[Fanfic] Slavefic 3/3
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?
When she came back, Luciana was pleased to see Martina hadn’t jumped into the river. She was still hiding her face in her hands, looking strangely small, alone in the sun deck.
Luciana sat by her side.
“This will help,” she said, holding her medicine packet and a mug of clean water. Martina watched, warily, as she mixed her herbs and special powder. She covered her mouth when Luciana handled her the preparation.
“I’m not drinking that.”
“It tastes like tea. Sort of. And it will make the poison come out faster. I’ll put something on the bite too.”
Martina took the mug from her hands, and peeped at it. She looked repulsed.
Luciana was about to take it back, adding exactly what she thought of her, but then Martina sipped it, drinking it as slowly as it was possible.
“I'll make the next one hot,” Luciana said, a bit mollified, “If you want to. Then it will taste like proper tea. But I always drink it cold.”
Martina put it on the floor, and then looked down, her arms around herself in that half shield of hers.
“Your father really died in that place?”
Luciana stared.
“… really? Are we going through all that again?”
Martina glared back, but there was genuine fear in her eyes.
“Did he, really? You have to tell me!”
When she didn’t, Martina grabbed her shirt.
“Hey-”
She sat so close that she was almost in Luciana’s lap, looking into her eyes, and Luciana could smell the herbs in her breath, could feel the warmth from her face.
“He didn’t, right? You lied, and about being five years too, that was a lie because you were angry, right?”
“Why would I lie about my father dying?” she tried to push her away. “But I gave you a million chances to talk to me and you didn’t take it, and now I don’t want to do it anymore, so shut up.”
Martina didn’t want to be pushed away. Luciana had to struggle with her and she had lost the count of how many times she had done it, and this time Martina held on for dear life, close enough for Luciana to consider biting.
“I had my family,” Martina said, fast, desperately, “I have two brothers. I used to take care of them, because I’m the oldest and our parents died too. So you don’t have to punish me for that.”
“I’m not-”
“And they loved me. They don’t know this place, how will they find me in the middle of this forest? I’ll never see them again if you do this to me, and you’re not that cruel-”
“You said I was a vulture.”
They stared at each other, a match of glares that was like crossing swords.
“There was a flood,” Luciana said, finally, her voice terse and cross, “It happens sometimes. There's always something happening. Lots of accidents.”
“You were alone, then? What did you do? How did you live?”
She was pale, her face covered in perspiration. And still too close, clinging to her, almost in her lap, and Luciana couldn't refuse to answer.
“He told me to stay in the city,” she said, looking away. “But I didn’t want to. And people cross the woods sometimes, by land or river, to reach the mines, so I got someone to take me there. So I lived in the village. I even made the journey alone a few times, to buy things in the capital to take back there, and-”
“Was he happy to see you?”
Her voice was raspy, broken. Luciana started to fix her hair, pulling it away from her cheeks. Trying to get that rebellious strand to behave. Trying to understand how she could just go straight for the part that hurt the most.
“I… I guess he was, later. It’s hard to tell, with my father. Or was, anyway. It was always the two of us, you know? And anyway he always wanted to go to the sea, not underground, so he was miserable all the time. But I'm sure he was happy to have me around. I suppose.”
“Who wouldn't?,” Martina whispered, and Luciana bristled, but this time she didn't react. She deserved that one.
“No,” Martina said, looking up at her, as if she could read her thoughts, “No, don't get angry at me, I really mean it. I'm sure he liked it, and you're too stupid and brainless to notice it.”
“... thank you,” she said, dubiously, “I'm- look, about what I said to you before, I shouldn't have-”
“I was in the shore when I saw the ships. I used to do that, to go out on my own. And that day I was mad at something, and I wanted space, so… but you're wrong about everything. You are. My brothers would have come for me, if they knew where I was, even after our fight, I- but the pirates, they tied me, and then threw me in this, I don’t know, cellar, or maybe it was a prison, in one of their ships, and then they gave me to this rich woman, they said I was going to be her slave now. I told her I wouldn’t, that I had been kidnapped; I tried to explain it so many times. She sold me to someone else, later.”
