Slavefic 2/3
Warnings: This is a slave fic, but not as creepy as they usually go. Weird content, a bit of violence, lots of tears and screaming (but no sexual abuse at all, in case you're wondering)
Pairings: Luciana/Martina.
Summary: Luciana is hired to take a slave to the mines. WILL SHE BE ABLE TO DO IT?
Luciana entered the room again when night fell.
“Still not hungry?”
The slave didn't answer. Luciana knelt by her side, and held her wrists. Blondie glared, but didn’t try to pull away.
Her hand was small, delicate. But it was also dry and rough, her nails broken and dirty.
“So they did make you work. That’s surprising.”
Touching her palm was like touching sandpaper, but Luciana didn’t say that. The marks around her wrists hadn’t faded yet, had only turned to a soft shade of pink. Like a branded bracelet.
“I think you must scar really easy.”
“… it that a threat?”
“Uh? No. I really do.”
She got the rope from her belt. Blondie's eyes widened, and then she pulled her hands away, hiding them behind her back.
“Just lock the door, it’s not like I can break it to run away.”
Her eyes were suddenly so green and huge, desperately searching for a way out. Luciana wondered if it was really fear of being restrained, or just her pride. Either way, she was right. Locking the door would work just fine. Luciana just didn't want to seem too soft.
“Tell me why you don’t like the ropes.”
“Am I supposed to like it?”
“Come on, it’s a deal. Tell me why, and I won’t tie you.”
She swallowed, looking away. It was so strange, because she was so tall and had that majestic air all around her, and yet it suddenly felt like Luciana was looking at a small wounded bird.
That would go for her throat if she didn’t pay attention.
But still.
“I just don’t. It’s like when people touch me. It makes me nervous. I don’t like it.”
“Do I make you nervous?”
“No,” she answered, a little too fast, “I’m fine. What I'm saying is, they did it to me all the time, so they could drag me to places, as if I were a dog, and- I don’t like it. I can move by myself.”
“But you don’t.”
“I shouldn't have to!”
“Oh, right, because you’re not a slave. There's something you need to understand - what’s your name? It can’t be Blondie.”
Her face hardened.
“Why do you care? It’s not important.”
“There's something you need to understand, person with the not important name, and that's the fact that you need to follow orders! The faster you learn, the easier your life will be. Anyway I’m still locking the door.”
“Of course you are.”
But this time there was no bite in her voice, only a faint relief. She brought her hands together, rubbing it softly, and Luciana wondered if she was trying to erase her touch.
“I’ll get you food if you tell me your name.”
“You’ll get me anyway. You've been trying to make me eat since we met.”
“Fine, pest, but I want to know.”
“I don’t know yours.”
Lord, give me patience, she thought.
“Luciana. I would have told you, if you had asked.”
She looked away. Luciana gave up. The slave was right, she didn’t have to know. There was no reason to. She was at the door when the woman said.
“Martina Hernández. I didn’t want to tell them. No one called me anything but insults anyway.”
Luciana paused. Martina. A name that a regular woman could have, could give to her friends and neighbor. Not quite right for the broken fairy sitting on the floor.
“They would have called you that, if you had told them.”
Martina didn’t answer. She was pouting again when Luciana came back with what was left of the soup, and a bowl of fresh fruits and water.
Luciana allowed herself a little smile before leaving and locking the door.
She stopped when she reached the Drover's Bay, because it was safe to spend the night there. She let down the anchor, and went to sleep.
The rising sun woke her up in the morning, and she stretched slowly, like a cat, fighting the temptation to go back to sleep. A little water helped, and then Luciana went to the sun deck, and looked longingly at the river.
It was a dark, muddy shade of green, and there was no way in hell she was going to even set a foot there. But maybe she could find one of the streams deeper into the forest, she knew the eels wouldn’t swim against the currents. And the water would be crystalline, cold and inviting.
Tempting.
Martina would think she had died and left her locked in that room. But then, there was no way to take her outside without tying her up, and Luciana didn’t want to do that. After their moment of trust last night, it would feel like she was just being mean.
Luciana scratched her head. Now this. How the other slave traders solved that kind of situation? But… she could try it, right? If the slave behaved?
First things first. She knocked on the door.
To her surprise, there was a faint “come in”, from inside.
She was smiling when she unlocked it.
“Morning, sunshine.”
“Back at you,” she said, grudgingly. “Is there any way to shower over here? Or you don't usually bother?”
Luciana couldn’t hit her. It way too early in the morning for that.
“Well, since you asked, I’m going to take a walk outside to do just that, and you’ll wait here and think about how rude you are.”
The play of emotions in her face was great to watch. The surprise widening her eyes and then the resentment battling her attempt to find something to say, and what Luciana was starting to call realization, for lack of a better word, when she realized how her sharp tongue had taken her somewhere she didn’t want to go, and now she didn’t know how to get herself out of the mess.
Precious. Luciana hid a smirk when she turned to leave. She sensed Martina getting up, of course, and was ready for her when the slave grabbed her arm, but Martina didn’t try to fight.
“Outside? Outside where?”
And then her favorite solution: pretending she hadn’t dug herself a hole and that it didn’t exist at all.
“I said you’re not going.”
Her fingers tightened around Luciana’s sleeve. She pressed her lips, tightly, and Luciana bit the insides of her cheeks. This pout was more effective than the blind hate from before.
That was a problem.
“You can’t leave me here.”
“Can’t I?”
“I was just teasing- I know you shower. You must. Or your hair would look terrible, since it’s all curly. I just want to wash my face, that’s all.”
“There’s no way in hell this is all,” Luciana said, yanking her arm back. She was going to yield. She knew that. Fuck. “If you’re thinking about running away, don’t. There’s all sort of animals here, in the forest and in the river. And the nearest trail is miles away. You’ll get lost and walk in circles and then you’ll eat something poisonous or something poisonous will eat you, and then you’ll die.”
“Alright,” she said. Now she didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, bringing them together, then pulling the tip of her hair. Luciana glared at her.
She had to raise her face to do it. Double fuck.
“I mean it, Blondie. You know what happens when you die in the woods?”
