Hello~! I'm writing a novel called "I never asked for this life". It's quite the cliché setting, but I hope you have room for one more story that follows this trope! Another website I post this story on is: scribblehub: https://www.scribblehub.com/series/229832/i-never-asked-for-this-life/ Royalroad: I never asked for this life | Royal Road Synopsis: When a young girl from the modern era is thrown into a parallel world, into the clutches of a cruel, hideous fate, it's no wonder that she struggled and failed, falling prey to the enemies that surrounded her. In the cold, misty mornings of October the 17th, her story ends with her pitiful death, overlooked by the prying eyes of many, her last thoughts only for her soul to be destroyed. But it seems that fate is ruthless, as she is yet again returned to the day she set foot into the body of Neoma Jaiyana Sigwal. This time, however, armed with the knowledge of her past life and the future, she will try to overturn her fate and seek vengeance. She will no longer wish for what she cannot have. She doesn't need anyone's love, she will only cherish the memories of her beloved family, something she should've done long ago. This time, things will be different. I won't let myself be trampled upon again. I will pay everyone back with interest... Genre: Fantasy, Isekai Table of Contents Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
... Is what I said. But how do I go about it? Do I post another thread here titled chapter 1 with the prefix "novel", and then copy the link and add it here?
PROLOGUE My life was not like that of a fairy tale. A very sad, miserable life of longing, chasing after what was never mine to begin with. "Your majesty, you are hereby under arrest for acts of treason". Only a few words sealed my fate... That was how worthless of an existence I was to the people of this world. I sat huddled up on the cold floor of the dungeon. Even the worst of criminals would be treated better for their noble birth, but for me, it didn't matter. I was insignificant. The more I was tortured, the more I suffered, the better. "You will be executed tomorrow". I looked upon my husband's face blankly, his eyes staring back at me devoid of affection, a small smirk playing on his lips. The husband whom I had chased after, whose love I longed for, who was so frustratingly close to me in body, yet far in both mind and heart. I smiled wearily; I was foolish. In the early mornings of October the 17th, a crowd gathered to watch my execution take place. The pitiful princess from their neighbouring country was to be executed under the charges of treason; who wouldn't come to see such a spectacle. To them I was not a sentient being, i was a side road act for their entertainment. They looked at me with scornful eyes, a mocking jeer, and a pre-lunch beer in hand. A thin mist had settled amidst the buildings, from the clouds that lowered their gaze. It was cold, but on my bare arms and legs, it felt warm – warmer than the dungeon I had been in for the past seven months. My eyes travelled across the crowd. Hundreds, no, thousands of people, and not a single one looked my way in grief and pity. Seated higher than others was my husband, the king. In his hand, he balanced a glass of wine, fluttering his glances at his lover who fawned over him as he looked upon me with a look of satisfaction; at my tattered and scarred vessel that knelt towards him. He smiled as he cast his glance to his right, muttering something to the person beside him. My eyes followed his. "Wha... F-fa...ther...?" Sitting tall in his seat was my father, king of the neighbouring country. What was he doing here? I looked at him, momentarily perplexed as a small sigh escaped my lips. Oh... That's right, to him I was merely a tool. Now that my use ran out for both of them, they were casting me aside like a ragdoll, and he was here to witness the end to the thorn in his side. Even then, I hoped... A small glimmer of hope... It didn't have to be graceful, nor magnificent. He didn't have to play the part of a knight in shining armour for me; I never believed in such romantic fairy tales anyway. But at least, he would come and save me in my last moments simply because of our blood ties. Regardless of how much he hated me, seeing his own daughter about to be executed before his eyes, surely he would feel something as a father... Wouldn't he? "F-father..." I mouthed, my throat too dry to utter a sound. My father gazed upon me with the same cold eyes I witnessed throughout my lifetime. Once again, I was foolishly hopeful. What was I expecting, he never did love me. Blood meant nothing to him – he spilt too many to be fazed. My brows furrowed, a pained expression coveted my features as I heard a blade slice through the air. Finally... I would be granted freedom. I felt a sharp pain seize me starting from my neck. I didn't think it would be this painful, it should have ended in one strike. It hurts... I-it hurts! I don't like this, I don't want this! I felt my eyes tear up as a scream forced out between the cracks of my lips and my gasps for air. I couldn't think straight, my head pounding from the loud cheer that erupted from the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my father rise from his seat and exit the execution grounds; he had done his part by being present, it was a waste of for him to stay till the end. Hah, how laughable. The executioner lifted his blade again as my eyes rolled upward, my body paralysed from both the excruciating pain, being tied up, and the feeling of my head hanging off my neck. The blade was dull. Ah... Even till the end, I had to suffer...
