1. Awakening in A New World

15 1 2
                                    

I don’t even know how I got here. One moment I was in my father’s palace, and the next, I’m sitting here, desperately trying to force a smile that looks more like a grimace. My face is as pale as a ghost, but I’m doing my best to look pleasant.

In front of me sits the crown prince of Valkathra—a man so ridiculously handsome he looks like he stepped off a Greek statue. His eyes are green like overzealous garden peas, and his hair is as black as a coal miner's laundry. But don’t let that fool you; his gaze is colder than an ice cube in the Arctic.

He’s staring at me as if I were a particularly annoying insect he’s trying to ignore, gripping his sword like he’s one step away from slicing the air. I gulp, realizing my grand escape plan was about as effective as trying to outrun a cheetah on roller skates.

I should have just stayed at my father’s palace.

His icy voice cuts through the awkward silence, “What is it, Dame Dazzle?”

Dame Dazzle.

The name sounds so absurd coming from him, I almost snort. It’s like hearing a professional wrestler call you “Fluffy Bunny.” My ears are turning red, and my face feels like it’s hosting its own personal sauna.

I stammer, “I... Your Highness... I...”

“You don’t want to marry me, the crown prince of Valkathra?”

Nope! Not even a little bit! I’d rather marry a dragon that breathes fire at me!

I plaster on my most radiant, if not slightly pained, smile. “Oh, no, Prince. It’s not that. I absolutely adore you. I want to marry you.”

Biggest fib ever!

So, how did I end up here, in the prince’s top-secret garden, where intruders are rumored to be turned into garden gnomes? I’m surrounded by herbal tea and cakes, but no amount of sugar can sweeten his frosty demeanor.

What’s my crime? I don’t even belong in this world. Yes, you heard me right.

I’m not from here.

Let’s rewind sometime in the back to get the full, laughably awkward story.

***************

Let me tell you my story. My original body—my real self—probably died. I remember it vividly: lying on my deathbed, the struggle against pneumonia that spiraled into sepsis, and then, the organs just giving up one by one. It was like my body decided to throw in the towel and call it a day.

The next thing I remember was falling through an endless void of darkness, with a disembodied voice echoing around me, fragmentary and unclear. I heard snatches of phrases like, "You need to..." and "Your..." and "You are..." before everything went black again.

When I finally opened my eyes, I was greeted by a room that was the polar opposite of my grandma's shabby old room—more like twice the size of her entire house.

I found myself in a luxurious bed, with a ceiling adorned by an elaborate chandelier and flowery patterns in a language I couldn’t recognize. On either side of the bed were matching lamps, and the windows were draped in green curtains that framed a view I couldn’t see. A chaise lounge was nestled beside the bed, and a pink chaise sat nearby.

The room featured a grand oval mirror decorated with intricate henna-like patterns, and next to it stood a golden door that looked straight out of a children's storybook, like a gateway to a magical realm.I swung my feet off the bed and onto the floor, only to feel as if I were stepping onto a cloud. The floor beneath me was so beautifully polished and gleaming that it almost seemed to glow. It was like walking on a layer of cotton candy—soft and surreal.

I was stunned to find myself standing on my own feet. I remembered that, due to organ failure, I had been paralyzed and unable to walk. The shock almost brought tears to my eyes, but then my gaze landed on the large mirror. My eyes widened in disbelief.

Aren’t mirrors supposed to reflect your own image?

Instead, I saw a woman with red hair staring back at me. I reached out to touch my face, which felt smooth and porcelain. As I backed away in shock, I tripped over the mattress and fell to the floor with a loud thud, knocking over the lamp on the bedside table.

Suddenly, a group of women appeared, dressed in black gowns with aprons and bonnets. They exclaimed in unison, “Lady!”

I was too stunned to process their words, still fixated on the unfamiliar figure in the mirror. The maids gently helped me to my feet and guided me back into the bed.

Where am I? I thought I’d won some kind of lottery from that scratch-off coupon I got at the department store.

And what’s with these outfits? And why are they calling me a Lady?

Overwhelmed by the shock, my vision began to blur, and I fainted once more. As darkness closed in, panic set in.

No! I don’t want to die. What’s happening? My head is spinning. Oh no, not again!

***************

When I woke up again, I was back in that same room, completely alone. No one was around.

“Where the hell am I?”

“Where is everyone?”

“Did the villagers sell me to a cursed kingdom so they could sacrifice me?”

My mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened. The room, the mirror, the mysterious “Lady” title—it all felt like a bizarre, nightmarish twist that defied any logic I knew.

I pushed myself out of bed, my legs still trembling, and made my way to the door. When I opened it, I was startled to see two guards stationed outside, their uniforms crisp and their expressions serious.

"Lady, are you okay?" one of them asked, his voice laced with concern.

"What happened?" the other guard chimed in, his eyes scanning me with a mix of curiosity and worry.

I blinked, trying to process their words. Lady? It was clear now that something had gone terribly wrong. I had to figure out where I was and what had happened. But for now, all I could manage was a stunned, “I… I’m fine. I think I just need to understand what’s going on.”

The guards exchanged glances, and one stepped forward. “If you need anything, just let us know. We’re here to help.”

As they backed away, I took a deep breath and looked around the lavish hallway, trying to steady my racing thoughts. This place, this situation—nothing made sense. But for now, I had to find answers and figure out how I’d ended up here, in this strange new reality.

The Villain's Dead Wife Where stories live. Discover now