"What's happening?"
Darius doubled back in shock.
Was my voice younger? The words came out of his mouth without willing them, as though he was a puppet reading from a script. His mind was free to roam but it seemed his body moved without his full control.
What he realized his body was reacting to was a large crowd. The crowd was full of well-dressed servants standing outside a white two-door entryway, ornamented in gold accents, connecting to a grand hallway. They hadn't heard him speak, seeing as they were continuing their frenzy to pry open the tightly shut doorway.
Darius looked down at himself. He was much shorter than he remembered—as if he went back in time before his growth spurt. He assessed that he couldn't be more than 14 years old by the size of his hands and the tone of his voice.
Yet this wasn't him; he was positively sure about it.
When he went to bed that night, he had his usual men's-chemise—a sort of long gown. Yet that's not what he wore now: a fitted royal navy suit adorned with several medallions hanging on his lapel along with gloves and dress shoes—an outfit befitting a younger gentleman of esteemed power.
As the body moved back from the fray it glanced up at his surroundings. Taking the opportunity to examine the environment, Darius's complexion paled in comparison to the pale ivory, baroque ceiling, which was carved meticulously to form ornate, complex designs. Crystal chandeliers dangled in a line along the curved ceiling, down the entire length of the hall, which if Darius strained his neck to look—which he couldn't even if he wanted—opened into a large, rotund, stairway leading down into the main entrance lobby.
Arched-windows were fixed between marble pilasters that let in the feeble light of the sun. On the inside of each window fixture, inlaid tiny broken pieces of a mirror, reflecting the light and bending it into the hall to make it seem even brighter—despite the dreary atmosphere that Darius could sense outside.
He knew this place, grew up within these walls. It seemed like a lifetime ago—a memory that he tried desperately to hold onto but couldn't, as if each time he tried it would merely slip between his calloused hands and break into a thousand tiny fractures… This place only ever remained in his mind, but how was he here?
The servants pounded on the white-and-gold door, bringing him back from his appraisement of the hall's architecture. He transferred his attention back to the abundance of concerned bodies crowding around the small area.
By reflex, his body pushed through the crowd, bumping against several shoulders only to be prodded and jabbed back out of the fray. He tried again to maneuver through the crowd, but no one paid him any mind.
It wasn't until he finally spoke one more time—against his will—with more authority that the crowd finally stopped scrambling aimlessly, "Move aside. I order you to let me in."
In response to his command, the servants disentangled themselves from the fray—organizing themselves into a straight line to face him. Most faces were flushed with embarrassment—some had fear. Darius attested each of their expressions but couldn't understand why they were finally garnering him respect when all they did was shove him around mere moments ago.
Just who was this child's body for him to be looked at with such fear?
It wasn't until one of the crowd members, a thin, lanky man dressed in a frillier black suit than his, answered his question. The man looked as though he was a butler, if memory served Darius correctly. An insipid face came to mind when he stared at this man but it couldn't be…
"Young Master Blaine, this servant deeply apologizes for inconveniencing the young master. Please punish this servant accordingly." The elder man deeply bowed and exclaimed—a tad nervously. "The Roggervene House sincerely apologizes for not recognizing you sooner."
Roggervene… The memories were still hazy for Darius, but from what he could recall, Roggervene was not just a smaller house under the old marquis's fiefdom. This was His Majesty's previous butler.
Before he was—
As though recalling an unpleasant image, Darius felt a phantom sting across his neck and heard the slice of a blade. Red spotted his vision, but Darius gradually came to after the blurry memory was over.
Darius—who finally figured out he was in this young master's body—spoke in a haughty tone, "You would be well that I don't flog you on the spot."
Dear Goddess… Child, were you always so impudent?
The man's face instantaneously turned pale. Darius thought he saw beads of sweat line his brow but he wasn't sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The man continued to bow profusely, thanking Darius—er, Blaine—for his kind reconsideration towards punishing him.
