The Quickening

In the end, her legs were useless.

Rache let the maid guide her to a chair at a nearby vanity before the woman started fussing around the room, preparing the space.

From the reflection in the mirror, Rache's own image caught her eye.

Sickly.

Weak.

Ill.

Absolutely nothing like she should look.

It was understandable then, that she'd scream and fall out of the chair to get away from the image that was most definitely not her.

"Sweetie!" The maid rushed to her side.

"Wha-wha-?!"

The maid gently gathered her back up, firm and strong, and surprisingly patient given Rache had just undone her work of getting her in the chair a moment ago. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you."

The woman smiled at Rache and reached up to tap her cheek. "It must be very jarring to see your condition progress so quickly."

Condition...?

"Well, that's why he said you wouldn't make it." The woman clicked her tongue. "The disease just ate you up while you were fighting that flu. But look at you, dear, you've proven him wrong!"

A disease?

Could that...be a reason for how weak she felt?

Could that...somehow? Explain the white hair, pale skin, and violet eyes that stared hauntingly back at her from the mirror?

She swallowed thickly.

This was impossible.

"Excuse me... Can you tell me more about my condition?"

The maid clucked her tongue and shook her head, "Still fuzzzy are you, dear?" She sighed. "Such dark conversation for such a bright morning..."

"...Please."

She needed to know. Needed some understanding of what was happening.

Any little bit.

The older woman gave another soft sigh and settled her hands on her hips. "Very well then. It's the Quickening, dear." She shook her head, expression dour. "Mmh? Still no recollection?"

Rache shook her head.

The woman clicked her tongue and patted Rache's cheek. "That's alright, dear. We'll get you back up to speed. What's important is that you survived."

"What...does the Quickening do?"

The woman hesitated and looked away from her.

"...It...consumes. Those it hosts. Of course, the exception is the royal family! Their blessing halts the Quickening and preserves the royal blood. But for the rest of us....well. Those who were born with it. We don't get that luck. It eats at our flesh, wears it down until we're naught but dust. It's why our hair, eyes, and skin change."

She patted Rache's cheek.

It shouldn't have been comforting, but it was.

"But don't you worry! You're much too young to worry about being devoured."

What?

That didn't sound comforting at all!

"Is...this why I'm so weak?"

"Well, as I said, the flu you narrowly survived is why you're weak, darling. And why your mind is so fuzzy." She hummed. "But The Quickening would have made it all worse. And I'm afraid it might make your recovery slower." She tutted. "There's always a reason to have faith in the Goddess. And look at you! Alive!"

The woman bustled off then, apparently to get Rache stew.

...And...

She'd gotten plenty of answers now.

Yet.

Not one of her questions had been resolved.

She sighed and touched her hand to her forehead.

Even if she believed this woman - the Quickening?? Why was that a familiar term, when what she described sounded utterly nonsensical? - that still didn't explain the core issues.

What happened with that explosion?

How did she get here?

Why were her features different? Not just in color, but shape?

Why did this woman insist on acting as if she knew her?

Rache turned her gaze to the mirror again, still flinching involuntarily at the strange sight.

Pale violet - lavendar maybe - eyes stared back at her.

Was this...?

Could it be that she--

Had died?

It was a terrifying thought.

Impossible.

Right?

"Here we go, dear. Eat up!"

A bowl was set down in front of her.

Chicken soup with plenty of noodles.

That was not what she imagined when she thought of 'stew'.

It smelled heavenly.

Her stomach growled.

Rache looked up at the maid with a wane smile.

"Thank you."

"Now then, while you eat, I'll do up a bath for you. And then afterward, perhaps we can dress you up to see the doctor? That's only if you feel up to it, mind, and not before, sweetie. The last thing we need is for you to pass out during a checkup."

"Ah - I. No. I'd like that."

"Good, good. Oh, such a pretty face!" She beamed, patting Rache's cheek. "Why, I'd say you look even more beautiful now. As pretty as the princess herself."

"Ha-ah.. Thank you."

"Of course, darling."

She was gone in the blink of an eye after that.

Rache, on her part, could only sit there and stare at her hands.

She flexed her fingers.

They felt the same.

They felt like they were her fingers.

But they were long, thin, delicate and pale. Far more than hers ever had been.

And the nails.

They were neat, a little long, not bitten like hers always were.

She looked up to the mirror.

The maid was right.

This new face of hers...

Really was very pretty.

She shook herself lightly, then. There would be no answers found staring into space, examining her face, or wondering if she'd died and this was some bizarre afterlife.

If it were, it was one where she was very hungry.

At least she could solve that part with the mouth-watering stew - no, soup - in front of her.

It tasted every bit as delicious as it smelled.

***

By the time the maid came back, Rache was done eating and more than ready to tackle the idea of a warm bath.

"Now, let's take it easy, dear." The maid spoke in that gentle, motherly voice. "A bath will be good for you, but let's walk nice and slow. Lean on me. Won't have you collapsing and drowing in the bath!"

It wasn't hard to obey her.

Even with her limited movement, her body felt weaker than it ever had, and she was honestly terrified that she'd collapse and hurt herself if she pushed her limits.

"There, now, isn't that a good girl?"

They were at the tub.

Rache frowned at the maid.

She'd done communal bathing before. But not even she was sure what was under her dress. It was awkward.

The maid was having none of it. Leaving was apparently not an option.

The dress slipped down Rache's body.

She'd been expecting undergarments.

Instead, she was nude.

Completely.

There was not an ounce of covering on her body.

She could feel the cold air on her.

And just that was enough to make her shiver and shrink in on herself.

"Now, now, dear." The maid tutted at her. "We can't have you catching a chill. Come along. Step in, carefully now. Here, take my arm."

It was surprisingly easy to do as she said.

The maid supported Rache all the way into the large, porcelain tub.

The water was steaming hot.

Her toes curled and she shuddered.

"Careful." The maid smiled. "Don't overheat. Let yourself adjust."

It was clear the maid intended to help her bathe.

There was soap, a loofah, a scrub brush, and several towels prepared for when she finished.

Rache sank down into the water with a soft groan.

It was divine.

The heat of the water soaked into her bones and chased away the coldness.

She sighed.

"There we are. Isn't that better?"

"It is." Rache agreed.

"Excellent. Now, we must wash this beautiful hair, yes? Let's see what a beautiful work of art you are now."

...She wasn't about to say she was used to having a new face or hair or. anything.

But.

It did feel nice to be complimented quite so many times.