ZoeStorm

Whoa whoa whoa

My story made it to trending?? I did not expect this, but thank you.

As a celebration, here's an early chapter; this was supposed to go up on Saturday, but you're getting it now. (And also another chapter on Saturday, of course.) Do not expect something like this again, though, I don't have that many chapters written in advance.

Content warning: mention of rape; suicidal ideation.

After that first night, I was often called on by the Prince Regent: Andrej would come fetch me in the room I shared with Sylvie, and lead me to the prince’s chambers, where Izaak would have me drink some wine and then have his way with me; then Andrej would bring me back to my room, and I would sleep it off, before resuming my normal duties the next morning.

It didn’t happen every day, though, only maybe twice or thrice per week on average; sometimes a whole week went by before Izaak would call for me, sometimes it was several days in a row. He liked to keep me guessing.

This went on for several weeks; it was the worst period of my life. I had trouble concentrating on tasks and conversations, it felt as if my mind was in a fog, as if I was just a spectator in a play about my miserable life.

I was so apathetic that I almost stopped eating; sometimes I went on for days without food, and not because it was lacking – the servants’ kitchen was always well-stocked – but because I simply couldn’t bring myself to move the spoon from the bowl to my mouth. My friends kept stealing worried glances at me; sometimes they asked if I was alright, but I kept insisting I was, so they always dropped the issue. I could see they weren’t buying it, though.

A couple weeks after my change had been completed, we were at breakfast when I started to feel sick to my stomach; I’d already had a low-key headache for the previous two days, so I wondered if I was coming down with something. I excused myself from the conversation – not that I was really participating – and made my way to the toilet, which was a small closet set into an outside wall, with a hole in the floor that looked directly down into a small stream (which was now dry because of the drought) about fifty metres below; it didn’t smell very nice, but it beat going in a bucket, and having to dispose of the result afterwards.

I pulled my dress up and my underwear down, and squatted over the hole to relieve myself, while I mentally tried to recall what I’d eaten over the previous days, and if anything had tasted odd – maybe my stomach pains were a case of food poisoning? I’d always had a strong body (even though I was getting thinner because I wasn’t eating as much as I should), so I didn’t usually get sick.

After I was done I grabbed a rag that was hanging from a rope nearby and wiped myself clean; I was about to pull my underwear back on, when I noticed something: it was stained.

And the stain was red.

My mind went into overdrive. Almost as if in slow motion, I saw my hand reach between my legs and come back.

It was stained red, too.

I must’ve blacked out after that, since I woke up in my bed; my friends told me they’d been alerted by a scream, and found me curled into a ball in the bathroom, my underwear still around my ankles.

What followed next was even worse: I was in a daze as Sylvie and Therese instructed me on proper feminine hygiene – how to tell when my time of the month was about to come, how to wipe, how to use pads (Sylvie kindly gave me one of hers), how to clean myself up.

I remember a thought going through my mind: oh, thank the gods, Izaak hasn’t gotten me pregnant.

And then another thought, immediately following the previous one: apparently I can get pregnant; actually, if Izaak keeps doing what he’s doing, it won’t long before he puts a royal bastard in my belly.

Without even realising it, I burst into tears – full-on sobbing, actually; it was unusual for me, I’d only cried like that once before, when I’d been forced to let Fergus, Enrique, and all other kids from the swordsmanship school down. And like the previous time, it was Sylvie who soothed me, who was beside me as I let it all out, even though she didn’t know why I was crying – I was too much out of it to express what I was feeling. In any case, I was very grateful for her presence.

Following that revelation, I was even dazed during my day. I don’t even remember most things that happened, it was as if my body was a puppet moving on its own. Izaak even complained about it when he called me to his rooms once again: he said that I was completely unresponsive, that it was like fucking a corpse. I guess he was disappointed, because after that it was a week until he called on me again.

Also, I continued working as usual. It wasn’t difficult, I’d become used to my job as a maid, so I managed to do it properly even through the fog of sadness and suffering that clouded my mind.

