Transmigrated into a Fantasy World with No Clue What to Do

Chapter 34

Confrontation / Acceptance

            Maribelle steps toward the hatch leading down into the mansion and, after opening it, holds out her hand to me.  It is a gesture of acceptance as much as it is an invite.  She won’t force me to go down into the rest of the house with her, but I know it will be better to go ahead and face the music now, instead of dragging it out.  I want to remain, just me and the endless void above me, the moon and stars never judging.

            I walk over to her and take her hand. 

            “Thank you,” I simply say after letting out a heavy sigh.  I know I don’t need to elaborate; she will understand what I am saying without explanation.

            She nods once and leads me down the stairs into the upper floor of the house.

            “D-did everyone go out looking for me?” I ask.  I trail slightly behind as she leads me through a maze of hallways and down a set of stairs.

            “No,” she says plainly.

            I pause and pull her to a stop.  She looks back at me, cocks her head slightly to the side as if considering something of importance.

            “What?” I ask, worried that she has some bad news. 

            What if my impromptu performance and subsequent panicked flight scared them?  Of everyone, Mari is the only one that appeared the least affected… Well, other than Izzy that is, I don’t think anything can faze that girl for long.  Both of my parents looked at me as if I had grown another head.  And Angus, what does he think?  He looked at me as if I had been replaced with a total stranger.  Ugh, why would I even do something so stupid? 

            I want to say that I had no control over myself, that the piano practically called out to me, but that would be a lie.  I simply wasn’t thinking.  I saw the piano.  I chose to go sit at it.  I chose the piece to play, and then I played it.  It was that simple.  I just hadn’t thought about how others would react.

            “Beira,” Maribelle says, drawing me out of my head.  Seeing she had my attention, she continues.  “I told them to wait.”

            “And that w-worked?” I ask, disbelief lacing my voice.

            She nods.

            “Including Izzy?” I press.

            She shakes her head and then simply replies with a name. “Angus.”

            “O-oh, he stopped her?”

            She nods again.

            “What did you t-t-tell them to c-convince them not to follow?”

            “That I knew where you were,” she replies, her dark eyes locking with mine.

            “How d-d-did you know?” And then it hits me.  Whenever we came to the capital, I always went to the roof when I felt the need to escape or hide.  It was my sanctuary because my mother, usually the one I was hiding from, never seemed to find me there.  The only one that ever had was Mari, but I had never minded because she always felt like she belonged.

            Wait.  That wasn’t me. 

            I shake my head and notice Mari staring at me as if she knew my inner thoughts.

            “S-staring like that makes you feel a little creepy,” I say, pointing out the obvious.

            She nods and gives a hint of a smile.

            “You have told me that before.  Come,” she says before pulling on my arm gently.

            I let myself be led since I have no clue how to navigate this house, or, at least, I don’t think I do.  Soon we are outside the drawing room, and I can hear Izzy’s voice through the door.  She is currently complaining to someone about an instructor named Mrs. Crafton who made her stand in the hall outside of class holding two pails full of water because she was being disruptive by talking so much, the nerve! 

            Mari turns the door latch and as soon as she cracks it open, Izzy immediately drops her current train of thought to call out, “Mari!  Did you find her?”

            I hang back slightly as the door opens, but I can see Izzy watching impatiently until Mari steps in and nods in confirmation.  At this, Izzy turns back to the person she was complaining to and resumes her tirade.  That person is my mother, who is now watching the space behind Mari intently, not really listening to Izzy.  I can’t see Angus or my father as the corner they are in is along the same wall as the door. 

            I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves, then step in.  I can feel the eyes of everyone instantly lock onto me and I instinctively take a small step back, my face burning.

            “Beira,” my mother says calmly, almost quietly, making me freeze.

            “Y-yes?” I ask, my face burning even hotter. 

            I wish I were a turtle so I could retreat into my shell.