Chapter 1 "I love you, my charming little princess". My father often said that whilst embracing me with a bear hug, oblivious to the location he would choose to do so; whether it was when he would catch glimpse of me during my traverse to school, among my snickering peers, or the moment I would step inside my home, exhausted. He would never fail to shower me with warmth and affection, endlessly reminding me of how dear I was to him. I remember finding it bothersome, coupled with the awkwardness I felt having already been burdened by being an outcast. To say the least, it was annoying, and soon I stopped responding to him I stopped letting him know that I, too, loved him. Maybe that was why I found myself chasing after people for affection. An act of karma for disregarding my father, the very person I now missed and longed for. It's painful, with every passing breath. I had everything, I never wanted to leave behind that life. If I could, I would rather my soul be destroyed than to have been born in this world where I was surrounded by people yet truly alone. "May the blessings of the lord be upon you, the sun of the holy kingdom. I give my greetings to you on this fine day. Good morning, father". Every day, I made it my duty to give my greetings to my father, in hopes that one day he would cast a fleeting glance at me and acknowledge my presence. I would always wake up before the sun rose, spend hours dressing up as if for a special occasion, adorning myself with my best dresses, jewelleries, makeup and scents, and bow before him. It was a routine I would do alone, without the help of the maids who lay deep in their slumber. Aside from the occasional task they would accept in the presence of the emperor, the maids would spend their time fooling around, laughing amongst themselves rather than tending to their duties. Of course, they faced little to no consequence for their misdemeanor. The few times I tried to raise attention to this, I was labelled incompetent and scorned for wasting time for such trivialities; I would be harassed by the maids and abused physically and emotionally. It was better to stay quiet and bear with it, trying to speak out only made things worse. After all, as the daughter that was cast aside, left to fend for herself in kylma palace, my words bore no weight, and my worth was akin to, if not lower, than that of a servant. However, in this world where status mattered more than life and death, I was considered lucky. Had my father been more of a tyrant than an indifferent father, I would have died a dog's death on the streets, or maybe lived past my infanthood at most. It was a thought that I found humorous, and I would entertain it every so once in a while; was the life I was living really better than dying on the streets? Once I had given my greetings, I would return to my palace for my meal, a treacherous journey from being weighed upon by the heavy dress. On rainy days, it was particularly miserable. The long dress, the heavy jewellery, the heels; it made the journey back more difficult, and at times, left with my own thoughts, I would wonder why I was going to such lengths for someone who did not care for me. I was acting like a little child running after their parent, despite already being well past my childhood, when combining both lives together. I... missed my father, my real father. The void left behind, this emptiness, I was trying to fill it up with love from others, to replace the love I was missing from my father. I knew I was being foolish, that I had to live my life smarter and act my age, but I just couldn't help it. I was incredibly lonely, I had no one to call my own, to rely on and seek out for a helping hand. My meal was not something to look forward to either. A stale slice of bread and some sort of mush labelled soup from the maid's last-night supper. I would often find myself longing for my father's cooking that I always disregarded; his special sunday roast that was really just a regular roast with the added flavour from 'the family's super secret sauce', as he liked to call it, and the sweet sticky fried chicken he would make on the days I was especially depressed, knowing it was my favourite. Of course, the cooking of this world was not subpar when compared to the previous world. The food I was being served was simply the result of the mistreatment I had garnered due to my lack of worth, and I had to be thankful for that - at least I wasn't being starved. My father, on the other hand, dined on food fit for royalty. I would occasionally greet him while he was eating; a large dining table for one, covered with tens of cuisines. He never asked if I had eaten, he never thought to invite me to dine with him. Instead, I would have to stand by, watching him like a maid, waiting for him to finish his meal before I could greet him. I hated that the most. Standing there for what felt like hours, the maids snickering, the humiliation I felt. It was truly the worst. I thought that was all, that my life could not be any worse. A life where you had to be thankful for being fed table scraps, where you had to be thankful for being treated like trash simply because you were living under a roof, and a life where you were rejected by your own father. How could it possibly get worse? But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. Had I known back then what the future held for me; I would have ended my life a long time ago. On June the 12th, the day I turned 13, the life I had tried to sustain shattered in the hands of the goddess of fate...
