Daphne opened her eyes, her vision blurry from sleep. Her body felt very worn out and sore. This was nothing new. She was a fitness freak who worked out like crazy. She always went to bed feeling exhausted and woke up feeling sore. Only today she felt weak. That was odd. Even sore, she always felt strong. Right now she felt very light, unlike herself.
Her lashes fluttered as she sat up and held her throbbing head in her hands. Was she hung over? That didn't make sense. She never drank that much. At most the buzz would last for a few hours and then she'd be back to normal.
Rubbing her face, she abruptly pulled her hands away when she realized something was off. Her hands! Her hands weren't her hands! They were small and delicate. And soft in a way that no amount of lotion would enable hers to be.
Her eyes briefly looked over her arms, the dress she was wearing and the messy golden hair that was falling over the sides of her face when her attention was instantly diverted to her surroundings.
Daphne's eyes bulged as she took in the massive bed chamber she was residing in. Every inch of it was woven with luxury items and fabrics. The carpets, the chandelier, the green and golden painted walls, the window sill, the window curtains, even the window glass had designs on it. The furniture looked more like art pieces that belonged in a gallery, the wooden carvings were painted in various shades of red. The bed she was on was huge. Golden bed posts, a large canopy, enough pillows for a family of twenty and the covers a beautiful peach embroidered with pink. There were paintings hanging all over the walls. Some were of fruits, others of flowers, but most consisted of landscapes. Large vases of purple, pink and white flowers were placed on nearly every table. And there was a grand fire place which was emitting a wisp of smoke. As if it had just gone out.
Even so, the room was sweltering.
The bedchamber appeared very masculine with harsh intrusions of femininity. As if a woman had just started living in it.
Daphne had only seen such rooms in historical movies and books. Or when she watched documentaries. She had seen a television channel give an inside look of the place where the current royal family of Britain were living. That was the closest resemblance she could draw upon.
Blinking rapidly to convince herself she wasn't still asleep, Daphne pulled the covers back and took a proper look at her body. But it wasn't her body! This had to be a dream. Even if the room looked so real, there was no way she could look at herself and see someone else.
It was nearing dawn and sunlight streamed in from behind the windows, illuminating the spacious room in a gentle, golden glow.
Moving across the bed, which took way longer than it should have, Daphne swung her legs over and walked on the soft, fur carpeted floor. The floor looked like it was made of marble. The room alone looked more expensive than the city she grew up in. She was used to ugly gray and white rooms. She wasn't accustomed to such beauty directly in front of her. One which she could reach out and touch.
Standing in front of the intricate, full body mirror, Daphne's jaw dropped in shock. The woman she was in this dream was so beautiful! Like a swan. Soft, smooth snow white skin. Long, delicate limbs draped in a curtain of golden hair which flowed down to her lower back and large black eyes which dominated her face. Her lips were small and thin, which perfectly complimented her tiny pointed nose. Her cheekbones were angular and when she smiled, the apple of her cheeks looked like perfect little sugar plumbs.
"I would kill to have a face like this..."
Daphne touched herself over and over again. Gone were her hard, toned and muscular frame. She was soft like Charmin everywhere her hands roamed.
"Good grief! What kind of dream am I in?" She was taken aback by her own voice which was very deep and husky. This woman looked like an innocent dove, yet had the voice of a seductress.
Suddenly, she heard the sound of a lock being turned, the swing of a door and then shallow footsteps. Turning around, she saw a maid, dressed like someone who served someone living in a room like this, enter with a large bowl of water and a drying cloth balanced atop a tray.
Upon seeing that the lady of the house was already awake, the maid jumped back in shock and splashed the water all over the place. The sound was quite loud, but not as loud as the tray which let out a sharp clang that had Daphne wincing in discomfort.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! My lady, I am so sorry! Please forgive me!" The maid dropped to her knees and prostrated herself. Full on prostration! Her head touching the floor and her arms completely outstretched before her. Like she was worshipping the statue of a deity.
Daphne felt a sudden influx of anger as well as an intense desire to walk over and stomp on the maid's head repeatedly. She stiffened in shock. Since when does she ever harbor such violent thoughts? And over a simple mistake?!
But this was a dream and she wasn't herself so was she supposed to act out of character? Or was she dead? Had she died and this was a test from the Gods to see what she would do to someone she held superiority over?
The thought of being dead unsettled her, but how else could she explain this strange situation. Dreams did not operate like this. And since she knew she wasn't drunk or high, that could only mean this was really happening. Or had she consumed DMT? That would certainly take her to another realm. But no, she hadn't made her trip to that resort in Brazil to try it. That was still on her bucket list. Or had she already gone and this was the trip it took her on?
