“Such a pathetic hero,” the queen’s voice boomed while the dark figured towered over Joan. “Couldn’t even defeat a single troll? Incinerate the failure.”

Joan screamed and tried to flee from the foul queen. But she couldn’t move, no matter how hard she tried. Even when the queen’s soldiers came and tossed firewood beneath her helpless form, Emeline towered over her. She was paralyzed. Helpless. Beaten.

The queen taunted her. Screamed at her. Mocked her for her failure. No matter what she tried her body refused to attempt to escape this end. “Everything is your fault, hero!” the queen yelled, echoing through her head until she swore her skull might crack. “This is just the punishment you deserve. You never should have come here. Never should have appeared!” The queen lifted a hand, a flaming torch held tightly, before dropping it down on kindling. Joan tried to move her foot one last time, to kick the flames away.

But all she could do was watch, helplessly, when it fell from above and lit the timber. The flames grew quickly around her. They seemed to swirl in a burning mass before taking the form of the Inferno God once more, his flames flowing around her flesh and began to melt her down drop by drip. For the Inferno God didn’t just burn you to ash, his torment was far, far slower.

------

Joan sat up, screaming. She was covered in sweat, enveloped in darkness. Fortunately, the darkness didn’t last long. A door opened, allowing light to spill into the room. A figure stepped into the room and lifted their right hand, causing light to form and brighten the room.

She recoiled from the figure, letting out a light shriek. It would have been one thing if they had been a servant or guard. But she recognized this person well.

Queen Emeline. Tall, regal, with long hair like gold, eyes as pure as the sea. A powerful user of healing magic, all who knew her were quickly swept away by her kindness, her gentle touch, her soft words. Practically a sister to Hardwin, beloved by all.

But that was just the lie that everyone believed. This woman was cruel and vicious, how such a cruel demon had ever learned healing magic was beyond her. Across all the lives she’d lived the queen had never treated her with anything but contempt. In fact, the woman had even tried to burn her at the stake on more than one occasion, imprisoning and nearly executing her on a dozen others. Joan had managed to keep her meetings with the woman to a minimum during her past lives. Even if Emeline was her queen, Joan’s role as the hero had heavily limited what the queen could do to her. However, it never seemed to be enough for the ruler, no matter how many victories she’d earned, how much she had suffered, the queen was always there to try and destroy her. Hardwin, with a great deal of difficulty, had struggled to keep the peace between them and, unfortunately, he often failed.

But then she had been the hero, able to fight back against the queen’s cruelty, ruler or not.

Now she was just a child and a mercenary, one who fell under the woman’s cruel rule. She had no rank, no gifts from the gods. If this woman wanted her dead, all the queen had to do was wave a hand and make it so. Joan had no claims by which she could call for an audience with the king and certainly none by which she could call on the royals of the other kingdoms.

Every step the woman took towards her felt like one step closer to the gallows.

Joan tried to pull away as far as she could, even when the woman sat on the edge of the bed. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered, not able to keep the fear out of her voice. Were she any less terrified she knew she would have been furious at herself for losing control like that, but for the moment all she could do was stare at the woman and pray that she would be granted mercy. Why did they have to bring her here of all places?

She waited for the queen’s face to twist into malevolent glee, red hot anger or even burning hatred. Instead, the woman looked startled, in fact she pulled away from her and stood once more. “My apologies,” she said in a gentle, soothing tone that hid the monster well.

But Joan knew her and knew what the woman was capable of. She knew to fear the woman behind those beautiful eyes. When the woman reached out, she recoiled back from her again, panic building inside her at the thought of what this woman was going to do to her. Why did they leave her here, alone, with this foul woman?

The queen stopped, her hand a few feet from her. She then gave a gentle sigh, before very slowly reaching her hand out once more. The hand was soft, gentle, almost soothing when it touched her shoulder. “Joan, was it?”