            I glance toward the right, where the men’s corner is, and confirm that both Angus and my father are watching me.  Angus looks a little confused, but my father has a conflicted look to him, as if he is having an argument with himself.  I turn my attention back to my mother as Maribelle walks over and sits down beside Izzy on the couch that they had both occupied earlier.

            “Come,” my mother commands, her voice still soft.  She gestures to a door that I hadn’t noticed earlier to my left.  She stands and walks to it, holding it open while waiting for me to follow. 

            I look to Maribelle who gives me a little nod of encouragement as Izzy starts prattling away to her.

            Steeling myself, I cross the room and enter the door that my mother is holding open.  The room it leads into is an office.  It isn’t as large as the drawing room; in fact, it is only about a quarter of the size.  To the left there is another door which presumably leads into the hall.  In front of me there is a large desk with three chairs, two in front of it and one behind.  My mother walks to the chair behind the desk and sits.  She motions to the chairs in front of the desk.

            “Sit,” she commands, still in that quiet voice.

            Outside the room, I can faintly hear Angus suggest to Izzy and Mari that they go and prepare for the night.  Izzy starts to protest, but something cuts her off, probably Mari, and a minute later I hear the hallway door to the drawing room close, followed by silence.  The entire time, my mother has been silently watching me.

            “Beira,” she says suddenly, her voice at its normal volume now.

            “Y-yes, m-m-mother?”

            “You’ve changed,” she says, sitting back, her fingertips meeting at her chin, forming a steeple with her fingers. 

            I don’t know what to say, my mind is racing, wondering where she is going with this.  After a second, I elect to employ a Maribelle response and simply give a slight nod.

            “You never learned to play the piano, or any instrument, for that matter,” she says after a moment, her voice strangely calm throughout.  This was the topic I had been dreading, and she goes straight to it, cutting directly to the heart of the matter, not that she was ever one to beat around the bush.

            For a split second, I consider continuing to remain silent, however, I realize I can’t keep that up forever.  I have to say something.

            “Something,” I mumble under my breath, hoping she doesn’t hear me.

            “What was that?” my mother says, her voice going flat, eyes closing slightly in irritation. 

            I know better than to push it, so I say the only thing I can think to say that addresses the elephant in the room.

            “I d-d-don’t…”  I pause to take a deep breath in an effort to calm my stutter, and thankfully my mother doesn’t push; she simply waits.  “I don’t remember how I learned, but it felt familiar…  it felt right.”

            Hopefully she doesn’t catch me in my lie, but how do I explain it?  “Oh, I’m sorry ma’am, you see, your daughter died because one of the gods royally screwed up and I’m just your replacement model.”  No, I don’t think so.  Not unless I want to die.

            She arches an eyebrow at me, her expression hardening.

            “Is that so?” she says.  “Tell me, is there anything else that has felt familiar, as you put it?  Anything that you can do now that you don’t know how you remember learning it?”

            “Mom, I-I,” I pause, internally debating whether to just tell her and let the cards fall where they may.  I close my eyes for a second before continuing.  “I don’t know, Mother.  I d-don’t know what w-w-would be considered as something I s-should or shouldn’t know.  S-sometimes I don’t even know who I am s-s-supposed t-to be.  Sometimes, everything feels w-w-wrong and foreign, while s-sometimes things just feel r-r-right.”

            I can feel tears of frustration start forming in my eyes at my confession.  The Duchess must have seen something in my expression because despite the doubt in her eyes, her face softens.

            “Why wouldn’t you tell me this before?” she says, disappointment in her voice.  “I’m your mother.”

            “I feel broken and didn’t want to be a burden,” I reply, tears starting to fall now and I begin to cry due to my frustrations with myself, not because I want pity.  I feel inadequate.  I have had to step into the life of this girl I initially knew nothing about, take on all of her burdens, and deceive everyone in her life so that they don’t learn the awful truth about what happened to her… 

            All because one idiot of a god fucked up!