“Martina. I told you my name so you could use it.”
“A million awful things, including insects and bugs going into your mouth. You don’t want that, do you? So don’t run away.”
“When are we going? Now?”
“And the river is even worse.”
“I can go alone, if you hate it so much.”
Luciana gave up.
“Turn around.”
“Why? We’ll play hide and seek?”
“Shut up and turn around, I want to braid your hair.”
Her eyes widened again. She got it all together in one hand and took one step away.
“Why? It’s my hair. It’s fine like this. Don’t touch it.”
“Don’t be silly, you silly. It’s safer if it’s not flowing all over the place like that. But if you don’t mind spiders and green wasps getting caught in it, be my guest.”
Reluctantly, she turned around, her back to Luciana.
“I don’t know why you have to be so tall,” she grumbled, and started to separate that blond waterfall in three different strands. Martina had spent so much time brushing it with her hand that there were no tangles or knots to break, but Luciana ran her fingers through it anyway.
It was making her curious. Her own hair tended to get mad at her if she tried to brush it like that, at least when it was dry, so she didn’t play with it much. Martina’s was sleek and malleable, if a bit dry. And at some point halfway down it started to lose the shine, feeling more like straw than silk.
She could imagine the woman taking care of it when she was free, making sure it never looked dry at the ends, combing it in different, creative ways. No wonder she had been upset at the thought of cutting it off. Luciana was starting to mourn it too.
She braided it tightly, starting as high as she could, pulling the strands from the side of her hair until she reached her neck, while Martina held herself as stiff as ever. Luciana couldn’t help it - she brushed the back of her fingers on her skin, surprised at how soft it was. And tense. It made her want to rub her shoulders, just to see if she could make Martina relax.
Anyway, braids. She did it carefully, pulling as tight as she could without hurting her, and then tied the end with a piece of string.
Martina’s face was flushed, her cheeks brightly red when she turned back to face her.
“Can we go now? Or do you want to check if I have clean hands before, or something embarrassing like that?”
“Braiding hair is not embarrassing,” Luciana said. She wasn’t sure about it. It had been weirdly interesting. “And I know what your hands look like.”
Martina looked at them. Her face fell, and Luciana held her shoulder:
“Idiot,” she said, with more warmth than she had planned to. “Come here, I’ll teach you how to get down from the boat.”
Martina had to wait another minute as Luciana locked the navigation’s room door, just in case something went wrong while they were ashore. That done, leaving the sun deck had no mystery to it. She just had to bend her knees a little when she jumped to the ground, but that was a rule for jumping anywhere. And keep the balance so she wouldn’t slip in the mud. Luciana held her anyway, ignoring the vehement protests and, for all that she claimed she didn’t need any help, Martina didn’t pull away.
At least until the ground was firm. Then she shoved Luciana's hand, and looked at the forest.
They were standing in a small shore, and from here it didn’t look so dense and thick. The space between the trees gave the illusion of a path and the stream of water rushing between them made it beautiful, a peaceful, soft little corner to rest.
If you didn’t mind the wasps and the snakes and spiders and other fun things hiding there. Luciana found a nice rock by the stream to sit, and took off her boots.
“Aren’t we going into the woods?”
“Uh? No, of course not. You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?”
Martina scowled. She looked around, didn’t find a rock for herself and scowled harder. She looked like something out of a dream, a beautiful forest spirit. A very sulky one.
After a while, she sat on the floor. Then Luciana felt guilty - the poor thing was so protective of her frayed dress - but now it was too late. She watched as Martina, after a moment of hesitation, started to wash her feet too. Then her arms.
“Luciana-”
It was the first time she had said her name. It sounded different in her mouth.
“Is all that true?”
“What?”
“What you said. That they’ll cut my hair?”
She didn’t sound scared. She didn’t even sound interested, focusing on washing the back of her neck. But she didn’t meet Luciana’s eyes as she asked.
“Well…”
“You just said that to upset me. Right?”
“Eh… well, you see. It depends. There’s a… there’s this small town around it, and I don’t know what they’ll want you to do. There are some women living there, and I know the overseer is married. You’re more likely to get assigned to clean his house, or take care of his kids than to go into the mine itself. So I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Well, it’s not my fault you don’t even try. If you acted nicer, and a little meeker, then I’m sure you could charm them into going easy on you.”
This time Martina looked at her.
“I’m not going to be a slave. I won’t act like one just to make them like me.”
“Then you’ll have to take what you can get,” Luciana said, trying to sound bland, and non-aggressive. She didn’t want to fight. It felt like she was kicking someone already down. And this place was so nice, with the mix of brown and green and sparkling blue, the breeze playing on her hair. She wanted to enjoy it.
“I don’t get you. You’re doing- you’re trying to be nice to me. I can tell that. You want to be my friend.”
“I’m not trying anything,” she started, her cheeks warming, but Martina raised her voice.
“You are, you didn’t- I know that, I’m not stupid, I know the others - they would have hit me already, and you didn’t, and you’re there all- sitting there and smiling at me like we’re friends, but you’re taking me somewhere you know they’ll kill me.”
“They’re not going to kill you.”
“I’ll die, you know that, if they shave my hair and send me underground I’ll die, or they’ll kill me because I won’t do anything they say, I’ll run away or I’ll go crazy, and that’s-”
“That’s entirely your problem! It’s not my fault if you’re a slave who thinks you’re a princess, and yes, of course they’ll beat it out of you, but I wouldn’t be so stupid in your place, so if you want to be like that, why should I care?”
“Then don’t act like you’re kind! Don’t look at me like that and braid my hair and hold my hand and pretend you’re worried, because you’re not! I knew that the moment I saw you, you’re just a vulture like everyone else!”
“You know what, you’re right. I’ll just tie you again and lock the door so you can feel even more like a martyr, and you’ll never even realize that you're screwing your own chances.”
Martina’s face was red, not the softly embarrassed blush, but an angry red as if she were about to explode, her eyes bright with impotent hate.
“I’m not a coward,” she said, “You’d grovel and beg and call them masters and mistresses, but I’m not like that.”