Luciana nodded.
All this was starting to depress her - she knew that they were, somehow, talking to each other, but it felt like each one was lost in a monologue, and that was confusing and irritating. She held Martina's shoulder, softly pushing her down, trying to rearrange her in her lap.
Martina resisted, of course.
“I just want to see the bite,” Luciana explained, “I’ll put something on it.”
“You don't get anything. It's like talking to a wall,” she grumbled, but she laid her head on Luciana’s lap, hiding her face in the fabric of her clothes. Luciana tried not to startle.
“I, ah- hm. Ok, just- make yourself comfortable.”
She put the long braid over Martina’s shoulder, then looked at the swollen skin.
“But please,” Martina said, her voice sad, lilted with that musical accent, “I need you to understand. I had three or four owners, they blend together, so I don't know, but they didn’t like me, none of them. So they were always locking me up, because they all thought I was going to embarrass them by being rude to people they knew. So I only left their houses when they sold me to the next one. And then I had to stay in this… it was a bar, I think, or a restaurant, and I only worked at night, because I had to wash dishes and things like that, so I didn’t see anyone, and I tried to count the days so I wouldn’t lose track, but it was hard to do it without seeing the sun, but I thought- I was so sure. Do you have a mirror? I want to see a mirror.”
“I don’t have a mirror.”
“Do I look old? I was so sure. Why wouldn’t they try to find me? I thought it had been a few months. It can’t take that long. I think you’re lying to me.”
“I thought we had already established that- what is this?”
She touched a red mark that had been burned into Martina’s skin, visible only when she pushed down the neckline of her dress. And then the despairing, feverish weight in Martina’s voice faded and she sulked like a child.
“She did that to me. The first woman. Said it was so people would return me to her if I tried to run, and I thought it would fade after a while, but it didn’t. I hate it.”
Luciana traced it carefully, and Martina shivered. Her skin was warm, she noticed, and now there was a faint blush starting at her neck.
“Blondie… I mean, Martina… how old were you when this attack happened?”
“I was about to turn fifteen. We were even talking about my birthday party. Do I- do you think I look old now?”
“You said you told all that to your first mistress? That you were kidnapped, and all?”
“She wasn't my mistress. Yes, I told her, and she called me a liar. Will this thing ever go away? I don't want to be scarred forever. How come you don’t have a mirror? I had at least six in my house.”
“You're so vain,” Luciana said. She patted her shoulder, and went back to dressing the wasp's bite.
She felt like her blood had suddenly turned to ice. Thing was - no one branded slaves. Slavery by debt was temporary; no one had the right to brand. No one would.
That was for prisoners of war.
If all this was true - then what was she doing? What was she supposed to do now?
“Our laws,” she said, and then she was not quite sure how she was going to finish this sentence, or what it was that she wanted to say in the first place. “Our laws are… not that harsh, you know? I mean, there’s a judgment and all, with the chance to defend yourself, and… all that. And my father made a mistake with his business and he had to pay the money back. That’s all. I mean…”
“What are you even saying? We were talking about me!”
“It was only fair, right? Of course it’s not… nice, obviously, but-”
“No, no, don’t even try that, it’s-” she tried to get up, but Luciana held her shoulders and then Martina lied down again, but she kept talking. “It wasn’t fair at all. Just like it’s not fair to do this to me when you know I’ll go insane and die so even if you don’t kill me yourself- you’re hurting me.”
She was. As in, right now. She hadn’t realized she was pressing the bite wound.
“Oops, sorry. Sorry. What I mean is, the law is the law. It was fair. And dad was-”
“If you believe that, then why do you keep punishing me for it?”
This time, Luciana didn’t answer. She was, wasn't she? She had been punishing Martina for everything since the beginning, and now it made her ashamed of herself.
She thought her silence would make slave feel triumphant, but Martina just went back to pouting and waited in silence until Luciana was done.
