Replacement Bride

I awakened to darkness. Absolute, stabbing pain in my eyes. Severe headache. Chills running down my spine every few seconds.

The pain and discomfort burned through me like I had been thrown into fire and left there to rot.

I tried to open my eyes against the piece of clothing wrapped around my eyes, but the piercing, tearing, violet pain caused me to scream.

“I see you’ve woken.”

It was that woman's voice.

“It hurts. My eyes hurts!” I wailed, trying to rise from whatever hard surface they laid me on, but I couldn't move a muscle. I didn't know what these people had done to me. But every fiber of my being hurt!

“It's normal to feel pain.” She said.

I could hear her walking over, accompanied by the thick smell of herbs.

“The most dangerous part is over. All you need now is to take your medicine regularly for the next seven days. The fever will go away and your eyes can be unwrapped.”

I felt her lean over, bringing what felt like a bowl to my lips. “Drink it dear, and the pain will ease.”

I didn't dare not to drink it. Even though the smell was too strong, and the taste was horribly bitter, I chugged it all in large gulps.

I just wanted the pain to stop.

Just as I swallowed the last gulp, my stomach twisted and I gagged, about to throw up, but the woman clamped her hand over my mouth.

“Swallow it!” the sudden venom in her tone made me flinch and subconsciously swallowed.

Immediately, my stomach churned violently, rising, burning, desperate to reject whatever she had forced into me. But her other hand slid to my throat, fingers pressing just enough to control it.

“Breathe slowly," she instructed.

I tried. Tried to obey. Tried not to panic.

My breaths came out broken, uneven, trembling as I forced the nausea back down, swallowing hard against the bitter taste that clung stubbornly to my tongue, the back of my throat, even my nose.

My face twisted. My mouth opened. I was panting like a fish out of water.

After what felt like forever, my stomach settled, but the bitter taste clung to me.

“Open your mouth,” she asked.

I hesitated, afraid of what else she wanted to feed me.

Seeing I wasn't willing, she brought the thing to my lips. The sweet smell wafted into my nose.

It was sweet.

Immediately, I accepted it. But the thought of having to keep drinking this medicine for the next seven days made the taste of the sweet even bitter.

…

It was the seventh day. She came again with the same medicine, same bowl.

I didn't have to see it to know. I was already used to the smell, the pattern, the shape of the bowl. She never changed it. For the last seven days, she fed me the medicine three times a day.

The fever went away on the third day. The pain in my eyes stopped this morning. I knew the time of day because she said so.

And this night, after taking the medicine, she'd take off my eyes covering.

“Lady Jeanine, how do you feel today?”

The name hit me harder every time she called me that. At first, I told her I wasn't Jeanine, but she didn't care and repeatedly called me so until I stopped trying to fight it. And just let her be.

“Same as this afternoon.” I replied flatly.

“That's good. Here, drink this.” She handed the bowl to me. I drank it without flinching or even a crease on my face.

The bitterness was still there, the smell was still strong, but my revolve had changed.

I set the bowl down beside me.

“Now, let's see the healing process.”

She slowly undid the wrapping around my eyes, peeling it layer by layer until all was taken off but my eyes remained close. I was scared to open them.

Seven days in utter darkness hadn't only heightened by senses, I weirdly found comfort in the darkness, where I didn't have to see the world I'd come to despise.

“Slowly, open your eyes. If you feel any discomfort, speak up.”

I took a deep breath, and slowly, I tried to pry them open softly. My eyelids wobbled, too scared to see the light.

I kept trying, then after many attempts, my eyelids slid open.

At first, I saw nothing. Then, slowly, they focused into a dim, almost dark space with lamps hanging on walls. The second I laid eyes on those lights, my eyes shut closed automatically.

A sharp sting shot through them. Not the agony from seven days ago. But the sting was enough to make my breath hitch.

“Again,” she said.

My spine straightened, my fingers curled around the edges of the stone bed beneath me, as though I was getting ready for war.

I tried again. And again. And again…

Finally, I managed to hold out longer.

My vision blurred. Shapes scattered. The room spun slightly. Nothing made sense.

But I endured.

Then, very slowly, things started to make sense. The shadows dancing around objects slowly dimmed. The outline of the healer’s figure came into view.

But even as everything seemed to be in place, my vision didn't clear out. My vision remained blurry.

“How is it?” she asked.

“My vision is blurry,” I finished. My voice was quieter than I intended.

It felt like something was sitting behind my eye.

The woman stepped closer. I could make out her shape, but not her face. Not clearly.

“Squint,” she instructed.

I tried to do as she said but a dull pain hit my eyes once more. My eyes suddenly felt tired. I closed them to allow them to rest.

“That is expected,” she said. “Your eyes are still adjusting just fine. It will clear in time.”

I scoffed.

“Take a look at your eyes.” She pressed something into my hands.

I forced my tired eyes open again. It was a small bronze mirror. The face starting at me was mine, but the eyes, they looked like Jeanine’s. Honey-brown.

But unlike Jeanine’s soft, happy ones, mine were emotionless. Staring at them made me feel like a stranger in my own body.

I chuckled, then burst into a fit of unamused laughter.

I wasn't blind. I didn't need my eyes to be changed. Even though everyone hated my eyes, I loved them. They were a part of me.

Yet, I was forced through all that pain, all that torture, just to give me eyes that I detested.

I'd rather I went blind than live with these eyes.

…

That night, the healer led me back to my father's study.

“They're fine for now," she said. "But she'll need more time to heal properly. At this early stage, she shouldn't expose them to sun or anything harsh and dangerous...” she paused. “As for how long the color will last, it differs from person to person. Likewise the side effect…”

But my father wasn't listening. He was busy scrutinized me from head to toe.

“They're good enough.” He suddenly said. “Whether she goes blind afterwards, it didn't happen under my roof.”

Then, he turned to another figure in the room. From the silhouette, it was a woman.

“Get her ready, they're leaving tonight.”

I didn't react. I just followed the woman leading me to my death.

However, I was shocked when the woman took me to the bathing house.

"What is going on?" I finally asked her.

"We're preparing you for your wedding to the Grand Preceptor, Lady Jeanine."