Leave without acknowledging her

The king pauses, his hand on the doorknob. Then, with a sigh and a shrug, he opens the door to leave, without so much as a backward glance.

He takes two steps before he stops at the unexpected sound of laughter. Turning in confusion, he sees Agatha, her mouth open in a loud, exuberant laugh.

"Just as I suspected," she says. "You almost had me believing you cared, the way you were so tender and so compassionate.... Thank you for making this easy."

Malcolm opens his mouth to ask what she is talking about, but he stops as his vision grows dark. Feeling light-headed, he reaches out a hand to steady himself and exclaims in alarm as he sees his hand -- not the strong, manly hand he expected, but a small, delicate, feminine one.

Malcolm looks up in confusion and finds himself looking at himself. The person in front of him is the spitting image of King Malcolm of Mirantia.

"What is this?" the king demanded. To his astonishment, it wasn't his deep, commanding voice. Instead, a high-pitched, female voice escaped his lips. He put his hand to his mouth, and everything felt all wrong. Looking down, Malcolm saw Agatha's body supporting his head. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, convinced it was a dream.

"Let me save you the trouble of asking," said the man who is standing where Malcolm was, just a moment ago. "You and I have traded places. We have traded places and bodies, and very soon I am going to take over your life while you pay the penance for the way you have treated me and others like me."

"Trade places?" Agatha's voice comes from Malcolm's lips again, causing him to stop speaking and again rub his throat. The feeling of such small hands touching such a tender neck make him begin to doubt his own sanity.

"You will have a long time to let your new reality sink in, so I will be brief with my explanation," said the man. "I am a Wipplecrow. I'm not surprised if you don't know what that is; you have been too busy objectifying members of your own species to pay attention to us. I am over one thousand years old, as you measure time. I am able to take human form, and when I wish to take a new form, all I need to do is mate with another human and conceive a child. Once that happens, I am able to draw upon the power of conception to exchange bodies with the other parent. I was reasonably happy in Agatha's body, but the opportunity to step into the life of a king was just too tempting to pass up."

"Step into my life? What do you mean?" Malcolm asked through Agatha's lips.

"Actually, it's my life now, Agatha," he responded with a sneer. "You used your royal position to help yourself to Agatha, so it's only fair that Agatha get a shot at the king's body for a while. Actually, for quite a while."

Malcolm threw himself at the imposter, fists flying. A few minutes earlier, his fists would have been a powerful **** to be reckoned with. Now, the tiny things attached to these narrow, female arms, are easily blocked and controlled by the strong arms of the imposter.

"Calm yourself, my dear," he said, throwing her back into a pile of linens. "Attempting to harm the king is an act of treason. I would hate to have to give the order to sever that pretty little head from that delicate little neck!"

The man stretched and looked down at his body, appraisingly. "Hmm... It's been a long time since I've occupied a healthy man's body. My goodness, but how do you deal with all this ego?" He reached down and pats the bulge between his legs. "And I'm feeling something a bit more powerful than ego, as well.... I think I will go pay my respects to the Queen... and who knows? I may need to spend some father/daughter time with the Princess Royal, too." He laughs and exits the room, walking down the hallway toward the king's quarters.

Malcolm pulls himself out of the crumpled linens and tries to control the fear and uncertainty growing inside. He considers running after the imposter and attempting to overpower him.