I was the famously sickly daughter of a great general. A cold breeze could make me cough blood.

I was the famously sickly daughter of a great general. A cold breeze could make me cough blood. Unfortunately, I also had echopraxia, which made me compulsively imitative. Whatever I saw, I copied, and nobody could stop me. When I was three, one of my father's mistresses staged a hanging to win his attention. I thought it looked interesting, looped a sash around my own neck, and copied her. By the time a maid found me, my eyes had already rolled back. The physician forced three bowls of restorative down me through the night before he got me back. When I was five, my half sister threw herself on the floor screaming for candy. I copied her and stayed unconscious for seven whole days. My father even issued one iron rule throughout the Ashford estate: No crying. No tantrums. No dying in front of me. Then, at sixteen, an imperial decree married me to Crown Prince Adrian. My mother held my hand, her eyes rimmed with red. "The Crown Prince has a childhood sweetheart who's been raised beside him since they were little," my mother had warned me. "Apparently she has some kind of panic disorder. She cries, faints, and collapses over the slightest thing. "Elara, whatever you do, don't copy her. Your body won't survive even one round of that nonsense." On my very first night in the Crown Palace, Adrian never came to my chambers. His delicate childhood sweetheart did.#revengestory #reddit_tiktok #askredditstories #relationship #revengereturns #reddit #drama #revenge #redditstories #redditreadings