Amy

I don’t know when I fell asleep. One minute, I was laying in bed, trying and failing to sleep beneath Pauline’s watchful gaze, and the next I was… well, still in bed, actually. Except the ceiling had changed. Not into an unfamiliar one, but rather an out of place one - it was the ceiling of my Earth home, pure white except where it was stained with water damage.

Oddly, though, the bed was still the same one I’d fallen asleep in. In fact, the entire room was an odd mishmash of the two worlds - I could see my computer and a chair, for example, as well as a TV, but the hard wood floors were from the villa I now lived in, as were the rugs placed upon them.

Looking down upon my hands, I worried for a moment that I might see the hairy knuckled mitts I’d left behind - but no, my hands were still small, and my fingers still slender. Getting up and out of bed, I moved towards the wall, where a mirror hung. It hadn’t been there a minute ago, but that was the nature of dreams I suppose.

I walked towards it, somehow sure of what I’d see - Amelia’s body, smaller in stature than my old form, and far more curvy. Black hair adorned her head, with dark eyes that peered out of a face that looked cold at a glance - except the girl in the mirror didn’t look like I imagined Amelia to. I mean, the body was right, obviously, and the features were all in place, but the face - the nervous little smile on my reflection’s lips, the way its eyes darted to and fro as it took the entire reflection in? That was all mine. All me. All Amy.

“Perhaps Pauline and the others are right,” I mused, to myself. “Perhaps it is time that I accepted this body as mine - as me. A girl. Even if I wasn’t born that way… even if I never longed for it… It’s still me. Isn’t it?”

I didn’t expect an answer. I was only talking to myself. So imagine my surprise when my own voice replied to me - not coming from the mirror, but from a door I hadn’t even noticed before. The closet.

“Is someone there!?” the voice called out. “Can you hear me?”

“Hello?” I replied, my own voice soft and uncertain - and yet still distinctly the same voice that had been speaking to me.

“You can, can’t you?” the voice asked, sounding excited. “Let me out of here!”

“Out of where?” I asked, cautiously moving towards the door. “Who are you?”

“I’m in - I don’t even know what I’m in. Some stupid room with no light! And there’s - there’s a door, but it won’t open from this side. It’s not locked, or anything, just stuck.”

“Stuck?” I parroted back, cautiously reaching for the doorknob. It turned easily, and when I gave the door a testing tug it opened up smoothly as well. “It doesn’t seem stuck,” I murmured, staring into the dark closet. I couldn’t see a thing in there - not even the mysterious speaker. It was just pitch black. “Hello?”

There was no verbal response. Instead, a figure stepped out - her form dressed in pitch black, to match her hair. Her body matched my own, curve for curve, but her dark eyes held a coldness to them that I hadn’t seen in the mirror.

“You,” she snarled. “Why do you look like me?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, taking a step backwards.

“I mean you look like me. Shouldn’t you look like you? A man?”

“I… I always look like this, these days,” I said, taking a step back. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s not true, is it?” the woman demanded, stepping towards me. “It’s a lie.” She reached for me, but I stepped back again - except this time I stepped onto something, and began to fall backwards.

“Look out!” my doppelganger screamed, even as I fell backwards, my head striking the mirror. I heard a crack as something splintered, and then gave - and then I was falling, falling and falling, until at last…

I woke up.

***

I sat up in bed, gasping for breath.

“Is everything alright, my Lady?” Clara asked, causing me to flinch at her sudden appearance. I still wasn’t used to that.

“I’m fine,” I promised. “I just… had a weird dream…” the details were already fading, but I was pretty sure it had involved Amelia? It was odd, though - I felt as if the dream was important somehow. Not only that, but there was a confusing sort of… annoyance? Annoyance at myself for forgetting what was clearly an important dream… though I had no idea why it was important, or why I felt that way.

“Are you sure, my Lady?” Clara asked. “For a moment, I sense quite a bit of distress through our bond.”

“I’m sure,” I replied, shaking my head. The odd annoyance I’d felt was already starting to fade, replaced by a weariness that pulled me back towards the pillow. “Where’s Pauline?”

“Bridgette insisted she get some sleep,” Clara replied. “I can easily tell if you’re emotionally distressed, especially at such a close distance, and Bridgette promised to stay up in case you called out her name.”

“Does that mean she’s listening in now?” I asked, frowning. “Since you went and said it?”

“Who knows?” Clara replied, shaking her head. “I suspect she might have heard my statement, but as for whether she chose to tune in and listen afterwards… Well, you’d have to ask her, wouldn’t you? Personally my hope is that she’s giving us some privacy.”

“Privacy?” I asked. “For what reason?”

“Do I need a reason to want a private conversation with my Lady, within our own home?” Clara countered. “Perhaps I simply desire some privacy for the sake of it.”

“Right,” I murmured. “I suppose that makes sense…”

“Though as it happens, I do have something I wish to speak to you about,” Clara said. “Namely about your gullibility - for someone who can detect lies, you’re entirely too easy to fool.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, defensive.

“I’m talking about how Lady Firanna convinced you to recruit May in her place,” Clara said. “Not to mention her ability to recruit Pauline without you knowing - which was admittedly within my expectations, but still.”

“What do you mean ‘in her place’?” I asked, frowning. “And why would you expect her to be able to fool me about Pauline?”

“Because Pauline is very clearly a blindspot for you,” Clara replied. “You’re convinced she hates you, despite all evidence to the contrary. That doesn’t explain how she managed to mislead you about May, though.”

“She said that you wanted me to recruit her,” I said, a little confused.

“No, she did not, or you would have known it was a lie. More likely she implied it, and you blindly trusted her as you tend to do.”

