A/N: Three more chapters until Heero's return home!

Disclaimers for this chapter: discussion of (fantasy) religion

Chapter 16

Upon reflection, I can see how my banishment plan failed.

First and foremost – I was working with the wrong audience. That list should have been for Heero's eyes alone, as he was the one who had suffered the most because of other-me and thus would be more receptive to plans that sent me away.

Second, I had doomed myself by not only rectifying everything other-me had done – but by going above and beyond, I had become endearing to these people. I was like a cute but dumb pet that they coddled, tasked with keeping me alive but also a source of entertainment. They didn't have very many other pastimes, so whatever I happened to get up to at least kept them on their toes.

So obviously I just had to rework it so that they were a lot more supportive of my eventual banishment. The first step to this was easy: become a lot less endearing.

"Quat, are you free?"

Baby blue eyes locked onto me from where I stood in the doorway of Quatre's personal study. Rashid, the only other person present in the room with Quatre, was staring at me with a slightly-slackened mouth due to my new nickname for his beloved leader; Quatre, to my annoyance, didn't even look phased.

It may seem like a small thing to people in the modern era, but calling Quatre with such a casual nickname did more than just denote closeness; given our positions and titles, this was more disrespectful.

If I wanted to get banished and save myself from the Heero-Relena love triangle, then I had to take up some of other-me's mannerisms – and being disrespectful to Heero's friends was a start. Of course, I didn't really know in what ways other-me had been disrespectful… But I'm sure this was close enough!

"Of course, Your Grace, did you need me for something?" Quatre asked, sending his trademark blinding smile my way. Jesus Christ, how did anyone tell this guy no?

Valiantly rallying myself up, I stiffened my shoulders. I was used to exuding confidence – but acting pompous was something else entirely. "Well, seeing as you're not doing anything useful with your time," Rashid stiffened up imperceptibly. "You may as well come for a stroll with me."

Quatre didn't so much as bat an eye. "It would be my pleasure, Your Grace!"

He really was making being mean to him very difficult. Did other-me not even have a sliver of a conscience?!

Quatre kindly escorted me out to the garden, Rashid and Mikhail trailing after us. (There was also probably another two Duchess guards hovering somewhere out of our line of sight, but I didn't want to know.) The garden wasn't in full bloom as it had been when I first arrived in this world. Winter was now in full force, and though the Yuy duchy did not have to face the snowstorms that touched down in some places back on Earth, a light dusting of snow was not unusual. Today it thinly carpeted the plants in the garden, but a path had been cleared by the staff earlier so we were not at risk of slipping.

"Being out here, I can't help but remember the Duke's face when your first letter arrived," Quatre began, voice wistful. "The one with the pressed pink camellia petals. It was a kind gesture."

I choked a little internally. All I could recall from that first letter was that it was Hallmark-level cheesiness, and since I had no idea about who I was even writing to, I'd gone with the most romantic stuff that came to mind. Now that he brought it up, I couldn't believe that was what I had sent a guy like Heero Yuy – god, those dinners after he returned were going to be AWFUL.

"I hoped he didn't feel too homesick after seeing them," I said. "Since he's been gone for so long, he may have forgotten what the garden even looks like."

That was a low blow, but I was desperate at this point. Making a snide comment about Heero's absence should be enough to push his friend's buttons.

Quatre beamed at me. "The state of the petals was lovely! I'm sure His Grace the Duke felt reassured to know the estate was left in such capable hands."

Ugh! Were my insults too passive-aggressive?! Why weren't any of them landing?!

I moved a little closer to a nearby flowerbed; it wasn't in bloom given the season, but that didn't really matter given that it was only a cover for the crop of garlic behind it. That's right, my little delicious seasoning babies, soon you will be ripe for the harvest…

"I'm sure the Duke will like your alterations to the garden as well," Quatre continued on lightly. "He prefers the utility of having his own vegetable garden."

"Then why didn't he grow his own?"

"…You didn't like the prospect so much back then, Your Grace."

Uggghhh!

I glanced back at Quatre – who was examining the leeks – before looking back at my garlic. Should I… Should I get rid of my vegetable crops then? Since Heero liked it, then of course other-me hated it, which meant if I wanted to succeed at emulating other-me so that the others disliked my presence here – then I had to follow in other-me's footsteps.