The young master huffed, and Darius huffed at the child in his mind. Something about his demeanor irked him, if only he could remember what it was. That feeling of grasping water returned when Darius tried to scour his mind for fragments of this "Blaine" character. Yet it wasn't fruitful—so he gave up on it again.
The servants paled once more, a few looked at each other nervously, but none said another word. Ignoring their obvious repulsion and fear towards him, Blaine's body strode up to the door and put it's hand on the handle.
Darius as Blaine twisted the still-cold handle rather roughly, trying to exert a good amount of force onto it, but it wouldn't budge in the slightest. If Darius could roll his eyes he would. If these servants couldn't get this door open, what makes you think you—a 14 year old child—could? Darius didn't know if this young master was just dull in common sense or was the type to distrust others and do things himself, but Darius was aggrieved to be stuck in this person's body.
But wait a moment.
The question Darius had this whole time plagued his mind.
He couldn't look around casually if the body did not. He was able to recognize this place since the body looked up earlier as it was being pushed around, but now it was staring at the door handle. A few moments ago he didn't see anything off—other than the fact that he was present in the palace, a place he hasn't been to since childhood.
So why was he here in the first place?
Blaine turned around to view the quivering servants, and as he questioned them individually, Darius took this moment to assess.
Through Blaine's eyes he tried to perceive the servants looking at him. They didn't look remotely familiar. However, the closer he looked, he noticed two distinguishable things.
Many of them had this haze around their fazes, like a mosaic portrait—even though he could discern their expressions.
And they had no shadows.
This… This couldn't be real.
Am I dreaming?
Just as he made this revelation, Darius started to take interest in Blaine's interrogations. He had just finished talking to a spindly cleaning lady and was now back to addressing the butler.
With that haughty tone once more, Blain asked, "Is he really inside or is this another one of his little pranks? Are you sure His Majesty didn't know I was coming and shut me out deliberately, putting on this… This show, pretending to lock himself inside?"
Darius wanted to drop his head in his hands.
How could this all be a show?
Can you not see these servants' expressions? They aren't faking it. Is the world always revolving around you that you can't see what's right in front of you?
The thin man made a face that perfectly masked what Darius was feeling, but bowed anyway. "The Chief Advisor has proclaimed His Majesty has indeed returned after visiting his son in the king's chambers. According to His Excellency, His Majesty has shut himself in his room, so far no one is able to get inside."
Blaine wrinkled his face, "Chief Renthrope? —Wait, did you just say that his son was in there earlier? So you were lying!"
My father?
"No I assure you, his son was only…"
Darius completely stopped listening to the conversation long ago when the two men mentioned the Chief Advisor.
Darius hasn't heard from his father since—well—shortly after the king had fired him from his position. His father had banished Darius from the Marquis fiefdom under unknown circumstances. When it happened, Darius was caught completely off guard and had no other safe haven. It stung being dismissed from his home, especially since Darius and his father used to be close—it felt like it was his fault somehow… So right now, Darius felt as though someone rubbed salt in a wound when Blaine and Roggervene had mentioned him.
It wasn't just his father who was fired, but everyone else who worked under the young king, save for one other man on the Council. After being fired from his position as Chief Advisor… Damien Renthrope went back to his nobility, only to be struck down by the calamities of the war effort. He had lost all his money after Darius had left… Darius wouldn't be surprised if his mother had left him after he and his father's assets disappeared.
Although after he had left, Darius heard from grapevine—okay, it was Dileena—that some speculated that it was the king who had ensured his marquis title be removed—but that was only a rumor.
Either way, his father has not been in the political scene for a little over 11 years. Before that, when his father was diligently in office, Darius had indeed grown up in the castle ever since he could remember… Though, his time there wasn't much. Alas, all he could recall from that time was his training to be… Well, that didn't matter anymore.
What's lost is lost.
Darius couldn't regain that part of himself again no matter how much he tried… It's only through dreams like this that he could… Sigh.