So Luciana didn’t say anything either. She made another mug of her herbal preparation and Martina groaned, but she drank it. Then she lied down on the floor, and rested her head on Luciana's lap again.
They stood on the deck until night fell, and then Luciana made her get up, her arm going around the woman’s waist to lead her inside. At the door, Martina's body stiffened, and she took one last look at the water.
The last traces of the sunset were vanishing from the sky, and the whole forest was dark, alive with a hundred different little sounds. The river bank seemed to mesh the woods and the water, turning it all into one vast blanket of darkness.
Martina got the blue mat from the cabin and dragged it to the side of Luciana's bed. Then she lied down again, as close as she could to the mattress, and Luciana stood in the center of the ballroom, disheartened.
“You can tie me tomorrow,” Martina snapped, “I’m sick.”
“But what if you try to kill me in the middle of the night?”
Martina’s reply was to grab Luciana’s blanket and pull it over her head.
“That’s mine, and I’m taking it back. And get up, you didn’t eat anything.”
“I’m not hungry,” came the muffled reply. She didn’t even move, of course.
Luciana looked at her cupboard. She settled for more fruits, and picked pears this time. There was a brief struggle when she tried to pull the blanket, but she finally managed to uncover Martina’s head.
“Stop being silly, will you? And eat this.”
“You eat it.”
Luciana sat on the floor - she wasn’t going to risk dropping the juice in her own bed - and pulled Martina’s shoulder, making her turn back. Martina tried to push her away. Luciana managed to get her to an almost sitting position, and then had to grab her wrist with her free hand to avoid having her hair pulled.
“You’re the worst, you know? You’ll pass out if you don’t get something inside you, come on.”
Martina hid her face in Luciana’s neck. It was hard to stay angry with someone like that, when Luciana could feel her breath in her skin, the faint pressure of her eyelashes in her neck.
She put the pear on the floor, and then locked her hands behind Martina’s back. Tall girls shouldn’t be able to do that, she thought. Shouldn’t make themselves so small and so fragile.
She could feel Martina’s surprise, the way her body stiffened, before she relaxed again. On an impulse, Luciana pressed a kiss to her hair.
“I'm sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have.”
She felt the change in the slave’s body, the way she was suddenly very alert. But Martina couldn’t help being Martina, so she said:
“Damm right you shouldn’t.”
“I’ll try to- talk to the mayor, or the overseer, and… I’m sure they’ll treat you well, I-”
It wasn’t what she expected to hear. Martina’s face fell, and then she pushed Luciana away from her body. Luciana opened her arms, and let her crawl out of her lap back to the mat.
She even took the blanket, and covered Martina herself.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Martina didn’t answer. She looked so vulnerable, like a little thing made of fine glass, holding all that fire and rage. Luciana brushed her hair from her face, the strands that escaped the braid, and then kissed her temple.
She was standing at the doorway when Martina said:
“You're not going to do it.”
Luciana stiffened.
“You're not,” Martina insisted. Now, for the first time, her voice sounded soft, strangely reassured. “I knew you wouldn't.”
Luciana turned to her.
“I never said that.”
But Martina ignored her words and made herself more comfortable. When Luciana went to bed, the crazy slave was asleep. She looked so different, so innocent. And so very beautiful, even with the cut in her lip and the marks where Luciana had hit.
She was terrible. She was proud and wild and irrationally arrogant. And she bit.
She was also telling the truth.
Luciana had to face the facts. Her first owner had to be sure no one would complain, to brand her like that. That woman had looked at the furious, fierce fifteen-year-old girl, had listened to her stories and called her a liar, had branded her for the rest of her life and then sold her somewhere no one would know.
Luciana sighed.
They had told her she was too emotional for this job.
She woke up to Martina looking at her.
It wasn't bad. Her eyes were beautiful and brightly green, and her body was soft and warm and pliant, and she didn't look upset.
Also: Luciana had her arm around her waist.
She yelped and shoved her off.
“I can explain,” Martina said when Luciana sat up. “If you want me to.”