But… my food…

"Well," I choked out, memories of pickled meat resurfacing. Quatre turned to look at me with big, curious eyes. Why the hell did it have to be him that came back early?! I bet I would have an easier time annoying someone like Master Chang! "Well, I suppose I did have b-better taste… So we should…"

…my food…

"We should…"

God, I could practically taste that pickled pig's feet on my tongue!

Quatre was smiling at me, eyes expectant.

"…What did you do?!"

We both turned at the sound of Meilan's voice. She was coming towards us with quick steps, her expression rather stormy; I had no idea what set her off, but she definitely looked ready to fight. Maybe she heard about my rude words to Quatre earlier, prior to our disastrous little garden stroll.

I was surprised when she rushed right past me to stand in front of Quatre, hands on her hips. "I won't allow even you to bully the Duchess, Master Quatre!" she declared to him angrily.

"He wasn't!" Both I and Rashid cried out. Rashid froze, glancing at me in confusion.

Meilan turned to scowl at me. "Why are you protecting him?! You look like you're about to cry!"

I do?

"Ah, well, I suppose I was bullying him a little…" Quatre admitted, to my utter bewilderment. No matter how you looked at it, I was doing the bullying! "His Grace the Duchess was just trying to work up the nerve to tell me he wanted to get rid of all of his vegetable crops."

…Why do I keep forgetting this guy is psychic.

Meilan stared at me. "Why? You're the one that wanted them all planted."

Before I could force out the words other-me would have likely said in response, Quatre continued. "I suspect His Grace is trying to emulate who he was before the fire, in a bid to get us to dislike him and support his self-banishment plan for when the Duke returns."

God, Quat, give a man a little privacy in his own head!

Now Meilan was turning a glowering look on me. "You're what?"

"Don't worry, he's not nearly as cruel as he was before the fire," Quatre told her. What the hell did other-me used to say to these people?! "And every time he says something even mildly disparaging to me, he's wracked with so much guilt that he can't focus on my eyes."

"That's not fair, your eyes are a complete cheat, Quatre!" I hissed.

Quatre hummed noncommittally. I was starting to distinguish between his hums now: this one meant something along the lines 'I'm only humoring your poor, mortal concerns with a sound of acknowledgment out of pity, don't let it inflate your little dandy ego.'

…I may be misinterpreting it a bit.

"Wait, why do you call him by just his given name?" Meilan interjected.

I blinked. It was honestly just a habit now – he'd introduced himself to me as Quatre, and now it stuck. Quatre never corrected me, so I assumed he was fine with it.

"It's fine if he does," Quatre smiled at her brightly. "I prefer it, and His Grace seems more comfortable calling me familiarly. We're friends now, after all."

Wait, we are?

"We're friends too!" Meilan snapped, turning blazing eyes on me. "I demand you call me only by my name!"

"Uh, okay… Then you guys can just call me Duo then."

The look they both turned on me was indescribably condescending. "That won't be possible," Meilan said. "You are the Duchess. It's a title that must be shown respect."

Oh for god's sake. I finally make friends here and I still couldn't get anyone to call me by my damn given name. Why the hell did I even have one then?

"Don't worry, Your Grace," Quatre spoke up. "His Grace the Duke calls you by your given name."

"Stop reading my mind, Quatre."

"I would never, Your Grace." Uh-huh sure, you angel-faced lunatic.

Today was the day of decisive victory. I steeled myself, shoulders taut with tension; if I showed even the slightest bit of hesitation, they'd fold me in half like a lawn chair and stick me back into storage. I couldn't afford to be shelved again, and knew that if I didn't win this battle, then the novel may very well win the war.

"You're adamant about this, aren't you, Your Grace?"

Sitting across from Quatre and trying very hard to look every bit the Duchess I wasn't, I nodded imperiously. This was a point I was utterly unwilling to back down on.

Quatre matched my stare for a long moment, baby blue eyes gauging and calculative. God knows what was speeding through his mind right now, and I made sure I exuded as much stubbornness I could to ensure he could feel it.

With a sigh, Quatre leaned back in his chair.

I couldn't help my victorious grin. I win!

"To want to resume your physical training this much," the blonde murmured. "Perhaps there is some truth to Commander Broden's belief that you have lost faith in the competence of the knights."

I rolled my eyes – his guilt-trips weren't going to work on me anymore. "Oh shut up, you know that isn't it. I just want to be physically fit, okay?"

Quatre smothered a smile at my words. Swear to god, despite the angelic looks, Quatre had a sense of humor just as uncultured as mine.