Daphne took deep breaths to calm herself down. Whatever was happening, panicking would not solve anything. She had to control her mind and her emotions. The last time she didn't, she got her father killed.
The maid on the ground, lifted her head slightly to look at her master. She was scared and waiting for the beating she knew she would get. But why wasn't her ladyship doing anything. Lifting her head a bit higher, she saw that her ladyship was muttering to herself with a look of panic upon her face.
"My lady, are you alright?"
No response. Instead she rubbed her arms and turned to face her mirror again.
"My lady, are you alright?"
The maid's eyes watched as her lady rubbed her arms vigorously. As if she were trying to ward off a chill. The maid looked at the extinguished fireplace.
"My lady, are you cold? Shall I start the fire?"
"No, no." Daphne muttered. "It's hot, too hot."
The maid slowly stood up and gathered all she had dropped. "I understand, my lady. I will bring you a cold drink, then. And more water to perform your morning ablutions."
Daphne rubbed hard at her face as so much irrational anger welled up inside her. And with it came snippets of images. Memories. This woman whoever she was had serious anger problems. That explained why the maid got so scared.
I'm not dreaming, I'm not dead and I'm not on some acid trip. This can only mean I've hit a glitch in the matrix and ended up in an alternate reality.
She stretched out a hand and leaned it against the mirror. She could see the maid reflected in it. And she was talking to her. But Daphne's head was so foggy, she couldn't make sense of anything except the maid's fearful expression.
Baffled by her lady's ignorance of her, the maid quickly rushed out of the room to get what she'd promised.
The knight standing guard locked the door immediately and gave slight nod to the maid.
She offered a hard smile and walked off. She did not know what happened to her bad tempered lady. She was just talking to herself and poking at her own face and body. Was she suffering from a sudden fever?
Whatever it was, the maid was relieved. She was glad to have gotten through an exchange without getting hit. She was used to being yelled at by her ladyship, but the hits were something she still couldn't get used to. Her hits had so much force behind them. Though she called it discipline, it felt more like she was trying to land a killing blow.
Lady Mariam, despite possessing a delicate beauty that made her appear harmless was an absolute demoness. She was a nightmare to serve and all the occupants of the castle dreaded having to interact with her. She had beaten up almost every servant she interacted with and even slapped one of the Lord's knights across the face when she felt disrespected.
The butler had gone to the Lord and told him that their new lady may just kill someone if things carried on the way they were.
As such, she had been confined to her bedchambers. The Lord of Dustan, Sir James Hamstead, Lady Mariam's husband, despised her as well. He tried to reason with her many times over her violent temperament, but her ladyship did not even bend for her own husband, Her Lord and guardian who now had full ownership of her. She was too conceited to handle being reprimanded and the servants who were in the room during the argument were shocked by how brazenly disrespectful she was towards their Lord.
Sir James finally lost his temper and gave her an ear-splitting slap to the face. One which resonated in the hearts of all those who had suffered at her hands.
Lady Mariam had been shocked as she had only ever been pampered her entire life. She started screaming at him all over again, so as punishment he'd ordered for her to be locked up indefinitely. He told her, until she learned some manners she would never step foot outside her room.
Lady Mariam had raged for weeks. Until she lost her voice. Even so, her anger grew hotter. When she could, she screamed bloody murder, saying she would kill her husband. She also threatened to kill herself. Her screeches were so bad that the knight guarding her door had stuffed cloth into his ears and her windows had been bolted shut so she could not disturb the other inhabitants.
For a period, her husband had ordered for her to not be fed any food, only water. This certainly worked to sap her strength and recently she'd just lay in bed and stare at the canopy sobbing over how cruel everyone was towards her.
Since she'd calmed, the Lord had permitted her to be fed again. And since then, it seemed she had learned her lesson and the castle was at peace. However, on occasion the lady would fly into a silent temper and beat the maid coming in to serve her until she was coughing up blood. As such, nobody wished to serve her for fear of walking in when her mind went unstable.
The duty had been shifted over again and again until it reached the youngest maid who could not refuse. So she was stuck going into that demoness's room.
She could not complain about the beatings as they were on and off. The Lord may dismiss it as her making mistakes. After all she was young and new. She could simply be seen as a sloppy maid underperforming. And since the lady wasn't raging like before, her husband had decided to show her some leniency.
There were even rumors spreading that he would allow her out of her room soon.
Everyone was against it, though they did not voice it. As far as they were concerned, Lady Mariam was a rabid animal who needed to be locked up for life.