Eleanore arrived at Demaria Mansion the next morning, the familiar iron gates bringing back a flood of memories she had forgotten. The body's true owner's memories were flooding in and it enveloped Eleanore's heart with something warm.
She found Flora in the garden where they once played as little children. Flora had faced her back to Eleanore, the scar between them cold and black as always. She looked up with visible surprise at Eleanore's approach.
"I wasn't expecting you," Flora said carefully.
"I wasn't expecting to come," Eleanore admitted. "But I couldn't let things sit the way they were." She took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry, Flora. For lying to you and turning cold to a friend as kind as you. I didn't want to hide things from you. I was forced."
"Forced?" She scoffs. "By whom?" She walked closer to Eleanore. "Who could force the Duchess of Lancaster?"
"The duke of Lancaster." She answers.
