I often wondered if the dream version of myself was accurate or not, especially when traveling back to being a little girl. I don't even think I saw myself in a proper mirror until I arrived at the castle and by then I had already had it set in my head that I just looked like a carbon copy of my sister, just a touch younger. From what I could remember that was not far from the truth, though the little girl I saw entering the castle gates for the first time was more of like a younger clone of Evonia rather than their own person entirely. I had to pause a moment and wonder if my view was even more polluted than I first thought as my eyes swept over to my mother who looked more like an adoptive mother than our birth mother. Sure, her hair was rather dark, but both little girls had stark black hair without any trace of a wave or curl, my mother had a noticeable spiral to the ends of her hair and the errant wisps that framed her face certainly had much curl to them. Also, even in the obscured sunlight from the overcast day I could still pick up a distinct hint of auburn to her hair and a golden undertone to her rounded features. Perhaps the difference could have been explained away by an overwhelming presence of our estranged father’s contribution to our existence, but that did not settle the matter in my mind. I vividly remembered everyone commenting on how much we looked like our mother’s familial line and the scene before me simply did not match that assessment. I supposed that people could have just been trying to make the both of us feel pleased with ourselves, generally little girls looked up to and adored their mother, thinking them to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Though that was very much not the case with Evonia, she had always seen our mother as a weak, plain commoner whose only redeeming quality had been to have the grace to birth us and start the family’s ascension to royalty.

It had not been very far into Evonia’s teen years when she began to advance her power enough to adopt a glamour and while I could not remember a singular moment where her appearance had changed dramatically overnight, the memory could either be lost to the ravages of time or she could have been coy enough to slowly changes things to make it appear that she was growing into her looks rather than she was forcing them to happen. I had followed right behind her perhaps a year later with experimenting with changing my appearance and though I was certain I did not set out to drastically change myself I did let myself be heavily influenced by Evonia, I had always found her beautiful and wanted to be just like her. If she had made sure to make herself look much different than she would without the glamour then it was certain that I had unknowingly done the same. The matter could be easily resolved by dropping the glamour long enough in a mirror to decide if my features were actually much less refined and noble, though the idea of doing so made me feel sick, I did not want to know just how old and decrepit I looked now, it was sure to stop my heart seeing what I actually looked like and I would very much like to go to the very end oblivious. Besides, without a glamour Toria looked like she fit right in to the family, that was fairly good proof of our genetics. That is unless Evonia had imbued the magic determining all future Yser to be born female to also make them look like she saw fit, which would have been something very difficult to pull off, though I would not have put it past her for her to think it would be worth the effort. Evonia had not just wanted a standard royal legacy, she had desired a legacy where she would be never be lost to the march of time, having everyone born thereafter be her spitting image might have been the solution she had settled on.

“Mari,” my mother said gently, stepping up next to me as soon as we passed through the gate for the first time, “your braid has come loose on this side, stop a moment so I can fix it.”

The younger version of me stopped and watched as my mother undid the bit of leather strapping at the bottom of my right braid, raked her fingers through the hair to undo and smooth it, then deftly sectioned the hair again to make a smooth plait. Her fingers worked quickly and skillfully, taking mere seconds to reach the bottom of my hair and tie the end tight. She placed it back over my shoulder and used her hand to smooth down any of the small strands that had poked out again around my ear.

“You’re very good at that,” the man who was accompanying us said.

He had been a strange man, even then, before knowing much about our powers and the creatures that existed beyond the tiny chunk of existence we had inhabited thus far, I had recognized that something was very off with him. At first glance he had looked like any other generic common man with brown hair and dull grey eyes, but taking any amount of time to study him it became apparent that he was not quite right, his appearance seemed wrong even though there was nothing obviously out of place. With a great deal of hindsight I could not even place him as being a demon with a glamour that I just did not understand at the time, demons could don a human appearance effortlessly and humans generally were none the wiser even when shaking hands with one. No, even through the slight haze of memory I could tell this man was something else entirely, though what that was I could not exactly put my finger on just yet.

“Oh?” My mother looked to him and blinked a few times like she was certain at least subconsciously that she should be seeing something else instead. “It is nothing, all women know how to braid, it’s one of the first skills we learn with our dolls when we’re very young.”

“Still, I have never seen any woman work so quickly and effortlessly, it’s like you have done it thousands of times before.”

“Perhaps I have,” she said thoughtfully, “growing up I was the eldest so it was expected of me to make sure the youngest were dressed in the morning. I had four younger sisters that I used to line up and brush and style their hair for the day, I used to try to make up different braids and styles to make it less methodical and boring. Then when I was indentured to the Lady Bronson she was quick to discover I had a knack for it and I was then tasked daily with completing a hair style fit for a noble lady every morning. She often wanted very complex designs and did not have much patience so it became a challenge for me to work as quickly as possible while still making something intricate and beautiful.”

“I’m sure that meant you also ended up attending to any children as well,” the man said with a wide smile that seemed both genuine and disingenuous at the same time.

“Oh yes,” she answered with a light laugh, “that goes without saying. She had many, many children of all ages many of them girls ranging from probably around five or so to almost young adult.” She cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips together as she thought back to that time in her life. “There were six girls if I’m not forgetting someone and as soon as their mother was dressed and ready for the day it was my task to go make sure they were all awake and dressed as well. They had their own maid devoted to them, but most of them much preferred to wait for me to do their hair every morning. It became routine for me to spend most of my mornings with my hands flying to get everything done so I could maybe have a short rest before my lady required anything more of me.”

