AN: NOW. I know I promised Saturday but this took a bit longer to write and edit than I hoped it would, soooo yeah, lol.

Thank you for the mild intrigue so far folks—I count 14 follows and 10 favs as a win (especially in comparison to my OTHER SI attempts that we will not speak of lol)

I also decided to take on *writing commissions!* What is that you ask? Like art commissions instead, you request some sort of writing thing (stories, poems, summaries, etc) and I shall provide if you hand over some cha-ching. Message me if you're interested!

ANyway, reviews!

Shine375: I'm glad, hope you enjoy this chapter too!

SilentAltair: Thank you! And I hope the coming drama from this chapter onward will hold your intrigue for the concept!

Okay, on we go!

II: No Thoughts, Head Empty

I was never good at handling stressful situations.

Something as insignificant as boss battles in a video game would throw me into an hour-long stewing session and tense scenes in a horror movie could spur me to leave a room entirely.

Then when it comes to exams, speeches, recitals, or carnival rides well…things get mildly more extreme. Getting yelled at by strangers is on said extreme side, and in this bizarre wonderland I've stumbled into, there are angry strangers aplenty.

Ah well. At least I'm in bed.

I, unfortunately, didn't knock completely unconscious when I fainted romantic heroine style about ten minutes ago in Mr. Vestra's arms. So as soon as my brain went up and running again, I was escorted out of the murmuring throne room held up my knights, given to maids, and gently propped in bed.

I was happy at first (see romantic heroine), getting to rest my dizzy head as fussing maids pressed cold rags to my forehead, fanned me, and placed a breakfast tray atop my legs for me to fill my belly with. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I bit into a mini quiche and my stomach twisted painfully, and that was nothing compared to how thirsty I was; my glass was filled five times within one minute.

Then while I was about to eat a delicious-looking strawberry tart, angry adults filed in, the maids were forced to the sidelines, and minus the eerie plague doctor-looking people, I was in the exact same scene I was when I first woke up.

I've been getting jabbed at ever since.

"What is the meaning of this!" Mr. Beady Eyes demands, his round face is scrunched in an unattractive scowl. "Why is the Crown Princess fainting at the prospect of a mere speech?"

He whirls on me and I flinch, quickly busying myself with the glass of water in front of me. "What happened to your training? Your poise, your grace?"

It never existed, Mr. Beady Eyes. I'm sorry.

"She is not well," Mr. Vestra snarls from beside my bed. "But when the sane among us attempted to forewarn you and your impatient ilk—"

"Watch it, boy," Mr. Beady Eyes snaps. "The only reason you still remain among us is—"

"Enough," Mr. Violet Eyes speaks now. "Lord Vestra is right, Edelgard is not fully recovered. Perhaps forcing her out so soon was…hasty on our part. However, at least the people have visual proof that she is alive and well—"

"They are concerned, Lord Arundel," quiet Mr. Ionious utters, staring sadly down at me. "They've seen El alive, yes, but her fainting clearly shows that she is not well."

"Indeed," another man says. He has lavender-colored hair and a matching goatee (what is with the genetics in this place? Curious). His grey eyes lock and narrow when they meet mine and I shrink further beneath my comforters as I slowly chew my tart.

Again, I hate this.

Minus the breakfast.

"This frankly abhorrent display from our Crown Princess has not shown Fódlan a powerful and resilient young woman overcoming deadly odds, it shows a lucky woman stumbling out of hardship by the skin of her teeth."

"I propose we show them her new Crest," another man with dark green hair and square glasses suggests. "There will be no doubt that—"

"No, no, no, you fool," Mr. Purple waves off.

I sigh as I saw my omelet in half with my fork. Really, why was me fainting causing such a ruckus? I pause when I feel eyes on me, and turn to see Lord Vestra frowning at the unused knife beside my plate, then at me.

I smile weakly at him before awkwardly trying to use the stupid thing. I jab my fork into the egg before sawing and separating it from the rest with the knife.

It slides off my plate and splatters atop the tray's elegant frilled table cloth. It doesn't look like anybody's noticed; too busy throwing ideas around about what to do with me, but I don't look up at Lord Vestra as my cheeks warm.

