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What if I never lied to my father that day?

If I had truthfully told him that, yes, I did go through my inheritance. That it indeed was not just a week of me being sick, rather a week of painful magic bursting through my body so I could become a better wizard.

Would he have kept me?

Maybe he wouldn’t have thrown me at the King’s feet, the second the King was rumoured to speak about needing a new wife. And maybe, I myself could have been the one needing a wife if I told father that I simply became a more powerful wizard.

Would he have believed me? That I got my inheritance seven years early?

Even if he didn’t, my magical records would back me up. So why  did I lie?

I thought that mother would call me shameful when she learnt that I was a genomorphmagus. She already hated me, always favoring my brother over me. So, I would just keep it a secret. Nobody needed to know.

It was the biggest mistake I had ever made. Other than not killing myself earlier on, of course.

Mother agreed.

“You! Sitting in bed for a week straight, not helping around because of a damn cold!”, she scolded all those years ago. The way she spoke to me still made me feel disgusted inside, plus the way she would look at me like I was filth. And the way she acted like I was to do all the work while my brother would play with his friends all day…it was like she wanted  me to become a housewife.

Of course, she expected me to be a girl when I was born, and she never really got over that. So, in theory, she would be happy when I announced my inheritance-but I knew she would kill me. I could already hear her screaming from the second I first got out of bed to see my new body-”You’re supposed to be a man! Bring home a woman to care for the house when I grow old!”. She would never be proud of me.

Naturally, she saw this opportunity as a way to convince my father to get rid of me. She told my father that I would continue to be lazy like this for the rest of my stay in their house, so he should just sell me off somewhere. Then, she brought up the fact that the King was looking for someone.

The King apparently killed his previous wife, who had already given him a son who was a few years older than me, and now needed someone to fill her place. I was only ten, so how was I  a candidate when there were so many older women? I wasn’t even a woman!

But, father took me regardless, first thing after his work was over. Sadly, the King chose me after one look at me. “Stunning lady! You will do magnificent.”, he said as he inspected my face. Of course, father wasn’t reluctant even a single bit to leave me there in the castle-anything to please his wife. 

So, after father left the castle, the King walked me to a room. He instructed me to stay there and relax until somebody told me to come out. So I did exactly that. Not like I could do anything else, to be fair.

I stressed in that room, knowing that the King was abusive, and that he would torment me here. He was nice to most people, but never his wives. His son was spoiled and basked in love, but his previous wives weren’t. And I knew that I wouldn’t change that.

He killed his first wife when she was sixteen and him twenty. She was carrying his child, due in a couple months, but never lived to give birth. They got into a nasty fight one night, and the King kicked her stomach, killing her and the baby instantly.

His second wife wasn’t much better. She was nineteen while he was twenty-two when they got married. About a year or so later, she got pregnant, then delivered the baby safely nine months later. The way they were going at first made it seem like they would die together, but the King was a hot-headed man and got into an argument with his wife-similar to the last by the way things ended. So, he was left with an adult son but no wife.

But I would change that. Unfortunately.

Third time’s the charm, right? But I knew that it wasn’t true.

Soon enough, a maid came to call me for dinner. She walked me to the dining hall, where I sat next to the King and across from his son.

The King spoke to me softly, insisting that I referred to him as Thomas instead of sir-but I would never do so in front of him. His son was quiet-he only told me that his name was Tom. I suppose he was sulking for his mother, so I didn’t speak to him to avoid annoying him.

After a nerve wracking dinner, the King dismissed his son and ushered the servants out of the room. He slammed my hand down, gesturing me to sit, as I tried to leave with them. Oh no-what did he want?

“Your father handed your medical records. Anything you want to inform me of?”, he questioned sternly.

“I…went through an inheritance recently.”, I admitted, refusing to make eye contact with him.

“And?”, he pushed me to continue. What did he want to know…?

“I am a genomorphmagus…”, I muttered quietly. There wasn’t anything else to tell.

“Good. You will now stay in female form for the rest of your life; no one shall know or speak of your male form. Understood? You must be a good listener to stay my wife.”, he said as I nodded yes.

