Changeling

The sun shone brightly, just like it did on most early winter afternoons. It provided some warmth to my skin, but the air was still chilly. This was my second year at the palace since I arrived, and the royal family had already left for their winter estates. During the colder months, most of them would retreat to their winter homes, leaving the palace quiet and cold. Last year, the queen had asked me to join her at her winter estate as I was younger and her favorite.

This time, although she had invited me to join her, she gave me the option to stay behind. I decided to take a break and give the other girls a chance to gain Her Majesty’s favor. Even though I knew she would find the winter dull without me, she trusted that I would use my time away to improve myself and be more interesting upon her return. In return, I was grateful for the much-needed rest.

My morning flew by as I diligently worked on a delicate lace collar, intending to present it as a gift to Her Majesty. She had made it clear that I needed to acquire at least one useful skill that would secure my place in the world for years to come. However, she left the decision up to me. After a year of experimenting with various arts and services deemed appropriate for a lady, I finally stumbled upon the Queen’s love for lace. When I expressed my desire to learn the art of lace weaving, she was ecstatic and wasted no time in finding a tutor for me.

I knew that if I must spend my life in service of the palace, I wanted to be doing something that I enjoyed rather than aging out of grace and into a scullery maid. Despite my aversion to mindless chit-chat, my tutor was incredibly skilled and treated my success as her own. Gradually, I improved with each lesson, learning the intricacies of fill yarn and sheds. The delicate silk strands I had ordered for the collar proved to be challenging at first, resulting in several breaks during the initial three days of the project. But with practice, their strength became familiar to me, and the vibrant colors began to take shape into a breathtaking floral design inspired by one of my childhood dreams.

I strolled around the gardens in the afternoon, as I did every day at this time. The wind whispered through the trees, sending a slight chill down my spine. I wrapped my gloved hands tightly around my forearms and let out a warm breath into the crisp air. Whatever leaves remained were a vibrant yellow, some slightly darker and others blazing in amber hues. The late autumn flowers stood tall amidst the fallen leaves, but they would soon wilt with the arrival of frost. No matter how resilient they were.

The clinking of metal swords and grunts of exertion echoed over the tall stone walls that surrounded the palace grounds. The rhythmic chanting of knights in training carried on the gentle breeze, enticing me to venture closer. As I walked through the peaceful gardens, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for this moment of solitude away from the pomp and grandeur of royal life.

As I walked, I couldn’t help but feel a growing weight in my lower abdomen. I tried to push it aside, thinking it was just an upset stomach. The sensation would come and go, sometimes becoming sharp before fading away completely, and each time I convinced myself it was nothing serious. But when the discomfort escalated into a sharp stabbing pain, my concern began to rise.

As I walked, I couldn’t ignore the increasing pressure in my lower abdomen. I brushed it off, thinking it was just a minor stomach ache. The sensation would ebb and flow, sometimes becoming sharp before fading away completely. I kept assuming it would go away for good. It wasn’t until the pressure turned into a piercing pain that I started to feel concerned.

A sudden, sharp pain shot through my body, causing me to gasp and stumble off the path. I collapsed onto a stone bench, gripping my dress tightly as I struggled to control my breathing. Something was wrong—my body was betraying me in a way I had never experienced before. With quick thinking, I stood up and hurried back towards the palace, knowing that another wave of pain would hit me any moment now.

I had finally reached the covered sitting area, where a guard was stationed at the entrance. He eyed me with curiosity but remained silent. I recognized him from my previous encounters in the compound, where he would often patrol the grounds. Some of the other women had mentioned him in their conversations, and there were even rumors of a secret love affair. However, he never caught my attention in that manner; no one here did. He was of average height, towering over me by at least a head, with curly brown hair and a slender physique. In other words, completely unremarkable.

“Is my lady feeling well?”

A sharp spasm of pain rippled through my body. “I’m fine,” I replied shortly. Standing upright, I walked towards him, mindful not to appear too intimate; if anyone saw us, it would surely be the talk of scandal.

I could see doubt clouding his eyes, and he didn’t seem to believe me. He lowered his head and stepped back, waiting for me to pass before following several steps behind. It was always this way. The wave of emotions washed over me much sooner than I anticipated, and I had to fight to keep my composure, standing tall with my shoulders back. Every fiber of my being wanted to scream and curl up in a ball on the ground.

As I approached the expansive lawn that led to the palace entrance, a strong gust of wind whipped my dark hair away from my face. I caught my breath at the sudden chill in the air. The approaching frost made my eyes water and my nose tingle with cold.

I pushed through the fading pain and surveyed my surroundings. There were additional guards present, more than usual. Some seemed to be socializing while others appeared occupied with tasks. The sky had darkened, adding to the sense of unease that lingered over the courtyard. But for me, the only thing that mattered was the intense cramping in my abdomen that reappeared every few minutes. I ignored the shift in atmosphere as long as the pain subsided, quickly making my way towards the southern entrance until another sharp wave of agony hit me in my lower abdomen, forcing me to slow down.