"I propose an exhibition," Mr. Beady Eyes proclaims. "Her Highness can showcase her skills with the battleax and sword before the empire—it will be enough proof of her strength as any ."

'What?' My mind exclaims as my eyes widen in horror and I jerk my head up in shock. It's then that I realize that everyone is staring at me.

"You have objections, Princess Edelgard?" Mr. Beady Eyes sneers.

…did I say that out loud?

Swallowing thickly and shimmying upwards, I clear my throat. "No—well I—well—" a thick clump of hair flops onto my face, the braided bun having gotten loose after the fainting spell. I blow at it in frustration for a few seconds before cramming it behind my ear, taking in a deep breath, and clearing my throat again.

Mr. Ionious looks extremely worried, Lord Vestra's stunned, everyone else is either annoyed or amused and my cheeks are on fire.

"Ah…well axes are…well they're heavy. And y'know I'm not. Meaning—well you know I'm weak…right now so…no," I say with award-winning eloquence.

Silence.

I slide down in the bed again and nibble on a forked piece of the omelet to fight the urge to bury my beet-red face in my hands.

"I…believe what Edelgard is attempting to say is that she is, as we've established unwell," Mr. Ionious says slowly as he eyes me oddly. So far, bewilderment is the only other emotion he's shown outside of sadness. "If she cannot—" he pauses to cough into his fist. A nearby maid hands him a handkerchief but he waves it away as he swallows whatever phlegm came up.

"If she cannot walk down an aisle, she certainly cannot do anything regarding combat," Lord Vestra finishes for him. He's staring at me too, but I can't read what exactly he's feeling—it's probably nothing good though.

Christ, just how off character am I acting from the original Edelgard?

"A month is plenty of time to recover," Mr. Beady Eyes scoffs. "She should be well by then, I'd think."

There's no way I'm learning how to ax wield and sword fight in a month, let alone have any skills in any department. It would seem that they're all just setting themselves up for crippling dissatisfaction, which means that I'm gearing up to get yelled at again.

Sigh.

"It should be sooner," Mr. Purple insists. "The news of the Crown Princess fainting will spread like wildfire!"

"News of her fainting at an exhibition will spread far faster given the much larger crowd," Lord Vestra challenges with crossed arms. "Unless that is what you want…"

Mr. Violet Eyes—Lord Arundel—inclines his head. "An exhibition in one month's time. That feels prudent."

There are murmurs of approval from everyone except Mr. Ionius and Lord Vestra.

"Excellent, now let us end this meeting by officially crowning the Princess."

"We've never had a Coronation without fanfare in eons," Mr. Purple sighs with what sounds like genuine agony. Drama Queen.

"Try a century," Mr. Beady Eyes sneers.

"Now, now, friends; there's always her ascension to Empress," Lord Arundel says as he snaps his fingers and a servant takes my unfinished breakfast tray away. I let out a pathetic noise of protest before another tray with an embossed parchment, ink well, and quill is set in front of me.

I've always been a reader, but that love only extended to novels and never so much as brushed Terms of Service junk so I don't read it at all. Also, I'm too hangry to care either way and also, also, it's not as if I can refuse.

At the bottom of the page are several of those overly cramped loopy signatures that I've never been able to read (and surprise, surprise still can't) and an open spacing for me.

I hope quills are like ink pens.

Sitting up again and taking a deep breath, I dip the quill into the ink and begin to write my name. Three letters in, however, and I realize that I'm writing my real name.

I curse under my breath before attempting to scratch the stupid letters out with the quill. The moist paper and the sharp quill tip instead work together to tear the pretty parchment at its corner.

The room is silent again, my face is molten, and I'm not stupid enough to look at anyone else's.

With a shaking hand, I move my quill over the splotchy mess and write a wiggly "E" before pausing.

I don't how to spell "Edelgard" and I have no clue what her last name is, or what title I need to add, and how stupid would it be for me to say I don't remember my own name?

I feel sweat beading on my brow as the room's atmosphere chills.

"El?" Mr. Ionius utters gently. "Is everything all right?"

El.

I can spell El.

I write two "l"s and another "e" at the end before nodding confidently.

E-l-l-e.

Elle.

Right, okay. This was something and I hoped they had the mercy to deal with it.