“Ugh, stop talking about when you were a servant,” the young Evonia groaned, giving her a disgusted look. “No one needs to remember you submitted like a dog.”

My mother cast her a sad look and let out a defeated sigh. At this point Evonia had fully latched onto the idea that we were now nobility, we had not yet learned about the House Drak’s plans for us to be royalty and I shudder to think how terrible she would have been had she known that lay in the future. From the moment the prospect of nobility and titles had been explained to her she had dropped all the whining and insistence my mother return us to our father’s house and had done a complete flip on how she referred to that small time in her life. For years of her short life she had insisted that my mother would be better off returning to the manor and her spot as a handmaiden so that Evonia could live in luxurious surroundings she felt she deserved, but now she was vehemently against what she newly saw as beneath her. After all the frustrating times she had tried to make a break for it in the market to find someone with authority that she was an escaped noble’s daughter so she could be returned, she now tiptoed lightly around those same people of authority.

“Your mother had little choice in where she ended up,” the man said, turning his attention to my sister, “you are young but surely you can understand that. People without titles have to submit to those with them, it is the way of things and your family has always been severely lacking in titles.”

“That does not mean she had to talk about it now,” she snapped. “That time is over, why does she feel the need to remind herself that she was some noble’s commoner whore?”

Even the present day version of myself reeled at such a thing escaping her mouth, though the young version of myself looked concerned between my sister and mother, she obviously did not quite comprehend what had just been said. My sister would have been about nine or so at the time, far too young to be using such language with such venom, though I couldn’t deny that it did sound very much like her regardless.

“That is not something you should call your own mother,” my mother scolded barely above a whisper. She looked incredibly hurt and embarrassed as she grabbed my hand gently and began to walk forward, hoping for it to be over with and forgotten.

“What should I call you then?” Evonia asked with a sneer. “A commoner whore is exactly how you keep describing yourself, thus it seems only appropriate to call you what you so fondly remember being.”

My mother did not stop walking away with me and did not even give a glance back to confirm if the other two were following us. Evonia looked proud of herself as she watched our mother walk away without further comment or punishment. She often did escape without discipline, she was the type to only double and triple down on whatever she had done to earn a punishment in the first place so my mother had given up trying to curb any behavior. Once Evonia found out you didn’t want her to do something, she endeavored to make sure she did it as often and obnoxiously as possible regardless of consequences.

“That was not very nice,” the man said with of note of disappointment in his voice. He looked down at my sister, a contemplative look on his face though his smile had still not faltered. “Why do you torment your mother like that? I have noticed on this trip so far that you seem to take offense at her very existence though without her you wouldn’t be standing here next to me now.”

Evonia sniffed with disgust and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I do not need to explain myself to some commoner. What happened to the royal family member that first came to us? He was respectful and worthy to be speaking to me.”

“I might remind you that until you reach the castle and my lord decides you are worthy of a title you are just a simple commoner as well, no better than those toiling in the fields and mucking out the manure from the royal stables.”

Her head snapped up to look angrily at the man, venom dripping from her features. “I will make you pay for that, the king is going to hear about how you disrespected me.”

“And what will he do about a spat between two commoners?” he pressed, his vexing grin widening. “It is no concern of his.”

The more I studied the mystery man the more uneasy I felt, there was something cloyingly familiar about him that I did not like one bit. I could only remember being around him for as long as it had taken to get to the castle but I felt that I knew him from someplace else as well though I could not for the life of me figure out where.

“It is every concern!” she exclaimed, stamping her foot in frustration. “I am to be trained to be a part of his court, I’m sure he does not expect me to grovel to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” he questioned with great mirth. “You have not a single clue as to who I am, you have just incorrectly assumed you know everything. I feel this is definitely a personality trait of yours, to walk into every situation and make snap judgments with absolute certainty based on nothing but your own arrogance. Seeing the future is not something I’ve been able to figure out with much accuracy as of yet, however anyone could see that you are going to make terrible decisions in the future. The worst part about it is going to be that you are going to defend every folly to the bitter end, even if it means things are worse off for everyone involved, including yourself.”

Evonia said nothing, eyes filled with fury, though she had broken eye contact and looked away, her cheeks reddening. It was unlike her not to have a sharp comeback, obviously she had found his assessment had merit and was struggling to find a way to argue against it.

“It is no matter,” the main continued, “your future, no matter the outcome waits ahead at the castle. I do hope you will take my suggestion to consider thinking a bit more about something other than the grandiose you hold for yourself in your mind, you will be much better off for it.”

“You know nothing,” she said, though she started walking forward on the path to the castle. She was unwilling to look at the man anymore and did not wait for him to start walking with her.

The dream started to fade as I felt my physical body become more wakeful. Usually these kinds of dreams tended to have a place or some sort of guidance but I failed to see what the purpose of this one was. Perhaps my mind was just starting to fail and all it wanted to do was reminisce about old times. Just before the dream completely faded the man turned away from the path and stared directly at me, his eyes glittering in such a way that I was convinced that though it was a memory he knew I was there watching in the past. I was completely certain now that I should know him and just as the realization of who he was about to crest in my mind his face wiped blank, like he had suddenly pulled a piece of flesh colored fabric over his head. I tried to focus as hard as I could to make out any sort of features, but it was gone and so was my hope at being able to place who he was.

The man no face let out a laugh, though he lacked any mouth to do so. “Been nice knowing you, Mari.”