“Fair enough,” Luciana said, suddenly too tired, too bored, too irritated to keep up with this. “I wish you all the luck. Maybe you’ll see my point in a few years.”
“You don’t care, I know, it’s my life, and you don’t know me, you don’t care about me at all.”
“That is so right.”
Martina got up. Her skin glistened wet, and she still had her fists closed, her chest heaving, her face a mask of despair and impotence.
“Why,” she said. She was almost crying. “Why? I’ve never done anything to you. If I were someone in the street you’d have helped me, why won’t you do it? Do you want to have me killed?”
Luciana raised her face. She didn’t bother getting up.
“My father was sentenced to seven years in that place, and he served almost all of it. Then there was an accident. We knew this could happen. But he had to do it and he did it anyway. Why should you be spared, princess? You make a mistake, and you pay for it.”
“I don’t know what your father did, but I don’t deserve it, you stupid, blind vulture, I did nothing wrong, nothing to deserve this-”
“God. Right. I forgot, you’re the prisoner from the war that didn’t happen.”
“I was! And they brought me here and you want me to lie down and take it and I won’t! I won’t die just because you’re too bitter to listen to me, I’ll go back to my family, they’ll find me and they’ll make you pay for this, and-”
“You know what I think?” Luciana got up too. Not that it helped, Martina still had a few inches on her, but it made her feel better. “I think your family was indebted. I think they went broke. I think the only way to pay was this, and I think your father did what mine didn’t, sold you up because no one could stand you, and I think they’re better off without you. They’re not coming, because no one will ever miss you.”
Martina recoiled as if Luciana had punched her. Opened her mouth, and struggled to find the words, and when she spoke she sounded on the verge of tears.
“They love me. My family loves me. They’re looking for me, and you’re a sadistic piece of shit of a human being, that’s what you are, even if you pretend to be nice, you’re a monster, and- I’m glad your father died, you deserved it. You deserve to die to for saying this to me, and-”
“When was the war? This war that didn’t happen, when they took you prisoner, princess? When was that?”
“I don’t know, I don’t care, all I know is that they went there, and attacked my city and took me away and now-”
“What’s the name of your city?”
Martina swallowed, her face hard, her eyes brimming with tears, and she replied, because she thought this would lead somewhere and she was so, so stupid, that it didn’t cross her mind that now Luciana wouldn’t help her even if she could.
“I used to- I live in the Silver Shore. It’s where the river ends, and there’s always someone attacking it because that’s the only way to reach the hinterland, and-”
“I know where it is,” Luciana snapped, “You know what? I heard about attacks there. Some pirates ships or something, broke everything, set fire to house roofs, but the people fought back to fend them off?”
Martina glared at her, a little like a deer would glare at a wolf, so maybe even she could hear the weight in Luciana’s voice. Still, she said:
“We always fight back.”
“You know when the last one happened?”
“I don’t care-”
“Five years ago. So where’s your family? It doesn’t take that long to reach our capital.”
Martina stared. Luciana stared back, hard.
“I went after my father when they took him. And I found him. And I was fourteen. Yet I found him through the forest all the way to the Vipers Mine. Where’s your family? Still looking for you?”
“They are,” she whispered, “And you’re lying.”
“Fine, you can ask when we reach the village. But ask the mayor, or his wife, or a trader. The miners won’t know. After a while, they get too numb to care, just like you will.”
“You’re lying. You’re lying about everything. I don’t believe you. I would know, if it had been that long. You’re lying.”
Martina’s eyes were wide as plates, wide and green and horrified, and when she blinked tears spilled down her cheeks, and she seemed to not even notice.
“Hey, maybe they didn’t notice you're gone! But I’m sure they’ll look for you when they do. Or maybe they’re enjoying the peace and quiet.”
“They love me. They’re looking for me, I know that, because they love me.”
Luciana wanted to hit harder, she was hurting and she wanted Martina to hurt too, just as bad or even worse, so she said:
“Maybe they were grateful! Maybe they went to fix those roofs after the attack and they said, hey, let’s look at the bright side, she’s not here anymore, and they all celebrated, how about that? Five years is a long time, and the trip would have taken, like, less than two weeks, maybe they don’t care!”
Martina screamed, a broken, raw sound that seemed to shake her whole body, and then she lunged at Luciana.
This time she didn’t try to restrain her. This time she wanted to hit.
So she did, she took the impact against her body and hit with her fists and her knees, the way she would hit a fighter as good as herself, hoping adrenaline would keep Martina standing longer so she could hit her more, until the crazy, stupid wounded little idiot bit her arm so hard that the skin opened, and then Luciana screamed, and punched her on the side of her head. Then Martina was on the floor, coughing and whimpering, spitting blood that wasn’t all hers, broken sobs racking her body.
Luciana wanted to kick her, wanted to drag her by her hair and drown her. Wanted to see blood rushing from her mouth.
She didn’t. She couldn’t break any bones. This thing had to be delivered whole, or she wouldn't get paid. It wasn't important. It wasn't. She'd spend the rest of her life imagining Martina locked in a hole a thousand feet underground. That would be her revenge.
Martina got up, staggering, dirty and bleeding. And ran. She didn’t look back and Luciana didn’t follow, watched as the slave went into the woods until there was just a far-off sound of rustling leaves, and then nothing more.
She sat on the same rock, and put her head on her hands. And then started to laugh. It bubbled out, broken and harsh and ugly, and she couldn’t help it, so she let it take over her, until she was breathing hard, but breathing, and then she slid down, and put her feet back in the water, and closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m so, so sorry, dad. I’m so sorry.”
She imagined his hand on her shoulder, warm and steady.
He wouldn't like that.
Wouldn't like her torturing a broken slave, and ruining the only job she had found, and acting like an overemotional idiot.
Don't worry, she sniffled, I'll fix it, dad. In a minute.
Martina would leave a trail that would take her less than an hour, at the most, to follow. Assuming she didn't die first. Luciana washed her face over and over, until her hands stopped trembling, and then she got up from the water and put on her boots.
With a deep sight, she entered the forest.