I tense slightly as Lord Arundel squints at the paper and then me, then the paper, then me again.

I give him a sweet smile that I'm sure looks more like a grimace and he gives me a look of such poison that I wince yet again.

The paper is crushed unceremoniously in his fist and erupts into flame, causing me to jump in shock. "We're done here," he says in a clipped tone as he heel turns dramatically and walks towards the doors.

Mr. Beady Eyes touches his wrist before he can leave, however, and says in a low voice that I'm sure he wants me to hear, "It would seem pressure doesn't always make diamonds."

I don't even know him or what exactly he means but the insult hurts badly.

As I sigh and flop back into the bed, I see Mr. Ionius spare me a sad frown before he leaves, and young Lord Vestra is watching me. He pauses and narrows his eye as if he wants to say something, but then shakes his head and leaves with the rest.

Well. That went about as well I expected it to.

I groan and close my eyes as I flop an arm over my face. Give me back school work, at least I semi knew what I was doing and wasn't puppeteering someone else's body while simultaneously ruing their reputation with some Freaky Friday shenanigans.

"Can I have my breakfast tray back, please?" I ask the waiting maids subduedly.

I don't leave bed that day as I fall in and out of sleep, and (thankfully) nobody comes to visit me.

The next day when the maids wake me up, however, I'm a girl on a mission.

I can't keep spewing nonsense at people, 40% because I'm a Princess now and unlike Old Me, messing up could screw over a whole lot of people, and 60% because getting constant berating from the Insult Squad is not a life I want to live, thank you very much.

So as I get a dose of—magic—(my mind's still reeling from that more than anything else), from a new magic lady and get dressed with minimal wincing and shrinking away, I lay out my plan.

One, breakfast. Two, I ask someone to escort me to the library. Three, I fill the cobwebbed bookshelf that is my mind with some information, and et voila, my life becomes simpler.

I'm dressed simpler today unsurprisingly, half my hair is in a crown braid like yesterday but the rest hangs loose in elegant waves. I like the dress at first, with its breezy cream fabric embroidered in roses and the frilled off-shoulder sleeves attached to silk spaghetti straps—but then I'm handed a pearl white bolero.

"I think it would look nice without it," I speak up, and the maid holding it pauses with a frown. She and the others turn to the elder head maid and she smiles lightly.

"Her Highness looks beautiful as is," the head maid agrees hesitantly. "But we've been commanded to ensure your…" she glances at my body before looking away.

Oh. I glance down at the crisscrossed scars over my shoulder and arms before shuddering. I suppose when you're stressing over a position way above your school grades you tend to forget mystery scars.

And now that I remember, I wish I hadn't. I don't know where they come from or why I have them but I'm stuck with uncomfortable shudders and a sinking feeling in the pit of my chest.

"Couldn't you just…cover it up with makeup? Or paint?" I try. Not just for appearance's sake; it's disturbing to look at for myself.

The maids glance at the head maid again and she hums before nodding. "I do think that could work."

I hope I don't get led poison, but seeing as how I'm covering up apart of someone else's identity with little regard to their say, I feel I may, might, to an extent, deserve it.

I feel caked up and sticky once they've briefly removed my dress and slathered me in creams and powder. I also feel…well a bit guilty; see previous thought.

The guards outside my door give me a baffled look as I exit. "Magic of makeup," I explain with a light smile as they both nod simultaneously and lead me to the dining room.

Except "Dining Room" doesn't give the gorgeous area enough credit. It's floored with white marble and surrounded by wide windows framed with crimson curtains, then dangling above the long oak wood table is a crystal chandelier glittering in the sunlight.

I pause to marvel at the place for a moment with an awed breath of, "Wow…" before focusing my attention on the dining table.

There are three people there already—Lord Vestra, Lord Arundel and—

"Daughter," Mr. Ionius smiles. "You appear to be doing well. I see the maids used—Edelgard?"

'Daughter?!' I stumble in shock and the knights catch me swiftly. "I…I'm fine," I say quickly, using my lovely smile/grimace. "Heels. They're trippy, y'know? A-and the floor is a bit slippery…"

Mr.—Emperor Ionius frowns worriedly at me still, while Lord Arundel scowls and Lord Vestra narrows his visible eye slightly.