“Yes,” Joan whispered, unable to keep herself from shaking.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise. Nothing is going to hurt you,” Emeline said, her voice like silk. “I know you have been through a difficult time. Hardwin told me of your battle with the troll. But there’s no troll here. There’s nothing here to harm you in any way. None of my soldiers would dare lay a hand on you. You’re safe, of this I vow.”

Joan stared at the queen, her mouth falling open. The woman seemed legitimately concerned about her. Almost protective. The warmth and kindness she radiated was like nothing she’d ever seen the woman display. The look in her eyes was one filled with worry, not contempt. “Who are you?” she found herself asking before she could stop herself.

“You aren’t aware? How very strange, I was told you even attended our academy. I am Queen Emeline Stormend III.”

Joan cringed at that name, unable to stop herself from shaking. Of all the reactions she expected from the queen at that, however, it was not to have the queen’s gentle smile disappear to be replaced by a look of concern.

“Joan?”

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered, staring up at the ruler, unable to make the trembling stop. How long until that mask of kindness and sweetness disappeared and the monster inside showed itself? By the gods themselves she wished it was the troll again.

The queen’s hands reached out and, very gently, Joan was pulled into a hug. “I’m so sorry,” Emeline whispered soothingly. “I swear. I will not allow anyone to harm you. I do not know what dangers you’ve faced to be so frightened, but no one will harm you here. I swear to you, my sweet child. I could never allow anyone to harm you while within these walls. Why, you’re practically my niece.”

Despite herself, Joan found herself relaxing into the hug, not sure what to make of that last comment from the ruler. The hug was warm and soft. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held her like this. No, even in her past lives she almost never received hugs like this. Even in this life she couldn’t remember actually being held in such a comforting, gentle manner. She could almost believe the words of the ruler. Had she not experienced the anger, rage and viciousness of the queen firsthand, she would have fallen for this entirely.

She then realized that the woman was using a spell on her. Not to control her mind. But gentle, soothing warmth was radiating from her hands. A healing spell. “Were you the one who healed me?” Joan asked gently.

“Yes,” Emeline said, slowly letting her go and staring down at her. “I must admit. When I first saw you, your state was horrific. I haven’t seen a child in such a state since...” The queen stopped herself before giving a shake of her head. “I know Hardwin can be a bit rough at times, but I assure you he won’t harm you. After the tongue lashing I gave him for allowing you to come to such a state, I don’t think he’ll be willing to handle you with anything but the softest touch,” she said with a laugh. “To imagine, finding you and then risking you in such a manner. Chosen indeed.”

“Thank you,” Joan said, keeping her eyes lowered. “Why are you doing this, though? Did Hardwin make you?”

Emeline sighed and gave a small shake of her head. “Make, no. He did all but beg. I must admit, the resemblance is uncanny. I know this must be strange for you, but I am certain it is just as strange for Hardwin. You’ll both need time to adjust.”

“I don’t have that much time,” Joan said.

“Nonsense. After finding his daughter, he’s hardly going to let you go again, now is he?”

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Joan blinked a few times. She slowly counted to ten, before looking up at the queen. She had to have misheard that. “After finding his what?”

The queen cringed, looking slightly embarrassed. “Oh. My apologies, I just got so excited. He hasn’t told you yet, has he? But please, calm yourself. You have nothing to fear. Hardwin hasn’t taken you out of any malicious intent. The reason he has gone to such lengths to take custody of you is because you’re his daughter. You’ll be safe now. I promise.”

Joan just stared at the woman. It would take her another thousand lifetimes to come up with a proper response to that. “Oh.”

The queen gave a soft chuckle. “You’re handling this very well.”

“It’s quite a bit of information to take in, your highness. I must admit, I’m not sure how to respond.” She wondered if bursting into laughter or fits of hysteric crying would be more fitting right now. At least the hug made a little bit more sense no.

“It’s okay, take as much time as you need. Are you feeling any better?”

“Other than the...” her words trailed off and looked down at her hands and legs. Actually, she felt rather nice. There were no aches and pains. Even more surprising was what she was wearing, a rather elegant, purple dress. Nicer than anything she’d ever even touched as Joan. “Uhhh… actually, I feel great.”