The trail was obvious, footsteps and broken branches laying it out plainly to anyone with trained eyes. Luciana got a knife from her belt.
It took her a while, and Luciana was darkly amused at how lost the slave had been - she had almost walked in circles, the idiot - but she finally found her.
Martina was sitting on a fallen tree, a faraway look in her eyes. Her face was dirty and swollen where Luciana had hit, but she looked calm, composed, like a spirit from the forest, a fairy sitting alone with her long braid falling down her back and a stupid rebel strand of hair curling around her face.
This time, Luciana tried not to be moved by her beauty. She closed her fists around the hilt of the knife.
“Five years of trying to run and a bunch of trees take you down?”
She thought Martina flinched, but she wasn’t sure. She kept going, as she negotiated her way around fallen branches and uprooted trees.
“You’re an idiot. I’d have followed the river, or at least the stream, it has to lead somewhere. What were you going to do if you got thirsty? Hungry? Tired? Any idea, slave princess?”
“Don’t come near,” she said. Her voice was lifelessly calm.
“Not that again. Look, I’m this close to giving you the beating of your life, and now you’re going back with me and-”
“Don’t come near,” she said. This time her voice trembled. “Please don’t move.”
Luciana frowned. She tried to remember if Martina had ever said please before.
She looked around, and then she saw it, close to Martina’s feet and looking, for all intents and purposes, to be slumbering.
“Ah,” Luciana said, knowingly, “That’s a viper, in case you’re wondering. The mine is named after them. Even if it’s not actually- anyway I told you that already. How long have you been there?”
Also, fuck you, she thought, of course you’d have to stumble on one of those, what if you had been bitten? Worse, what if I had? And then it crossed her mind that Martina could have let her walk near to be attacked, and she hadn't. Even after all that.
It took a while, but Martina answered, in the same dead voice.
“Not much. I just sat here. Then I saw it. Is it asleep?”
“How the hell should I know? No, don’t move.”
Martina had stirred, but she stopped at Luciana’s yell. Now her face was white as if she had no blood left.
“I think something bit me.”
“I’m sure it did, I told you, there are a million things that bite here. I don’t know how I haven’t been yet.”
That was a lie. She had fabric covering most of her body, and the scarf safely around her neck. Martina only had that stupid dress.
“Luciana…”
Oh God, she thought, don’t pass out now. She raised her knife, and stared at the viper. Funny how it looked like rolled string, black and brown just like the rooting leaves. Where was the head of that thing?
“Don’t move. I’m thinking.”
“Are you going to leave me here?”
Luciana turned back to her, her eyebrows scrunching together in indignation.
“Don’t be stupid. I won’t get paid if I don’t get you there, and by now I really deserve that money.”
Martina turned to see her. It was nothing dramatic, a small movement, but it caught the viper’s attention. It wasn’t sleeping, after all, and then it raised its head and Martina looked at it, and then she covered her hand with her mouth and screamed and stood to run and Luciana threw her knife.
It nailed the snake’s head to the floor. In one second she was there to grab it again, her arm going around Martina’s waist.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, before you get both of us killed.”
Martina let herself be dragged, stumbling around the uneven floor, leaning heavily on Luciana when they stopped at the river bank.
She didn’t want to climb into the boat, but her resistance was nothing like the fight from before, and maybe it was just for show. It felt more like she was dragging a doll, and once she got Martina on the deck sun, she collapsed on the floor.
Luciana did almost the same thing, with just a little more grace. She tried to take deep breaths, blowing the air loudly from her lungs.
“There's something in my neck,” Martina said, suddenly sitting up. She pulled her braid to the front. “Luciana-”
“There's nothing, don't worry. Let me rest, you're not as light as I thought.”
“There is! I can feel it, look!”
She grabbed Luciana's sleeve and tried to pull her, and Luciana swapped her hand away.
“God. I can see it, there's nothing!”
But she dragged herself a little closer, and held Martina's shoulder. The slave was still, trembling lightly as Luciana examined the back of her neck.
“It's a bug bite. Told you this would happen. Now it will be all swollen and itchy and I hope you die from it.”
“Do you have your knife? Cut it off!”
Luciana paused. She tried to remember if the forest had an insect that made people go mad.
“They told me!” Martina grabbed her again, and then, in a moment of clear insanity, started to search her, trying to find the knife, “When they took me, they told me about the bugs, and the eggs and things like that, if we went into the forest, where is it, you took it back, I know, I-”
“Martina!” Luciana grabbed her hands, and had to struggle to keep her slim wrists in her hold. “What the hell are you talking about? And I'm not giving you my knife, and I'm not cutting off your neck, and even if I were I'd had to clean the blade first, it's all dirty and snakey now and- stop that!”
She stopped struggling, but just because she couldn't get free. So she did her best to glare through the terror in her face.
“They, the invaders, you know, I told you, they brought me here, to your country, we saw a forest and they said the bugs would bite and put their eggs inside your skin, and then it would grow, and then they'd- cut it off, please, I know you're mad but you hit me a lot more than I did, and you hurt me and-”
“Martina, listen to me- no, stop talking, please, Blondie, listen to me. Listen.” Luciana let go of her hands, and then held her face in both hands. “That's not true. That's just something we say to tease people who don't know the place, and they didn't want you to run.”
“No, you told me things and they were true, please don't let this happen to me-”
“It's not! Remember how I told you about the green wasp? The poison makes you sick and is really dangerous if there’s a lot of them, but you have just one bite, and-” she held her a little tighter, shaking her a little to hold her attention, “It's not true, alright? You don't have bugs inside your skin. You're just going to feel sick for a while.”
“I'm- what did I ever do to you? You brought me to this land of monsters and you hit me and I don't deserve this, and you hate me, and-”
“Hey. You hate me. And I only hit you because you hit me first, and none of that would have happened if you hadn't run into the forest like a total idiot.”
“What does this even do? Will it kill me?”
“It won't kill you,” Luciana said, carefully. She could feel the warmth in her cheeks. She knew the fever was her body fighting the poison, but that wouldn't make Martina feel any better. “I’m going to get something to put on it, alright? Try not to scratch.”