I duck my head and clear my throat. "I, ah—long story short, I'm fine."

Still, the knights hold me firm until they lead to me a seat that a butler swiftly pulls out for me and sit me down like a toddler. I'm across from the Emporer and thankfully five chairs away from Lord Arundel who've I've decided I don't like. I don't dislike him as much as Mr. Beady Eyes and Mr. Purple but he's a winning bronze.

"As…I was—" he coughs deeply but briefly before dabbing his mouth with a napkin and handing it to the butler. "As I was saying, El," he says as he clears his throat and silently accepts a fresh napkin. "as this has been our first official breakfast together in… some time, I've decided to do something special for you."

As if on cue (which in all honesty, probably was), servants place several covered platters across the crimson table cloth before removing the cloches with a flourish that is well, well deserved.

It's a dessert paradise—neatly stacked plain, blueberry, and cinnamon pancakes, ice cream of all different hues, warm buns shining with honeyed glaze and powdered sugar, wobbly jello mountains topped in berries and flowers—

I cough on the saliva I didn't know was spilling from my mouth and quickly wipe the drizzle from my chin. Lord Arundel wrinkles his nose and Lord Vestra frowns slightly from the corners of either eye.

The Emperor just smiles softly. "I knew you would be pleased. You and sugar go together like Adrestians in red."

It's nice to know I share some things with Edelgard.

I file the comment about Adrestians in my cobweb library as I grin excitedly at him. Lord Vestra jolts beside me but I ignore him as I gush, "This is amazing! Thank you—" I hesitate briefly before adding, "Father."

The word tastes absolutely awful on my mouth, even as his smile broadens by a minute fraction. I make another note to file away—never call him that again.

He was Edelgard's father, not mine.

Again with the "was…"

The Emperor thankfully doesn't notice my rapid change in demeanor as he's distracted by Lord Arundel who tightly says, "Is it wise to fill her body with such foolishness at this time?"

The Emperor's smile fades and his grey eyes harden like ice floes as he says, "With all due respect, Arundel, my only child needs some semblance of happiness in her life."

I hear his voice break slightly at the word "only" and it gives me pause. I file that away too.

"She can have happiness later. She clearly has other things to concern herself with," Lord Arundel drawls as he stares critically at my fork sawing hand.

I fight the urge to scowl and roll my eyes. What's so improper about eating with just a fork anyway? Still, I make yet another note to practice using knives with my food.

Beside me, Lord Vestra clears his throat while I'm pouring custard on my pancakes, so I turn to him with a casual, "Mhm?"

When he frowns, I'm reminded that "casual" isn't a Princess thing—or at least it wasn't an Edelgard thing.

"Lady Edelgard," he says slowly, a single eye burning into my soul as I swallow nervously. "You appear…" he pauses, gaze sliding down my arm.

I follow his gaze and watch as he places a finger underneath the small custard pitcher and tips it back, saving my poor pancakes from drowning.

I flush and give him a thankful smile he doesn't return as he continues with, "You appear better."

I nod. "I am, thanks." oh crap, should've said, "thank you" or something overly flowery like…" I thank you," or something…

He stares at me for a few moments longer before returning saying, "That is all I wished to relay. You may return to your breakfast, Princess."

I nod again, reminding myself to speak flowery this time as I say, "Again, thank you for your concern, Lord Vestra."

Ah-ha! Nailed it!

His eye widens briefly before he frowns in what seems to be thought, turning back to his meal.

…or not. Did I flip flop too horribly?

I suppress a self-deprecating groan while more people enter—two of them being Mr. Purple and Mr. Beady Eyes—the others are a few more nobles who'd been snickering and scowling at me yesterday and one boy about my age.

I assume he's Mr. Beady Eyes's son; they're both pale, tawny-eyed gingers with sharp noses, but I find the boy to be a lot better looking. They're murmuring quietly to one another, the boy's brows knit in discomfort, and as they near the table he sighs softly in what seems to be resignation.

He then turns to me and smiles lightly, pausing to wait as a butler pulls out the seat for him. "Princess."

I smile hesitantly back as I wipe my mouth with the nearby napkin. "Hi," I say.

He nods slowly, brow pinching lightly in confusion. "Erm…hi," he responds awkwardly.

