An Imperfection
Let me ask you a simple question of the mind; what does a female elf look like? The imagery that pops up is most likely that of a willowy, curvy lady with beautiful pointed ears. This is the image that is held in the minds of my people. And if you’re any different than that, you are an imperfection, a cursed being, in a world that worships perfection.
It is unfair, really, that those of us who are not perfect are shunned in this way. After all, it’s not like we had any control over this. I am one of these unfortunate few; but in some ways, it has been a cruel blessing. --
Upon my birth twenty one years ago, there was joy in the household. My mother was thought to not be strong enough to bear children, but her will to become a mother overshadowed the care she had for her health. They had tried many times to get her with child; and when it finally succeeded, that child was me. They name they gave me was Saura; but this name soon died along with their love.
As I grew older, my so called ‘curse’ began to truly manifest; it had become clear that I would not develop the feminine physique that was so treasured among the nobility. It was at this point in my young life that my loving mother and father decided it was best to raise me as if I were male, even going as far as finding a master lancer to teach me his ways. Had I ever been found out, it would mean the death of us all.
It was at this point I was re-born as Saurine. I embraced the name and my androgyny. Being a naïve child all I wanted was the return of my parent’s love, and as such, I completely immersed myself in the idea of being a boy. My hair never got past my ears, my muscles remained toned. I was strong, and being a lancer came naturally. But when I hit the age of thirteen or so, I started to have odd psychological issues as my body was coming into womanhood.
Seeing this and recognizing the warning signs that all of their hard work was about to unravel, they had communicated with another noble family to arrange a marriage between their daughter Crystara and I. It was love at first sight for me; she was gorgeous. Her hair was long and raven colored, sweeping down her back like some sort of black waterfall. Her eyes were what I fell in love with completely, however; their careful, patient jade gaze. I had never thought it strange for me to love a female, and poured my heart out to her day after day. Our parents smiled upon our relationship, doing whatever possible to keep the two of us happy and together.
However, the happiness was not here to stay. My body had begun to retaliate against my mind, and I found it difficult to function within society. I had haunting dreams that made me question my very existence, and my mother only made it worse. I sought out her advice, to learn of anything that would stop the nightmares and delusions. All she would do was cradle my face and tell me that I was the most handsome son she could have ever asked for. She fed the beast inside of me, and allowed it to devour my mind whole.
On the eve of my nineteenth birthday, Crystara and I had moved in together. It was a month to our proposed marriage date, and we were both ecstatic. That night when we lay together for the first time, she then asked a question to me I had not been expecting. I remember the night so vividly; she rolled onto her side, her hair spilling over the silken pillows underneath her. Her hand was on my stomach, and I was about to drift into the uneasy sleep that had accompanied me for the past couple of years.
“Why won’t you make love to me, Saurine?” She whispered softly to me, a pained look etched into her features. “Do you not find me beautiful as you once did?” I remember, then, opening my eyes and looking over her, truly studying her as I had so many times before.
“I will always say the same,” I began. “You are more beautiful than I deserve. The very word beauty would be jealous of you.” I sat up then, massaging my temples as exhaustion tugged at the edge of my senses. “It is not a matter of beauty, just…” I shook my head, trying to settle my thoughts. My mind could not fit the pieces together. Why hadn’t I made love to my fiancé? Isn’t that what lovers did?
“You seem conflicted,” She said, her brow furrowed in a questionable, but pitying way. She sat up to crawl over to where I was, the blanket falling away to reveal her beautifully curved body, her porcelain skin. She wrapped her arms around me and pressed herself into my back, and continued whispering in my ear. “Let me at least see you. We have been together for so long, but you won’t let me see the real you, under all that armor you don constantly.” She began to tug at my shirt, but all my muscles tensed. Something within me retaliated against the act of being naked in front of her, as if I subconsciously knew the consequences. But unfortunately for my subconscious, the rest of my mind was clouded with exhaustion. I allowed her to pull the shirt over my head, revealing my flat chest underneath. It felt weird, of course, but I loved her. I would have given anything for her. I collapsed back on the bed and let her hands wander, to delicately touch my chest and stomach, but it became problematic as she wandered even lower. Something stirred within me and I caught her wrist. “Don’t,” I whispered, my eyes still closed. The word confused me, but it had been reflexive. I remember her looking at me with those eyes of hers, filled with pain and mistrust. I muttered an apology, and drifted off to sleep.
I awoke a couple hours later to screaming. I snapped awake, instantly alert, looking for a sign of danger. The only thing I found, though, was Crystara standing over my completely naked body, tears streaming down her face. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over me, and glared up at her.
“You’re a girl!” She choked through tears. “When my parents find out about this, you and your sick parents will be executed for all to see!” She grabbed her robe and ran out then, most likely to her parent’s house. But I didn’t care, for I was frozen in time with the accusation. Me? A girl? That was nonsense, wasn’t it? I couldn’t be a lancer if I was a girl. But a part of me spoke up then, a clear voice of reason that I had needed to hear my entire life. I pulled on my pants and threw on a shirt with new found confidence, and took off running in the direction of my parents.
The scene I happened upon was not something anyone should see. My nostrils flared as I entered the living room, the scent of blood assaulting my senses. My mother was standing there covered in it, and someone lying at her feet. I rushed past and pushed my mother aside, instantly recognizing that beautiful black hair. I sank to my knees beside her and cradled her close, but she was gone. A gashing cut at her throat was all I needed to know that.
“She was possessed,” My mother cooed. “She tried to tell me my handsome baby boy was a filthy whore.” Her eyes were wild as she took a step towards me, and then another; her normally beautiful posture was full of jerky movements and dragging feet. I picked myself up and stepped backwards, over Crystara, but saw too late the dagger still clenched in my mother’s hands. She leapt at me, her eyes soulless, and slashed at my chest. I was at a loss, I didn’t want to hurt her; she was my mother, after all. But before I had the time to finish my internal debate, the dagger sunk in above my left breast. She had aimed for the heart… But missed. Adrenaline and the sheer will to survive kicked in, and I rushed at her and slammed her head against the wall, knocking her unconscious. I ran out of the house drenched in blood both my own and not, the dagger still protruding from my chest. I didn’t make it very far as you might have guessed, and collapsed in the middle of the street. --
I awoke a day or so later, lying atop clean linens in a dark room. I pulled the sheet away as I tried to sit up, but there was no energy in my body. I settled back down, and took a look at myself. My chest was wrapped excessively. I only pondered why for a second before I was assaulted by the memories. I was female… my mother killed my fiancé… she tried to kill…
Screaming. I was curled up in a fetal position violently shaking, covering my ears and screaming. Trying desperately to stop the assault of information as my mind and spirit were breaking, with me powerless to stop it.