It's been a couple of months since I was reborn. I haven't been up to much, mostly crying and sleeping - normal baby things, not that I have a lot of experience with normal baby things from my past life. There wasn't a lot of normalcy all together really.
In the time I have been awake and lucid, I have learnt some things about my new life. Mainly that I am indeed a girl . . . I guess I shouldn't be so surprised, if you're going to be reborn - there's always a chance of something like this happening.
But the problem is I don't feel like a girl, I don't feel like my mother's daughter Ruža. I still feel like I'm that same lost boy who died cold, wet and ashamed.
I feel awkward and wrong as if I'm stuck inside the wrong body, I really hope that changes one day, though I don't hold onto much hope currently . . . I guess there is no point agonizing over something I can't change.
When I was freshly born I likened my current home to a palace, I now know better for I have gazed upon the majesty of the real one. My mother takes me onto the balcony sometimes and I can see it over in the distance.
The royal palace.
It was made of pure white marble and was adorned with the finest and rarest metals; it was only two or three stories high at its tallest, they didn't prioritize building up. It was wide- wider then you could believe, it shocked me every time I looked upon it. With vast courtyards and gardens full of statues that I couldn't make out from such a distance where my mother held me in a loving embrace.
It makes my current residence look like a mere holding of some lesser known and merely forgotten Lord. . . Or lady for there were no lords around me, or any men at all for that matter. The only people I had any contact with was my mother and the ladies that seemed to be attending her, and me when the time called for it.
My mother really was beautiful- diamond blonde hair, silver grey eyes and sharp pointed ears . . . From what I have managed to pick up through my listening to what felt like broken conversations as I shifted through states of consciousness, like only an infant could. My mother seems to be a "Erdia" which is what this world calls those of mixed race . . . Such as my mother who to my understanding was half human, half elf.
Most words I heard as English even though I heavily doubted the presence of an England in such a world . . .But some words I heard as Euskara, the language of the Basque people from my old world. My current theory is that those around me, especially my mother can speak two different languages - and as such they are translated into two different languages I know . . . Erdia meaning half in Euskara, is such an example of this.
By that token I am also an Erdia even though I was strictly not half of anything as my father himself appeared to be human, not that I've met him. I have heard many conversations not meant for a baby's ears, I can't blame them for not being more careful- you don't assume your newborn can understand you perfectly fine.
To my understanding my father was a man in this country's military. My mother and those around her referred to him as a "Stud" A man specifically chosen for his genetic qualities . . . Mother was quite the same, she wasn't a noble woman, not even close to it actually. She was specially picked out of a common everyday village to mother a concubine for the newly born Prince, the next ruler of the Kingdom of Ekaina .
That being me . . .
It seems from some murmurs I have been picking up, that I'm not the only candidate . . . Lucky boy. From everything I have learnt it seems concubines hold a significant role in this countries systems and culture though exactly how this is, I haven't been able to ascertain.
They treat us with a prominent level of care and prestige from what I can tell by my own experience in this world, we reside in what is called the outer palace. A vast area composed of lower born royals or in my case people of potential use to the inner palace.
At least they seem to be strict on avoiding any incestual relations . . .
If the history of my old world taught me anything it's that this isn't always a guarantee . . . Speaking of guarantees, someone's sex isn't one of them at least in my old world, assuming it's the same here. . .
I wonder what they do with the boys.
I hope it's nothing too cruel, but I have my own problems to worry about right now.
Firstly how to wiggle out of childbearing duty.
Though that will have to wait as my mother begins her nightly lesson. I have many lessons throughout the day, Mostly imposed of my mother's attendees trying to teach me the phonics of this countries alphabet- again it just sounds like English to me- but I cannot speak it still, trying to speak in my current state feels like someone trying to lift up their foot after severing their achilles tendon- trust me, I've experienced it.
I remember how to do it . . . I remember it working . . . But somethings missing now, and it won't budge . . . And it hurts to try . . .
But I guess from their perspective it doesn't hurt to get ahead. My mothers lessons I enjoy much more if you could even call them lessons that is. Maybe they are more of a show?
My mother takes me up in her arms and holds me gently just as she is doing now, "My beautiful little Ruža, do you want to see a magic trick?" I grab onto her dainty little finger which feels so big in my tiny hands, her touch always fills me with such warmth and safety . . . I felt ashamed for craving it but there was no one to judge me . . . No one to correct me, not right now.
"Well if you want to see you're going to have to let go of my finger Ruža" I obeyed like It was an order from my old commander, but it wasn't fear that made me let go of that finger. The air around me started to turn icy cold but it was not uncomfortable like it would've been in my old body, it felt familiar and caring.
My mother flicked her finger in a back and forth motion my infant eyes struggled to remember, but the affect wasn't pencilled into my heart, it was engrained into it.
A rose made of ice, more alluring then any my old world or any world for that matter could conjure, materialised with an unparalleled artistry at the foot of my mother's finger. It floated there mesmerising me with its form.
All had the potential to use magia in this world, I had seen my mother's attendees use it to help them with certain chores around our little slice of palace life . . . But Elven magia stood above the rest, I only needed to look upon my mother's nightly gift to come to that conclusion.
If it wasn't for the shock of being reborn as a girl, the realisation that magic existed in this world probably would've overwhelmed me . . . now it was nothing more than a comfort.
In my old world I was the deadliest assassin . . . In this world I am dazzled by icy flowers.