[Pt. 1] | The Duchess & The Damned

Things To Keep In Mind

• This story is in an ongoing draft state. This means that (minor) updates to posts may occur at any time, as needed. Major updates will appear in highlighted text, in addition to having a blog post explaining why.

  • The final versions of these stories will be published and available for purchase when completed. Thank you for your patience!

• Terms that have additional information on them will be underlined the first time they appear and can be found in the footnotes of this post.

“Isn’t she down yet?” Helena huffed as she turned to eye the doorway to the room, gaze fixed as if to summon her daughter through sheer will — a feat not unknown to a mother, mage or not. “Of all the warpings to be tardy for,” she tut, foot starting to tap beneath her regal gown of crimson and ivory.

The palette was a statement of the Heart House, home to some of the country's most gifted clerics and benevolent paladins. The colors represented a pure heart and the blood that coursed through it. They accented the decor of their estate, down to the glyphs that lined the warp pad in front of them. Arcane symbols pulsing in the tiled stone floor, they were moments away from being summoned to the capital.

“Any moment now …” her husband Richard hummed in an attempt to quell her, clicking his pocket watch shut and tucking it back into his vest’s chest pocket.

As key participants of the annual Solstice Festival, it was both the honor and the responsibility of the Heart House to shepherd the country's harvest and prosperity with prayer on the first day of the week-long celebration. And while the ceremonial blessing wasn’t until later that evening, it was customary for the four Houses to enter the capital early in the day. Their appearances served to help bolster the overall spirit and unity of the event.

“What could she possibly be doing?” Helena pressed, the paladin’s efforts falling short. Her gaze found Charles’, the elder son who’d shown up on time. He tensed, sensing himself become the new target of frustration.

Flinching a shrug of his shoulders, Charles stammered innocence as he looked to his father for help, knowing he was still their best chance. “I -?”

“Shall we go?” came the less than apologetic voice of Emilia, the daughter in question. A collective sigh of relief filled the room as she entered, knowing the summons would not begin unless all parties were present — the throne’s way of maintaining the Houses’ perfect attendance.

Charles scoffed to himself as they gathered on the pulsing glyphs. He was familiar with the way Emilia downplayed her faults, but he could see what had taken her so long — and he found himself staring.

Powder, blush … she’d even gone as far as a burgundy lip. He stiffened when catching the smirking gaze of Emilia's adjacent guard, his own clearing his throat behind him to subtly insist he stay present.

But it wasn't just her face. He could see it in the gleam of her hair, the waist-length braid of auburn done with noticeably more care. Accented with chains of gold so delicate they could have been mistaken for stray strands. It was a detail normally lost to the duchess, who was usually more concerned with practicing cantrips than cosmetics.

Was it for the festival? They'd gone every year and she'd never shown such care. Why the change? That's when he saw the proud but subtle grin working its way into their father's dimple. Even Helena had been subdued, choosing not to question Emilia in the face of such a curious display.

The tension seemed to lift with the warp pad’s activation, gravity lightening within its radius as the pulsing light began to take shape. The glowing glyphs peeled themselves from the floor, mystic letters hovering as they began to circle the group. Their strokes tore apart as the spinning picked up, threads splitting further until their crimson light consumed them.

It lasted just a moment, a fluttering of lashes and the spell had dissipated, threads weaving to form new lettering before sinking back into the floor of the warp pad they now belonged to.

And just like that, they were in the capital, stepping into a replica of their warp room, accurate even in the worn smell of burning sage. Still, Charles felt out of place as they were greeted by the awaiting staff — the only element of their estate that had been replaced, aside from the few that had come with them.

His curiosity would have to wait as Bethel, one of the five royal advisors, stepped forward. She bowed her head in respectful greeting, though the warning gaze that peeked over her thin frames did not go unnoticed.

“Your majesties,” she welcomed, voice calm, publicly polished.

“Bethel,” Helena returned, less polished as she stepped off of the warp pad with her gown’s skirt in hand. The tight-lipped teraling was her least favorite of the advisors, something the Hearts actually saw eye-to-eye on.

