The Villainess is Strange

Friendships and Follies

Part 3 Daydreams and Nightmares

When I finally got to my room, it was as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I felt my entire body relax. Feeling light and refreshed, I toss myself onto the bed and smile giddily to myself. From here on out, life is going to be easy, breezy, beautiful as Lady Isadora Calliope Vincentius. I study my glove clad hands. It was honestly odd how quickly I was embracing this new identity, but I wasn't surprised by how fast I was to adapt either. An orphan at an early age, I had quickly learned that to survive in this dog eat dog world you had to look out for yourself. When life kept tossing hurdles at you, you had to be quick to adapt no matter how ridiculous or terrifying the situation. I did feel a pang at my heart at the thought of my past life -- a sense of loss knowing that I will never truly be myself again nor will I ever enjoy the pleasures of modern day America. My hands itched for my iPhone and a good cup of matcha latte. Oh, and I would miss the premiere of the Angel Slayer movie, I think glumly. I was going to cosplay to that event too... Besides that, there wasn't anything or anyone I sorely missed and I doubt there was anyone who missed me either. Except maybe my pervy landlord who liked to ogle at me whenever I came by to drop off the rent and my boss who liked to take credit for the projects I completed. I smirked. In this universe, I wouldn't have to work a day in my life if I chose to. What would I do instead? Maybe I can learn magic? Try my hand at painting? The options were endless and the world was my oyster.

Perhaps it was because of the ease of mind and calm heart, but I quickly fell into a deep slumber. While I usually slept dreamlessly and deeply, a long and terrible dream embraced me in my sleep. I knew this scene, and yet it scared me all the same.

Prince Xander's amber eyes flashed in malice as he faced Isadora--no--me. He pulled out his sword and pointed it towards my throat. The tip of the sword dangerously close to cutting through my neck. I could feel the coldness of the metal and the bloodlust in his eyes.

"Isadora, you dare try and poison my beloved Adele?" He said coldly. "I have turned a blind eye to your insolence due to respect to your father but enough is enough."

"No," I try to say but no words come out. I try to stand, to defend myself but when I look back I see green eyes smoldering into mine. Prince Levi's powerful grip held fast onto my wrists and pressed me down to the floor so that I was trapped. I urge myself to say something, anything. To convince, to beg, to plead before I get cut down by his powerful sword. But it's too late.

"Isadora Calliope Vincentius, you are hereby condemned to death for attempting the murder of a princess, my fiance, Princess Adele and for all your malicious exploits that took place in this palace. Any last words?"

"Please," I choke out. "Please, I beg for mercy. I'll never step foot into the palace again. Please just let me go," I plead desperately. My amethyst eyes flash in fear but there is no pity or compassion from the prince. I look at the crowd of nobles swarming around us but their gaze is colder than the prince's. No one cared.The last thing I see is the flash of silver and red.

I wake up with a gasp, clutching at my throat hoping that I can stop the blood from pouring out. There was no blood. I feel my whole body shake in horror at what I just dreamt of. It felt like a warning, a foreshadowing of what would happen if I made even the smallest misstep. My life was on the line. My second chance at life. It was too soon to daydream of the future, I think grimly. I have to first get out of this nightmare and prevent that bad ending from happening at all costs.

"Oh good, you're already awake," says a warm voice. I warily turn to the door and there stood Annie clutching what looked like a beheaded woman. I pale and quickly turn away.

"What is that in your hands?" I ask vehemently, my hands shaking.

"Oh this?" Annie's voice is filled with hesitation at my tone. "It's your wig for the ball," she says. "You chose it yourself last week."