"If the goal is physical fitness," Hilde spoke up, as if she'd been waiting for me to say the magic words. "Then doing some light running would suffice."

"No, I want to train like the knights!" Give me my goddamn abs back!

Hilde scowled. "A Duchess being as fit as a knight would be…disgraceful," she said delicately.

To who?!

"If Your Grace really wants to resume training, we as loyal vassals cannot stop you," Quatre interjected calmly. "Hilde, please notify Geralt that His Grace plans to restart his lessons, beginning tomorrow."

Hilde looked like she'd rather kill me, him, and also Geralt. She smothered this expression under a diffident look, pivoting and leaving the room with quietly clicking heels. Every step felt like another hour of sleep I would lose to my paranoia, kept up by the idea that maybe this was where Hilde would draw the line and finally give in to her urge to assassinate me.

It was only after we were left alone in my office that Quatre continued. "When you were unaware of my true identity, you mentioned you were training because if you didn't work out, you may die," he began. "Is this really about physical fitness, Your Grace?"

I know it's hypocritical coming from me, but curse Quatre and his damn good memory. I huffed out a sigh. "It's not…unrelated," I replied tentatively.

Quatre stared at me expectantly.

"I…often get into trouble," I admitted. "Way more than expected."

"Is this related to that 'karma' idea you mentioned before?"

I wish I could explain that this whole entire novel was trying to kill me. I couldn't get away without also going into the whole universe transmigration and body possession schtick though, and I wasn't sure what the penalty was for someone who inadvertently possessed a dead guy.

"Something like that," I shrugged. "I figure it's better to be safe than sorry."

Quatre frowned in thought. "I must admit that this seems like a lapse in the ability of our knights," he stated. "If the Duke knew that you were training in self-defense because you feared getting put in danger…"

He left that open-ended, which wasn't very helpful because I had no idea what Heero would think about that. Wouldn't he be relieved that other-me finally had some common sense beaten into him and wasn't expecting miracles out of other people? Did other-me really expect to be sheltered and protected his whole life, especially by people who he abused daily?

Quatre sighed. What did I do now?!

"Your Grace… Your existence is far more important to the people around you than you think…"

Well, I do sign most of their paychecks. I imagine it would cause a bit of a delay if I suddenly upped and died. Not to mention the funeral costs would be ridiculous, wasting both time and money. I wonder where all of my clothes and jewels go after I die too? Would they get passed along to Relena later, or would they sell them to try to make up the money my funeral cost?

"Alright, if you say so," I told Quatre consolingly.

He groaned a little to himself, burying his face into his hands in defeat.

Wow, rude.

For every possible action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. So in return for finally succeeding in my attempts to get myself physically trained, I had to pay the price.

Due to the greenhouse fire and my resulting "amnesia," I had been excused from a lot of activities that Duchesses and other nobility often partook in. Estate management and social tea parties were only the tip of the iceberg; as the Duchess of the Yuy province, I was expected to be more involved in the duchy mainstays.

Other-me had not been…great at it. That isn't to say he lacked the ability, as had been tacitly explained to me by Howard – it was more that he refused to do more than the bare minimum, and even that had been like pulling teeth. If nothing else, I had to give other-me credit for his sheer stubbornness; no matter how he was perceived by Heero's people, he never let that get in the way of his hatred. I kinda hated that we had that in common too.

Now that I was well enough to start self-defense lessons, Hilde and the others decided to punish me for my hubris and push upon me another Duchess duty: church visitations.

As I learned previously with my adventures with the church-run orphanages, the religion of the Sanc Kingdom was present but difficult to grasp. Despite the use of religious symbolism etched into their chapels – five star-like symbols in a loose circle – there wasn't much in the way of sacred rites. At least, there hadn't been in the novel.

According to Hilde – who had taken over teaching me Duchess Duties – the religion of the Sanc kingdom was patriarchal, similar to the Catholic Church back home: male clergy occupied the highest posts, although female clergy members could still become nuns.

Who wrote this book, and why the hell did they decide to keep the shittiest parts of religion in their fantasy novel?

"We wanted to thank you for your generous donations to our humble church, Your Grace," Father Corianolus simpered. We were standing in the open courtyard before the main church; despite the architecture being similar to the Christian churches back on Earth, the actual layout was a bit odd.

