One: Marythelia

The country of Sad was not one many people, especially humans, would want to come to. Not only was it the first country to enforce slavery among its citizens but it was also the place where it stunk like shit and wet dog. Not a pleasing thought, but it is what it is.

I, Marythelia, or Thelia for short, has been a slave my whole life. Those that own me may do whatever they wish for the laws don't protect us, they protect the masters, the rich, the nobles. I was a meager woman, too skinny for my own good, too stubborn to be of much use to anyone, yet Citron hasn't given up.

Citron, the man of every girl's dream, was not mine. Sure he was handsome: blue eyes, sunshine gold hair, etc. But he was a brute. He was kind to no one except his friends, who also can get his treatment if they push him wrong. The only thing I can say that's good is that he doesn't punish me in public, unlike some other masters. He doesn't like to flaunt his belongings around. He doesn't like people to see his possessions misbehaving and his reaction to it. It ruins his reputation.

The life of a slave in Sad was harsh, especially when the floods come in. I live in the most northern part of Sad in a place called Sellan. Floods happed here almost monthly. In the winter, water freezes and we literally have to skate from one end of town to the other. Of course, Citron and the other higher people never get their bones chilled unless absolutely necessary. I've learned to deal with it.

Right now, it is nearly dark and I have a basket full of wheat on my head, hauling it to Citron's barn so I can start bundling tomorrow. My curly black hair was tied back with a piece of fabric, and my slave dress looked like a dirty rag. I was exhausted, but knew I had more work at the house before I could fall into bed and close my eyes.

As I was walking down a dirt path, a noble child appeared and shoved me backwards, making the wheat go in all directions. He laughed and started kicking the wheat so it scattered in the wind. I grit my teeth, my green eyes narrowing on the boy with so much hatred, I was surprised he didn't burn to death.

"Isn't your mother wondering where you are?" asked a deep voice from behind me.

The boy paused in his play to stare wide eyed at whoever spoke. "n-no sir!"

"Then may I ask why you are making a mess in the street?"

At this, the boy grinned and pointed at me. "It was her fault! The slave was in my way! She should watch where she is going!"

A grunt and then a giant pair of massive hands pulled me up to my feet as I was distracted with thoughts of cutting the boy's tongue out for lying. "I see," said the voice from right behind me, so close, I could feel the warm breath. "Well, if you run along now, I won't tell your father that you pushed a woman to the ground quite rudely. Not only that, but I will explain how you fibbed so easily and fast, that I will make sure you get a lashing."

My eyes widened with the boy's. Whoever this person was obviously didn't know the protocol here and didn't know that the boy would receive no such punishment. He also didn't know she was beneath his troubles and he should be on the boy's side, not mine.

"B-but, you can't do that!" the boy stammered.

"Try me," said the voice, and I thought I heard a smile.

The boy ran off, glancing back once more before disappearing into a house. I sighed and stooped to pick up what little wheat I could salvage. Citron would not be happy at how late I am or at the lack of wheat I brought home.

A hand was on my shoulder, making me look up. What I saw made me realize why the boy seemed to tremble. This man, this huge strong creature, seemed to radiate with a kind of power no one can ignore. He was tall, handsome, and had green eyes. Not like Citron's, but more intense, more life-like. "Can I help you?" he asked and I blinked in confusion.

"Um…" I lowered my gaze to the ground, realizing I was being too forward. "No thank you. I can get it."

"Are you sure? I have time. Plus, it seems like no one else wants to help."

I found myself staring at him again, this time in confusion. "Why would they do that? People like you aren't supposed to help a slave like me."

"A slave?" he gasps, taken aback for some reason. "Can I ask who made you so?"

I shrugged, not caring all that much since it was a long time ago. "It doesn't matter." After I've gathered as much wheat as I have the patience for, I stand and begin to walk away. I make it a few feet before the man grabs my arm. I stop, willing myself to stay calm. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but I have somewhere I need to be right now. If you could be so kind as to let me go, I'd appreciate it."

"I'm not letting you go yet," he said in a hard tone that made me go cold. Fear spread like wildfire through my bones, making me frozen to the spot. The man came around and stood in front of me. "Look up at me," he ordered.

I obeyed, hesitating just slightly. If anyone saw me right now, it didn't matter who my master was, I'd be punished for all to see.

The blue eyes searched my face for something before he said, "Do you have family? Friends?"

"Master Citron is the one I serve. If you'd like, I'd be able to take you to him."

The man shakes his head, looking frustrated. "That's not what I'm asking. Where is your family? Do you have a mother or a father? Brother perhaps?"

I kept my face neutral as he listed all the things I have lost. "None, sir."

"Are they dead?" he asks without any hint remorse.

"No, not that I know of."

"Then where are they?"

Before I could answer, something lashed against my back, making me scream. I saw the man's eyes go wide before I fell into his arms. The basket of wheat fell once again and I felt blood soaking into my clothes. "Get off him, you filthy thing!" a woman called.

Carefully, I pushed away from the man and knelt on the ground, not looking anywhere but at the dirt. Another stinging pain lanced through me and I tried to keep in my tears. "What in the world are you doing!"

"Punishing her for misbehaving!"

"How? I was speaking with her!"

"Otreg!" called another male voice, this one much harsher than the man who saved me, Otreg. "Leave the village to their rules. We do not interfere."

"But, she did nothing wrong!" Otreg argued.

There was heavy footsteps coming their way and I felt as if the sun was getting closer and closer. The heat was stifling. I could feel sweat accumulating on my neck. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me up. I blinked away the pain and took a glance at this newcomer.

He was taller than Otreg, dark with dark brown locks, and blue eyes that glowed like the hottest part of a fire. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before he shook his head. "I will see to it that she gets what she deserves," he said to the woman who whipped me.

"Thank you, you are a wonderful gentleman!" the woman replied and I heard her slam a door nearby.

The man who was holding me didn't glance around, but pushed me down the road. "Go. Run along before you are seen."

"But my basket-"

"Go!" he growled and I swallowed my pride and ran towards Citron's house.