Zagreus_D
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 5, 2016
- Posts
- 285
The carriage tottered and shook as it climbed the narrow mountain pass. Stavian looked out the window, attempting to turn his thoughts in any direction other than his destination.
His life was most certainly over, not that it really mattered, he had already lost his life once before, when he was nine years old, and his older sister Gemma died of Azure Fever. His family decided on that very day that Stavian would be more valuable to the family as a poor imitation of their only daughter, than as a fifth son. They put out word that Stavian had died, and Stavian was forced to become Gemma ever after.
Great care had been taken to reshape Stavian in his sister's image. Apothecaries mixed vials of pungent liquids which they poured on his head to lighten his brown hair to match his sister's golden hue, and his mother made him eat the ovaries of cows and pigs in order to stimulate the growth of breasts. They even debated over whether or not it would be better to have him castrated, a decision that was finally decided against, to Stavian's great relief.
On the whole his physical transformation was considered a success. By the age of 18 Stavian, who was no longer called by his own name, and was only rarely called by his sister's name - now he was almost always addressed as my darling, my dear, sweet child, or some other non-specific endearment - looked very much like a pretty young woman, though his breasts were pathetically small, and his hips were far too narrow.
For his journey up the mountain, Stavian had been dressed in a gown of the finest white linen, his face painted with exquisite care, and his hair arranged in long loose curls that hung down past his shoulders, in the hopes of concealing his inadequate bosom. He looked near enough the proper part, but everyone's greater concern had always been for his behavior.
Stavian had never quite managed to adopt the submissive demeanor that was considered most becoming for a woman. He had spent too many years as a bold and reckless boy, and his masculine habits had proven exceptionally hard to break. Despite hours of daily etiquette training and harsh punishments, he still showed signs of stubborn insubordination. He insisted on making eye contact rather than keeping his eyes cast downward, he frequently spoke out of turn, and from time to time he even openly defied the instructions of his parents and tutors, all behaviors that were expected from boys, but considered intolerable in girls, especially in highborn girls who were consigned to a fate of service and slavery.
Stavian's mother had shed countless tears, pleading with him to try harder, "You must do everything you can to please your master, my darling. There is nothing more important than that. You're failure could mean the death of us all." Stavian would always feel overwhelmed with guilt, and promise to do better, but despite all of his best intentions he seemed incapable of keeping his promises.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt, and the driver opened to carriage door to assist his charge in stepping down. Stavian accepted the man's hand and allowed himself to be led out and away, through the gates, and into the courtyard of the darkly ominous castle.
Stavian's escort pressed him to his knees on the cold stone, and bound him with a heavy chain, shackling his wrists to his waist. As a final touch a blindfold was tied over his eyes, leaving Stavian in total darkness. He could only listen to the clatter of the carriage as it pulled away, leaving him in an isolation more complete than any he had ever known.
His life was most certainly over, not that it really mattered, he had already lost his life once before, when he was nine years old, and his older sister Gemma died of Azure Fever. His family decided on that very day that Stavian would be more valuable to the family as a poor imitation of their only daughter, than as a fifth son. They put out word that Stavian had died, and Stavian was forced to become Gemma ever after.
Great care had been taken to reshape Stavian in his sister's image. Apothecaries mixed vials of pungent liquids which they poured on his head to lighten his brown hair to match his sister's golden hue, and his mother made him eat the ovaries of cows and pigs in order to stimulate the growth of breasts. They even debated over whether or not it would be better to have him castrated, a decision that was finally decided against, to Stavian's great relief.
On the whole his physical transformation was considered a success. By the age of 18 Stavian, who was no longer called by his own name, and was only rarely called by his sister's name - now he was almost always addressed as my darling, my dear, sweet child, or some other non-specific endearment - looked very much like a pretty young woman, though his breasts were pathetically small, and his hips were far too narrow.
For his journey up the mountain, Stavian had been dressed in a gown of the finest white linen, his face painted with exquisite care, and his hair arranged in long loose curls that hung down past his shoulders, in the hopes of concealing his inadequate bosom. He looked near enough the proper part, but everyone's greater concern had always been for his behavior.
Stavian had never quite managed to adopt the submissive demeanor that was considered most becoming for a woman. He had spent too many years as a bold and reckless boy, and his masculine habits had proven exceptionally hard to break. Despite hours of daily etiquette training and harsh punishments, he still showed signs of stubborn insubordination. He insisted on making eye contact rather than keeping his eyes cast downward, he frequently spoke out of turn, and from time to time he even openly defied the instructions of his parents and tutors, all behaviors that were expected from boys, but considered intolerable in girls, especially in highborn girls who were consigned to a fate of service and slavery.
Stavian's mother had shed countless tears, pleading with him to try harder, "You must do everything you can to please your master, my darling. There is nothing more important than that. You're failure could mean the death of us all." Stavian would always feel overwhelmed with guilt, and promise to do better, but despite all of his best intentions he seemed incapable of keeping his promises.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt, and the driver opened to carriage door to assist his charge in stepping down. Stavian accepted the man's hand and allowed himself to be led out and away, through the gates, and into the courtyard of the darkly ominous castle.
Stavian's escort pressed him to his knees on the cold stone, and bound him with a heavy chain, shackling his wrists to his waist. As a final touch a blindfold was tied over his eyes, leaving Stavian in total darkness. He could only listen to the clatter of the carriage as it pulled away, leaving him in an isolation more complete than any he had ever known.