The church building itself was a humble structure, large enough only for the altar and a seating area with enough room for its parishioners. It was the rest of the property outside of this building that took up the most room: a residence hall for the clergy members who lived on-site laid on the eastern side of the church, running nearly the full length of the property. A large courtyard that stretched to about half the size of a football field was in the center, enclosed by exterior buildings that housed two libraries, a small art gallery, and multiple conference rooms on either side. To the church building's west were a scattering of small pavilions, meant for social activities with some privacy, all encompassed within a simple garden area that included a picturesque pond. The entire church property was fenced off with tall stone walls that were impossible to see over, the entrance hall at the front the only way to gain entrance.

I smiled at the priest's words. "I only did my duty as a loyal follower of…" I glanced back at Hilde; she silently mouthed the correct words back at me. "…Our God."

She had been adamant that paying a visit to the church was part of the duties of a duchess, and the maids had dolled me up accordingly. I didn't mind a nice little stroll (in a religious courtyard or not), but they'd shoved me into what I labeled the 'fancier' attire: a royal blue tunic pulled over a white high-collared undershirt, golden stitching in arching spirals down both sleeves, and tight-fitting white tights tucked into shiny, soft brown leather boots. They'd pulled half my hair up into an intricate braided pattern, kept in place with a golden hairpin inlaid with sapphires.

I'm pretty sure my outfit alone cost a month's supply of food for all the clergymen in this church, but I tried not to think about it too much.

Father Corianolus nodded in approval. "The Yuy family was blessed by Peacemillion, and they return those favors to their people," he said. "We were so relieved to hear that you've finally submitted yourself to Peacemillion and now act in God's name."

I continued smiling at him. What the fuck was he talking about?

"The Yuy house's devotion has never been called into question, of course," he continued, slipping into what almost felt like a patronizing tone. "When we learned that His Grace the Duke had become engaged to someone from the Maxwell family… well, I'm sure you can understand our initial trepidation!"

"Of course," I agreed, glancing back to stare murderously at Hilde and Mikhail, both of whom seemed vaguely uncomfortable and were looking anywhere but at me.

Father Corianolus beamed at me. "I must admit, I'm very curious about your change of heart, Your Grace," he said, dropping into a whisper that I'm sure both Hilde and Mikhail had been trained to hear so there was no point in bothering. I envied his ignorance. "Given the faith your family follows, it must have been difficult for you. Feel free to seek me out at any time for guidance."

"Thank you for your kindness," I said, feeling like nothing more than a yes-man.

The priest took us through the art gallery, showing us some of the paintings that Heero (and thus also me, given our whole married couple thing) had donated, along with some money they planned to use to renovate some of the exterior buildings. Hilde and Mikhail remained quiet and obedient as they trailed us, but I was already planning to grill them (and Howard) the moment I got back to the estate.

From the way Hilde had worded it, other-me should have been a devout follower of whatever religion Sanc followed. So why was Priest Kiss-Ass acting like I had been some kind of deviant?

"Would you like some time to pray, Your Grace?" Father Corianolus asked me, eyes expectant.

I smiled at him, then turned that same glittering smile on my little entourage who immediately tensed. "That would be wonderful," I agreed. "I'd love to give my prayers to Our God. Alone."

Hilde glared at me. "Your Grace—"

"I have Our God's protection within these walls, do I not, Father?" I cut her off. "After all, since I am such a devoted follower of Peacemillion, I should of course show my devotion."

Hilde's mouth snapped closed, a mulish look on her face as Father Corianolus enthusiastically agreed.

I traipsed into the empty church building with a smug grin thrown back at the peanut gallery. Sure, there were probably Duchess Guards crawling all over the exterior buildings, but at least I'd be alone inside the church. It was the first time in months I'd finally gotten a moment to myself, outside of when I laid in bed for the night!

My happiness lasted for all of ten seconds, as then I caught sight of another clergy member stood near the front of the room, right before the altar. He was a tall man, maybe even taller than Mikhail who looked to be a good 6', and much younger than the senior Father Corianolus. He was dressed in a much more casual robe than the older priest as well; the black robe was similar, but gone was the white scarf-like cloth Corianolus had draped over his shoulders, inscribed with the symbol of Peacemillion.

I don't know if it was the dim lighting of the interior – it was all by candlelight, few beams of daylight able to pierce through the narrow windows in the rafters – but the man's robes looked almost too dark. Faded colors weren't odd among the non-nobility, but this young priest looked as if he was wearing a starless night sky.

I couldn't help it – I stopped dead in my tracks.