i saw u posted ur prologue and chapter 2 here. tho i still suggest u to post in scribblehub too. it would bring you more readers. here it might be a bit hard. or maybe other sites like wattpad, fanfiction（here got more fanfic works than original tho）, archive of our own. try it yeah, honey？
Yes, I have also posted the novel on scribblehub, thank you for telling me about it! I just thought I might as well carry on posting here alongside scribblehub. Oh and Royalroad.
Chapter 2 On June the 12th, my morning differed from the usual. Where I would normally dress up to meet my father, on this particular day, I excused myself from that duty because it was my coming-of-age ceremony, and the day I would turn 13. Under normal circumstances, one would have rejoiced, excitedly dolling themselves up for such an occasion. But for me, it didn’t matter. Whenever my birthday came around, there would be no celebration under the guise I was sickly. The few presents people were generous enough to send through their servants out of courtesy would be received and taken by the maids. This endless cycle soon made me forget the joys of a birthday; the memories where my father would surprise me after school with a party seemed so distant, and I would wonder what kind of feelings I had back then. All that was left was a feeling of emptiness that accompanied the events I would recall. “Ugh...” The maids may have helped me dress up on such a rare occasion, but they never let a chance to torture me slip by. They would tighten the corset until it became difficult for me to breathe, let alone leave room for me to eat. I hadn’t eaten since morning on that day, and I wasn’t able to eat for the remainder. Maybe that was why when I was faced with an unprecedented situation, I was unable to react accordingly, and only made myself out to be foolish. Nevertheless, the maids took meticulous care to ensure that I would not disgrace the royal family. A long white dress with frills in accordance to the latest trends, and blue accessories to match my eyes; the symbol of royalty. It was probably the best I had ever looked in my thirteen years, but it brought me no delight. I didn’t like the way I looked, I looked like a typical princess born with a golden spoon. My appearance was not a reflection of my true self, how I really felt, and the hardships I faced. It only expressed the sheltered and loving environment I had supposedly been brought up in, not to mention I had the same blue tinted silver hair and jewelled blue eyes as my father. When I looked at myself, I felt like I was a reflection of him, I was Neoma and that was all; not a hint of the real me could be found anywhere. It frustrated me; I didn’t want to be Neoma. I just wanted to be myself; Amia Meredis. “Your majesty, the king of Sigwal and my beloved papa, I give you my greetings”. That was the first time I laid eyes on her. An impeccable beauty overflowing with love and naivety. I still vividly remember her picturesque figure upon entering the hall, as if it happened yesterday. Long golden waves fluttered around her shoulders as she bowed gracefully, her ocean blue jewels for eyes glittering under the chandelier. It was as if she was the embodiment of the sun, radiating warmth and light. The banquet hall was silent as the nobles looked on in awe and admiration, mesmerised by her beauty. I too had found myself taken back; it wouldn’t have been far-fetched to call her the incarnation of the goddess. “Papa?” My father had repeated. I was the only known daughter from his late wife, a status envied and sought by many for the riches it promised. Such occurrences where a child claimed to be my fathers was not entirely uncommon, and the punishment for committing the crime was death as a deterrence. “Ah, I’m