Passing through the wardrobe adorned with a multitude of costumes, I emerged into the serene twilight of an open glade. Lady Sunbloom and Lysandra were waiting, their presence commanding yet welcoming.
"Welcome to my home in the West Forest," Lady Sunbloom began, her voice carrying a hint of pride. "Far more civilized than the Mankin cities Lord Cheshire favors. Tonight, we shall retire to our separate quarters. Lady Cheshire, you will accompany me. Lysandra, we shall see you on the morrow for our busy day ahead."
As we walked, Solara spoke gently yet firmly. "A new body, new mind, new purpose. Everything familiar is now foreign. Take it one day at a time. Soon, a century will seem like a moment. More importantly how are you feeling?"
The conversation flowed as we strolled through the glade. "It's overwhelming," I confessed. "Everything has changed so suddenly."
"Change," Solara mused, stopping to face me, "is the essence of the Fey. We are as fluid as the seasons, unpredictable as the wind. In chaos, there's freedom to redefine oneself. As you can see quite literally. Your transformation is something we will have to spend time on. Also, I imagine it is not over, all young fey go through these changes." That last bit I did not expect.
"Is it always this intense?" I asked, a mix of uncertainty and curiosity in my voice.
"Only initially," she smiled knowingly. "The Fey world is vast and full of wonders but it can also be treacherous. Remain Alert at all times. Our world runs on power, the more the better." We continued walking. The sound of the night beginning to creep.
As we approached a small building made of intertwining trees, Solara's tone became more instructive. "I know your day has been arduous but one quick lesson. You will need to know this now rather than later. In the Fey realm, the Courts are the central pillar of our societies. Each season has its ruling court, and that court changes with the seasons. Currently, it's the Summer Court's reign, under my mother, Queen Titania." She entered into the small havel, I trailed behind her.
She gestured for me to sit on a stool inside. "You, as a Cheshire, are bound to the Winter Court, led by Queen Mab. Expect a cool reception here but know you do have some power through your family. The courts are sisters but often clash. However, the Queens, including my mother, view the world from a broader perspective and are usually above petty squabbles." The Cheshire's are the last of them I thought, remembering the Goddess.
She continued, "Understanding the dynamics of the courts is crucial. Each has its own culture, allies, and rivals. The most interesting part is they change with each season. Your actions, words, and even allegiances will be scrutinized. But fear not, I'll guide you through this labyrinth of politics and power."
Solara observed me with a discerning eye, her gaze sweeping up and down. "Lysandra will assist you in the morning. We'll find attire that befits your new station as a Lady. As for your current clothes," she said with a light giggle, "you can discard them. Tomorrow will be a day of many firsts for you. Now know while in this lodge, your privacy is assured. Feel free to use this space for any... private matters." Her tone was serious, but the hint of a smile, perhaps a twinkle in her eye, suggested an underlying amusement.
Feeling a blush creep across my cheeks, I quickly sought to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Thank you, Lady Sunbloom. I'm grateful for your guidance. May I inquire about Lord Cheshire's plans for Tiger and Adrian?" My concern for my friends outweighed my embarrassment.
Solara tilted her head thoughtfully. "You'll see them tomorrow before we part ways for the day. What your father intends for them is Winter Court business." She started to leave but paused at the entrance. "Remember, it's customary for a lady to curtsy to her superiors upon dismissal." Her regal disposition returned in a dramatic change from a moment ago.
I looked at her, then down at my ill-fitting pants. With a bit of improvisation, I grabbed the sides of my pants, holding them up as I attempted a curtsy—a clumsy but earnest effort to adhere to the customs of my new world.
As Solara nodded and then continued out the door, her final remark carried a hint of playful reprimand. "That is not correct, but we have time. Goodnight, kitten," she called back, her voice echoing slightly as she walked away. The term 'kitten,' delivered with lightness but not without significance, lingered in the air.
As I stood in my new Fey home, the nickname 'Kitten' echoed in my mind, a reminder of my novice status in this strange new world. Putting that aside for the moment, I began to explore the space that was to be mine.
The largest room, where I had sat earlier, was modest yet comfortable. A bed was tucked in one corner, and a simple desk with two stools occupied another. It was practical and unadorned, a stark contrast to the lavishness I had started to associate with the Fey.
Moving on, I discovered what was clearly a bathroom. The setup was ingenious yet rustic—a hole in the floor with the sound of trickling water below and a sheet of water cascading over a stone slab, the water seemingly absorbed by the earth. I reached out to touch the warm stream, marveling at the Fey's harmony with nature.