She went inside to search for her medical supplies. Martina just hid her face in her hands, and didn't say anything.
Pairings: Luciana/Martina.
Summary: Luciana is hired to take a slave to the mines. WILL SHE BE ABLE TO DO IT?
Luciana entered the room again when night fell.
“Still not hungry?”
The slave didn't answer. Luciana knelt by her side, and held her wrists. Blondie glared, but didn’t try to pull away.
Her hand was small, delicate. But it was also dry and rough, her nails broken and dirty.
“So they did make you work. That’s surprising.”
Touching her palm was like touching sandpaper, but Luciana didn’t say that. The marks around her wrists hadn’t faded yet, had only turned to a soft shade of pink. Like a branded bracelet.
“I think you must scar really easy.”
“… it that a threat?”
“Uh? No. I really do.”
She got the rope from her belt. Blondie's eyes widened, and then she pulled her hands away, hiding them behind her back.
“Just lock the door, it’s not like I can break it to run away.”
Her eyes were suddenly so green and huge, desperately searching for a way out. Luciana wondered if it was really fear of being restrained, or just her pride. Either way, she was right. Locking the door would work just fine. Luciana just didn't want to seem too soft.
“Tell me why you don’t like the ropes.”
“Am I supposed to like it?”
“Come on, it’s a deal. Tell me why, and I won’t tie you.”
She swallowed, looking away. It was so strange, because she was so tall and had that majestic air all around her, and yet it suddenly felt like Luciana was looking at a small wounded bird.
That would go for her throat if she didn’t pay attention.
But still.
“I just don’t. It’s like when people touch me. It makes me nervous. I don’t like it.”
“Do I make you nervous?”
“No,” she answered, a little too fast, “I’m fine. What I'm saying is, they did it to me all the time, so they could drag me to places, as if I were a dog, and- I don’t like it. I can move by myself.”
“But you don’t.”
“I shouldn't have to!”
“Oh, right, because you’re not a slave. There's something you need to understand - what’s your name? It can’t be Blondie.”
Her face hardened.
“Why do you care? It’s not important.”
“There's something you need to understand, person with the not important name, and that's the fact that you need to follow orders! The faster you learn, the easier your life will be. Anyway I’m still locking the door.”
“Of course you are.”
But this time there was no bite in her voice, only a faint relief. She brought her hands together, rubbing it softly, and Luciana wondered if she was trying to erase her touch.
“I’ll get you food if you tell me your name.”
“You’ll get me anyway. You've been trying to make me eat since we met.”
“Fine, pest, but I want to know.”
“I don’t know yours.”
Lord, give me patience, she thought.
“Luciana. I would have told you, if you had asked.”
She looked away. Luciana gave up. The slave was right, she didn’t have to know. There was no reason to. She was at the door when the woman said.
“Martina Hernández. I didn’t want to tell them. No one called me anything but insults anyway.”
Luciana paused. Martina. A name that a regular woman could have, could give to her friends and neighbor. Not quite right for the broken fairy sitting on the floor.
“They would have called you that, if you had told them.”
Martina didn’t answer. She was pouting again when Luciana came back with what was left of the soup, and a bowl of fresh fruits and water.
Luciana allowed herself a little smile before leaving and locking the door.
She stopped when she reached the Drover's Bay, because it was safe to spend the night there. She let down the anchor, and went to sleep.
The rising sun woke her up in the morning, and she stretched slowly, like a cat, fighting the temptation to go back to sleep. A little water helped, and then Luciana went to the sun deck, and looked longingly at the river.
It was a dark, muddy shade of green, and there was no way in hell she was going to even set a foot there. But maybe she could find one of the streams deeper into the forest, she knew the eels wouldn’t swim against the currents. And the water would be crystalline, cold and inviting.
Tempting.
Martina would think she had died and left her locked in that room. But then, there was no way to take her outside without tying her up, and Luciana didn’t want to do that. After their moment of trust last night, it would feel like she was just being mean.
Luciana scratched her head. Now this. How the other slave traders solved that kind of situation? But… she could try it, right? If the slave behaved?
First things first. She knocked on the door.
To her surprise, there was a faint “come in”, from inside.
She was smiling when she unlocked it.
“Morning, sunshine.”
“Back at you,” she said, grudgingly. “Is there any way to shower over here? Or you don't usually bother?”
Luciana couldn’t hit her. It way too early in the morning for that.
“Well, since you asked, I’m going to take a walk outside to do just that, and you’ll wait here and think about how rude you are.”
The play of emotions in her face was great to watch. The surprise widening her eyes and then the resentment battling her attempt to find something to say, and what Luciana was starting to call realization, for lack of a better word, when she realized how her sharp tongue had taken her somewhere she didn’t want to go, and now she didn’t know how to get herself out of the mess.
Precious. Luciana hid a smirk when she turned to leave. She sensed Martina getting up, of course, and was ready for her when the slave grabbed her arm, but Martina didn’t try to fight.
“Outside? Outside where?”
And then her favorite solution: pretending she hadn’t dug herself a hole and that it didn’t exist at all.
“I said you’re not going.”
Her fingers tightened around Luciana’s sleeve. She pressed her lips, tightly, and Luciana bit the insides of her cheeks. This pout was more effective than the blind hate from before.
That was a problem.
“You can’t leave me here.”
“Can’t I?”
“I was just teasing- I know you shower. You must. Or your hair would look terrible, since it’s all curly. I just want to wash my face, that’s all.”
“There’s no way in hell this is all,” Luciana said, yanking her arm back. She was going to yield. She knew that. Fuck. “If you’re thinking about running away, don’t. There’s all sort of animals here, in the forest and in the river. And the nearest trail is miles away. You’ll get lost and walk in circles and then you’ll eat something poisonous or something poisonous will eat you, and then you’ll die.”
“Alright,” she said. Now she didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, bringing them together, then pulling the tip of her hair. Luciana glared at her.
She had to raise her face to do it. Double fuck.
“I mean it, Blondie. You know what happens when you die in the woods?”
“Martina. I told you my name so you could use it.”