“No aches or pains?”

“Not a one. Did you…?”

“Of course. I could hardly leave you hurting like that, could I?” she asked before reaching up to once more softly rub her head. “I’ll allow you to rest, okay? Hardwin should be back in a few days. Until then, please make yourself comfortable. If you feel any pain, call for me immediately. Otherwise, I’ll have someone stationed outside your room at all times, so feel free to use them as needed. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” Joan said, staring up at the woman. Of all the people she ever expected to dote on her, the queen was not one of them.

“I’ll have something prepared immediately. Would you--” The queen was cut off by a sudden knocking on the door. It opened and, after a moment, a man poked his head inside the room.

“Your highness? The king has need of your assistance.”

Emeline gave a soft sigh before nodding. “Apologies, Joan. Work is never quite done.” She got to her feet and gave one more soft smile. “If you require anything, don’t be afraid to ask, child. Until then, rest and recover.” She started to walk a few steps before stopping and glancing back. “Also. I know you may feel perfectly fine, but do not over exert yourself. You were put through a nasty recovery and your body will take time to recover.”

Joan nodded in stunned silence, watching the woman leave. Even after the door closed, she could do little more than stare at it. “What in the world was that?” she finally asked out loud. It had happened to her and she still couldn’t believe it. She laid back down on the bed and searched through all of those memories. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember a single time Emeline had ever so much as given her a smile, let alone talked to her in a gentle tone. The first time they met in most lives had been cold, bitter and angry affairs, considering the lives that the hero had saved then, it felt rather inhospitable. Yet here she was being treated like a princess. She lifted a hand to her throat and shuddered. Angry glares were a borderline mercy compared to what the queen usually gave her after that. Had she been anything but THE hero, she would have likely died a thousand times over.

Yet she had always been told of how kind and gentle Emeline was. How strange the coldness and anger she received was. She wondered if this was the true Emeline that everyone else received. If she had attempted to meet with the queen more during her lives, would she have seen this side of her? She wished she could have kept some of her memories between lives, maybe then she would have been able to find out why the queen had despised her so much. Known which questions to find the answers for. But then, if she had been allowed that there wouldn’t have been any point to become Joan.

She glanced around the room and found herself, once again, shocked. She wasn’t in an infirmary, nor did she appear to be in a guest room. The bed she rested in was, while comfortable, appeared rather worn and simple. A bell dangled over it with a small pearl as the clapper. There were small bundles of dust in the corners of the room, as if it had been hastily cleaned and things had been quickly moved aside. There was another door in the room, near the bed. Slowly she got to her feet and walked to it, opening it and peering inside.

Servant tunnels, the kind they used to move about the castle without being seen. She was in one of the servant’s rooms. But why? She wasn’t a servant, nor had she ever met the queen. Despite the queen’s confusion, she HAD been a part of these lands her entire life, even this one. But there had never been any time where she had met the queen, nor any reason for her to. She was a commoner. Even as Joan the most she had ever seen was a portrait at the academy.

Was it possible this was where Hardwin normally stayed when he was here? Why would he sleep in one of the servant’s quarters? Why in the world would Hardwin think SHE was his daughter? Why was it with every question she made, it seemed ten more stemmed from it? Why couldn’t she get a few answers?

She walked back towards the bed but stopped halfway there. There was a mirror across the room. That meant whoever the servant was had to be incredibly important, if their uniform being perfect was enough to warrant such an expensive tool. She couldn’t help herself, she walked to the mirror and peered at herself.

The dress was even more breathtaking than she thought. While it was a little too big for her, it was made of multiple layers of thin, expensive fabric. She rubbed a finger down it before shaking her head. She would have sworn it was silk, but that couldn’t be right. Why would anyone put HER of all people in something so expensive? Even if she was a guest of the queen there was absolutely no reason to put her in something so lavish. Though the more she stared at herself and touched the fabric, the more certain she was that it was correct. Her examinations turned up another fact, though. The dress was too big for her, just a little bit. Some of the purple dye had faded as well. It was definitely an older dress. Perhaps it was something the queen herself had once worn?