He turned at the sound. He was younger than Corianolus, but still a handful of years older than myself or Hilde. It was hard to tell his hair color in this kind of lighting; it was darker than Quatre's, but certainly lighter than Hilde's – maybe a light brown or red? He was a handsome guy though, but I couldn't shake the feeling something about him was…off. Like he didn't quite fit the place where he stood.

"Have you come to pray, Your Grace?" he asked me with a smile.

Damn, he already knew who I was? I guess that made sense, we had informed the church we would be visiting ahead of time, so I guess they informed everyone who would be present at the time. That at least explained why the place was so empty; I'd expected a church to be more populous than this on any other day.

"Yes," I agreed, forcing my feet to move me closer. "I hope you don't mind me intruding…"

"Not at all, Your Grace."

The young priest moved only slightly aside, clearly expecting me to stand beside him facing the altar. I didn't know if that was appropriate or not, but since this was something he expected, I guess I should play along; I didn't want to be disrespectful. I'd spent too long trying not to get guillotined by the citizens that I didn't want to risk getting burnt at the stake by the church either.

Now that I was closer to him, I could vaguely make out a pale scattering of freckles over his face. The candlelight was too dim and flickering to gauge the color of his eyes, but they looked to be blue-ish, maybe. He was handsome, objectively-speaking, but nothing about him was very provocative to me; I guess I had been conditioned to not find anyone wearing a priest robe interesting. That was probably for the best. From this close, though, I could make out the stitching on his right sleeve, near the cuff of his wrist – it was a scythe outlined in pale silver threads.

I turned back to the altar. It was a small area sectioned off by gold-painted railing, a single marble statue stood in the center shaped like an open hand, the palm cradling five dissimilar spheres. The priest had referred to their deity as 'Peacemillion,' but that was the first time I'd ever heard of it – the deity of the Sanc Kingdom in the novel had never been named.

Thinking I may as well get this over with, I tentatively clasped my hands together in prayer.

There was a small huff of amusement next to me. I glanced to the side at the priest, who was looking at my interlocked fingers and smiling. "That's not the right gesture," he said softly, eyes moving up to lock with my own.

His words sounded so reassuring, like he knew exactly what I had been doing – which would be honestly surprising, given that I had no idea what I was doing. I guess it was good at least one of us thought they knew what was going on.

"Followers of Peacemillion pray like this," he corrected me gently, pressing his hands together palm-to-palm, fingertip-to-fingertip.

"Ah, right," I stammered out, flustered at being caught messing it up. "Sorry—"

"Do not worry, Your Grace, it's to be expected," the priest waved off with a small laugh. "You spent most of your years praying the way you are now, it's only natural you would do it reflexively."

…So the way I was doing it was still another way to pray, just not for this Church? Was everyone in this place a perfectionist?!

The priest dropped his hands, still smiling at me. "You should try avoiding doing that in front of others though. Father Corianolus isn't as understanding when it comes to things like this."

I stared at him in confusion. "Is it that big a deal?"

"They think it's heretical."

I separated my hands immediately. "What?!"

"When your hands are in that position," the priest resumed the same gesture as I had done, fingers interlocked and palms pressed together. "It's not Peacemillion you're praying to."

…Then who the hell am I praying to?

I recalled what Father Corianolus said about the Maxwell family – that somehow, Heero marrying someone from that family had caused some to question his faith. I didn't think anything about people questioning Heero's taste, given how awful other-me had been, but something tells me the good people of the church weren't upset with the Duchess's taste in finery.

"Is that what they consider my family?" I asked, as calmly as I dared. "Heretics?"

The priest kept his fingers interlocked, eyes moving away from me and towards the altar. It struck me right then why he looked so out of place – he didn't believe in the god being honored before him. "The Maxwell ducal family is unique for two things in Sanc: the first is their belief. It is not Peacemillion they invoke."

I wanted to ask what the hell they were praying to, but the priest moved first; hands relaxing and arms retreating to his sides, he turned to face me. The candlelight danced ominously over his face, but nothing about him seemed dangerous. He seemed almost comforting, as if some part of me knew I could trust him.

It was getting hard to focus; I felt oddly relaxed, in a way I hadn't been ever since I first arrived in this novel world. It was a feeling as if waking from a pleasant dream, back in my raggedy bed in NYC, curled up under my blanket with nothing to take care of in the near future.

"Do you know the second thing they're known for?"