The hem of my cloak and gown whispered against the ground as I walked, and the sound of pebbles underfoot faded into the background. A few guards gave me curious looks, but most people knew who I was and didn’t bother me. My steps grew more hesitant as I neared the stone stairs, and I anxiously brushed down my hair while my feet carried me inside.

As I walked through the warm hallway, I couldn’t help but notice a strange wetness beneath my skirts; an odd sensation as surely, I’d not wet myself. My heart started racing as I considered the implications of this sensation.Torn between excitement of what this could mean, and the horror at the pain that coursed through my body, I wondered at the possibility of starting my flow.

Did all the other girls go through this too? And every month?! The female tutor had told me I was long since old enough to start menstruating, and she said I would need to go see the medical staff for instructions and supplies when it happened. She warned me about cramps and discomfort, but the pain was excruciating. Maybe it was just my body reacting this way? I hurried down the arched halls towards the medical wing on the right.

“Young lady, be still,” commanded a man with whom I rarely spoke. The same voice that caused terror to kick-start my heart.

I came to a sudden halt, my heart racing as I smoothed the wrinkles from my deep blue gown. I silently begged any higher power to make this man leave me alone. The guard shifted on his stool and made his way towards me, his black boots thudding against the ground. His piercing stare scanned me up and down, taking in my high black boots, layered navy skirts, and shimmering pearls adorning my fitted bodice. Despite the wind tousling my raven-black hair, I resisted the urge to fix it, standing still and composed in front of him. “Good day, soldier,” I said in a measured tone, trying to mask the tremble in my voice. With practiced ease, I dipped into a slight curtsy, keeping one boot behind the other before rising back up to meet his unwavering gaze.

I stiffened as he leaned his head against my shoulder, taking a deep breath. This was not an uncommon occurrence with him. I could tolerate the other guards, even though some would give me unsettling looks. However, as a Lady in Waiting in the palace, I had a certain level of protection and most of the men treated me with a degree of respect.

This one, though… seemed to enjoy catching me when I was alone, so I went to great lengths to make sure he didn’t. It had been a while since our last encounter, but he certainly saw me now.

He exhaled quickly, and the noxious smell of his breath made me almost choke. Before taking another deep breath, he leaned back and ran his tongue over his lips, as if savoring my scent. “If you breathe a word of this to Her Majesty, I will make sure your punishment is much worse.” He backed away, never breaking eye contact with me.

I hung my head again, fully aware that the threat was genuine. He never missed an opportunity to remind me, constantly repeating his warning.

He settled himself back onto his stool, and I quickly looked away. After a few moments of walking at a steady pace, I felt relieved that there was enough distance between us for me to continue at my brisk speed. I couldn’t decide which was more important—getting to the healer or getting away from him. Luckily, they were both in the same direction.

With a swift movement, I pushed open the door to the infirmary and scanned the room with surprise. This was my first time here, so I had no idea what to expect. Sickness had never plagued me before; I was always in good health. Two women, who appeared to be nurses, stopped what they were doing and turned to look at me as I entered.

“Lady Caitlin?” a voice inquired from my left. I turned and for a moment forgot why I was there.

A tall, slender man stood by the windows, his fingers gently holding aside the cream-colored curtains. His white lab coat hugged his lean frame and his mop of black hair was perfectly styled. As he loosened his grip and made his way towards me, the curtains fell soundlessly. I couldn’t help but notice the precision of his appearance—not a single wrinkle on his gray buttoned shirt and glossy black shoes that made no sound as they glided across the floor. His expression was a mix of curiosity and concern, adding to the mystery surrounding him.

I swallowed as I regained composure. The man was beautiful.

“O-oh, ummm… May I— Might I speak with a Lady?” My words came out in a hushed tone as I focused on the button at his throat, determined not to meet his gaze. My face was burning with embarrassment, but it did nothing to alleviate the searing sensation that radiated through my stomach.

He lifted an immaculate eyebrow. “My nurses are a bit preoccupied now. Surely this would be something I can help with?”

I took a deep breath, struggling with the internal conflict between managing my pain and maintaining proper decorum. “I’m in pain, and I don’t know how much longer I can last standing here,” I admitted. Placing a hand on my lower back and another on my stomach, I leaned forward slightly. This wave of pain was the most intense yet.

“Can you tell me more about what happened?” His voice was gentle, his concern evident. He led me towards a door near the entrance, saying we could speak in private there. The door opened to a small room that felt sterile and impersonal. A copper sink sat on a narrow counter to the right, a wooden cot stood against the back wall. It was interesting to see the lack of steel in this room. I followed him inside and sat on the stool he offered, while he closed the door behind us.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“I’ll be honest with you, sir, I do believe that I have started my womanly flow,” I blurted.