It was the first time she smiled. It was so small, barely raising the corner of her lips, and yet it illuminated her whole face, and it made Luciana calm down enough to ask:
“Explain what?”
“This thing you gave me is not a mattress, it's a carpet-”
“You’re supposed to sleep on the floor!”
“-so I decided to sleep with you, because you weren't taking all the space anyway. So I climbed in, and then you grabbed me.”
Luciana stared.
“Maybe you thought I was someone you love,” she added, a bit wistfully. “Do you usually sleep with someone?”
“What are you even- that's none of your business! Why didn't you get up?”
“Because it didn't bother me. And anyway I tried, today when I woke up. You didn't let me.”
“I didn't-”
“You held me tighter. You didn't want me to go. So I waited. You look sweet when you're sleeping.”
“Why thank you, back at you,” she said, acidly.
“You'd have loved me, if you had met me before. I had nice dresses, and my hair looked a lot better, too. And my hands. I know you hated them.”
The smile was gone now. There was a light crease between her brows, and Luciana huffed at her.
“I don't go around falling in love, alright? Anyway you're beautiful, so shut up.”
“Do you really think so?”
She looked pleased, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, and it crossed Luciana's mind that this was the first time in years that someone had praised her with honesty. Also that her crazy sudden faith in Luciana had a lot to do with this new found good mood.
Speaking of which...
“It's way too early for this. I have a big decision to make, you know, and I can’t be distracted!”
“Then come back. You were keeping me warm. And you made your decision yesterday.”
She had the nerve to pull at Luciana's shirt. Luciana held her hand, untangling the fabric from her fingers.
“I didn’t decide anything,” she said. It made her miserable, but she had to say it. But the slave didn't even let her start.
“You won't. You won't take me there. Don't tell me you didn't notice.”
“It's my job, I-”
I have to live, somehow, I have to make money so I won’t share my father’s fate, because he hated so much to see me in that place and because it is fucking terrifying, and for that I must be cruel to prove them I can be, so they'll stop saying I'm not cruel enough. Does that make any sense?
But she didn’t say any of that. Martina waited, and then she pointed out:
“You kissed me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did, twice, you can't kiss me and leave me to die underground. You won't.”
“That's the fever speaking, right? I knew you couldn't have got over it in one afternoon.”
Martina closed her eyes.
“Give me more tea, then. Maybe it won't be as vile today.”
This is what she looks like, Luciana thought, when she's not fighting for her life. Teasing and beautiful and demanding and completely crazy in a different way.
“Fine, fine, princess. Fruits,” she said, “And maybe more carrots, if you behave. I won't give you meat.”
“I like meat, and I'm tired of your carrots and fruits.”
“Then you're not getting any, since you're not behaving. You refused to eat for two days, so now you can't take meat.”
“I can!”
“You made your bed, Blondie, now deal. I'll give you an apple.”
She made broth instead, with everything that looked healthy for a convalescent, and hoped for the best. And then she went to the navigation room while Martina tried to eat.
Now what?
It would be almost comforting if Martina tried to attack her. Then she’d lose the fight on purpose, and claim the woman had escaped on her own.
Not that it would help, they would still make her pay the full price. And give back what they had paid her to start the journey. Luciana tried to imagine her life if she sold her ship to pay all that. Where would she sleep? Who would give her a job if she couldn’t do even this? It had been her only chance.
Now what?
Martina came to her after a while, stood at the doorway and let the wall support her.
“Go back to bed.”
“I'm not sleepy.”
“Go back and don't sleep.”
“Come and make me.”
Luciana looked at her. Martina glared back.
Luciana relented. She was starting to get used to that.
“Stay there, then. I'm trying to think.”
“Oh,” she said, a bit smugly, “That must hurt. Where are we now?”
Luciana pointed the place in the map. Martina touched it, tilting her head to look at it.
“It's the first map I see since- this is really far from the city, isn't it?”
“Not really... I could be back in one day, from here.”
She stressed the pronoun, and Martina turned to her. She frowned.
“Luciana...”
“Don't you Luciana me, this is not as easy as you think.”