I tried to refocus my attention back on the man before me, only now just noticing the fingers below my chin, tilting my head up to more squarely meet his gaze. From this distance, and with just enough illumination from the candlelight, I could almost make out the color of the pair boring into my own—

"Violet eyes."

Before I knew it, his hands were around my throat.

Something audibly clicked.

…Ah.

FInALLy

I

FoUnD

YoU.

My eyes slipped closed and I fell into the dark.

"…His Grace…unwell…"

"…don't…what is…"

"…doctor…"

Why was I always waking up to chaos? It feels like any time I woke up these days, I had someone beside me freaking out. I almost reluctantly cracked open my eyes, taking in the people clustered beside me looking ready to attack anyone that so much as glanced in my direction. Hilde was squaring off with a group of older men, including Father Corianolus, all of whom seemed very pale and not at all ready for her murder-eyes.

I weighed the pros and cons of Hilde starting an incident at the church before finally gearing myself up to move, managing to push myself up into a seating position before all eyes fell on me when I couldn't help a small groan. Why the hell did I ache all over? And why was I even laying down in the first place?

"Your Grace!" Lyle exclaimed, kneeling down beside the – cot? – I was on. "How are you feeling?"

I grimaced. Like shit. "What ran me over?"

"You were found unconscious in the church, Your Grace," Father Corianolus spoke up, squeaking in dismay when Hilde turned a murderous look on him. I empathized with him distinctly at that moment.

Mikhail handed me a cup of water after Mifune had taken a sip of it first. Holy shit, their paranoia was skyrocketing – they were testing for poison now?! "Were you attacked, Your Grace?"

"No one in this church would ever—" one of the other priests began to cry out, before Hilde and all five of my visibly present guards turned glowering looks on him. He shut his mouth with a snap and pale flushing.

I took a meditative sip of my water, trying to recall whatever had landed me here. I remember going into the church alone just to annoy Hilde and the others…

…there had been someone else inside!

"There was a man," I recalled aloud, catching their attention. "A…" Priest? No, that didn't sound quite right. He wasn't a parishioner, nor a clergyman – but I couldn't remember why he hadn't struck me as something dangerous, as something wrong.

"A man, Your Grace?" Mikhail prompted me gently.

A man in black… I looked over at the priests. Father Corianolus was the only one wearing the white cloth with Peacemillion's symbols, the other two in simple black robes. My eyes immediately went to their sleeves – but there was no stitching, the only decoration being the cuffs made from white and gold thread.

"Yes, but I don't…" I don't fucking remember anything else. I think we had been talking, but the words felt disconnected. Something about…prayer?

"His Grace is exhausted," Hilde cut in. "We will return home at once. Sir Mikhail, please investigate the premises and try to find the man who did this."

She turned a heated look on the clergymen. "I trust you will help our men secure this area? Whoever dared attack the Duchess would certainly be a danger to any churchgoer, after all."

They rushed to agree with her. I could only imagine how obvious the threat in her expression had been. Lyle looked ready to bodily pick me up and carry me away, but I made it to my feet before he could dare even ask. Mikhail took Mifune, Sayaka, and Berion with him to do as Hilde instructed, and I was ushered out by Hilde and Lyle back to the carriage.

The trip back was tense. I couldn't work up anything to say to distract them; I felt too drained, both physically and emotionally. I just wanted to go back home and pass out in my bed. I wonder if I could even skip bathing tonight if I looked tired enough?

I don't know what scary means they used to spread the word, but it was obvious that everyone back at the estate had been informed of my unexpected collapse at the church. As soon as I stepped into the foyer of the manor, Quatre, Meilan, and Howard were surrounding us. I'm glad Quatre had no shotels present, so I didn't have to worry about him storming into the church grounds and starting a ruckus. I glanced at Meilan, who was eyeing the doors like she was planning to start just that.

I knew I was super tired – because I honest to god didn't even want to stop her.

I wouldn't be able to rest until either they found the man I barely remembered, or I told them everything I know. Since the only thing coming to mind was a conversation revolving loosely around prayer and some odd tidbits about what mystery man was wearing, I hoped this conversation would be short.

I somehow managed to convince everyone to convene in my study instead of my bedroom, so I dropped gratefully into my chair and ignored the way Quatre twitched, like he was purposely restraining himself from dragging me to my bed. That was Hilde's job after all.

"Alright, to be honest, I have no idea what happened in the church," I started with a sigh. "I don't know what knocked me out, and going off the lack of pain and blood, I don't think I was harmed either."