“A million awful things, including insects and bugs going into your mouth. You don’t want that, do you? So don’t run away.”
“When are we going? Now?”
“And the river is even worse.”
“I can go alone, if you hate it so much.”
Luciana gave up.
“Turn around.”
“Why? We’ll play hide and seek?”
“Shut up and turn around, I want to braid your hair.”
Her eyes widened again. She got it all together in one hand and took one step away.
“Why? It’s my hair. It’s fine like this. Don’t touch it.”
“Don’t be silly, you silly. It’s safer if it’s not flowing all over the place like that. But if you don’t mind spiders and green wasps getting caught in it, be my guest.”
Reluctantly, she turned around, her back to Luciana.
“I don’t know why you have to be so tall,” she grumbled, and started to separate that blond waterfall in three different strands. Martina had spent so much time brushing it with her hand that there were no tangles or knots to break, but Luciana ran her fingers through it anyway.
It was making her curious. Her own hair tended to get mad at her if she tried to brush it like that, at least when it was dry, so she didn’t play with it much. Martina’s was sleek and malleable, if a bit dry. And at some point halfway down it started to lose the shine, feeling more like straw than silk.
She could imagine the woman taking care of it when she was free, making sure it never looked dry at the ends, combing it in different, creative ways. No wonder she had been upset at the thought of cutting it off. Luciana was starting to mourn it too.
She braided it tightly, starting as high as she could, pulling the strands from the side of her hair until she reached her neck, while Martina held herself as stiff as ever. Luciana couldn’t help it - she brushed the back of her fingers on her skin, surprised at how soft it was. And tense. It made her want to rub her shoulders, just to see if she could make Martina relax.
Anyway, braids. She did it carefully, pulling as tight as she could without hurting her, and then tied the end with a piece of string.
Martina’s face was flushed, her cheeks brightly red when she turned back to face her.
“Can we go now? Or do you want to check if I have clean hands before, or something embarrassing like that?”
“Braiding hair is not embarrassing,” Luciana said. She wasn’t sure about it. It had been weirdly interesting. “And I know what your hands look like.”
Martina looked at them. Her face fell, and Luciana held her shoulder:
“Idiot,” she said, with more warmth than she had planned to. “Come here, I’ll teach you how to get down from the boat.”
Martina had to wait another minute as Luciana locked the navigation’s room door, just in case something went wrong while they were ashore. That done, leaving the sun deck had no mystery to it. She just had to bend her knees a little when she jumped to the ground, but that was a rule for jumping anywhere. And keep the balance so she wouldn’t slip in the mud. Luciana held her anyway, ignoring the vehement protests and, for all that she claimed she didn’t need any help, Martina didn’t pull away.
At least until the ground was firm. Then she shoved Luciana's hand, and looked at the forest.
They were standing in a small shore, and from here it didn’t look so dense and thick. The space between the trees gave the illusion of a path and the stream of water rushing between them made it beautiful, a peaceful, soft little corner to rest.
If you didn’t mind the wasps and the snakes and spiders and other fun things hiding there. Luciana found a nice rock by the stream to sit, and took off her boots.
“Aren’t we going into the woods?”
“Uh? No, of course not. You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?”
Martina scowled. She looked around, didn’t find a rock for herself and scowled harder. She looked like something out of a dream, a beautiful forest spirit. A very sulky one.
After a while, she sat on the floor. Then Luciana felt guilty - the poor thing was so protective of her frayed dress - but now it was too late. She watched as Martina, after a moment of hesitation, started to wash her feet too. Then her arms.
“Luciana-”
It was the first time she had said her name. It sounded different in her mouth.
“Is all that true?”
“What?”
“What you said. That they’ll cut my hair?”
She didn’t sound scared. She didn’t even sound interested, focusing on washing the back of her neck. But she didn’t meet Luciana’s eyes as she asked.
“Well…”
“You just said that to upset me. Right?”
“Eh… well, you see. It depends. There’s a… there’s this small town around it, and I don’t know what they’ll want you to do. There are some women living there, and I know the overseer is married. You’re more likely to get assigned to clean his house, or take care of his kids than to go into the mine itself. So I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Well, it’s not my fault you don’t even try. If you acted nicer, and a little meeker, then I’m sure you could charm them into going easy on you.”
This time Martina looked at her.
“I’m not going to be a slave. I won’t act like one just to make them like me.”
“Then you’ll have to take what you can get,” Luciana said, trying to sound bland, and non-aggressive. She didn’t want to fight. It felt like she was kicking someone already down. And this place was so nice, with the mix of brown and green and sparkling blue, the breeze playing on her hair. She wanted to enjoy it.
“I don’t get you. You’re doing- you’re trying to be nice to me. I can tell that. You want to be my friend.”
“I’m not trying anything,” she started, her cheeks warming, but Martina raised her voice.
“You are, you didn’t- I know that, I’m not stupid, I know the others - they would have hit me already, and you didn’t, and you’re there all- sitting there and smiling at me like we’re friends, but you’re taking me somewhere you know they’ll kill me.”
“They’re not going to kill you.”
“I’ll die, you know that, if they shave my hair and send me underground I’ll die, or they’ll kill me because I won’t do anything they say, I’ll run away or I’ll go crazy, and that’s-”
“That’s entirely your problem! It’s not my fault if you’re a slave who thinks you’re a princess, and yes, of course they’ll beat it out of you, but I wouldn’t be so stupid in your place, so if you want to be like that, why should I care?”
“Then don’t act like you’re kind! Don’t look at me like that and braid my hair and hold my hand and pretend you’re worried, because you’re not! I knew that the moment I saw you, you’re just a vulture like everyone else!”
“You know what, you’re right. I’ll just tie you again and lock the door so you can feel even more like a martyr, and you’ll never even realize that you're screwing your own chances.”
Martina’s face was red, not the softly embarrassed blush, but an angry red as if she were about to explode, her eyes bright with impotent hate.
“I’m not a coward,” she said, “You’d grovel and beg and call them masters and mistresses, but I’m not like that.”
“Fair enough,” Luciana said, suddenly too tired, too bored, too irritated to keep up with this. “I wish you all the luck. Maybe you’ll see my point in a few years.”