“It's just my life,” she said, “You won't let me die. You won't.”
She wasn't asking. There was no trace of doubt in her eyes, just a faint impatience at Luciana's nonsense. For now. There would be, if Luciana didn't answer. There would be doubt if she turned on the engine, pulled up the anchor, if she started them back on their way, if Luciana refused to play her silly game. Then Martina would go back to being that desperate, terrified shadow of herself, she would hate her forever for giving her hope and then taking it away, and this... this fragile, unnamed thing between them would break. And Luciana would always know she was a monster who had helped to send an innocent woman to that hell.
Luciana reached out. It took a moment, but Martina rested her hand on hers, and let herself be pulled near, until Luciana could touch her waist.
Warm and tall and proud and beautiful. It felt like holding a flame in her hand. This crazy girl who could be so full of fire and hate, and still had let herself be tamed by a kiss and a single day of kindness.
“What am I going to do with you,” she said, and didn't mean to sound so miserable, but she did and now there was no taking back. Martina took it for what it was, and then threw her arms around Luciana, almost strangling her in the process, and then she leaned down to kiss her head.
“Take me home,” Martina said, “Take me home. I want to go home. I know we can reach it by boat. Will you take me? I want to go home.”
Luciana pinched her waist. Why not? She got up and embraced her and at least it helped a little, even if Martina was still so damn tall, and had to lean to hide her face in Luciana's shoulder like she wanted to. Luciana held her tight, and pretended not to notice the tears soaking through her shirt.
Martina refused to sleep alone during the rest of the trip.
Luciana had the vague suspicion that Martina shouldn’t have any say in it, but now she was in too deep to tell her to go back to her mat. Plus, Martina just lied down on her mattress as if she owned it, and had the nerve to tell Luciana to relax.
“I don’t mind if you end up hugging me,” she said, and then she blushed, and turned to the other side. Being embarrassed made her upset.
“Why, thank you, that’s generous of you,” Luciana said, a little annoyed herself. She almost pointed out that Martina should be feeling grateful and awkward, instead of acting like Luciana needed her permission to sleep in her own stupid bed.
The fact that she woke up holding Martina like a plushy doll against her body didn’t help her mood.
It didn’t help Martina’s, either. It made her think weird thoughts.
“You’ll like me, when we’re home,” she said, before even saying good-morning. “I’ll have new clothes, clean, too, and dresses that fit right, not like this one, then you’ll find me beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful now,” Luciana said, sleepily, “Do you know how to make coffee?”
She did. It was the weirdest thing Luciana had ever tasted. But she smiled anyway, and thanked her graciously and pretended to like it. It saved a lot of trouble, and it was worth it to see Martina’s shy smile. It almost distracted her from what would happen when she came back home.
Even more when they got near, because then Martina started to get anxious when they got close to the Silver Shore. Luciana wasn’t going to mention the change, but Martina’s nerves took the better of her and Luciana had to sit her down and give her the most relaxing herbal tea she could make.
“What is with you? This course is still difficult, and I can’t concentrate with you acting like that.”
“I changed my mind.”
“… what?”
“I don’t want to go. Take me away from here, is that so hard to understand?”
It wasn’t. Luciana looked at her, at her eyes bright with alarm, and the fear plain in her face, even if she was struggling to hide it.
“Blondie, come on.”
“Don’t call me that, you know my name, and I don’t-”
“I’ll be right next to you. If anything weird happens, I’ll take you away. Alright? But you know it won’t. They were probably crazy worried about you.”
Martina bit her lip. Hard. Luciana was almost expecting to see blood when she finally spoke:
“Why didn’t they find me?”
“We’ll find out soon,” Luciana said, firmly, and then kissed her cheek.
Martina turned, and held her chin. Luciana was about to smile, to say something nice and reassuring, maybe a joke about the tea or something equally light, but she never got the chance. Martina’s lips pressed against hers, soft and willing and a bit chapped, and so warm, and then she pulled back before Luciana could think of how to react.
“You-”
“You need to turn on the engine, or we’ll never get there.”