"We found you passed out at the foot of the altar," Hilde contributed. "You had no physical marks but you weren't waking up."

At least that explained why I'd woken up in a cot in another room. "My memories are pretty fuzzy after I entered the church. I'm pretty sure there was another person there, a man, but I- I can't really remember him. We talked, I think, but I…"

I remember clasping my hands together in prayer, the same as I had done so many times back in the Maxwell Church. I thought it was a waste of time back then, and then in the church here, I was just going through the motions.

[That's not the right gesture.]

The words seemed to echo. That's right, that's what we'd talked about – how to pray. I wasn't praying to Sanc's god, Peacemillion, correctly, and the man— the priest? "He wasn't a priest," I muttered. "I'd thought he was, but he… He was different."

"Different how?" Meilan asked. "Was he the one who hurt you?"

Was he? He was there, but I don't know what knocked me unconscious. "I don't know," I felt like I was saying that a lot. "He didn't seem dangerous, just…weird. He was wearing black robes but it looked darker than the robes on the other clergy members. And there was something on his sleeve, a stitching—"

"Of a silver scythe?"

I blinked, surprised not just at Quatre's interjection – but that he'd been correct. "Yeah! It was on his right sleeve."

It was a testament to how long I'd spent with these people that I could immediately tell that this information put them on edge. It seemed like I was the only one not in the know again. "What is it?" I asked into the tense silence.

"…It's a symbol," Quatre began to explain. "He's not part of that church. He's a follower of the Harvester."

Well, that explained the farm tool stitched onto his robe, but why the hell did that seem so ominous? "So what, he prays to the god of farmers or something?"

Quatre shook his head. "The Harvester is… He's a representation of death, Your Grace. Followers of the Harvester pray to the God of Death."

So what, were they like a Satanic cult or something?!

Either the alarm showed in my face or Quat was using his psychic powers again because he continued on. "It's not a bad thing, Your Grace – they're not evil or dangerous. They just have a smaller following than the Peacemillion in Sanc, and it would be unusual if someone else had run into a Harvester believer in the church today."

…if someone else had? "So you're saying it's not unusual for me to run into a follower of the Death cult?"

"What's a cult?" That was Meilan.

"It's a religion, not a cult," Quatre corrected me. He looked kinda constipated; he definitely didn't want to be having this conversation, though I couldn't figure out why. "And no, Your Grace… The Maxwell family have been followers of the Harvester for generations."

[It's not Peacemillion you're praying to.]

I suddenly understood the expression on Quatre's face. The man in the church was not only a follower of the Harvester – he knew other-me had been as well. He knew what god my body had been praying to, and more than that, he knew I didn't.

"You think Duke Maxwell sent a spy?" Howard asked in alarm.

Quatre's brows furrowed. "It wouldn't be… completely unexpected. With the Duke still away and no letters from His Grace the Duchess, it's possible they got concerned and sent someone."

"But they wouldn't knock His Grace out and leave him lying in a pew!"

Their words weren't registering in my mind. I couldn't focus on anything but what I remembered about that man in the church. He had known that I didn't know about the Maxwell family, he had known that I was unfamiliar with the rites of prayer – both for Peacemillion and the Harvester. He had known that the family I claimed to be from were known for following only one of those gods.

And so had the people in this room.

"You said I was a follower of Peacemillion."

Their eyes turned to me. For the first time in a long while, I found I didn't care.

"You said a Duchess had to pay their respects to the church, to their faith. You told me that and you took me to the church of Peacemillion," I continued, not even sure who I was addressing. Hilde? Howard? Everyone in this fucking room? "To the church of a religion that I don't follow ."

I had gone to pay my respects because this was the religion other-me had followed. It was his body I had taken over, it was his duties and responsibilities that had become my own. They didn't know this – they thought I was still him, at least in the most basic aspect.

Amnesia made someone vulnerable. There were so many things about this world I didn't know, and it was the same for the body I inhabited. This was part of the reason why I never strayed from my role as Duo Maxwell-Yuy, why I worked to better my conditions rather than just disappear the moment anyone looked away. I relied on the people I was surrounded by, and because of my condition and how they perceived it, that reliance came with the implicit trust that they wouldn't lead me wrong.

