Tale of a living Hermaphrodite.

Pearl skin, sapphire eyes.

Behind the tall, powerful doors of the Venetial Palace stood a young, conflicted figure. The beautiful light blonde hair was pulled up into a complicated updo, packed with diamonds and pale flowers, ghostly white like the family's pearl skin. Wearing a court dress with enormous side hoops and a three-metre train it looked as if thy was wearing an entire house on his hips. However, the intricate detailing of the dress made it seem a masterpiece, fit for those old baroque paintings of princes and princesses that are so tiredly admired. A cascade of transparent diamonds came from the neck and covered the top of the corseted golden dress, matching rings and bracelets gave the illusion of glow from the enormous crystal chandeliers that hung from the tall painted roofs of the palace. The small fragile figure walked towards one of the enormous mirrors on the chateau's gallery and with an innocent vanity studied the figure that stood in the reflection.

"Mama, why do I look like one of those girls I see ever so often" he asked in French, a language he had grown to know and love, rather than his native German.

"My darling, you would not understand," Replied his mother in a confident tone, although she knew he would understand.

The tall Dowager, who was the memory of a beauty and had a graceful ability in diplomacy and manipulation, stood in the same circus-like heavy attire, her skin gracing even more precious stones. They walked to the petite chapel of the palace, in which the innermost circle of the Empress received the daily mass. She of course knew that her son would understand, the boy at 8 already knew 4 languages and read Plato's and Aristotle's texts, yet she was scared that the innocent child would turn it into a vain ideal, something that was not beyond begin très magnifique. She kept him a prisoner of the endless halls and ballrooms of the enormous palace, a slave of the strict and unbendable protocol of the Royal Court, as she was scared of facing the consequences of selling him to the endless criticism of the crowds.

Victor Alexander was born and declared an Archduke and Prince as the second eldest of his 10 siblings, however, there was an incredible surprise when the enormous crowd of doctors first examined him a couple of days after the tiring event. He had the fully functional features of a male, yet his behind was connected to a uterus. What a scandal! An empress had conceived neither a prince nor a princess. Doctors, dukes, princes and earls contemplated in an assessed council on what to do towards the matter, as it was completely new. For hours the thousands upon thousands of rooms were filled with quiet chatter on why they had not announced the gender of this new royal. Of course, the rational and then Queen of what would become the biggest Empire, announced that god graced her with a Hermaphrodite.

The one buzzing palace was quiet, as no one knew how to react to this news. After a few silent minutes, a Duke of Morraine cheered and soon every room was once again filled with happiness and joy. How lucky must she be, a prince and a princess in one divine body. One cannot deny this omnipotent intervention ran through the empty heads of the then idiotic Aristocrats. The subjects, mimicking the joy of the Upper Class, clogged the enormous street that led to the fenced plaza in front of the palace. An ocean of merchants, soldiers, and bakers amongst many cried and cheered adoringly to their queen and empress, Vive la Reine! Flowed in pure excitement out of their tongues whilst the fate of the fragile baby was decided.

Eight years later the crowds awaited expectantly as the prince had not been showed on the adorned balcony of the Palace. The whispers and rumors flowed freely through the vulgar mouths of the low and middle class of the country's society, as they had only seen paintings of the divine figure. A feminine bodied, delicate and pale looking the most beautiful princess yet recognised as a prince. Everyone was ready to see this creature from afar in a balcony, in a carriage, anywhere! They were ready to be conquered and he was ready to conquer them, yet his careful mother was not. She had planned everything; she manipulated the people to become eager until they could no longer hold it before she would show her little gem.

And this small, vain and spoilt child with little genuine knowledge of the real world was confused as why he was hidden, why all rooms were emptied when he arrived and why the enormous roofs of this palace always felt so empty. No philosopher, no books or lessons in fine arts could help him understand and reflect on that matter. He stopped from wondering, his appetite for more inquiry was halted by his rigid and protocolled mind as he returned to his mother side as they continued to waltz towards to the not so small petite chapel.

Little did he knew that two weeks later, after his mother decided to throw him into the wolves, he became an absolute sensation. The crying and fainting crowds as he delicately saluted everyone from a balcony adored him and immediately gave the seal of approval to their favourite young royal. The other 10 siblings faked a smile, as the times they appeared on their balcony the faint sound of a bored applause did not satisfy them and from there onwards this small young prince became the subject to the most interesting fate.

Marie Antoinette may have been the Reine of the Rococo, but Alexander was the king of the Baroque.

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OKAY.

I wrote this more profound story, it is more socially controversial.

HOPE YOU ENJOY.

Andreja Pejic plays my main character BECAUSE I LOVE HER AND before she transitioned she was my BIGGEST androgynous rolemodel. She's the epitome of social controversy, and I live for it. 

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