Queen of Monsters

Chapter One: Arraignment

Lydia's eyelids felt like sandpaper as she slid them open. Her throat was so dry that it almost hurt to breathe in, and as she sat up she found herself cringing at the light streaming in through the windows. She forced her eyes to stay open as she took in her new surroundings - it didn't look like anything she had seen in Sorceress.

From the looks of it, she had ended up somewhere extravagant. The bed she sat on was a luxurious four-poster bed with a canopy, and far too big for just one person. There was more furniture like that all across the room: there was a vanity sitting in the corner with golden inlays on the mirror and dresser, a fireplace big enough to warm the whole room across from the bed, and a loveseat with silken cushions right by the lofty windows.

Lydia peeled back the silken covers of the bed, pressing her feet into the cool marble tile beneath her. Her toes curled in response, and as she looked over the pale lilac nightgown she was wearing, a line of goosebumps ran up her arms. It wasn't from the floor, rather it came from the sense of something looming just at the edge of her consciousness. Had she forgotten something?

Lydia forced herself to stand, albeit shakily, and she stumbled towards the vanity like a newborn faun. Her arms and legs felt like lead. Why was she so sluggish? She was supposed to be asleep before all this happened, at least that's what she assumed, so she should have been ready to go for the morning. After finally reaching the vanity, she plopped down in the seat to give herself a breath – she'd never had this much trouble just walking from one end of the room to another.

Lydia pulled her head up to stare into the mirror, finding a face that was both familiar and foreign at the same time. Her sepia skin seemed to clash with her eyes, which had become a pale icy blue, accented by long hair as black as the night sky. She had dark circles under her eyes and there was a hollowness to her cheeks that made her resemble a prisoner more than a noblewoman. Even now she still had no idea who she was. As she turned her head this way and that, something bright glinted in the corner of her eye. Lydia turned her head to stare at it, sending a wave of nausea flowing over her. It was a simple teacup with silver paint and flowering designs; it was the only thing in the room with such a design, which only made it stand out even more.

Lydia picked it up, turning it over and inspecting it. There was just a gulp of tea left in the cup, and she was tempted to stick a finger in it to taste it before she stopped herself.

Poison. The word came to mind in an instant. The tea had a sweet honeyed smell to it, but there was an underlying hint of tartness that didn't mix well with the overall aroma.

Had someone tried to poison her? The tea was practically gone, so that would mean the body Lydia had taken control of was dead as well. But this still didn't answer the question of who she was now. There were so many reasons why someone like her would be poisoned. Maybe it was for revenge, maybe it was for political reasons; it could have even been plain incompetence. God only knows how many were lost to the plague of stupidity in the annals of history.

"Lady Protea?" called a voice through the door. This was just wonderful – out of all the people she could have been in this new world, she just had to become the villain. Great.

"Come in," she said hoarsely. She rubbed her throat; it felt like sandpaper.

A woman with a heavy figure walked into the room, clothed in a pastel blue dress with a simple bodice and skirt. There were was something uncanny to the woman's face. From a distance, she appeared ordinary; red cheeks, heart-shaped face, button nose, wide violet eyes. But as she walked closer, Lydia could see that was where the ordinary ended. Her skin was like porcelain, pale as fresh snow, and it seemed to be almost stretched across her bones. Her hair was like plastic - it didn't move in any of the ways regular hair did - and far too bright a blond to not be dyed. Her eyes reminded her of the glassy stare of a doll; like someone had put so much detail into them that no longer appeared human.