The last room, modest in size and reminiscent of a large closet, was entirely unadorned. Its walls, composed of bark, and the stone floor beneath my feet contributed to an atmosphere of natural simplicity. A small window-like opening revealed a picturesque view of the glade we had entered, its tranquil beauty seemingly untouched by the passage of time or the fading light of the day. The emptiness of this room sparked a sudden, unexpected thought in me – it could be transformed into a cozy nook for relaxation, perhaps with a comfortable futon and a television. The idea momentarily rekindled the gamer side of me, a part of my identity that felt like a relic from a distant past, just from this morning.
However, as I stood there, lost in thought, the room's tranquility became a backdrop to a creeping sense of melancholy. The whimsical idea of incorporating elements of my old life into this new, unfamiliar world served as a poignant reminder of all that had changed. The routines, hobbies, and simple pleasures that had once defined my days now seemed like fragments of a life that was no longer mine. This realization settled heavily within me, a profound sense of loss for the person I once was, now replaced by an unfamiliar new identity.
As I stood alone in the small room, the reality of my situation began to sink in, each thought hitting me with the weight of a thousand bricks. This couldn't possibly be real. It had to be some sort of elaborate, unsettling dream. So much had changed in a mere blink, so rapidly that it defied logic. Could this be a night terror? Was I actually at home, struggling in my sleep, desperately waiting for the alarm to jar me awake to start another ordinary day? The idea seemed more comforting than accepting this bizarre truth. I pinched myself, hoping for an escape from this reality, but the sharp pain that followed left no room for denial. I frowned, closing my eyes, trying to shelter myself from the storm of emotions swirling within me.
I hadn't been a person of great importance or note – just an average individual with a life that was mine. A life that now felt like a distant memory. I had a job, friends, and even distant family members with whom I had a complicated but real bond. We didn't always see eye to eye, but there was an underlying current of love and familial connection. Our interactions, limited to occasional holidays, were nonetheless filled with warmth and laughter, and now the thought of never experiencing those moments again made the pit in my stomach grow heavier.
At work, my absence would surely be felt. I never had a strong attachment to my job – jobs like mine were a dime a dozen – but it was the people, my coworkers, who made each day bearable, even enjoyable. They were the kind of people who would surprise you with lunch, cover your shifts, and turn mundane workdays into memorable experiences. Our relationships were built on mutual support and genuine care, and in return, I always made an effort to reciprocate their kindness. Many of these professional relationships had blossomed into true friendships, a testament to the bonds we had formed.
Now, I was abruptly torn away from that life, from those connections. The realization hit me hard. The life I had known, the people I cherished, the small yet significant moments that made up my days – all were now part of a past that seemed unreachable. The sense of loss was overwhelming, and I felt adrift in a sea of uncertainty and sorrow. In this new, alien world of the Fey, I was a stranger, far removed from everything familiar and comforting.
As the barrage of thoughts and emotions continued to flood my mind, I felt utterly drained. Seeking some solace, I sat down on the ground, resting my arms on my knees. A surge of anger bubbled up within me, but I fought to suppress it. I knew too well the regret that often followed my angry outbursts. Clenching my teeth, I felt a tear escape, tracing a path down my cheek. I struggled to hold back the tears, resorting to the breathing exercises my real father had taught me years ago.
Drawing my legs closer, I wrapped my arms around them, pulling myself into a small ball. The sensation of my new breasts compressing was strange and unfamiliar, adding to the surreal nature of my situation. I breathed in deeply, then out, trying to find my center, but a sob broke through my efforts. The floodgates opened, and I found myself crying uncontrollably, overwhelmed by a sense of loss, confusion, and isolation.
I cried until exhaustion took over, my tears eventually giving way to a weary calm. The reason I stopped crying wasn't comfort or resolution; it was simply because I had no more tears left to shed. Alone and emotionally spent, I lay there, unsure if I would have talked about my feelings even if I had someone to confide in. Admitting vulnerability felt like a weakness I wasn't ready to accept. But then, a gentle, soothing warmth enveloped me.
Lifting my head from the cocoon of my arms, I peered out the small window. Above the forest canopy, the pale white moon hung high in the sky, its light streaming through the window to bathe me in its luminescence. The moonlight felt like a comforting blanket, offering a sense of peace amidst my turmoil.
Yielding to the fatigue that had set in, I didn't resist the pull of sleep. My eyelids grew heavy, the world around me fading into darkness. In that moment of surrender, I allowed myself to drift off, finding solace in the embrace of the serene moonlit night.
I could feel myself beginning to doze off. I didn't try to fight it. I am just too tired to even try. My eyes felt heavy, and it all went dark.