Ariel awoke to soft lights and shadows washing across his face repeatedly in the patterns of a tree's leaves. Though he didn't hear the soft little rustles that should have accompanied it. His mind digested this, yet his thoughts remaind non-coherent.

His eyes slowly adjusted and fucused upon the smooth, ligthtly tan cieling, littered with the shadows of a tree beyond some far window. The bed below him was comfortable. A comfort that was both "his" and "not his".

...

Instantly, a frown settled upon his face, which then turned into a confused and inquisitive raised brow.

'What?'

He couldn't understand it. "Both his and not his?" He felt something terrible grow in the depths of his subconsious. More terrible than the fact that he suddenly remembered his toilet exploding of all things...

He didnt know why he was afraid. But Ariel swore it was as if he started remembering things that never were.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and relaxed, head falling to the left atop his pillow. Only to open them and reawaken to the uncertainty; His gaze met with the elegant contours of a wooden dresser, a stout but beautifully crafted nightstand, and the bronze encased miniature portrait it held on top of it.

The portrait was the real kicker. It was of a flambuoyantly dressed sharp-looking man and his equally outfitted wife, four little boys sitting neatly between them. The garb reminded him of those old-timey drawings of mideival aristocrats, but in smaller scale, more acurate, and strangely more... 

...familiar?

Again? It had caught him off guard. The shadow kept growing in the back of his mind. Like a word at the tip of his tounge, Ariel felt a truth, a belief, teetering at the edges of his active mind, attempting to tell him something he couldnt tell himself.

It was annoying to no end.

This instantaneous chaos...

*Knock!!! Knock!!! Knock!!!*

Three deep knocks from his right came so suddenly that he nearly jamp up and shat himself.

'... Oh God...'

'...that scared the living crap out of me!'

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His head veered in the direction of the noise, catching sight of the large set of double doors, rather far from the bed. A single hand slipped from the sheets and placed itself over his rapidly beating heart.

It was then, that Ariel noticed another little piece of the puzzle, staring down at his own hand. It was small. Small, as in, like a child's hands; "small"... Suddenly, the room looked a lot bigger than he thought it had over the course of a few minutes. He was silent for a moment, before his mind was overun with fear and confusion!

Ariel wanted to scream and point to somebody at his hand with the small digits of his other little hand, and ask them what the hell was going on, but was interupted by another three sharp knocks at the door.

*Knock!! knock!! knock!!*

"Young Master, Lucille. Your father requests your presence in the hall!" A female voice spoke rather politely in muffled tones on the other side.

'My father?' Ariel shook his head, slapping his youthful cheeks with both hands, to snap himself out of this stupor. He turned to squint at the portrait, as if things were begining to fall into place. Inumerable images and memories surfaced in his mind. And within them - the man in the portrait.

'Father...?'

'That's my father? Just what the hell is going on!!!'

"Young Master, are you alright in there? The maids are waiting to dress you..." The voice spoke once more from beyond the door, this time however, with a greater degree of concern.

Ariel paused for a moment, sighed, and decided to take the path of least resistance, as well as hoping for the best. This evironment wasn't hostile so far, and it seemed he would understand far more by going with the flow, tha sitting here and pondering about the current situation.

"A-Ah, yes. Come in!" He yelped out loud to the door, suprising even himself with how high of a pitch his voice now held.

The door quickly slid open, reavealing a quatet of maids, the likes of which, besides in GSO, Ariel had never seen the likes of. He looked to the one in the lead, a young woman, probably around 20 or so, with brunette hair, an average face, and cool blue eyes. A name popped into his head.

"Edith"

She perked up attentively, "Yes, Young Master!"

"Oh, it's nothing, nevermind..."

The maid looked confused for a moment before brushing the thought aside. Two other maids selected clothes from his wardrobe in the back corner of the room, asking his opinion on them before bringing them to his side. Ariel himself, fully removed himself from the sheets of his bed, revealing the entirety of his youthful form, encased in what looked like a sleeping tunic of sorts.

As the maids undressed and dressed him, Ariel did the best he could to hide the embarassment creeping onto his face, attempting to think of the maids as npcs. Much less becoming aroused at the thought of women undressing him, he couldn't even get Ariel jr. to stand up straight with how embarassed he was. There was also the undeniable fact that these were grown, albeit young, women. And he was now just a boy.

He sighed once again as the other maid rolled a full-body mirror over from the corner of the room and placed it in front of him.

Reflected in the mirror was a young boy. Ariel likened the possible age to when he was around seven or eight, but possibly younger. He had greyish-white hair, a healthy, well-rounded face still maintaning a bit of chubbiness in the cheeks. Neither thin, nor fat. His eyes - a vibrant and deep orange - which he hadn't noticed in the portrait earlier.

Something in the way he looked reeked "nobility". Ariel couldnt quite put a finger on what it was. Maybe it was air his apearance gave off, or that subconsciously proud look on his face. There was that, and the fact that he had maids surrounding him, and was addressed "Young Master".

The maids had dressed him in a pair comfortable black breeches with a doublet that was parts blue and white. All in all, it looked very fitting on him. However it did give his childish figure an ounce of clumsy-looking maturity.

After all was said and done, the maids did a little curtsey and scampered off to do whatever it is maids do... Leaving Ariel to stare in the mirror (returned to its corner) in silence.

"Lucille Eastwynd" He spoke softly, head tilting.

That was the name of this bodys original owner... It came quickly to him as he stared at his form in the mirror. Maybe it really was his name, and it just seemed not to be because he regained the memories of his past life or something? But... that was assuming he died in the first place and didn't transmigrate...

"Whatever!" He threw his hands upon his face, slapping his cheeks once more. The situation, however it may be, would not change at a moments notice. If there was a way back, assuming he didn't die, he would have to go look for it. 

'Or, invent it.' He thought, staring at the old-fashion cloth on his arms.

"Nobody here will call me, Ariel." His eyes lost their focus for but a moment, and his mouth let loose a sigh.

"Lucille..."

He closed his eyes. And opened them once more.

"Lucille it is!"