the nanny mentioned, is Eloise's mother! That makes Eloise 2 years younger than the fiancée.

Another reason why writing is fun: I get to reference a song from Bridgerton The Musical.

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated. Please don't steal my work or feed to AI. Thanks for reading!