She felt great. She felt so light. So at peace. So whole. It was a feeling she could not quite describe. She just felt so right.
Agatha's eyes slowly opened themselves, and her vision quickly adjusted to her room's ceiling. She sat up in her bed, feeling rejuvenated. A feeling she quite rarely experienced given the pressure from her father. It was odd; she did not know the reason for this unexplainable feeling.
Getting out of bed, her bare feet touched down on the cold floor, yet in the moment she did not experience discomfort in the shivering cold of the floor. Agatha moved through her room and towards her room window. She opened it, and immediately she was showered with bright sun rays.
She closed her eyes in comfort as the sun washed over her. It felt good; merely standing in sunlight never felt this good. She felt as though she were being rejuvenated this way.
Though she quickly turned her attention away from the feeling as she heard a knock on her bedroom door,.
"Enter." She exclaimed as the door was pushed open and a maid entered the room. She gave a curt bow as she opened her mouth to speak.
"Lady Agatha, your father is requesting your presence." She declared this, and Agatha could not stop herself from frowning.
"This early?" She questioned. "Did he say what he wanted?" The maid merely shook her head at the question.
"Nay, he only said that it was of the utmost importance. Shall I help you dress?" Agatha just absentmindedly nodded her head. It was no doubt a new schedule for a training regime her father wanted her to go through. But still, there was a strange sense of foreboding she could not rid herself of.
And there was a pit in her stomach, like something bad was about to happen.
--------------------
She felt anxious. Nay fearful was the correct term. She never liked being near her father; it was so irksome. His cold gaze would always pierce her like a blade, as well as unnerve her to no end.
Those green eyes stared at her right now, yet there was no hint of cold disapproval. No, from his seat in his office, he looked satisfied. Though it was a rare look from her father, it was still very unnerving.
And still, she did not know just what was going through her father's head. He was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve and openly express himself. It was unnatural how uncaring he was, despite being a father. All the man cared for was results; nothing else mattered to him.
"You no doubt feel different." Agatha jumped in surprise as her father suddenly started speaking. But as she registered his words, she could not help but look at him in confusion. "Full of vigor and energy, no doubt." How did he even know that?
It was true; since she woke up, there was something different about her that was apparent. She felt whole and right, like a completely different person. But how did her father even know about that? And why bring it up?
"You are whole; congratulations." The man spoke, and confusion flashed across her face once more.
"Whole?" She questioned. "What...what are you talking about?" Though she asked, she was not quite sure if she truly wanted the answer. A thought came to her mind as her stomach dropped.
("No, he wouldn't...") She denied it as she stared back up at her father.
Her father had a ghost of a smirk on his face as realization hit her.
("No, no. William would never. He promised.") She tried reasoning, but her father's words just solidified the facts of the matter currently.
"Your brother no longer possesses his partial blessing." Her father started, and in some way he seemed to enjoy it as her features morphed at hearing confirmation. "He agreed to the ritual, and now, Agatha, you are a true Gregory."
That could not have been right, Why would William agree to something like that? He knew what she would be put through if they went through with the ritual. Her father must have been lying. That had to be it.
"W-where is William?" She could not just believe her father's words. William would not place this big a burden on her without her knowledge.
"He is bedridden." Her father coldly answered.
"What?" She was confused.
"Extracting your brothers blessing was a delicate process. There were... some unforeseen results." Her father explained. "No damage was done to him physically, though apparently, from the words of a spawn or Almeric, he suffered mental damage. His memories may be impaired."
"..." Agatha only remained speechless as she heard her father's words. Was this truly happening? She found herself in disbelief. This all felt like a bad dream. But unfortunately, it was all too real.
"Now, child, I need not tell you what is expected of you." Of course she knew. As a full spawn of Isadora, she knew what hell awaited her. "I'll be expecting nothing but perfection from my heir, is that clear?"
"Y-yes." Agatha found herself subconsciously answering.
"Good, you may leave. Your new training schedule shall be handed to you later." She could just absentmindedly nod her head as she aimlessly exited her father's office.
She found herself in the vast hallways of the mansion. Her mind was trying but failing to understand anything.
"William, why?" The words left her lips, and they were directed at someone who was not even present. But she could understand why he would do this. Did he not know what she would be put through? No, she had told him. Yet still....
Agatha moved through the hallways with no destination in mind. Her heart was racing with fear. What hellish training would she experience now that she was supposedly a proper spawn? What torture would she be put through?
Her body ached, a reminder of the physical beatings she endured when it was 'physical combat training' with her father. Even when she was healed, she felt the ache of her wounds. It was a reminder of how brutal that man could be.
And that is not mentioning training with magic. He would rain down spells on her, which she was forced to block or end up severely injured. It did not matter in his eyes; if she ended up with a missing eye or limb, it would only mean she did not train hard enough.
Now all of that was going to increase tenfold.
Why had William done this to her? Had she not suffered enough?
Agatha stopped as she stared out of a window in the mansion. She caught sight of small birds flying freely, enjoying their natural freedom.
Was this truly how things were going to be?
--------------------
[Present Time]
[Location: Luminare Academy Medical Bay]
His body ached severely as his eyes sluggishly opened. Williams eyes adjusted to a dull gray ceiling. The smell of various medications filled his nostrils as he barely managed to sit up. He was in a medical bay, it seems, with white-painted walls and an array of beds lined up on each side of the room.
Memories hit him like a truck as he recalled what had happened to put him in such a state.
"Aga....tha...." His voice was slightly hoarse, and his throat hurt. His body still felt a tad numb, but he could move well enough.
"Oh, you're finally awake." He slightly jumped at the sudden voice he heard to his side. He turned his gaze to spot a head of aqua-colored hair.
"Ruby?" He questioned her as he took note of the short girl seated on a chair next to his bed. She was still in her uniform, but there was a bandage wrapped around her head.
"Yo." The girl gave a two-finger salute. "You've been out for awhile now after Mikoto carried you back." William could vaguely recall Mikoto stepping in to help. "After he beat my ass, he went off to you and that sister of yours." She explained.
"W-where are they, Agatha and Mikoto?" He questioned; he felt a lot of mana being expanded when he was barely conscious within the forest, so their battle must have been intense. He did not know who he was more worried for, but Agatha was powerful, and he did not know if Mikoto would come out of a battle like that unscathed.
"Apparently they fought some, but Professor Fergus had eventually stepped in with some other woman." She clarified as she crossed her legs. "They don't seem to have been very injured, but your sister seemed pissed."
William sighed in relief that the fight had not escalated. He did not want to be the cause of an injury to a friend. But still, there was a pit in his stomach at being the victim of his sister's animosity. His own blood was willing to injure him or worse.
But still, he did not know where or why this hate stemmed from his sister. There were holes in his memories—things he could not begin to recall. It hurt to try to remember; it was just a blur of these holes in his memories. He knew they were important, but he did not know how to bring them forth.
It was irksome. The reason for his sister's hatred was within grasp, yet he could not bring those memories to mind.
("Agatha....")