“Go to your room, I will give you more instructions tomorrow morning. There are robes and undergarments in the closet for you to sleep in and wear tomorrow. Call for a maid if you need anything.”, he finished before getting up as I followed behind him to exit the room.

I made it to my room with the help of a maid, and changed into my female form after she left. I opened the closet to look for my clothes, not expecting anything to fit right, but they somehow did. Magic, I guess.

Thomas went on to buy me more expensive clothes to cover myself with, new jewelries to accessorize, and other luxuries. I knew that he was being nice now so that I would convince myself that he loved me, only to betray me later. It was only a matter of time after we got married. Speaking of marriage…

Our marriage was so bittersweet. I was dressed in what Thomas’ mother had worn on her wedding day, despite me never meeting her, making me feel a bit guilty…I wasn’t wearing her ring though. Anyway, the wedding was incredibly tragic for me, but wholesome for the outsiders. This meant that he officially owned me and that he could do whatever he wanted to me, but to others, this was the nicest he had ever been to a wife-as if our love changed him. It wasn’t love though, and we both knew that.

I secretly hoped that father would be in the crowd, seeing if I was alright from a distance. Not like he could bring me back thanks to mother, and the fact that Thomas wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He wasn’t there either way, making me realize that…maybe he never loved me either. Maybe he just tolerated me because I was his son.

I would never think about them ever again.

I only thought about the present and future, never the past. Well, except now, but this was different.

After a week of uneventful living, Thomas called me to his room. I went gingerly, expecting him to…take my innocence. He was sick of waiting for it, I sensed. Unfortunately, I was right.

He pulled me into his room, grabbing my wrists tightly. He pushed me against the wall as I stood in fear before he started undressing me, then throwing me onto his bed. I yelped, but I knew that the more I fought, the worse for future me. I didn’t have hope of leaving anyway, so I would stay quiet. I didn’t need to suppress my screams for long though, as I blacked out soon after he got in.

I woke up no longer a virgin. (Obviously.)

I convinced myself that it was fine, that I didn’t need to cry. But I felt so disgusting-how could I not feel shame in myself? I couldn’t even move to wash his semen off of me, as he held me in his arms firmly. The more I laid anxiously, waiting till he would let go of me, the more I hated my body.

I had never been self conscious like that. But hickies and bite marks all over my body made me feel unclean. It wasn’t the type of vibe I liked-I liked to be presentable and clean. But, I would have to deal with it. I had no choice. I never had choices from the start.

I tried to turn in bed, maybe I could wake him up in that seemingly unharming way. I eventually did after some trial and error, and he did wake up from my movements, so my plan had worked. He stared at me (and my breasts) before he pushed himself up, letting go of me. I didn’t want to seem excited or anything, so I only got up after he told me to go shower. Turns out, he was going to join me there and assault me once more.

This time, I screamed several times, as I couldn’t hide it-he was being too aggressive, not like last night. Maybe he was doing it on purpose, as he laughed at my screams every time. Then, as he got out of the shower (pulling me along with him, he said the words that I remembered multiple times a day and every time he came inside me.

“Even though I can’t get you pregnant, I’ll sure as hell act like I can. It’s all I own you for, Sporus.”.

It disgusted me the way he said that with a smirk on his lips and his hands on my hips. He then pushed my scared self out of his way before walking out, not even flinching at how hard I fell thanks to him. And the way he named me “Sporus”? It was a way to mock how I had a similar fate as Sporus from Roman history, only a nickname for him to call me and only for us to know about. To the outsiders, I was known as the King’s wife-”the one with the white lily”. Never was I renamed according to the outsiders, nor was I ever known as Sporus to them.

I knew that Thomas felt powerful when he called me Sporus to make me feel ashamed before he used me again. And again. And again. It never ended-I was always in pain.

I lived like that for approximately a year and a half, filling in the place of a woman I never would be, before he died of heart failure. I shouldn’t have laughed to myself when I heard the news, but I did. He deserved it.