Then, a full month after I’d last seen Verdun (it appeared the wizard had lost interest in me after the change had been completed), it was time for someone from the palace to head to the marketplace again; Therese had been hesitant about allowing the maids to go out, she was afraid someone could attack us – which wasn’t far-fetched, considering that the people were becoming increasingly restless: the attack on Izaak on Founding Day was proof of that, even though that was clearly meant to humiliate him, not to do any lasting harm.

In a moment of clarity, I volunteered to go, since I’d been trained as a Royal Knight and therefore knew how to defend myself if needs be. My friends acquiesced to the request; Sylvie, however, insisted – no, demanded – to accompany me; I guess she was worried about what could happen to me, seeing the state I was in.

And so, nearly six weeks after the last time, I set foot out of the palace once more.

Sylvie and I were both disguised, wearing our cloaks, with the hood pulled up, to avoid being recognised. She tried to chat me up while we were making our way to the marketplace, but as had become usual I only just barely answered, with grunts and hums and simple words like yes or no.

The path we had to take led us through the riverside district, over one of the main bridges in the city; the river that ran under it was usually deep and swift-moving, but the ongoing drought had turned it into barely a rivulet, and had exposed most of the rocky riverbed. I stopped on the bridge, and found myself looking down, at the smooth, rounded pebbles, more than thirty metres below.

Once again, the thought of escape crept into my mind, more drastic and overwhelming this time. I suddenly wondered how much it would have hurt to jump down, to use the bridge as a means to flee the life I was currently leading. The thought wrapped itself around my brain, and didn’t let go. I don’t know how long I paused there, looking down at the dry riverbed; probably less than a minute, but it felt like an eternity.

To be completely honest, if it hadn’t been for Sylvie I really might have jumped; she, however, noticed me staring over the bridge’s parapet, and probably intuited what was going through my head. Gently, without speaking a word, she took my hand and pulled me away. Once again, I was grateful for her being there for me.

When we arrived at the marketplace, we checked the list Therese had given us: meat and vegetables, simple as that. I suggested we split up, to save on time, but Sylvie shook her head – she wasn’t going to leave me alone on my own. I shrugged, and let her follow me to Adrian’s stall, which had been replenished since the last time I’d been there (it had been more than a month, after all).

“Hello,” Sylvie greeted him as we approached; I stayed silent.

Adrian looked up from a pile of apples. “Oh, hi there!” he said cheerily. “What can…”

He drifted off, noticing me standing off the side; his eyes widened in surprise.

“Erica? Erica, is that you?” he asked. He hurried over to me and looked at me carefully. “It is you!” he exclaimed, and squeezed me in a tight hug. “Oh, gods, we’ve been so worried, all of us. After what happened on Founding day, and then you didn’t show up for more than a month… I’m so glad to see you’re alright.”

He broke the hug and stepped back, cocking his head to the side and locking eyes with me; his gaze turned sombre. “Erica, you are alright, aren’t you?”

I was about to reply, but Sylvie pre-empted me by saying “No, she’s not.”

Adrian and I both turned our heads to stare at her. “Who are you?” he queried.

“I’m Sylvie, one of the maids at the palace,” she replied. “Erica’s roommate. And I’m sorry, Erica, but I’m not going to pretend everything is fine any longer. You need to talk to someone, actually talk instead of just moving your lips while playing a role.”

“Why? What happened?” Adrian said, looking from her to me.

“Prince Izaak raped her,” came the reply.

There was a moment of silence, highlighted by the hubbub of the marketplace’s noise all around us.

“You’re joking,” Adrian said finally; Sylvie shook her head in response. “So the transformation…” he continued.

“…Is complete,” Sylvie said. “Fully complete, she could even get pregnant now, and it’s a miracle she isn’t already since Izaak has been having his way with her every other day for a month now.”

“That bastard,” Adrian spat; his eyes were burning with rage. “Alright, that’s enough, give me ten minutes, I’ll round up everyone in the market; then we’ll march right up to the palace and--”

“Don’t. Please,” I said; they were the first words I’d said to Adrian since we’d gotten there.

“Erica, we can’t just let him get away with this,” he replied. “We have to do something.”

“Not for my sake,” I said, shaking my head. “You’d only get yourself needlessly hurt.”