As he reminisced, Blaine continued interrogating the unfortunate servant. All the while, the servant tried his best to drive away the younger man to no avail.
Now that Darius had studied Blaine's mannerisms for this long, a few pieces clicked into place in his mind—and all of a sudden—he remembered this body's owner.
Maybe remembering his father also brought back the small atrocities of this place.
Blaine was the king's younger cousin.
The king's late mother, Cheryle Elyisse, had a stepsister who was raised as a commoner before being taken in by the Elyisse family. Darius's memory of politics was rather foggy, but if he remembered correctly, the king's aunt married into an earldom and gave birth to Master Blaine. She would occasionally bring her son with her to the castle when she went to visit her elder sister—and he would always cause up a storm.
Even now, Darius remembered this young noble's patronizing eyes towards him, and the way he flared his nostrils in disgust as he watched Darius trail behind his older cousin… This child was always sticky when it came to the king and harbored daggers in his eyes each time Darius was in the middle of their "familial gatherings".
Blaine was such a menace back then and still is—if Darius had to guess—he had always felt pity for the dukedom that would be managed by this immature child.
"Yes, his son was visiting His Majesty's chambers and Chief Renthrope came to collect him—"
"That brat was here poking around my cousin's quarters again?"
"Er—um, that is to say he was organizing His Majesty's notes for imperial business… It's all in the letter Chief Renthrope officially announced to all the servants."
"—Except for His Majesty's first cousin. Right?"
The servant hesitated briefly on what to say in response, not finding a convincing enough excuse to feed the young noble's ego. Rather he continued to answer Blaine's previous question and made up a flattering apology. "Chief Renthrope saw for himself His Majesty's miraculous return during his visitation. He announced it to all of us who immediately worked under the king, please do not take offense.
"It was Chief Renthrope who said it was His Majesty's direct orders to keep everyone out, but we were all too excited… Anyways, please turn back Master Blaine. If His Majesty won't let us in, then he is dedicated to his word."
Blaine haggled with the other man for another few minutes to stay, but the other became increasingly obstinate and refused his final pleas, resorting to Blaine stomping away indignantly—with Darius still trapped in his brain unwillingly. If he had to spend another minute in this child's head, Darius would rather bash his brains in. That's how much he disliked Blaine Elyisse.
Blaine nearly reached the end of the hall, grumbling his grievances, when Darius's wish finally came true. In the next moment, his vision through Blaine's eyes darkened until he saw nothing ahead of him anymore.
Huh?
Darius was still conscious but it was like he was walking in a void, his soul meandering through life and death. He stayed in that personal limbo for what felt like a few moments until…
Zap.
A slight pain overcame Darius's head and he reached out to touch it. As he rubbed the phantom bump, he noticed he was touching his head with his own accord.
His vision steadied and he was alone in what seemed like a darkened cave. All around him were pillars blocking his perspective, but he could see a faint jade light in the distance. Yet that wasn't his concern at the moment.
Whose body was he borrowing currently?
He had no access to a mirror to confirm his appearance, so all he could do was tentatively grope his face with both hands to discern what he could.
Wait.
This nose, it was his nose.
Darius felt the shape of his mouth some more, a bit of glee covering his complexion but he could still recognize this mouth anywhere.
And his eyes… The set of them was very similar to his own.
Darius breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally out of Blaine's body, and had full control of what he did.
But… this was odd.
Normally when he dreamed of his past he always inhabited a different body. So what was different about it this time?
As Darius pondered, faraway chains rattled against metal—jaring Darius from whatever delusions or scenarios he was creating as to how he had gotten here. The sound shocked him to his feet. He had assumed he was alone.
He would rather avoid going towards the ominous jade light, but he saw no other exit—and it seemed like tonight's dream sequence was not over yet. Pinching himself was not apparently working.
Therefore, stifling his anxious heart and turning his fears into short-lived bravery, he took one more look at the drab, dark cavern, seeing no other way out, and cautiously ventured ahead.