The sound of knocking, quiet, gentle, louder, harsh, then frantic. The turning of key in its lock, then the smooth swing of your bedroom door being opened.

"Lady Hark," the voice of a distinguished man enunciated, followed by the blooming of light through the grand windows as the curtains were drawn back, seeking to banish sleep from your person.

"I must insist you rise, it's half past noon, my dear Lady, and I do believe you've obligations to attend," there was a gentle fondness in the Chamberlain's voice. His hair was well kept, slicked back and grey through and through. Calming amber eyes and a hawkish nose made up his face, the former holding a secret smile while his lips remained even, brows raised as if to prop up the seriousness of the situation.

After all, Derek had surmised that you had only two hours to rise, bathe, dress, and dine before rushing off to the esteemed Lady Aria's party. He knew that you simply would not forgive yourself if you missed it, having always so delighted in meddling with Aria's affairs.

"Now, do excuse my presumption, but..." Derek trailed off momentarily and then clapped his hands twice, sharply. In the next instant two maids and three ladies in waiting filed into the room. "Up! Up!" he said right after, as if to punctuate the claps. "Let's see that Lady Hark is ready by second hour's end. After all...a Hark is never late."

'A Hark is never late...' an infamous phrase, ominous now, but far more troubling when it had been uttered by Daniel Hark--your father. It had been said often in your youth, even when not strictly necessary, yet had never quite lost its bite. After all, Daniel--though he loved his daughter dearly as any father should--knew that courtly life required much of its Lords and Ladies, despite what the peasantry might think. You'd ne'er hear the end of it if you made those words a lie.

Never.

However, while no one else appeared to notice anything awry, you might notice something strange indeed. You knew where you were...but didn't remember getting there. The bed was familiar, but it didn't feel like the one you knew. It was much the same with the room, the smells--familiar, but not--and the people as well. Names came easily, matching just as simply to faces. Some memories even surfaced...but they weren't yours. Not really.

But most worrying was your own body. It was comfortable...but distinctly unfamiliar. As if...as if your mind had been nested firmly within the body of another.

The body...of a very familiar villainess. The one you'd recall easily as from a favored novel you'd owned: Aria's Crown.