“You don’t care, I know, it’s my life, and you don’t know me, you don’t care about me at all.”
“That is so right.”
Martina got up. Her skin glistened wet, and she still had her fists closed, her chest heaving, her face a mask of despair and impotence.
“Why,” she said. She was almost crying. “Why? I’ve never done anything to you. If I were someone in the street you’d have helped me, why won’t you do it? Do you want to have me killed?”
Luciana raised her face. She didn’t bother getting up.
“My father was sentenced to seven years in that place, and he served almost all of it. Then there was an accident. We knew this could happen. But he had to do it and he did it anyway. Why should you be spared, princess? You make a mistake, and you pay for it.”
“I don’t know what your father did, but I don’t deserve it, you stupid, blind vulture, I did nothing wrong, nothing to deserve this-”
“God. Right. I forgot, you’re the prisoner from the war that didn’t happen.”
“I was! And they brought me here and you want me to lie down and take it and I won’t! I won’t die just because you’re too bitter to listen to me, I’ll go back to my family, they’ll find me and they’ll make you pay for this, and-”
“You know what I think?” Luciana got up too. Not that it helped, Martina still had a few inches on her, but it made her feel better. “I think your family was indebted. I think they went broke. I think the only way to pay was this, and I think your father did what mine didn’t, sold you up because no one could stand you, and I think they’re better off without you. They’re not coming, because no one will ever miss you.”
Martina recoiled as if Luciana had punched her. Opened her mouth, and struggled to find the words, and when she spoke she sounded on the verge of tears.
“They love me. My family loves me. They’re looking for me, and you’re a sadistic piece of shit of a human being, that’s what you are, even if you pretend to be nice, you’re a monster, and- I’m glad your father died, you deserved it. You deserve to die to for saying this to me, and-”
“When was the war? This war that didn’t happen, when they took you prisoner, princess? When was that?”
“I don’t know, I don’t care, all I know is that they went there, and attacked my city and took me away and now-”
“What’s the name of your city?”
Martina swallowed, her face hard, her eyes brimming with tears, and she replied, because she thought this would lead somewhere and she was so, so stupid, that it didn’t cross her mind that now Luciana wouldn’t help her even if she could.
“I used to- I live in the Silver Shore. It’s where the river ends, and there’s always someone attacking it because that’s the only way to reach the hinterland, and-”
“I know where it is,” Luciana snapped, “You know what? I heard about attacks there. Some pirates ships or something, broke everything, set fire to house roofs, but the people fought back to fend them off?”
Martina glared at her, a little like a deer would glare at a wolf, so maybe even she could hear the weight in Luciana’s voice. Still, she said:
“We always fight back.”
“You know when the last one happened?”
“I don’t care-”
“Five years ago. So where’s your family? It doesn’t take that long to reach our capital.”
Martina stared. Luciana stared back, hard.
“I went after my father when they took him. And I found him. And I was fourteen. Yet I found him through the forest all the way to the Vipers Mine. Where’s your family? Still looking for you?”
“They are,” she whispered, “And you’re lying.”
“Fine, you can ask when we reach the village. But ask the mayor, or his wife, or a trader. The miners won’t know. After a while, they get too numb to care, just like you will.”
“You’re lying. You’re lying about everything. I don’t believe you. I would know, if it had been that long. You’re lying.”
Martina’s eyes were wide as plates, wide and green and horrified, and when she blinked tears spilled down her cheeks, and she seemed to not even notice.
“Hey, maybe they didn’t notice you're gone! But I’m sure they’ll look for you when they do. Or maybe they’re enjoying the peace and quiet.”
“They love me. They’re looking for me, I know that, because they love me.”
Luciana wanted to hit harder, she was hurting and she wanted Martina to hurt too, just as bad or even worse, so she said:
“Maybe they were grateful! Maybe they went to fix those roofs after the attack and they said, hey, let’s look at the bright side, she’s not here anymore, and they all celebrated, how about that? Five years is a long time, and the trip would have taken, like, less than two weeks, maybe they don’t care!”
Martina screamed, a broken, raw sound that seemed to shake her whole body, and then she lunged at Luciana.
This time she didn’t try to restrain her. This time she wanted to hit.
So she did, she took the impact against her body and hit with her fists and her knees, the way she would hit a fighter as good as herself, hoping adrenaline would keep Martina standing longer so she could hit her more, until the crazy, stupid wounded little idiot bit her arm so hard that the skin opened, and then Luciana screamed, and punched her on the side of her head. Then Martina was on the floor, coughing and whimpering, spitting blood that wasn’t all hers, broken sobs racking her body.
Luciana wanted to kick her, wanted to drag her by her hair and drown her. Wanted to see blood rushing from her mouth.
She didn’t. She couldn’t break any bones. This thing had to be delivered whole, or she wouldn't get paid. It wasn't important. It wasn't. She'd spend the rest of her life imagining Martina locked in a hole a thousand feet underground. That would be her revenge.
Martina got up, staggering, dirty and bleeding. And ran. She didn’t look back and Luciana didn’t follow, watched as the slave went into the woods until there was just a far-off sound of rustling leaves, and then nothing more.
She sat on the same rock, and put her head on her hands. And then started to laugh. It bubbled out, broken and harsh and ugly, and she couldn’t help it, so she let it take over her, until she was breathing hard, but breathing, and then she slid down, and put her feet back in the water, and closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m so, so sorry, dad. I’m so sorry.”
She imagined his hand on her shoulder, warm and steady.
He wouldn't like that.
Wouldn't like her torturing a broken slave, and ruining the only job she had found, and acting like an overemotional idiot.
Don't worry, she sniffled, I'll fix it, dad. In a minute.
Martina would leave a trail that would take her less than an hour, at the most, to follow. Assuming she didn't die first. Luciana washed her face over and over, until her hands stopped trembling, and then she got up from the water and put on her boots.
With a deep sight, she entered the forest.
The trail was obvious, footsteps and broken branches laying it out plainly to anyone with trained eyes. Luciana got a knife from her belt.