THAT thought made her shake her head. There was absolutely no way that was possible. It had to be something one of the servants wore on incredibly special occasions. Though even that excuse seemed almost silly. If it had been the queen’s at some point she supposed it made sense that they thought it was okay to put her in it.

Joan gave another sigh and admired herself in it none the less. She could probably count the number of times she wore a dress in any of her lives on one hand. Even in this life, she’d worn what felt more like a burlap bag than a dress as a child. Once she’d entered the academy she wore nothing more than the tunics and breeches that were standard uniform. Even in her past lives the opportunity to wear such things never came up, especially as a male of noble birth. Let alone the hero.

That thought made her cheeks turn scarlet and she shook her head.

Slowly she reached out and put a hand on the mirror. She was feeling more and more like herself with each moment now. All those past lives seemed to quickly be drifting into the background, just another memory. Another life. Bits and pieces of them came to mind, but they felt almost unreal now. This was who she was now. Joan, a skilled girl who, through a bit of luck, had managed to get noticed in the orphanage and then became a prodigy in the academy. She gave a small smile when she remembered those days.

Able to pick up nearly any weapon and seem to all but master it in a day, able to learn a spell after only seeing it once or twice, albeit her mana reserves were still quite low. It was no wonder, though. She hadn’t been learning, it had all been information tucked away inside her head. The only issue now was the fact that her body couldn’t keep up with the abilities she had once used.

The smile wavered and she leaned forward, resting her forehead on the mirror. Yes, Joan the prodigy. A girl with the memory of a thousand past lives. After all, the hero wouldn’t have had so many bones in his body broken by a simple kick of a troll. Or was she still the hero, just in the body of a little girl? She wondered if she’d ever truly feel one way or the other. She pulled back and stared at her reflection once more. “Who are you? Who am I? Wait, what?”

She slowly reached up to her head. Someone had cut her hair. She’d always kept it short, cutting off the ends so they would keep out of her eyes. But they’d been uneven. Now her brown, curly locks looked almost elegant, evenly cut and light on her head. She blushed, staring into her own green eyes for a moment before doing a little spin, the dress swirling around her.

She was almost cute. She wondered if others would think so. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever thought she was cute. Would her companions think so? Would the chosen? Wait, why did she care? Was that a hero thought or a Joan thought? Were they separate or the same?

Joan found her mind drawn to one chosen in particular and all her momentary pride fell apart. Neia the Radiant. If ever there was a hero who was beauty incarnate, it had been her. The one who seemed second most likely to fall to the corruption of the demon lord. “Stupid. It’s not a hero thought or a Joan thought. It’s a stupid thought,” she whispered to herself before shaking her head.

She couldn’t believe she was wasting her thoughts on idle thoughts of how pretty she looked. Who cared? If she failed, every life in this world would burn away, either from the demon lord or from the Inferno God. How many times had she herself been burned in those hellish flames? She gave a light shudder, small glimpses of the pain flashing through her mind.

Joan shook her head once more. She had to be ready for everything that would come. She knew what she could do before, but she needed to know what she could do now. Skills of all her lifetimes were there for her to pick up, but after what happened when she tried to use swanfall she needed to be more careful. There were so many techniques and spells that before she could have done in her sleep, yet even trying them might destroy her body or at least leave her exhausted. The ones she had ‘mastered’ at the academy were now just the beginning of what she’d need to figure out.

Unfortunately, her thoughts towards her past lives didn’t seem to help much. She had always been praised as having incredible capabilities with near limitless reserves of mana. The fact a technique that she had once seen as simple and weak had nearly destroyed her arm made her want to scream. As if she went from having a body of iron to one made of the most delicate glass.

Even worse was that Hardwin had done that technique with such ease after having seen her do it only once, even in the midst of fighting the troll.

She walked back to the bed and sat down, holding out her hand. She had to focus on practice, not on petty thoughts. The world didn’t need Joan. It needed the hero. That was who she had to be.