“You kissed me.”
“It won’t happen again, alright! Go away!”
“Why not?”
Now they both stared.
Then Martina pulled Luciana to herself, into a tight, desperate hug, and hid her face in her neck like she had done a million times.
“You’ll love me,” Martina said, “You’ll end up loving me, I know that. When you see me right.”
“I might be doing it right now,” Luciana whispered.
Martina tightened her hold, and Luciana held her back. Her heart was racing, and it felt so glorious, so wonderful, to do just that. To have this fiery, magical, absolutely insane woman in her arms.
“And you’re already right,” she added. “I told you that.”
Martina was a bundle of nerves when Luciana started the maneuvers into the small harbor. She had to ask for permission to enter, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, she said Martina Hernandez was with her.
Martina grabbed her hand:
“Why did you do that? I didn’t say you could do that!”
She looked pale. And furious. And terrified.
“I don’t have to ask you,” Luciana said, pulling her hand away from her claws. “Anyway they’ll call your brothers, this will make it easy for us. Now let me focus.”
Martina waited, gnawing on her lower lip, and when Luciana finally let down the anchor and went to the sun deck, she refused to leave.
“I’m fine right here. I’m feeling sick. I won’t go.”
Luciana almost told her she would get the rope. But she wouldn’t - she didn’t want to imagine the people’s reaction if she came down like that, but even if they were ok with it on account of knowing Martina’s charming personality, she wouldn’t - so she put her arm around her waist, pushing her kindly, as gently as she could.
They stood together at the sun deck, looking at the Silver Shore.
“It changed,” Martina whispered. Her voice was trembling. “See, there weren’t as many houses, ours was almost the only one. It’s that one with the white columns, see? That window, that was my room. And that place was empty, and we didn’t have so many people to guard it. I’m going to be sick, Luciana, I don’t want to-”
She stopped. She saw them first, but Luciana followed her fixed stare and recognized them right way, the two boys - no, two young men just coming to the harbor. One was tall and blond, the other a bit shorter, with darker skin a little like Luciana’s, and they looked a bit sick themselves, obviously worried, obviously searching, so Luciana waved at them.
They saw her, and them they stopped. Luciana braced herself.
But then she didn’t need to drag Martina after all - the woman almost ran to the edge of the deck herself, and then she was stepping down and the two men were waiting, and the dark-skinned one had his arms around her and Martina was sobbing in his shoulder, and holding the blond’s hand and pressing it against her cheek.
Luciana stood forgotten, looking at the siblings reunited. She grinned at the sight.
A few hours later, she was standing in a nice balcony in one of the largest guest’s rooms she had ever seen. Also in one of the largest dresses she had ever seen, too. Martina had personally shoved it into her arms.
“I want to see you in this,” she ordered. It would have been more effective without the red eyes and the swollen nose. Luciana decided to be nice, and didn’t comment on it.
Now she was here, wearing that dress, and looking at the sea before her. No wonder Martina was so arrogant, if she had grown up here. She had the ocean for herself.
Dad was a bit like that, too. He used to say that no one needed anything else, if they had the sea nearby.
She closed her eyes. This time, she didn’t feel that familiar touch, the sense of presence like before. But it was all inside her anyway, the hand in her shoulder and the smell of leather and the way his beard brushed against her face. All there, the little things she had to remember he had loved her, in his way.
I’ll find a way, she thought, just in case he could hear. Somehow. I don’t need much anyway.
Which was true. She had this vague idea that had started to bloom when she talked to Sebastián and Daniel, Martina’s brothers. When she had seen the market in the streets on their way to the house.
She could find something to sell in the capital, then bring back whatever they needed. There were other people doing that, and she wasn't sure how much she could make of it, but still, it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? At least she wouldn't get indebted, and she'd be able to put food on her table.
Luciana smiled.
“I’m a bit like you, dad,” she whispered, “I just need the river. And…”
Someone knocked on her door. Martina floated in.
“You’re late! We’re waiting for you, and I’m hungry, what are you doing here?”
