Red Dripping on White Snow

(Calista)

I wasn't afford the luxury of pain or feelings in that moment, that singular moment, the eternity that stretched far beyond just eight seconds. I loved something once, and I had to watch him die Infront of me before I went with him. The shock lasted eight seconds before I blinked and everything was gone.

Uncomfortable moonlight creeps into my eyelids as I jolt up from the luxurious bed I weirdly find myself in, my hand grab my shirt as I breathe heavily with an expression that can only be described as horrified and fearful. Emotions, how I missed having a heart… I look down and see blood seeping through the cloth of my white nightgown, right above my abdomen, and yet when I checked underneath my nightgown there was no wound.

The events that inevitably led to my death. The horrible things that were done to me… To us… Us?

Finian, Finian Garten Madden, Yes, I remember... He was with me during… That...

Wiping the sweat from my neck and forehead, I stand up from the tall bed. I feel the cold marble floor under my feet as I walk up to a mirror in the corner of the room. The scorching feeling every step I take was gone and when I reached the mirror I stared in shock. It's me, alive and well.

I breathe out softly as I comb my fingers through my bangs. I quietly looked around my surroundings, my new room. Silent tears fill my eyes as I recall my last moments. It was all so blurry for me but I could understand the feeling I felt before my heart inevitably stopped. It was… Something I don't wanna experience again. My muffled sobs fill the lonely room.

Words peek through my sobbing as all I can say for the next few hours are the words "It's over..."

Morning came and the yellow and orange hue of the morning light entered my room through the balcony. As I quietly thought to myself at the corner of the room, I heard a knock on the door followed by a voice.

"My lady, It is morning. Time to get up."

My gaze fell on the door with my puffy eyes from all the crying I did last night. I get up from the corner and sit at the foot of the large bed as I let her in. She and other maids, about six of them in total, came in and fixed me up. None of them questioned the redness around my eyes nor the blood that soaked my nightgown.

She threw on a fancy gown and put my long black hair in an updo. I quietly waited for them to be finished as I close my eyes and envision where I am, what happened, and who am I:

I was in another person's body. We looked exactly the same and even bear the same name, but we aren't similar in the slightest.

This Calista Claire Montgomery, she's a weak and sheepish woman. She hated talking to others, to the point that when she told her father that she wanted to get married to the crown prince of Agres, he complied since it was the first time she's ever asked for anything. She was inevitably killed in her sleep by an assassin.

As I stand up, I accidentally step on my dress so I balance myself with my other foot. This dress is way too long. I shake it off and slowly walk to the breakfast hall. Taking every step carefully so as to not trip on myself.

Hushed whispers follow me from behind as my maids escort me to my meal.

(Finian)

Something's off… Rough blankets, a ragged shirt, and uncomfortable pillows surround me. The smell of mold and mildew is settling in the air… It's warm.

Sitting up from the bed, I notice... It was not my bed– in fact, it was way more rotted than my bed. I got up from the bed as I slowly walked to a small compact mirror in the corner of the room. I feel my soft cheeks and look for my wounds. A happy yet confusing realization.

There's nothing to say, nothing changed about me… This man– this 'Finian Garten Madden'. He's definitely not me– but... He's way too much like me.

This Finian Garten Hart… He was shy and soft spoken. Never complaining and never talking back, weak. He lived in the slums as an orphan. I guess he was lucky enough to be able to work for a generous baker who lent him a shed to sleep in.

It's a miracle this kid even survived to live to see the age of ten let alone twenty...

I wonder where Calista is right now… I bet she would tell me to calm down and just make what's best of the situation.

Wait, Calista?.. Right. My best friend for almost a decade… She had a comforting presence, at least for me.

She had a tall build and sharp features, she was pretty scary before we got to know each other. Her short black hair that I always thought was too short, and her unique green eyes. She'd always calm me down when I cry... I miss her.

Is this a second chance or a punishment? I don't even know what happened to Calista… A ridiculous situation manufactured by the gods to taunt me. No matter, I'll make do like how I usually do.

Putting on some clean clothes and putting my gold hair up in a ponytail, my feet carry me to the bakery as if it was muscle memory. It's sunny. I can feel the small slips of sun on my skin and it's rays as it seeps through cracks between tall fantastical buildings onto the cobblestone path of the streets I'm walking on. Small puddles of unidentifiable liquids fill the cracks of the cobblestone. It's weirdly slippery. Trying to avoid eye contact with the people glaring holes into me and the small coin pouch attached to my hip.

Pushing past the crowd I finally feel the sunlight hit my skin for the first time in a long time. The rest of the way was easy, although I found myself occasionally stopping to admire the sky, and the windows of a few shops.

Arriving in the bakery, I greet the baker with a faux smile.

"Goodmorning, Mr. Yarrow!"

"Goodmorning my ass! It's noon, boy!"

The baker replied angrily as he shoves an apron to my chest.

I put on the apron and help the baker decorate the pastries and cakes he's prepared.

"Ah, nevermind... It's almost tea time anyway. Puffy nobles will be walking in any minute."

The baker mumbles, almost seeming like he wanted me to hear it.

