Gerta

Gerta is a girl I have always had mixed feelings about. I mean, of course I love her—she’s family! But she has always been so… So serious! Her mind was always on work and her duties about the castle! Of all my siblings, she avoided me the most and was always short-tempered when we spoke. I always admired her intelligence, her toughness, and her hardworking nature; I just wish she didn’t insult me for liking to have fun!

Come to think of it, almost all of my sister siblings seemed short-tempered around me and didn’t like to talk to me much with the exception of my oldest one, Wilma. I got along far better with my male siblings! They were so much fun to play with and less serious!

When I asked Wilma why all my sisters seemed to avoid me she answered, “you are so sweet and naïve--you command all the attention at court—every man loves you and wants to protect you! They are jealous, button.” She answered, using her nickname for me.

I didn’t quite understand what she meant at the time, but I did now. Men loved to be useful, and they felt their most useful when they were protecting defenseless women like me.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Gerta was not defenseless. She relished hard work and she never cried, and the price was lack of male attention.

Like most mothwomen, Gerta was very small—a whole two feet smaller than mothmen and human men. She always matched the standard of beauty in moth culture better than I did. She was curvy and even shorter than most mothwomen who were tiny to begin with! I was something of a strange oddity of a mothwoman as I took after my mother who happened to be very tall. The only reason why I was so much more sought after than her was my ivory fur and my clueless personality.

Gerta’s fur was aptly brown; a color representing earthliness, defensiveness, and motherhood. Brown was a perfectly pretty color, but it was common, and Gerta was treated as such.

God, Gerta deserved so much better than being a slave. She deserved so much better than always being ignored by father and every man at his court. I remember she quite fancied Markus—the handsome peppered moth—and she tried so hard to get his attention. She wore her best dresses, acted the most feminine she could muster, but he ignored her and went straight to me.

Gerta deserved to be in my position—and I should be in hers.