“And so what if I did?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Is it so wrong to trust those around you?”

“Yes,” Clara stated. “Especially when you have the magical ability to tell when someone is lying to you.”

“It’s hardly even worth listening to!” I complained. “It goes off for the littlest of things - someone can tell me good morning and not mean it, and the damn thing might as well be a siren installed directly in my brain - and yet Firanna blatantly misleads me and there’s not a peep.”

“And yet Lady Amelia relied on it to run circles around more experienced members of high society, even as a child. You have her brain, according to the demon - and while I’m not entirely sure what that amounts to, I would think it means you have her intelligence at the very least. For you to fail despite that means you aren’t using what Lady Amelia left you to its full potential.”

“What she ‘left me’?” I asked. “You mean when she dragged me into her mess? Shoving me in this body, and forcing me to face execution in her stead?”

“I highly doubt Lady Amelia even knew about your existence. The demon is the one who dragged you into this mess, not her - she left nothing but the best for you to take. Yet you’re squandering the gifts she’s given you by not even trying to use her brain.”

“My brain.”

“Excuse me?” Clara asked, blinking at me.

“It’s my brain, now, isn’t it? Just like it’s my body. I know you want to treat it as if it’s all just on loan from Amelia, but I refuse to live my life that way. So long as I’m here, it’s my body, just as much as it ever was hers.”

“…As you say, my Lady,” Clara replied, her voice carefully neutral. “Though I must ask what brought about this change in your way of thinking?”

“I’m… not really sure myself,” I admitted, frowning. “I suppose it might have something to do with the talk I had with Pauline and Firanna? About how I don’t want to change my body - how I feel comfortable in it, if only because of the brain I inherited along with it. Mostly, though, I just can’t think of this as temporary like you seem to - there’s no guarantee I’ll ever go back to how I used to look, so I might as well at least try to enjoy the gifts your lady ‘left me,’ don’t you think?”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Clara replied - though I could practically feel the displeasure radiating off of her.

“Look at this way - I’ll take better care of the body if I view it as mine. If I view this life as mine, rather than just something on loan.”

“You should have more care for other people’s things,” Clara said, “but if it means you’ll be more careful not to get impaled in the future, I suppose I’ll reluctantly accept this change in mindset.”

“I don’t think you have much choice,” I replied. “It’s not as if you can force me out of this body, after all - and even if you could, there’s no telling what would happen to it without an inhabitant.”

“I’d like to say I could find someone more willing to follow orders to inhabit it, if I put my mind to it, but you’re right - short of delving into demonic arts, I have no way of getting rid of you.”

“Short of… please tell me you aren’t considering consorting with demons?” I asked, worried.

“That’s rich coming from you… but no. So long as you don’t give me a good enough reason to, at least.”

“I have no intention of causing harm to my own form,” I informed her. “Nor do I intend to get myself in too much trouble, if I can help it.”

“I’m afraid your ability to help it is the key problem,” Clara replied, testily. “Which brings us back to an earlier matter - you need to start thinking things through better. Stop letting Firanna take advantage of you.”

“It’s not as if I’m doing it on purpose,” I protested. “She’s just… tricky, I suppose. And it’s not like I have Amelia’s precognition to back up my intuition or anything…”

Clara stiffened, and for a moment I wasn’t sure why. Then it hit me.

“You… didn’t know about that, did you?” I asked. “About her ability to see snippets of the future?”

“I suspected she might have a power of that sort,” Clara replied, stiffly. “But I was never certain, no.”

“It did more harm than good,” I admitted, thinking back on all that I’d written. “So many self-fulling prophecies - do you have any idea how many people betrayed her only because she treated them like traitors from the very moment she met them? Never trusting them, never letting them get close?”

“I hardly see why she’d let anyone who was destined to betray her close,” Clara said.

“Maybe they wouldn’t have betrayed her if she treated anyone like a proper friend, instead of just a disposable tool that couldn’t be trusted in the first place.”

“She trusted me,” Clara said, with certainty.

“…She did,” I admitted - and I swear, for a moment, I actually saw a glimmer of relief in Clara’s eyes. It was gone so quick I didn’t dare to mention it, though. “You were the only one who she never got a bad vision about…”

“You know where my loyalties lie,” Clara replied. “How I am sworn to serve her - and you, while you inhabit her form.”

“Then perhaps you could do me the service of leaving so that I can get some sleep?” I pleaded.

“I thought you were tired of bed rest,” Clara said, clearly surprised. “You certainly complained to Pauline about it enough.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s any sort of night life to entertain me around here,” I pointed out. “At least if I’m asleep I won’t be bored.”

“I’d have thought you’d be too anxious to sleep, regardless,” Clara remarked, shaking her head.

“And why would that be?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Because tomorrow May is making you a potion - and considering she’s likely to make you drink it on the spot, I highly recommend being there for the process.”

“You mean you want me to keep an eye on her?” I asked. “I don’t even know the first thing about potion making - how will I even know if she slips something strange in?”

“Hence why I thought you’d be anxious,” Clara replied, dryly. “Though I’m glad to hear otherwise. Goodnight, my Lady.”

“Goodnight, Clara,” I replied, laying myself back down on the bed.

Despite the sentiment, sleep did not take me that night. I was too anxious. Not about May - but about the dream I’d had.

I really couldn’t remember a thing about what had happened in it… and yet, somehow, I knew that it had been disturbing. Not only that, but I felt that if I fell asleep there was a high chance I’d have it again.

“Something about a mirror?” I murmured, to myself, frowning as I laid in bed.

Alas, no answer was forthcoming, and before I knew it Clara had returned to get me out of bed.