A Sort of Changeling 8/8 (Patreon)

To quote Pascal:

"I have made this longer than usual because I have not had time to make it shorter."

THE STORY: 

Lady Amaryllis Euthalia Leverhulm, twenty-one years old,  walked carefully through the snow that dusted the cobbles of the square. She’d had the coachman drop her off a few blocks away so that she could walk. She still loved the snow, though her transformation had left her with a greater propensity to feel the cold. But, her furs were warm, her boots of the highest quality and her spectacles were charmed to resist fogging. 

As she reached her destination, No. 4 Cold Hollow Lane, she paused and looked up at the snow falling form the bright overcast that blanketed Lowendon. She thought about the path that had led her here to be starting an art, music and writing tutoring job for another minor noble house. 

The short story was, eleven years ago, she’d been a 35 year-old graphic designer living in a house in the woods. Then, he’d been transformed by a noble elf couple into their ten-year-old daughter. They’d raised her, spoiled her, even, and now he was grown up… again.

The longer story was that he saved his new parent’s lives. 

On her wedding day, Lady Chrysanthe  Asphodel Leverhulme had been cursed by a hag for reasons nobody ever discovered. The prevailing theory was it was the woman that Lord Ambrose Leverhulme turned from in favor of Chrysanthe. But, the curse was devastating. 

If, in ten years, a child of their blood was not brought into the world, Ambrose would die but, if she gave birth, her child would live but, Chrysanthe would die in childbirth. Ambrose and Chrysanthe’s love was strong and neither would sacrifice the other. Chrysanthe, however, was a sorceress and this would be their salvation. She’d studied the hag’s wording of the spell and found that the old witch had given her a pathway to a solution.

Blood. 

That was the word the hag used. Chrysanthe devised a spell combining their blood with powerful magic to transform another into their child. However, it turned out that such a spell couldn’t work on anyone from a world where magic existed. Such are the ways of magic…

Hunting for a solution, Ambrose came up with the idea of using their winter house as a sort of trap.  They knew of other worlds and they found one just adjacent to their own. They fitted their house just inside this other world, using it as a gateway and a sort of… airlock between a magical realm and their world. They also attuned the spell around the house to find a suitable candidate and guide them to the house. 

For a candidate, they decided they wanted someone who might accept the change but, didn’t want it badly. They wanted an independent daughter, for it was a daughter they decided to have, someone with a spirit that might resist them and become her own person. 

Of course, they found Robert and Robert became Amaryllis.

It was difficult at first. Her new weaker, smaller, feminine… elfin body took a lot of getting used to. So did being the child of a noble house. Her new parents were kind, patient and understanding, guiding her through his new difficulties but, still allowing her to be herself. 

To her relief, she was herself… mostly. There were some changes to his mind as well as her body; some from Chrysanthe and some from the spell that did what it wished. Such are the ways of magic.

Her mannerisms had changed, he was more polite and, though the rhythms of his speech had not changed, she’d lost her slang and a great deal of his vocabulary and knowledge that was exclusive to her old life. Automobiles, airplanes and computers were vague memories at best. She’d gained knowledge to replace it. She could now read elvish and dwarfish as well as english and her handwriting was better than it ever was as a human male. While she’d been kind and empathetic before here transformation, the spell had accentuated these traits, making her patient and giving; helping others now gave her a deeper satisfaction than it ever had done. 

She also gained perfect pitch and a ten-year-old’s ability on the violin. Chrysanthe didn’t add that but, she believed the spell thought a noble young lady should learn an instrument. 

She’d also kept his artistic and writing abilities which, for a ten-year-old were quite advanced, and eleven more years of study had brought her to a level she’d never have been able to achieve. 

And now, here she was. Far from her family’s manor, taking a job perfect for the intelligent daughter of minor nobility in this land. 

The walked towards the door, her skirts pushing the snow ahead of her. She mounted the steps, reached the door and stopped again. She took a deep breath.

Eleven years as Amaryllis. Eleven years and it took her years to get over losing her old life. She missed her friends, her lover, her life. Ambrose and Chrysanthe had understood. They’d comforted her when she cried and helped her heal. She’d grown into a beautiful young woman and though she’d received the bountiful bosom of her mother, she’d never came near her mother’s height. She was short even by elf standards, though anyone who took her for granted because of this, they soon learned better. 

She was the daughter of Lord and Lady Leverhulme, raised to be strong, smart and resourceful. Raised to be deeply aware of her position in this world but, gracious and kind, almost to a fault. She smiled to herself becasue she knew she was all of those things. Good dress sense, too, she thought, another gift of the spell. 

With smile that spoke of determination, Lady Amaryllis Euthalia Leverhulm removed her leather-gloved hand from her muff, reached out, lifted the brass knocker and announced her arrival.