sorry your majesty, I couldn’t help myself the moment I lay eyes on you. I had to greet you; I’ve always wanted to meet you from mama's stories...” “How bold. I do not recall having another daughter, but there is no denying your eyes. They hold the symbol of royalty”. My father momentarily paused as if he was brooding over the matter. “You, what is your name?” He rose from his seat and began walking down the stairs. “Alvah Loralei” “And your mother, where is she?” “Ma-mother... She was sickly for as long as I could remember, and one day, she left me in the care of Duke Erembourc and disappeared. She... Her last words were to meet you, my papa...” If her entire persona was a mere facade, Alvah was undeniably the greatest actress this kingdom had bore. Her tear-stained eyes drew in the pity of the onlookers, winning the hearts of the normally two-faced nobles. “An angel... It's an angel shedding a tear...!” someone whispered. “Nay, she’s the goddess herself!” Another exclaimed. “Indeed, there is no doubt that she is the second princess, she bears the mark of royalty!” “Maybe... She might just even be the true crown princess...” This thoughtless remark was the start of a rumour that spiralled out of control; that my sister Alvah was the true princess. Had my father took measures of prevention immediately, had I made the request to my father, it could have possibly been avoided. The title that engraved itself upon me; the disgraced imposter. My father raised a hand, silencing the restless crowd. Not because of what they were saying, but rather because he couldn’t hear himself think. “Papa... Huh…” He muttered thoughtfully in amusement. Despair… That was the only word that could label the feeling I had in that moment. The feeling of everything crumbling before me when the ice-cold stare I had grown accustomed to softened ever so little as he looked upon the girl. I felt suffocated. All those years I had spent trying my utmost best to please him, yearning for his affection... Yet, with a single tear, this girl had him in her grasp. “Before the nobles gathered here today, I would like to welcome my daughter Alvah Loralei Sigwal, the lost princess of the royal family. Let today be her debut as a member.” My father turned his attention to Duke Erembourc. “We will discuss this matter further after this banquet has ended.” “Yes, your majesty.” The crowd erupted in a cheer, making a toast to the joyous occasion. In this commotion, I felt lost, as if I was drowning. I felt my shoulders trembling, I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t accept it; she was not my sister. I hated her, I despised her. “F-Father!” I blurted it out before I could stop myself, the first costly mistake I made since the wheels of fate were put into motion. My father turned and faced me; his usual unwavering cold stare bore deep daggers within me. “I-I”, I paused for a moment, trying to regain myself. “Your majesty, this... This banquet was hosted for my coming-of-age ceremony. I, it isn’t supposed to be a debut for another girl!” I didn’t want to speak, I didn’t want to continue, but it felt as though something has taken a hold of me, forcing me to pour out feelings that I had buried deep within me, that I had continued to smother in attempts to maintain an admirable visage. What followed was a memory that had embedded itself deep within me. A memory that continues to haunt me in my many sleepless nights. “...Another girl?” My father spoke in a manner of tone more rhetorical than a question. “She is my daughter, and your blood related sister whom we reunited with. Such an occasion should be rejoiced, and you should be more willing to give up your ceremony for her. To disrupt the celebration with such a selfish way of thinking, how disgraceful”.