It took her a while, and Luciana was darkly amused at how lost the slave had been - she had almost walked in circles, the idiot - but she finally found her.
Martina was sitting on a fallen tree, a faraway look in her eyes. Her face was dirty and swollen where Luciana had hit, but she looked calm, composed, like a spirit from the forest, a fairy sitting alone with her long braid falling down her back and a stupid rebel strand of hair curling around her face.
This time, Luciana tried not to be moved by her beauty. She closed her fists around the hilt of the knife.
“Five years of trying to run and a bunch of trees take you down?”
She thought Martina flinched, but she wasn’t sure. She kept going, as she negotiated her way around fallen branches and uprooted trees.
“You’re an idiot. I’d have followed the river, or at least the stream, it has to lead somewhere. What were you going to do if you got thirsty? Hungry? Tired? Any idea, slave princess?”
“Don’t come near,” she said. Her voice was lifelessly calm.
“Not that again. Look, I’m this close to giving you the beating of your life, and now you’re going back with me and-”
“Don’t come near,” she said. This time her voice trembled. “Please don’t move.”
Luciana frowned. She tried to remember if Martina had ever said please before.
She looked around, and then she saw it, close to Martina’s feet and looking, for all intents and purposes, to be slumbering.
“Ah,” Luciana said, knowingly, “That’s a viper, in case you’re wondering. The mine is named after them. Even if it’s not actually- anyway I told you that already. How long have you been there?”
Also, fuck you, she thought, of course you’d have to stumble on one of those, what if you had been bitten? Worse, what if I had? And then it crossed her mind that Martina could have let her walk near to be attacked, and she hadn't. Even after all that.
It took a while, but Martina answered, in the same dead voice.
“Not much. I just sat here. Then I saw it. Is it asleep?”
“How the hell should I know? No, don’t move.”
Martina had stirred, but she stopped at Luciana’s yell. Now her face was white as if she had no blood left.
“I think something bit me.”
“I’m sure it did, I told you, there are a million things that bite here. I don’t know how I haven’t been yet.”
That was a lie. She had fabric covering most of her body, and the scarf safely around her neck. Martina only had that stupid dress.
“Luciana…”
Oh God, she thought, don’t pass out now. She raised her knife, and stared at the viper. Funny how it looked like rolled string, black and brown just like the rooting leaves. Where was the head of that thing?
“Don’t move. I’m thinking.”
“Are you going to leave me here?”
Luciana turned back to her, her eyebrows scrunching together in indignation.
“Don’t be stupid. I won’t get paid if I don’t get you there, and by now I really deserve that money.”
Martina turned to see her. It was nothing dramatic, a small movement, but it caught the viper’s attention. It wasn’t sleeping, after all, and then it raised its head and Martina looked at it, and then she covered her hand with her mouth and screamed and stood to run and Luciana threw her knife.
It nailed the snake’s head to the floor. In one second she was there to grab it again, her arm going around Martina’s waist.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, before you get both of us killed.”
Martina let herself be dragged, stumbling around the uneven floor, leaning heavily on Luciana when they stopped at the river bank.
She didn’t want to climb into the boat, but her resistance was nothing like the fight from before, and maybe it was just for show. It felt more like she was dragging a doll, and once she got Martina on the deck sun, she collapsed on the floor.
Luciana did almost the same thing, with just a little more grace. She tried to take deep breaths, blowing the air loudly from her lungs.
“There's something in my neck,” Martina said, suddenly sitting up. She pulled her braid to the front. “Luciana-”
“There's nothing, don't worry. Let me rest, you're not as light as I thought.”
“There is! I can feel it, look!”
She grabbed Luciana's sleeve and tried to pull her, and Luciana swapped her hand away.
“God. I can see it, there's nothing!”
But she dragged herself a little closer, and held Martina's shoulder. The slave was still, trembling lightly as Luciana examined the back of her neck.
“It's a bug bite. Told you this would happen. Now it will be all swollen and itchy and I hope you die from it.”
“Do you have your knife? Cut it off!”
Luciana paused. She tried to remember if the forest had an insect that made people go mad.
“They told me!” Martina grabbed her again, and then, in a moment of clear insanity, started to search her, trying to find the knife, “When they took me, they told me about the bugs, and the eggs and things like that, if we went into the forest, where is it, you took it back, I know, I-”
“Martina!” Luciana grabbed her hands, and had to struggle to keep her slim wrists in her hold. “What the hell are you talking about? And I'm not giving you my knife, and I'm not cutting off your neck, and even if I were I'd had to clean the blade first, it's all dirty and snakey now and- stop that!”
She stopped struggling, but just because she couldn't get free. So she did her best to glare through the terror in her face.
“They, the invaders, you know, I told you, they brought me here, to your country, we saw a forest and they said the bugs would bite and put their eggs inside your skin, and then it would grow, and then they'd- cut it off, please, I know you're mad but you hit me a lot more than I did, and you hurt me and-”
“Martina, listen to me- no, stop talking, please, Blondie, listen to me. Listen.” Luciana let go of her hands, and then held her face in both hands. “That's not true. That's just something we say to tease people who don't know the place, and they didn't want you to run.”
“No, you told me things and they were true, please don't let this happen to me-”
“It's not! Remember how I told you about the green wasp? The poison makes you sick and is really dangerous if there’s a lot of them, but you have just one bite, and-” she held her a little tighter, shaking her a little to hold her attention, “It's not true, alright? You don't have bugs inside your skin. You're just going to feel sick for a while.”
“I'm- what did I ever do to you? You brought me to this land of monsters and you hit me and I don't deserve this, and you hate me, and-”
“Hey. You hate me. And I only hit you because you hit me first, and none of that would have happened if you hadn't run into the forest like a total idiot.”
“What does this even do? Will it kill me?”
“It won't kill you,” Luciana said, carefully. She could feel the warmth in her cheeks. She knew the fever was her body fighting the poison, but that wouldn't make Martina feel any better. “I’m going to get something to put on it, alright? Try not to scratch.”
She went inside to search for her medical supplies. Martina just hid her face in her hands, and didn't say anything.