Sylvie put her hands on my shoulders and gazed deep into my eyes. “If not for you, for whom?” she asked. “Erica, ever since I met you, I got the impression that you think you don’t matter, that everyone else is more important that you are. But here’s the deal.” Her grip tightened. “You do matter. Both for yourself, and because there are people who care about you. You don’t need to be selfless and obedient all the time, be a little selfish once in a while. Please.”

Her words struck a chord, deep in my soul. It was true that I’d defined all my life over the past years, ever since joining the academy to train to become a knight – no, even before that, ever since I’d come to the palace after my father died – as being based on duty, loyalty and selflessness. But now… Maybe I could think about myself? Maybe I should think about myself?

Maybe. But not right now. I didn’t even know who I was any more. Was I Herik? Was I Erica? A Knight, or a maid? Both? Neither?

I shook my head again. “Now is not the right time,” I said.

“If not now, when?” Adrian asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But the time will come.”

He stared at me for a while, then reluctantly nodded his head. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be, Erica,” Adrian replied. “You didn’t ask for this.”

“That’s right,” Sylvie added. “Just remember: there are lots of people who love you, who care about you. We’ll be here when you need us.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Sylvie and I bought the vegetables we needed from Adrian, and then left his stall. We were walking away, on our way to the butcher’s, when I heard a familiar voice – though one I hadn’t heard in quite a while – call out.

“Teach!”

My shoulders slumped; I sighed, and turned around. “What do you want, Fergus?” I asked.

Fergus was flanked by a handful of the kids from the clandestine swordsmanship school I’d ran before my change; they were all looking at me – staring, even – while gripping their wooden training swords.

“Enrique spotted you as you entered the market,” Fergus said. “And we wanted to set some things straight. Adrian and the others tried to explain things to us, but I still don’t understand it; how could you let this happen to you?”

“Don’t you remember what I said?” I said. “What I told you? In any case, I’m not your teacher any more.”

Fergus shook his head. “I won’t accept that, not until I’ve actually defeated you. We still have so much to learn from you, we can’t even lay a finger on you yet.”

“Last time--” I began, but he cut me off.

“Last time you didn’t fight back, so it doesn’t count. Let’s have a real match this time,” he said. He took a stance, and he and the other kids charged.

I sighed. Alright, one more time.

At first I had no intention of fighting back against them, so I prepared myself for a beating. But then I suddenly had a realisation.

If Fergus and the other kids hit me, they would obviously leave some bruises; and Izaak would notice those bruises when he would next look at my naked body. And after what had happened with Baron Eigeis…

Izaak would order me to tell him who’d hit me. I would be bound by duty to answer.

And then he would have them killed. Enrique, Fergus, all of the others. All of them.

Suddenly my mind was clear, fully clear, for the first time in over a month. For the first time since that first cursed night in Izaak’s bedroom, I could think straight.

And I once again heard that voice in the back of my head, loud and clear: we’re not dancers, we’re fighters.

I spun around to gather some momentum, and then flung the bundle of vegetables we’d bought from Adrian at the first attacker: it was quite heavy, and though it unfurled and scattered produce everywhere as it hit, it was enough to knock them off balance. I stepped over to them, grabbed their wrist, and pulled, bringing my knee up at the same time; it connected with their stomach, and they bent over, dropping their training sword, which I snatched out of the air before it even hit the ground.

I turned around, parried two strikes, and dispatched the one who’d crept up behind me – Enrique – with a kick to the shins, which made him wince in pain and left him open for me to bring my sword down on his head; then I grabbed him, heaved him over my shoulder, and tossed him at another one of the kids, sending them both sprawled to the ground.

I ducked nearly to the ground to dodge another strike, and brought my leg around in a sweeping motion, tripping my attacker, who fell on their butt a few moments before my sword struck them across the chest.

And then only Fergus was left. He squared up against me, his eyes narrowing, trying to find an opening. I knew a straight-up duel was dangerous, the kid was skilled, and I desperately wanted to avoid getting hit. So, like I did once before, I spun around, to try and blind him with my cloak.

He was expecting it, of course, since I’d already used that trick against him: he ducked, letting the cloth pass harmlessly over his head, and got ready to launch himself forward towards me.