Chapter 3"Such jealousy…!” “She’s been replaced, hasn’t she…?” “I wouldn’t be able to show my face after this, if I was her!” “It must be humiliating.” “To think she would harbour such selfishness.” “She must be envious of princess Alvah’s beauty.” “My deepest apologies, your majesty... I was not in my right mind; I have spoken out of turn and dampened the mood. I would like to kindly excuse myself and retire to my chambers for the night...” My father dismissed me without even a glance. That was how my short lived coming-of-age ceremony had ended. The taste of blood gushing from where I had bitten my lips as a means to hold back my tears and the snickering and gossips of the nobles digging into my back. In that moment, I knew from the nauseating feeling brewing at the back of my throat that things were going to become harder; that the tiny pieces of hope I had desperately clung onto had slipped between my fingers. After that, it happened quickly; one event after another, like beads falling from a severed string. Alvah had taken residence in the main palace, and within months, she was the talk of the kingdom. Everyone loved her; the maids, the servants, the nobles and the commoners alike. Maybe it was because of her humble origins. She was a breath of fresh air for the nobles and someone to relate to for the commoners. Even my stoic father had begun to weaken to her charms. They would often take long walks in the garden, something I only found out when I chanced upon them by the fountain. Neither of them acknowledged my presence, despite having stood in plain sight. Maybe I was invisible under her light. I felt like a lingering shadow that disappeared the moment she came into the picture. The maids' harassments continued, only getting worse in light of a rumour that began circulating throughout the palace. The rumour that I was tormenting Alvah out of jealousy and spite. That I had threatened the maids to stop serving her, forced her to eat mouldy bread, made her stand for hours in the rain under the guise that it was etiquette training, and would taunt her for her lowly origins. Of course, these allegations were baseless, and held no truth. But my words bore little weight, and Alvah did not once deny or refute these rumours. I should have taken precautions when the red flags arose. When she would only stand up for me on circumstances beneficial to her, and I would be made out to be the villain despite having not uttered a single word. But I feigned ignorance. I always brushed it off as me being overly sensitive, and I would give her the benefit of the doubt., even though I knew deep down that her contradicting actions were tell tales of a warning sign. Eventually, news of my mistreatment reached my father's ears, and I was brought to his office to be berated. I didn’t say anything, not a word. Speaking only made things worse and I had learnt this the hard way. It was then that my political engagement to the then crown prince of the neighbouring country was decided, and I was to be wedded when I turned 18. Somewhere deep inside me, I suppose I felt a sense of relief. I was finally going to get away from the torturous kingdom where no one loved me; where I had acquired hate from people I didn’t even know, and lived my days under scrutiny. I had hoped that with this engagement, although arranged, I would finally have someone to rely on, and that we would grow to love each other with time. It was because of this new found hope that I was able to bare the remaining five years before my marriage. The painful, drawn-out five years that I had to spend cowering in my room in fear, as the rumours only grew and death threats ceaselessly made its way to my doorstep. Amidst this, the bond between my father and my sister continued to grow stronger as his demeanour around her changed drastically. He would become the most loving and doting father when matters involved her; the way he treated me and her was like night and day, and in a manner that would lead you to think that I was a complete stranger. It would be a lie to say that I was never envious of her. Rather, I loathed her. Behind my carefully crafted smile, I wished her death; I wished that she quietly disappeared and had continued living the commoner life as she had been with her mother. Of course, my wishes were never realised. Changing the past was impossible, and the present and future were beyond my control. On the day of my solitary departure, in the company of just myself, the coachman and three knights to ensure I was safely delivered, I had hoped that my father would come to see me off. I gave him chances, numerous chances. I had greeted him as per usual in the morning, bidding him fare well, whilst indirectly reminding him that I was to leave for Agnar that afternoon. As could be expected though, and something my then naive-self feigned ignorance to, he never came. He didn’t even glance out the window. The only other person that was present, aside from the people accompanying me was my sister and her entourage. From an outsider’s perspective, it was simply a caring older sister seeing off her beloved younger sister, as she sobbed into a handkerchief, everyone fawning over her. Of course, that was only from an outsider's perspective. “She’s so ungrateful, she has a lovely little sister that loves her so much that she’s crying to see her go, yet she remains with a poker face, no tears at all!” “Well, what would you expect – she torments Alvah after all.” “Alvah’s too forgiving! She even forgives the devil herself!” That was what her real motif was. To once again paint herself as an angel and cast me further into the depths of everyone’s hatred. I smiled. The me in that moment remained ignorant and accepted Alvah's kindness and love as genuine. Maybe it was because I had never received any love in this life that I couldn't tell apart a fake love from a real one. “Alvah, you are welcomed to visit me”, I smiled; a smile that radiated no emotions. A perfect lady's smile. I... shouldn’t have said that. If I had known prior to inviting my sister that she would have accepted my offer and made my husband’s kingdom her second home, yet again stealing my place to belong to, I would have told her to stay away. To save her tears and never step foot before me again; it wouldn’t have mattered what the people present thought of my conduct. Whether I was made out to be a villainess and scorned at even more than what I had already been receiving. As long as I could have a place where I belonged to, I wouldn’t have cared at all.