She looked better now. And not as much like she had the weight of the world on her thin shoulders.
They had looked for her everywhere, Daniel - the dark-skinned sibling - had explained. But they thought the invaders would have taken Martina with them. It never crossed their minds that they would drop her in the first slave post they’d find.
“You see,” Sebastián - the blonde sibling - had said, “There’s a treaty saying that in time of peace taking slaves is forbidden. We assumed you wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t,” Luciana said, just in case they were having murderous thoughts, but Sebastián looked a bit surprised, and embarrassed, and then he laughed. They had their own ideas about what Luciana could do to make a living, and involved going to that post to make a lot of impertinent questions. She could do that, too.
Martina wasn’t interested in treaties and, for the moment, not even in punishing her kidnappers. She wanted to know all about the searches, every detail, every sleepless night and heated discussion, every curse and tear, she listened to it all, anxiously searching for any sign that they might have not wanted her back.
As for herself, she was bright, and enthusiastic, full of smiles, as her fingers grabbed her brother’s hands so tight that her knuckles turned white.
It made Luciana feel terrible.
And here she was, in her bedroom.
“I was thinking,” Luciana said. “About how beautiful you are.”
Martina beamed at her.
“I told you I’d be,” she said, twirling so Luciana could admire her dress, “Nice, isn’t it? Did you like your dress?”
“Dear,” she said, “Come here, my dear.”
Her voice was soft. Martina didn’t ask anything, she went to her and put her arms around Luciana’s neck, and held on tight. She was trembling.
“You’re beautiful,” Luciana said, her own arms around Martina’s waist. “You’re so beautiful and brave. And you were right, and I was wrong, and you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
A sob escaped Martina’s lips.
“I was just fine,” she said, “Don’t do that, I’m fine. They were searching for me, like I said, and you were wrong as usual.” She broke the hug, and yes, her cheeks were streaked with tears. She sniffled, and rubbed her eyes. “You ruined everything. Now I look all blotched and stupid and they’ll think I’ve been crying.”
“You’re gorgeous as always, all the time, and everyone knows that.”
She held Martina’s chin, turning her pretty, flushed face to herself.
Martina closed her eyes, let Luciana kiss her pout away, leaning into it as if this had been all she had ever wanted.
Maybe it was. Luciana knew about herself, about what she wanted, and now it was clearer than it had ever been, even in the middle of her plans of an unexpected future. She wanted the river, the monsters, the life and the poison. And this tall green eyed fairy, so right and comfortable in her arms.
Pairings: Luciana/Martina.
Summary: Luciana is hired to take a slave to the mines. WILL SHE BE ABLE TO DO IT?
When she came back, Luciana was pleased to see Martina hadn’t jumped into the river. She was still hiding her face in her hands, looking strangely small, alone in the sun deck.
Luciana sat by her side.
“This will help,” she said, holding her medicine packet and a mug of clean water. Martina watched, warily, as she mixed her herbs and special powder. She covered her mouth when Luciana handled her the preparation.
“I’m not drinking that.”
“It tastes like tea. Sort of. And it will make the poison come out faster. I’ll put something on the bite too.”
Martina took the mug from her hands, and peeped at it. She looked repulsed.
Luciana was about to take it back, adding exactly what she thought of her, but then Martina sipped it, drinking it as slowly as it was possible.
“I'll make the next one hot,” Luciana said, a bit mollified, “If you want to. Then it will taste like proper tea. But I always drink it cold.”
Martina put it on the floor, and then looked down, her arms around herself in that half shield of hers.
“Your father really died in that place?”
Luciana stared.
“… really? Are we going through all that again?”
Martina glared back, but there was genuine fear in her eyes.
“Did he, really? You have to tell me!”
When she didn’t, Martina grabbed her shirt.
“Hey-”
She sat so close that she was almost in Luciana’s lap, looking into her eyes, and Luciana could smell the herbs in her breath, could feel the warmth from her face.
“He didn’t, right? You lied, and about being five years too, that was a lie because you were angry, right?”