            “Hey, that’s not fair!” I hear Damian say in my head, which tells me he was likely there earlier, but decided not to say anything, likely because he thought I would flounder and it would be amusing to him.

            I hear my mother get up from her chair and walk over to me.

            “Beira, you aren’t broken.  Yes, there is something strange going on here, something... wrong.  Something has felt off ever since you woke up after your attack, and I’m not just talking about you suddenly gaining access to light magic.  There have been many things, but I haven’t said anything because I knew you were struggling.  But this?  This isn’t something I can just rationalize away.  This isn’t normal.”

            “I know this is a hard time in your life; there are so many things you are going through and processing, just like any other girl your age.  Actually, you probably have even more due to the stress of the attack on you,” she sits on the edge of the desk and puts her hand under my chin, lifting my head so that my now swollen eyes meet hers.  “Beira, I will figure out what is going on… whatever it may be.  But if anything like this happens again, talk to me first before you act upon it impulsively.  You have to think about how your actions appear to others.  Propriety demands it.”

            She stands and circles back around the desk to sit back down.

            “You may go for now, but we will talk more about this later,” she says, clearly dismissing me.  She takes out some parchment and begins to write on it, as if I am not there.

            I dry my tears and stand, feeling a little dizzy due to the emotional release.  I haven't had a breakdown like that in a while.  I make my way  to the door that I had deduced earlier would open into the hall.  As I reach for the latch, I hear her call my name again. 

            “Beira,” her voice is softer now, in both volume and tone.  “You’re still my daughter, right?”

            I pause with my hand on the door, not looking back.  It takes me a moment to process what she actually means.

            “I’m still your daughter, Mother,” I say simply and open the door, stepping out into the hall… where my dad is waiting, leaning against the wall next to the door.

            “That could have gone worse,” he says, his voice light but his face betraying his inner turmoil.  He stands up straight, but his shoulders slump slightly more than usual.

            I take a moment to study him. He looks tired, weary even.  It is something I hadn’t noticed before we left the keep.  Something was weighing on his mind.  As I watch him, his deep brown eyes dart momentarily to the door I just left then back to me.  He runs a hand through his short, dark green hair, then nods as if deciding on a plan.

            “Come, I’ll take you to your room,” he says, the weather worn crevices on his face deepening as a half-hearted smile lights on it. 

            “Okay, Daddy,” I say, grateful that he isn’t pushing back like my mother. 

            We walk for a few minutes in silence, neither of us knowing exactly what to say.

            “Beira…” he starts then pauses.  “How are you?”

            “I’m still standing, but I think I made things worse with Mother.”  I say, shaking my head slightly.  “She is pretty upset and it seems that she has been holding things in for some time.”

            And I apparently just lit a match and tossed it near a pile of explosives.

            “She is just worried about you, lass,” he says, his face turning sad.  “Your attack affected her more than she will ever acknowledge because that is just how she is.  She hides it well, but your mother…  She isn’t as unshakable as she pretends.  You are different now, even the Lowood could see that, and that scares her.”

            “What about you?” I ask, fearing what he might say in response.

            “Lass…” he stops walking, takes a deep breath, and looks at me.  “Growth brings change, for better or for worse, and with change come uncertainty.  That’s always frightening.  But more importantly, you are my daughter, that will never change.  I will always stand by you.”

            He looks at me for a moment, then suddenly wraps me in a tight embrace.

            “Grow into the woman you want to be, Beira.  That is my greatest desire for you,” he says, his voice wavering slightly, like he wants to say something else but stops himself. 

            He releases me and steps back a little. 

            “Come, the other girls are waiting for you.” 

            He continues on, leading me around a corner and to a flight of stairs where Angus is waiting, his face serious. 

            “Duke Braemar, if I may?”  He says, motioning to me. 

            My father nods. 

            “See her safely to her room afterward, Your Highness.  Oh, and don’t keep her away from your sister too long.  Maribelle can only contain her for so long without back up.”  My father replies with a knowing smile. 

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