Jack stared dejectedly out of the glass window, palm in hand, as he watched the towering grey clouds gather ominously over the dark evening sky. The very menacing nature of the coming storm seemed to foreshadow what he was sure was going to be an ultimate disaster tomorrow and he leaned his forehead against the cool panes, trying to find solace. He curled his legs onto the window seat, silk flowing robes in shades of cool blues and startling white shifting and crinkling softly around him as they settled into the plush cushions. A part of him morbidly wondered if it would be too much trouble and save his family the immense grief of tomorrow if he just took his sash and- no. That was the coward's escape, the dishonorable forbidden crime. Besides, he would prove nothing to himself, only that he was good at the one thing that had kept him safe and hidden for all these years: simply running away from his problems. And everyone would finally have reason to mock and ridicule his family, his father, for their shameful son, the one who caused disaster and strife wherever he walked. Jack watched a fat gloomy raindrop stumble its way down the glass, disappearing into the cracks below. He was no fool; he knew what the villagers said of him behind his backs and behind closed doors. That he was a disgrace, a failure, a black mark and blight upon his family's name. No one dared to tell his father such words to his face; they at least respected him greatly for being such a magnificent war hero from the village in the Emperor's army. But perhaps that was the reason Jack was all the more shunned for being different, he could never live up to his father's glory and name. He thought his father knew though, when he had started coming home at the tender ages of ten and eleven with cuts and bruises all over his body from the other children they had sent him to school with. After one such cruel attempt that left Jack lost and bleeding in a blizzard, found only when he was half frozen to death, his family had decided that was enough. He would be kept at home, behind locked doors and with no contact with anyone from beyond the ancestral compound, only allowed to leave if someone travelled with him. And so, friendless and alone, he stayed trapped behind the familiar walls of his childhood home, caught in time as the world rushed and changed about him. He never exactly recalled the day his parents decided to prepare him to be a bride. Jack supposed, deep down, he always had known it was coming. There was simply no other path for him to take in order to uphold the family honor.
Cursed from birth with a body that had decided halfway through forming it'd rather be feminine, his slender waist and slight frame coupled with swaying hips and gentle, delicate hands made for a pleasing figure under the silken robes and drapery usually reserved only for females. His distinctive features did not help his case at all: Large, round and expressive blue eyes that always carried a hint of mischief and a slightly upturned nose were set above lips that were not as full as a woman's was and not as slender as a man's. His pale skin was unmarked and unblemished with his silver shock of hair somehow complementing the picture. Paint his face up even more so to highlight his facial as his mother instructed their servants to do so every day and even he couldn't tell the difference between his own face and those of the brides to be. Jack absolutely hated it. There were times when he wanted to just scrub and scrape at his own skin until all the clotting and constricting makeup washed off from his face, his body, his soul so that he could be free. He dreamed of a life far from the towering walls of his home, of a place where he could run about openly and feel the grass beneath his feet, touch the sky if he wanted to, and not have to worry about pleasing anyone. That was all he seemed to do, please his parents by doing what they wanted so they would be happy and proud of him, please the tailors and artists that came to dress him up so that his mother and father would be thankful to have a son who could be useful to the family and not have to be hidden from sight in shame, and worst of all, he knew he'd be doing it as soon as he was given away. And that was what frightened and scared him the most. Being taken to the Matchmaker was like being handed a death sentence and walking that long and yet too short stretch to the gallows. Jack wasn't stupid, he knew what was to be expected of him to do and perform once he was compatible with another match. He was terrified at being forced into a relationship he had no desire to be in and passed into only another set of shackles, bound in a different set of bars that was still his cage, his prison. What if he was pressed into an agreement with a man who wanted to hurt him or didn't respect his wishes or desires? He couldn't escape, the contract was binding, and then even if he tried, his whole family would be humiliated and embarrassed by his actions. He could see no way out.
An odd memory rose to his mind as he stared blankly out the window at the growing darkness, an occurrence from long ago when he was much younger and innocent, before the hurtful insults and blows rained down on him. He had been playing with the other boys, kicking up a ruckus in the bushes outside of the entry gates when they had stumbled upon a bird's nest hidden away in the dark green leaves of the plants. Inside was a scared baby sparrow, no more than a few weeks old, with fluffy down and wings that were tucked securely into its back, unable to be used yet. Jack had instantly fallen in love with the tiny and soft creature and tried to force his playmates away and to leave it alone so its mother could come back and take care of it. Laughing at him and saying he was acting like a girl, they pushed him aside and starting poking at the frantically cheeping bird, trying to get it to fly for them. Yelling at them to stop before they hurt it, Jack pulled at their arms to get them away when one of the group accidentally upended the carefully constructed nest, sending it sprawling onto the ground below. He would never forget how the breath seemed to have been evaporated from his lungs as he watched with horror as the little sparrow tumbled out of its home and landed still among the grass blades. The other boys grew silent and quiet, looking at each other warily with a guilty squirming feeling in their stomachs as they waited for it to move and rise, to fly away. Jack on the other hand ran towards it, falling on childishly round legs and cupping his hands gently underneath its light body, no heavier than several grains of rice. He sniffled quietly as his fingers tremblingly stroked its downy head while the remaining kids shoved their hands in their pockets and ran away, not wanting to be blamed for the incident. Stumbling inside, Jack however brought it to his mother, sobbing hysterically until she took it from his chubby hands and calmed him down by showing him that it was merely stunned, not dead. Within a few minutes, the sparrow was indeed blinking its dark eyes and hopping around in small circles. He had laughed and begged his mother to let him care for it and she allowed him to construct a sloppy cage for his new pet. Jack was faithful in feeding and caring for the bird, feeling like a proud mother when it began to flutter its wings, until one day when he came in carrying its feed happily, as he always did. Jack heard a strange noise from the cage and looked over curiously. The next thing his parents heard was a traumatized scream and the shattering of a plate against the tile floor. Rushing in, they covered their mouths and his mother quickly embraced her son tightly, turning his face into her dress as his father set his face and approached the cage. There inside, was the now grown sparrow, repeatedly throwing itself against the bars of the cage, hitting them over and over again in a desperate attempt to free itself from its confines. It kept falling and rising to continue the same process as the metal rods cut deeper and deeper into its plumage, faint drips of blood littering the floor of the structure. His father quickly took it all out of the room and disposed of the cage, bird and all. Jack never asked what happened and he never asked for a pet again.
Blinking back to the present, Jack clenched his hands into fists, scrunching up the silken fabric between his knuckles. Tomorrow, he would meet the Matchmaker. Tomorrow, he would find out if he was actually worth something, if he was actually capable of bringing honor to his family or if he was that bird from long ago, doomed to broken failure from the start. Closing his eyes, Jack let a small tear escape and trail down his painted cheeks, smudging and smearing the ink into murky rivers. He leaned his head back once more, and stared out into the dark storming night, still and intense as a statue carved from pure marble, as if he would find his destiny out there in the raging skies that clashed viciously under the cold unforgiving stars.