Aye here's Erika's one shot since Princess and The Pauper was suuuuch an underrated movie

OH and if you looove the song "A girl like you/me", there's this really good animatic on YouTube, you should really check it out!

anyway, since this is a random oneshot collection, you can add requests in the comments soO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT

LIGHTNING

"Lightning strikes twice,

and it burns like ice

i wish I didn't love you, but I do."

Her heart thudded continuously, increasing in speed with every passing moment and it's like she has to remind herself to do something every human shouldn't even have to put effort into doing; breathing. Slow intakes of fresh, crisp air filled her lungs almost refreshingly, but she was anything but refreshed.

Erika was pacing about like someone who's wife just went into labor. Continuous pacing in the same spot and she was sure that by the time she was finished there would be a hole where her feet padded at for hours. But she couldn't help the clammy hands, the dry throat and aching head, not to mention her erratically beating heart.

It couldn't be happening.

It shouldn't be happening.

But it was.

If Julian did not arrive sooner with Annelise, she would be a doomed woman, in both ways. She would go to prison, and Dominic would be- her heart gave an unwilling lurch at his name. But she would still be in prison for committing a crime that was needed to do good; she was posing as the Princess while her tutor has begun his search for her while at the same time trying to prove Preminger of treason and she couldn't have thought herself more stupid even if she tried. After all, what kind of nut job would even think that such an action could be considered a walk in the park?

Her stupid mind, clearly. She wasn't even suffering the consequences yet and she was already feeling faintish. She didn't eat that night, she could feel the bile acidically bubbling up in her stomach in the most uncomfortable ways, and she was sweating, she had already sweat through two gowns, and it was barely spring. The worst part was, she was drenched in cold sweat and she was shivering and lightheaded, and her face was also sickly pale.

Erika wondered why she even agreed to go through with the plan.

"It's okay," She breathed, placing her hands up trying to calm herself as she swallowed the lump forming in her throat as her head weighed down with the yet to come consequences for the horrendously wonderful- was it really wonderful? Their plan to exploit Premingers intentions while finding the missing Princess?- deeds.

Her heart didn't seem to agree, only increasing in the number of beats making it harder to breathe through the panicking state she was in.

"You're fine." She said louder, but her voice shook as she stared at the reflection of the large mirror, the candles that encased the room with light held the warmth and comfort and she just wanted, wished for it to comfort her in any way. She stared at her reflection; she was a mess, physically and mentally at that point. Whether morally fit there as well was debatable.

The only thing was, she could always conceal her eyebags with some creamy powder and paint her chapped paling lips with a rich rose shade of lipstick, and massage her tangled, stringy, knotted mess of brunette hair with some oils- not that she would be letting her natural waves down anytime soon while posing as a Princess, but it would be nice.

But the mess her mind was could not be fixed even with the highest amount of assurance, she would have to be certain that things would go okay.

Erika's throat dried and she found it harder to swallow the lump in her throat. Shaking her head slightly, massaging her temples with one hand as the other fell limply at her side, she trotted towards the desk, the baby pink robe around her trailing silently as she picked up the glass pitcher with her hand, carefully pouring an adequate amount into a small glass.

She shivered slightly as a harsh breeze blew by, channeling the rain towards her, a few droplets going through the window as their weight was carried by the winds. Wincing as the cold hit her arms, she reached over, grasping the edges of the window and shut them, slipping the lock into place with a sigh.

A stroke of lightning lit the midnight sky, and her heart dropped as her memories flashed.

Erika hated those kinds of storms.

She was no older than five, living in the basement of some middle class woman's house. Her mother was a chef, her father a butler, a stable boy on a good day when the tavern the woman owned was in use. She pressed her hands against the cold glass, staring at awe as the tiny clear droplets of water splashed down quickly. When her parents were late she used to pretend the drops were horses, and she would race them to see which ones hit the bottom of the dirty window first. She cheered when diamond, the biggest droplet slipped into the windowsill, then off to the street, adding to the pool of water the city was slowly flooding with. Nothing major, just a few inches of water that could soil ones shoes was all.

She was a little too big for the clothes she fit in when she was two, though her bones needed strength and her stomach needed food necessary for her growth, they were surely forming. She had to have the sleeves and collar ripped off for her to fit in the dress she was wearing, and the cloth was tied around her waist since the buttons refused to hold up her dress any longer. Winter was approaching, and the woman, Madeline, had been generous enough to raise the pay for her parents, so what they didn't gather for the debt they were in, they collected the spare coins to get their daughter a fitting dress of thick material to keep her warm during harsh times, as the blanket she had since she was a baby refused to keep her toes warm, landing in her almost catching frostbite, causing Madeline to refuse to let her anywhere colder than e fireplace during winter, knowing she would wander off.