His father raises his eyebrows from across the table from him, and the boy frowns back in a bewildered silent question.

Oh hell, I should've said "hello"!

I want to sink into the floor and die.

"I'm glad to see you've recovered," he continues. "I hear you're going to have an exhibition in a month's time?"

Unfortunately. "That's right."

"You'll be up to it by then?"

No. "Hopefully," I smile.

"Be certain, Princess," he says smiling smugly. "For I won't go easy on you."

"Stellar empathy and tact as always, Ferdinand," Lord Vestra drawls with distaste.

I silently thank Lord Vestra for the name reveal and slide it into my bookshelf as well.

The boy—Ferdinand—flushes. "I—it wasn't my intention to be inconsiderate! Why must you taint everything I say?"

"Everything that spills from your mouth is liquified rubbish; no tainting required."

"Showcasing a lack of respect for your superiors, Vestra?" Mr. Beady Eyes sneers as Ferdinand splutters, the rest of the table either sighs, ignores the commotion or leans in forward, and I busy myself gulping water.

Hoo boy.

"Tell that to your son."

"Again! I—!"

"Princess Edelgard is now the most powerful person in all of Fódlan and if she cannot fight my son—"

"Enough." Lord Arundel snaps coldly, and silence covers the table.

Quickly, the breakfast becomes less scrumptious as I rush to fill my belly so I can get my moronic self into a library and remove myself from the heavy atmosphere.

Also, ax-wielding. I need to learn ax-wielding.

As I finish and am helped up from my seat, The Emperor says, "Edelgard. You may have the rest of the day off but before dinner, meet me in the meeting room."

Wherever that is.

I incline my head and smile in understanding anyway, not wanting to say anything that could further incriminate me of brain damage.

The knights thankfully don't seem suspicious of the fact that they're leading me instead of following me, and the library isn't too far from the Dining Room. It's also just as grand and beautiful too, sporting the same red accents and dark wood. The windows are just as large, spilling sunlight against floating dust motes and giving the whole place a cozy feel.

Now. Research.

It was the bane of my existence back home, but at least there I had the glorious creations that were Google and YouTube to speed things along. Seeing as how everything I've seen so far is giving very much, "Run of the Mill Fantasy Land", it's safe to say I won't have that privilege here.

Then again, studying fantasy worlds does sound more fun than finding the difference between plant and animal cells or memorizing the abstract snooze fest that is Math. Maybe this'll be like fandom research.

The knights wait by the doorway as I browse the bookshelves humming. I pull out things that sound either important or interesting; "An Atlas of Fódlan" "Adrestia: a History" "Etiquette for the Uneducated" "The Roots and Branches of Adrestia's Nobility" "Beautiful Crimson: A Guide on Adrestian Culture" "100 and 1 weapons and their uses", "Magical Basics". I also grab "The Grand Book of Fairy Tails" for leisure.

Plopping my stack atop a coffee table, I take the atlas down first and spread it open.

Fódlan. That's what this place is called. And unless this is a ye olde time-y name for Canada or something, I am not on Earth anymore.

I sink back into the sofa chair and swallow a painful lump. I should've seen this coming, really; "Adrestia" wasn't an Earth country, but seeing it all laid out like this is—

Focus.

Okay…the continent has two other countries besides Adrestia that I can't pronounce; Faerghus and Leicester. The atlas has brief little footnotes on each, giving a lot of intention to Faerghus's frigid climate.

Huh. Maybe this place is ye olde time-y Canada.

I quickly put this book aside, however; I have more pressing things to worry about than geography.

I pick up the etiquette book next, pouring over the neatly water-colored illustrations of smiling noblewomen in fancy gowns showcasing the dos and don'ts of the most mundane things—sitting, eating, walking, breathing, smiling? good God.

I let out a tired breath and feel the all too familiar Studying for More than Five Minutes stomach ache and headache combo coming on before slamming the book shut.

Next.

I pull out the Roots and Branches book; probably the most important one here seeing as how it consisted of pages of the family tree of noble families and most importantly Edelgard's.

"Von Hresvelg," I read under my breath as I slide my finger across the name at the very beginning of the book. I try committing the spelling to memory; I have a feeling I'll have to re-sign that parchment thing soon.