But…life was better when I was with him.

You see, I was the queen simply because of our marriage, and I could not keep living as the queen since his son was older than me. Thomas never wrote anything in his will about keeping me as queen, so his son automatically became king…meaning that I’d be kicked out now. I would have to work as a slave somewhere else, I supposed.

Tom had different plans though.

He confessed to me, while I was helplessly crying when I thought I was alone, that he had loved me since the day that he saw me. That he was quiet around me because he was jealous that I was his step–mother, not wife.

I was speechless when he said those words, clueless on how to respond.

Then, he proposed.

What the hell was I supposed to do, or say? I couldn’t say no-he would get me beheaded! Though maybe it would’ve been better than marrying someone who was my step-son merely days ago.

Nevertheless, we got married…and it felt so awkward. Everything I wore that day was new, from the dress to the ring and from the shoes to the veil. Everyone was still convinced that Thomas loved me truly, and that Tom was disgusting for marrying his step-mother. Only one of those things were true.

It made more sense for Tom to marry me, since he was eight years older than me while his father was thirty-one years older than me, but that didn’t matter much. I was just a wife, no one cared about me.

After our wedding, Tom insisted that he helped me change and that I’d lay in bed with him. I knew what that meant, it was obvious. He knew that I wasn’t a virgin anymore because of his father, meaning that there was no point of taking things slow. He wanted pleasure, and I was his way of getting that.

Unlike Thomas, Tom could very much get me pregnant…which he did. Three months after our wedding, I felt intense cramps and occasional morning sickness-and I knew what it meant immediately.

Tom was ecstatic, saying that he’d kill any baby that wasn’t a son. It was messed up, the things he said about my pregnancy at the dead of night when no one could hear us. Even if anyone could hear us, who would stop the king? No one could, nor dared.

Thankfully, my one and only baby was a son, so there were none killed. He looked like Tom, but with hair identical to mine. Truly a burden to carry, since I was best known for my hair that was almost always paired with a white lily. I wished that he didn’t have anything similar to me, fate nor looks, so that he wouldn’t have to remind himself of me by harmlessly looking in a mirror after I was gone. But I couldn’t change it.

I raised my baby with Tom in peace for three years, thinking that maybe life would be okay now, before I overheard Tom telling one of his buddies that he wanted to recreate what Hades apparently done to Persephone.

At the time, I didn’t know much about Greek Mythology-I didn’t know much of anything because of my lack of education. I decided that I would research what Hades did when no one was looking, and so I did.

Hell no.

I couldn’t get violated like that in front of the whole city! I…

I wouldn’t get violated like that in front of everybody. I knew how to stop it.

But…my son…

He had Tom to raise him. And whatever lady Tom would marry after me. So…

It was finally time.

I had been a tragic soul since day one. I wasn’t meant to live happily or peacefully, ever. I had enough.

And now, I had a dagger before me. The dagger I would end my own life with.

I should have done this long ago.

I couldn’t bear the abasement of getting molested in front of the whole town. I wouldn’t bear it.

I already was enough of a humiliation, simply by existing. I didn’t want to feel this embarrassment, so I would not live long enough to continue feeling it. Tonight ensured that. Or so I thought.

“ANGEL!”, Tom yelled at me, forcing the dagger out of my hand.

“T-Tom! I was just going to cut something!”, I lied. I was screwed.

“Your neck?”, he teased, pushing me against a table so I couldn’t run away.

“No…just some paper for my sketches…”, I lied once more. I hoped he would believe me.

“Right. Well, it’s best you go to bed now, you have a long day tomorrow.”, he said with a smirk before leaving me alone in the room. I sighed in relief as his footsteps vanished, but I didn’t have my dagger as he took it with him.

I didn’t want to go through that stuff tomorrow, but I unfortunately would have to.

Though I barely slept at night, stressing about the day to come, I had to act like everything was fine. I had to act like I didn’t eavesdrop and learn what I shouldn’t have, two nights ago. I had to kiss my son goodbye, and wonder to myself if I would ever make it back to tuck him into bed.