She would always see noblemen and women pass through town occasionally in their carriages, all dolled up and beautiful. But what would always catch her attention would be the gowns that adorned their figures. She would like how the dresses puffed up in areas, and how the colour of the stitching string could alter the image of ones figure. Erika sighed dreamily, she would love to make one of those one day.

And that day came sooner than expected. She was shoved into Madame Carps dress industry at the age of six when Madeline, who was paying the rest of the debt her parents hadn't lived to pay had to leave for an emergency medical, unable to pay the rest of the money.

At age six she was forced to sweep the floors and walk, barefoot, three miles for a single egg if she wanted breakfast.

At age six she had bled so much from pricking her fingers on practice stitches one could wonder if there was an attack.

At age eight she had to sew shoes for her cold, numb feet when her old ones had more holes in it than a dead man at war.

At age nine she had to sew dresses for the middle class, and when she failed she had no dinner.

At age nine she grew a backbone, and the willpower to do what she loved freely struck in.

At age ten she ignored the hardship and daydreamed about owning a small room in the city.

At age eleven she was brought into the city for the first time, she heard music.

At age twelve, she still couldn't kick off the song and tune.

At age thirteen, she wanted to sing.

At age fourteen she started sneaking out to save some money for herself, she only had a few coins to that day.

And all that would go to waste if she got arrested.

At remembrance of that she took in a sharp breath and forgot how to exhale for a few seconds. She shouldn't feel surprised, it was silly, the consequences for posing as a princess wouldn't have no punishments, it was simply ridiculous. Another thing that was ridiculous was how she was enjoying being treated like royalty, and it made her guilty. It made her feel sick.

Why would how even think that, Erika? She mentally scolded herself. That's like saying you're glad the Princess is missing.

She felt dread eating her alive and she partially regretted not taking dinner that night. Heavens no, she would never wish a terrible fate for Annelise -there you go addressing her by the name, you're getting too accustomed to being pampered, remember, you're just a street rat- she would do anything if it assured her friends- don't think of yourself so highly- safety. And through some wicked, nonsensical happenings, doing anything actually meant doing every possible illegal doing in the kingdom.

Posing as a Princess and convincing- conning everyone.

Aiding in helping a tutor illegally spy on someone of higher status and doing even more illegal acts because of an assumption that the man was single handedly bringing corruption into the kingdom through false news of the mines running out of gold.

Another strike of lightning illuminated the sky for a moment when she thought of the next wrong doing and she swore that her heart stopped for a moment and she couldn't have remembered the rest if she tried because of him.

Dominick.

At the memory of his name, her heart lurched and a whirlwind of emotions bypassed her and she couldn't have named all of them if she tried, but she could name the last emotion she felt, guilt.

Of course she should feel guilty for conning the man who offered to help the kingdom, but the guilt for falling for him overpowered it and then she felt the very emotion again because she felt less for the kingdom but rather the king of another.

Erika had fallen for him in less than a week.

Maybe it was the way he knew how to conjure melodies to any beat.

Maybe it was the way he was so practiced and relaxed with any instrument a fingertip of his touched.

Maybe it was the fact that she adored music, and his tunes made her swoon.

Maybe it was the way how anything he sang felt like a serenade to her heart while they both knew that it was arranged.

Maybe it was his taste in sound and how any melody felt soothing, a lullaby.

Maybe it was the way she was overthinking his lovely, albeit courteous smiles and gentle, caring, warm eyes.

And then she felt a fresh wave of guilt and wash over her at the realization that she might be in love. At the same time, her regrets were none. But her somber was alive; the blue flowers that arrived at her desk was simply a courteous gesture; they were betrothed, he was simply taking the opportunity to just be friends. And though she wished it wasn't so, it was only logical that their walks in the gardens was just an opportunity taken to get to know each other- might as well, they were to get married-

-If she wasn't thrown into the dungeon, or if Julian hadn't found Annelise.

At the mention of it, she remembered that her friend was lost and would surely return before the wedding. And if she were to bbe completely honest, she wanted to cry.

A part of her, the selfish side, the one that didn't want to live in poverty any longer, wanted to marry him, not just for his finances, but because there was something about the way his words persuaded the emotion of calmness and comfort into her in her silent moments of fear and dread. His warming touch when their hands would be interlocked would somehow make her relaxed, and for the longest time since a few years, she truly felt alive and...home.

And it tore her apart because in a way, it was wrong, though it felt so right.

She really wished she didn't love him.

And then she started to cry.