Once I've mouthed the spelling to myself a few dozen times, my eyes travel across the glossy pages. At the very top is a man named Wilhelm, the rest I skip over because I'm 80% sure I won't be interacting with the ghosts of Edelgard's ancestors.

When I reach the end of the family tree one page away, I pause. The Emperor is there, albeit less depressed looking, and out of his several lovers I find Edelgard's mother. There are two portraits there; her with the same brown hair as the portrait girl from her room and a younger boy with the same hair.

Frowning, I count the portraits of the children underneath the other women who would've been Edelgard's half-siblings. Ten. Again, Math had always been the bane of my existence, but even a brain-dead idiot like me can put two and two together.

The Emperor's voice breaking at stating I was his only child, the constant hinting from the nobles that something horrible had happened before I woke up, on top of which, I wouldn't need to be crowned if I'd been heir from the moment I'd been born—Edelgard had been far down in line if I'm getting this right.

Something happened to them, something terrible—to Edelgard too if the scars and the shock of white hair contrasting her previous brunette said anything.

I take a handful of that hair now and hold it in front of me with a frown before letting it go. But what? What happened and why had Edelgard been the only survivor?

Wait…no. That's all wrong, isn't it? Edelgard wasn't a survivor, she died too. I'm just taking her corpse for a joy ride.

And it hasn't fully dawned on me until right this very moment.

She didn't just scooch over while I took the reins, she wasn't in some sort of limbo—she was dead. I was impersonating a dead girl.

I slam this book shut too as tears spring to my eyes yet again and my dearest friend pre-puke bile shoots up my throat.

"Intriguing books of choice."

I gasp and jump in my seat, causing the book in my hands to fall with a thud. A hand picks it up before I can and I follow the arm it's attached to with a flinch before vigorously wiping at my eyes.

"U-uncle," I say awkwardly, and that, like "father" feels weird on my tongue.

"Niece," Lord Arundel drawls cooly, looking down at the book I dropped before his gaze slides over the remaining ones atop the desk.

I sit up straight and swallow thickly before grimace smiling at him. "What's so interesting about my books?"

He tosses the family tree book atop the table and the thud makes me flinch again as he gives a hard look. "I assumed you were making a mockery of me on purpose but you seem...genuinely confused," he begins before tilting his head to the side. "But that simply can not be. Why would royalty-raised Edelgard with all her tutors and noble experience need to read a book on etiquette? Why would a girl drilled on the names of all her ancestors and their deeds for years be interested in her family tree?"

He places his hands on either side of the armchair and leans forward with narrowed eyes as I lean back with wide ones. "So answer me this; what excuse do you have for this..baffling and embarrassing behavior?"

I open and close my mouth repeatedly as I struggle to find a response. What am I supposed to say? I'm a soul from another world who knows jack diddly about etiquette and noble family trees? I'll probably be executed guillotine-style! Or hanged, or stretch wracked, or boiled in oil, impersonating royalty can't be legal.

Um, casual reading? Was Edelgard a causal reader though? And that doesn't answer why I'd be reading stuff for newbies. Wait!

"I've been...gone for a while," I say slowly, hoping that information is accurate. "I came here for a bit of a refresher. That's all."

There's a pause before Lord Arundel nods slowly. "You understand, however, that this behavior is inappropriate for a future Crown Princess."

I turn away from his hard gaze and nod lightly. "Yes, sir."

"I want you presentable as soon as possible; any weakness you show reflects poorly on me and that is something I simply will not accept. If this…memory of slip of yours isn't resolved soon…"

His words hang in the air like a sword poised over my neck, and after glaring at me for a moment longer he pushes away from me and leaves me in rattled silence.

I shudder violently as I hug myself. I've only just started this second chance at life and I'm already getting hit with an "or else".

I hate it here.

AN: Was debating whether Hubert would show up for this final confrontation but I can see him busily mulling over theories as to why Edelgard is so different personality-wise while Arundel would be ticked off at her lack of etiquette and poise.

Anyway, with chapter two done I'm off to write chapter 3. Hoping to get it up for Saturday (for real this time) so stay tuned for that!

Hope you lovely people enjoyed, love ya!

Fantasy Fan OUT!