After a brief pause, the familiar, deeply reverberating sound of a blowing horn filled the air. Once to welcome them. A pause. Then thrice more to signal the completed arrival of Houses.

The earlier tension returned.

They were the last to arrive.

And so despite the dull roaring of cheers they could hear in the residential valleys below, the praise and the confidence that would have followed were ultimately shadowed by the looming threat of possible repercussions.

Head lifting from its bow, Bethel raised her hand in a smug, unnecessary gesture towards the door, noticing the Hearts’ lingering stillness.

“Shall we?”

Was it a ritual component? Charles let his eyes latch onto the delicate chain in Emilia's hair as they were escorted through their own home.

It was customary when the Houses arrived to their replicas for their advising guide to confirm everything was to their liking. The children were always first — courtesy of nearly a century of whining preference.

Normally a blur of familiarity on the way to his wing, Charles’ vision seemed to tunnel around Emilia, the duchess sticking out like a sore, manicured thumb. Each glimpse of her painted profile wore at his curiosity. And yet, their parents had yet to comment, walking proudly, even, alongside the imposter.

Had it been by their instruction? It wasn't unlike their mother to request a tedious task and then hound you for timeliness, but she had looked surprised, too.

So what was going on?

Charles could feel the anxiety mount as he and his guard surveyed the replica of his room.

Focus.

Cutting through his own thoughts, the whip of his guard's voice grounded him in time to see Richard walk in, the rest of the group staying in the hall. He gave a quick glance around before landing on Charles.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” Charles was quick to dispel, posture straightening. “I'm just … distracted. Forgive me.”

Richard gave a broad grin, heavy hand finding his son's shoulder with a familiar warmth.

“Considering what we talked about?” The question was met with a puzzled look. “Joining Saphora's season,” he clarified under his breath, leaning in. “Emilia certainly seems to be.”

Charles’ stomach sunk, face paling.

Focus.

Another attempt to reel him in, but his head was spinning. Was Emilia really thinking about starting her first season?

She was only 28, considerably young for an elf — or chimera for that matter — of her status to consider marriage. But as halflings, their timelines were generally accepted to look a little different.

As an of-age halfling himself, he'd been put under similar pressures in the recent years. But like Emilia (or so he thought), he'd been uninterested in pursuing romance. Not when there was still so much work to be done.

“Lady Emilia has been invited for tea,” Bethel suddenly announced from the front of the group, having been waiting for the room’s approval.

The gold telering in her ear gave a slight sway with the incoming message as she glanced back over her shoulder for a response. And though she was speaking more to Helena and Emilia herself, Charles saw fit to speak for them both in his own panic.

“I'll call a carriage,” he offered from his room, earning everyone's attention, including Emilia's. Looking to him for the first time since leaving home, she arched a skeptical, seemingly annoyed brow, and he had to fight not to shoot her one back. “If it's no trouble,” he mended, minding his footing. “I've got business with Lord Xander, though I may be forward to assume his presence. No need in burdening two coachmen.”

Terms To Know

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Warp Pad

Warp pads are used to teleport from one location to another. Instead of writing the necessary glyphs on the ground, permanent etchings are made in a fixed location, often on a raised platform of stone or other sturdy material.

Telering

Telerings are magical items used to communicate telepathically over varying distances when shared between two users. They resemble a pair of long, simplistic earrings. These earrings can be common, uncommon, and rare - each having varying capabilities and source materials.

Common | Copper | Range - 1 mile.

Uncommon | Silver | Range - 100 miles.

Rare | Gold | Range - 1000 miles.

Thanks For Reading! 💖

I'm so excited to finally start telling this new story! I plan on doing one update of Duchess once every 3 months, on a rotating schedule with my other two connected series, The Princess & The Possessed (Nov) and Buffy The Bard (Dec).

All of these will have several crossover scenes, with Buffy's series including voting polls that allow you to impact the story! So curious to see how that goes. 🥰

Please check the Master Archive post for update schedules.

Thanks for your patience, everyone, I hope you enjoy the story! 💖