It felt warm. Wasting away my time decorating pastries and cakes, it brings out my artistic creativity in such a bleak world I now find myself in. The colorful dollops of frosting and the careful intricate designs painted on a few customized cakes. A brief happiness I would've killed to have...

(Calista)

A foggy mess is what I would describe these memories. They are memories after all. Fades over time.

I sigh into a chair as I try to sit down with hoops of wires making my dress appear bigger, it's ridiculously hard to sit.

I scan the room for something to do other than wallow in the heat of the daylight. My eyes land on a stack of letters, I carefully tear open each and every one of them. Most of them are from my "father". Until I come across one that caught my eye, an invitation to a tea party. I've never been fond of tea, I always preferred coffee.

I'm the daughter of the grand duke now, I can do whatever I want. I'll attend the tea party in a few days. For now… there's still nothing to do…

My gaze wanders towards the window. The sounds of men shouting and swords clashing. Ah, the classic… training grounds. Reminds me of my days in the academy… I suppose it is quite similar to knight training. It's better than not having anything to do.

I take my big dress and head to the training grounds, where sweaty men go to prove their worth through swinging a steel sword (or as how my maid described it.) I've always wanted to try sword fighting, I just never had the time.

I pick up a wooden sword as I look at it curiously.

"A spar? Anyone?"

I wonder if sword fighting will be similar to baton sparring.

I chuckled softly, thinking back to my past. While they look at me in turn, confusion written all over their faces as they look at my big dress. I let out an exasperated sigh and go back inside to change into something more appropriate.

A knight stepped up and volunteered to spar with me. Mostly out of responsibility, I reckon. He is supposed to be my personal knight, however he took a short vacation doing god know's what. Mostly the reason why the original Calista died...

Reno Dawn Astor, the son of the general of the black swan knights, which is the squad owned by the grand duke. Maroon hair and a lean yet tall figure, what some would call a decorated knight. He's handsome, pretty face that's unfitting to be a knight. He was always laughed at as weak by other knights.

I heard a few murmurs from maids that he was considered as the most handsome man in the entire Empire of Agres. I can see why. A pretty face that liked to play noble knight.

A few rounds of clashing swords later and I beat him in less than six swings of my wooden sword. I'm pretty good at this.

He stares up at me with shock, a kind of... Disbelief. He'd probably never expected the lady he protects to be somewhat capable of fighting let alone, able to beat him.

I quickly dismissed myself from the knights after the spar and hurriedly went back to my chambers as I felt my head throbbing from pain. Did I overwork myself somehow? But it just hurts– like… parts of my brain are shifting and changing, like switching gears.

I lie on the bed trying to calm the sharp pain building in my head.

(Finian)

It was night as the light from outside slipped through the cracks and crevices of my shed. My head is killing me. I can't go to work today. I can't move. I can't even control my breathing from the pain. Like a child is playing with my brain and wrecking it with crayons and paint.

After a few hours of agony later, the pain stops and I find myself breathing heavily on the floor and later crying.

I wanna go back home, I don't wanna do this anymore. I miss my apartment in the city, I miss my family, I miss Calista.

After crying, I found my eyes shutting quietly on the dirt covered floor and I awoke the next day. I get dressed for work at the bakery, where I toil away as a baker's assistant in the kitchen. It's hard work but I wouldn't be able to live in the shed if I didn't, he pays me as well so it's more than enough.

The friendly baker greets me with a chipper smile as I enter the backdoor early this time. Mr. Yarrow and his family's kindness are probably the only thing keeping me from starving in the streets. Working in the bakery and helping out with their family is the least I can do.

Rich nobles often frequent the bakery, mostly for pastries for their tea parties and such.

I've never been much of a baker, I've always been an artist.

Carrying and delivering bread to villagers and small time nobles all over the capital is one of my responsibilities as of late, since taxes have been increased by orders of the imperial palace and prices have skyrocketed Mr. Yarrow wasn't able to afford to keep the delivery boy. So I do the delivery boy's work for a small raise.

I was walking back to my shed after a long day of delivering bread, I hear faint footsteps of the squatters and the squeaking of the mice that will probably be their future meals.

A hooded man pulls me into a dark alleyway and puts a dagger to my throat as he pins me to the wall.

"Give me all your money."

I hear him whisper in an aggressive tone.

Strange… Back then I would've pulled out my pocket and handed it to him. I guess my new life made me get used to street activity like this.

"Look pal, we're both struggling in these times. If you really wanted money that badly, next time, rob someone who actually has something to give."

I snarked back.

The man's grip on my dirty shirt collar falters for a moment and I manage to escape.

Shuffling as I try to find my keys in the dark night frantically, worrying the hooded man would pursue me. Bushes rustling in the background due to the cold night air. A chill runs down my spine as the cold breeze hits my rosy cheeks.

"I think I forgot something..."

I quietly mumble to myself.

I enter my "home" and quickly shut the door behind me. Quietly, I sit on the bed.

I wonder how I got here. I died, is that it? Is that why I have to suffer like this? Everyday I hope for a different outcome than before, yet I always end up in the same moldy shed and the same creaky bed. Why must I live like this? Just because I reincarnated as a peasant orphan... Why couldn't I be a prince or something.