I HATED MY clothes.

Mother had laid some out on my bed, not having the courage to face me and tell me it would be my attire for the meeting.

Instead of putting them on, I ripped each and every piece, watching the bright colors that did not suit me. I lit a fire right there in the room, the smell of smoke alerting my father to my actions.

That was where it got tricky.

In the order of hierarchy, I should follow mother, mother follows father, and looking over at the top, father technically ordered us both.

But I didn't accept that.

And father knew it.

It took the threat of taking me back to the Conversion, to finally make me put on another skimpy dress completed with heels and makeup.

Mother cooed and told me how beautiful I looked, even though my ass and breast could practically be seen through the sheer layers. The 'artfully' placed blue swirls concealed the fullness of it- but it was enough to make me embarrassed at how father and mother stared at me. Hunger and eagerness within their eyes.

"You are going to make us so proud," Mother breathed, taking me in for a rare hug.

"I'll kill you."

The flat seriousness of my voice had her quickly pulling back, inching away to my father's side.

He glared at me, his eyes flashing red. That served as a reminder of why I hated them. For what they had taken away from me.

I hated them.

And I hated this damn dress.

It clung to every piece of skin in my body, no doubt an effort to show everything that the Wolf King would get in his purchase without actually walking me around fully nude.

The car pulled through at a gate. Father rolled down the window and talked briefly to the guard.

His eyes caught me sitting in the back, and for a moment he fumbled over his words.

"Beautiful isn't she?"

This is the only time father actually sounds as if he likes me. When others are around.

The guard's eyes don't leave mine.

I slowly, and without taking my gaze from his, raise my hand and strangle my own neck.

His eyes widen and he looks away quickly.

"Yes, sir."

Father whips his head around, but I'm already in my position, dutifully looking out the window as if I had been staring the whole time.

The anger isn't missed though. He knew something had happened.

We are let through, the car winding down the path that leads to the Palace.

I take in the architecture of it.

I had only seen it in pictures and history books- occasionally a movie or two if the location was shot there.

Mother's eyes held awe and fascination- no doubt she already had decoration plans rolling around within that empty head of hers.

The car pulls up within a circle drive, landing us right in front of the steps that are rolled out with red carpet.

A palace guard greets us as we emerge from the vehicle.

I hold in my groan, but am unable to repress the popping of my joints.

The guard, like his previous counter-partner, stares at me with wide eyes.

I stare blankly back- no emotion holding onto my face as I watch another worker get in the car and drive it away somewhere.

"The-the...," the guard continues to stare at me.

Mother is smiling that smile. The one that says she knows she has already won.

Father is smiling it also. It's where mother learned it. She mimicked it from him.

I ignore the guard and walk up the steps, my parents trailing behind me.

Just enough so, that I know they are letting the guard get a good look at my ass.

I grit my teeth at the thought.

What encourages me though is this- they can see my body- the full of it. So as they take in my figure and various parts, they also see my scars.

The effects the Conversion had.

Mother had whispered, worried about the sight to father.

He had shooed her away though, telling her that no one would be looking for too long at them.

But they would know.

They would know what they had caused.

The pain they had given me.

As I entered the grand archway, through the door- meeting another dumbstruck guard- I smiled at the thought, watching as the fool dropped his spear.

They would know and feel my pain.