I knew why they'd taken me to the church. Father Corianolus had mentioned it himself, hadn't he? The Yuy family were devout followers of Peacemillion, like most of the populace in Sanc; Relena must be as well, because religion had been so inconsequential in the novel that their deity had never been named. If Heero had had a choice, if the other nobles of Sanc hadn't turned up their noses at him because of a perceived inferiority, then surely he would have chosen someone whose faith was the same as his own.

Isn't that why his friends, his loyal subordinates who only wanted the best for him, convinced his amnesiac husband that he believed in the same?

I never thought to question them. I believed so whole-heartedly in the narrative – I was in the body of the villain; they were supporters and allies of the hero. They wouldn't do anything wrong, and likewise, I had to struggle tooth and nail to do everything right.

It didn't matter that I, myself, didn't believe in any of their gods, or even in any of the ones back home.

At least Father Maxwell had given me the choice.

The man in the church had told me more about what Duo Maxwell-Yuy believed in than any of the people in this room.

And that fucking hurt.

"When were you going to tell me I believed in the Harvester?" I asked. I felt the anger rise in my chest, but surprisingly, my voice came out perfectly icy – everyone in the room had flinched at the sound of it. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

Hilde couldn't meet my eyes. "I… I'm sorry, Your Grace…"

Meilan and Quatre only stood stiffly and awkwardly to the side – neither of them followed Peacemillion either, as far as I was aware, and yet no one seemed inclined to push them in the church's hands. Howard didn't say anything – which was funny, because he'd had no trouble telling me about the donations made to the church earlier today.

"I don't know anything about this place. I don't know anything about myself," I said; the heat of the anger was already in my throat. "That's why I trusted you to help me. I believe the things you tell me, I listen to your advice and I heed your warnings – because you know me. And yet you still took me to that church, and convinced me that it was Peacemillion I followed."

I'm aware that, in the grand scheme of things, I owed them far more than they owed me. The other-me that had burned up in the greenhouse had done awful things to every single person in this room, and I knew that I had to change that expectation. I tried to not just be a better version of the former Duchess, but also of myself – that's why I asked for permission, that's why I listened to their complaints, that's why I was always on the lookout for something I may have done wrong.

That they hadn't hesitated to lie to me for Heero's benefit was alarming.

"You took advantage of me," I ground out. "Do you think that I am just a blank slate that you are free to shit on?"

Hilde and Howard both dropped to their knees, hands flat and heads so low that their foreheads must have been touching the ground. Quatre and Meilan had instinctively straightened into almost military stances, shoulders taut with tension and arms straight at their sides.

I didn't much care. "Answer me."

"N-No, Your Grace," Hilde choked out. I couldn't see her face but I could tell she wasn't lying. "I-I have overstepped—"

"It was our mistake, Your Grace," Howard interjected. "We have no excuse for our actions!"

Of course they didn't. They'd done it because they thought it had been right. Like most citizens of Sanc, they followed Peacemillion; as loyal vassals of the Yuy estate, they followed Heero. When faced with a seemingly-reformed duchess who believed in nothing and had not cared to ask, wouldn't it only make sense to push him to the church they and their lord followed?

I was still fucking pissed though. "Get out."

The two prostrating themselves on the ground jumped to their feet. Quatre and Meilan were staring at me, obviously unsure if they were included in that order.

"I don't want to see any of your faces any time soon," I said coldly, looking over all four of them. "Get the fuck out of my study."

Hilde and Howard obediently fled from the room, and I never really got a look at their faces – so if they were enraged by my words, I didn't know it. Meilan looked torn, probably because she wanted to fight me or something for my attitude, but she was too honorable to hit someone who already looked dead on their feet. Quatre was the only one to give me a glance back, but I couldn't read the expression on his face. I was too pissed to care anyway.

It was only after the door clicked shut and their footsteps faded from my hearing that I finally stood. The anger had dissipated quickly enough, and with it the remaining bit of my energy – maybe I would just sleep in my study tonight. Who was going to lecture me, the guard hovering outside the window pretending to not exist?

I moved over to the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. I had been too distracted after waking up and during the carriage ride, so I hadn't noticed earlier… It was only after getting to sit down in my study that I realized I was feeling more than just tired and achy.

I pulled the top of my shirt collar down to fully expose my neck.

…where the hell did this pearl choker come from?

A/N: Y'all, I didn't realize it until now but you know what else you're getting in Arc II? An actual plot.

I was so distracted beating down my inner angst-writer that my inner horror-writer nearly took over. No worries though, I won't allow even the plot to dominate the comedy. I need to rest.

Anyway, please be kind and drop a review! :)