What he hadn’t expected, on the other hand, was for me to fling something at him – that trick I hadn’t used against him, and he wasn’t prepared. The onion I’d picked up from the ground when I crouched to do the leg sweep hit him squarely between the eyes, and he recoiled, taking a step back and half-tripping on a carrot. It took him only a moment to recover, but it was moment too long. My wooden sword swung around and caught him on the shoulder with a muffled thud; had it been a real weapon, he would’ve lost his arm, at the very least – and it would still leave a bad bruise.

I straightened myself up, and took a deep breath; everyone in the marketplace was looking at the scene that had just unfolded, and I glanced around nervously, to see if anyone was going to try anything. My attention was brought back to Fergus, however, when he started laughing – loudly and uproariously. Tears began to form in his eyes, he was laughing so hard.

I frowned at him. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, Teach,” he gasped between bouts of laughter. “It’s just that I’m so relieved. I was afraid you’d changed, really changed, but what happened just now proved me wrong.”

“What do you mean?” I said, my frown deepening.

Fergus took a deep breath to calm himself down, though he was still chuckling when he answered. “I mean that it’s still you. You may look… Well, like that,” he said, gesturing at me, “But the way you move? The way you fight? It’s still you. You’re still Hector. You’re still Teach.”

I felt as if I’d just been struck by lightning, shocked to my core. The only thing I could manage to do was to stare at Fergus, standing in front of me. Even when he hugged me and then excused himself, saying that his mother was probably wondering where he was, I stayed there, frozen in place, until Sylvie handed me the bundle of vegetables – which the kids had helped her gather from the street – and pulled me away.

I was still completely out of it as we stopped by Ariel’s market stand and bought some meat – she, like Adrian, was also really worried about me – and then until we got back to the royal palace.

Luckily, Izaak didn’t call on me that night; that allowed me to just sit on my bed, Sylvie by my side, and think about everything that had happened to me.

What an idiot I’d been.

Adrian had told me, even: “It’s what’s inside that counts, keep a hold of that and don’t let go.” And still, I’d let myself forget it.

And that very day, Fergus had confirmed it. “You may look like that, but it’s still you,” he’d said.

What an idiot I’d been.

I kept dwelling so much on what I’d lost that I failed to see what I still had, and what I’d even gained.

Herik? Hector? Erica? Those were just names: they didn’t matter, what mattered what was inside. I was a noble, and a commoner; I was a Knight, and a maid; I was a man, and a woman. All of those were true at the same time, even the contradictions. Especially the contradictions.

But most importantly: I was still me.

And I wasn’t going to let Izaak get away with what he was doing to me, and to the country, any longer.

Sylvie seemed to somehow sense the change in me; even though I hadn’t said anything, or even moved, she put her arm around me and whispered, “Welcome back, sister.”

I was still looking down at the floor, and I spoke clearly, though quietly. “I know what I have to do, Sylvie; but I don’t know how to do it. I’m sure I can think of a plan, but to enact it? Izaak is surely having someone watch me closely, there’s no way I can act without him noticing. I need help, but who can I turn to?”

I felt Sylvie stiffen up beside me. She removed her arm from my shoulders, stood up, and started to pace back and forth in the small room; she seemed almost to be debating with herself.

“Sylvie?” I asked, looking up at her. “Sylvie, what’s wrong?”

She stopped pacing, and looked at me for a few moments. Then she nodded, walked over, crouched in front of me and put her hands on my shoulders, looking at me straight in the eyes.

“There is something I have to tell you,” she said. “But first, you have to promise what I’m about to say won’t leave this room, unless I allow you to speak of it.”

Her voice and demeanour surprised me; she was sombre and deadly serious about this. “I promise,” I replied.

“Make it an oath,” she insisted, pointing a finger at my face; our eyes were barely inches apart. “Swear it.”

I was perplexed, but I complied; this was clearly a matter of great importance to her. “I swear, upon my honour as a Royal Knight, that I will not disclose to anyone what you’re about to tell me,” I said.

She stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded. She straightened up, and took a deep breath. “I can help you,” she said.

“How?” I asked.

And I will never forget what she answered in return:

“I am one of the leaders of the Children of Kendrik.”

ZoeStorm

Alright, show of hands, how many had figured it out? I thought I'd littered enough clues throughout the story so it was possible to get the twist in advance.