When we arrived at the arena, it was already full of men who were to see me get tortured. Tom then told me what he would do, for what he thought was the first time. I stayed silent, trying not to cry, but I couldn’t help it.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. Your lips puffed and lashes wet.”, he commented before wiping my tears away harshly, about to open the door to let us out. I didn’t respond, my signature lily that was slowly dying with me spoke volumes in itself.

The crowd roared as I stepped out of the carriage after Tom, the cheers ringing in my ear. Tom laughed as his fingers dug into my wrist.

He walked me over to the middle of the arena, pushing me onto my knees and against a large rock. I heard a few wolf-whistles as I fell, but the show hadn’t started yet. Tom went on to make some stupid announcement, acting like my torture and pain was beautiful. He then came over and lifted up my dress to unveil my privates as I cried and the crowd cheered. I covered my face with my hands as Tom tore me open as if I was just a doll.

I didn’t know how much time had passed-I guessed a few hours-but Tom eventually pulled out and covered me again. I stopped breathing for a second-was this the end? Was it finally over? Tom then used some spell to clean me up, meaning that it was.

Tom pulled me away, carrying me in his arms as the crowd yelled for more. I dug my head into his shoulder, though I shouldn’t have. Doing that made me seem weak, like Tom had deserved to do that to me. But…I * was * weak. I was nobody but his wife, nothing but his property.

I cried into his shoulder softly before he sat me down into the carriage so we could go home now. He sat besides me, hand on my thigh as he shut the door. I looked outside through the window through tears, though not daring to put my face up to it-as I wished the town would never see my face again. I realized that it was almost night now, so I had stayed like that for about eight hours. No wonder I was feeling sore everywhere.

I went back to Tom, crying in his arms. I shouldn’t have. I knew I shouldn’t have.

But I felt so tired and weak. I wanted someone to protect me now, when I was so vulnerable. Even if it was Tom.

“Don’t cry. You were good for me today.”, Tom spoke, rubbing my leg sexually. I didn’t respond, only sobbed.

He carried me into the castle and into our room, laying me on our bed before he let me be.

I was alone now for a bit, so I decided to take this chance to kill myself. Tom wouldn’t leave me alone after this, I knew. I feared that he wouldn’t let me out of his sight ever again, like how Thomas didn’t, because of what he saw last night. I knew he didn’t believe my lies, and I knew that he wanted to feel and see my pain.

The nights I spent in the dungeon, ribbons wrapped around my wrists painfully and eyes covered with cloth as he dishonored my body proved it. But I would try to forget about that now-my final moments should be happy, like how I always wished to be.

I got up slowly, my head spinning. I gained balance slowly but surely, looking around for anything sharp.

I knew I could use magic if I didn’t find anything, but I found the dagger from last night in the first drawer of Tom’s bed stand easily. It wasn’t a good hiding spot.

Regardless, I was back in the same position as I was last night.

Dagger in front of my heart, tears flowing down my cheeks, and hopelessness in my soul.

I cried so much lately, maybe it was magic’s way of making up for the years I suppressed my tears back with my…crap why was I thinking of my parents now? I hated them.

The only family I actually had was my son. I guess Tom too, but I didn’t care about him.

What if my son became depressed because of my death? Well, having a whored mother was worse-he’d get bullied at school, even as prince, like how Tom had. Another woman could take my place for him, hopefully.

I heard Tom’s footsteps approaching our room again. I had to act now.

This was the end.

My end.

Tom could use me to his heart’s desire now, until I got buried. This would be the only time I ever gave him consent. And I knew he would abuse that, even though he didn’t actually know that I had gave him consent.

His footsteps were getting closer.

I stabbed.

Clash

My dagger fell out of my hands as I weakly fell to the ground with a thud.

I groaned as my heartbeat slowed.

My eyes rolled back as I forgot how to breathe.

I heard Tom call out for me, but I didn’t care.

I was happy now.

I would be left alone now.

I was finally just a legend.

Nothing more. (Thankfully.)