“Why would I lie about my father dying?” she tried to push her away. “But I gave you a million chances to talk to me and you didn’t take it, and now I don’t want to do it anymore, so shut up.”
Martina didn’t want to be pushed away. Luciana had to struggle with her and she had lost the count of how many times she had done it, and this time Martina held on for dear life, close enough for Luciana to consider biting.
“I had my family,” Martina said, fast, desperately, “I have two brothers. I used to take care of them, because I’m the oldest and our parents died too. So you don’t have to punish me for that.”
“I’m not-”
“And they loved me. They don’t know this place, how will they find me in the middle of this forest? I’ll never see them again if you do this to me, and you’re not that cruel-”
“You said I was a vulture.”
They stared at each other, a match of glares that was like crossing swords.
“There was a flood,” Luciana said, finally, her voice terse and cross, “It happens sometimes. There's always something happening. Lots of accidents.”
“You were alone, then? What did you do? How did you live?”
She was pale, her face covered in perspiration. And still too close, clinging to her, almost in her lap, and Luciana couldn't refuse to answer.
“He told me to stay in the city,” she said, looking away. “But I didn’t want to. And people cross the woods sometimes, by land or river, to reach the mines, so I got someone to take me there. So I lived in the village. I even made the journey alone a few times, to buy things in the capital to take back there, and-”
“Was he happy to see you?”
Her voice was raspy, broken. Luciana started to fix her hair, pulling it away from her cheeks. Trying to get that rebellious strand to behave. Trying to understand how she could just go straight for the part that hurt the most.
“I… I guess he was, later. It’s hard to tell, with my father. Or was, anyway. It was always the two of us, you know? And anyway he always wanted to go to the sea, not underground, so he was miserable all the time. But I'm sure he was happy to have me around. I suppose.”
“Who wouldn't?,” Martina whispered, and Luciana bristled, but this time she didn't react. She deserved that one.
“No,” Martina said, looking up at her, as if she could read her thoughts, “No, don't get angry at me, I really mean it. I'm sure he liked it, and you're too stupid and brainless to notice it.”
“... thank you,” she said, dubiously, “I'm- look, about what I said to you before, I shouldn't have-”
“I was in the shore when I saw the ships. I used to do that, to go out on my own. And that day I was mad at something, and I wanted space, so… but you're wrong about everything. You are. My brothers would have come for me, if they knew where I was, even after our fight, I- but the pirates, they tied me, and then threw me in this, I don’t know, cellar, or maybe it was a prison, in one of their ships, and then they gave me to this rich woman, they said I was going to be her slave now. I told her I wouldn’t, that I had been kidnapped; I tried to explain it so many times. She sold me to someone else, later.”
Luciana nodded.
All this was starting to depress her - she knew that they were, somehow, talking to each other, but it felt like each one was lost in a monologue, and that was confusing and irritating. She held Martina's shoulder, softly pushing her down, trying to rearrange her in her lap.
Martina resisted, of course.
“I just want to see the bite,” Luciana explained, “I’ll put something on it.”
“You don't get anything. It's like talking to a wall,” she grumbled, but she laid her head on Luciana’s lap, hiding her face in the fabric of her clothes. Luciana tried not to startle.
“I, ah- hm. Ok, just- make yourself comfortable.”
She put the long braid over Martina’s shoulder, then looked at the swollen skin.
“But please,” Martina said, her voice sad, lilted with that musical accent, “I need you to understand. I had three or four owners, they blend together, so I don't know, but they didn’t like me, none of them. So they were always locking me up, because they all thought I was going to embarrass them by being rude to people they knew. So I only left their houses when they sold me to the next one. And then I had to stay in this… it was a bar, I think, or a restaurant, and I only worked at night, because I had to wash dishes and things like that, so I didn’t see anyone, and I tried to count the days so I wouldn’t lose track, but it was hard to do it without seeing the sun, but I thought- I was so sure. Do you have a mirror? I want to see a mirror.”
“I don’t have a mirror.”
“Do I look old? I was so sure. Why wouldn’t they try to find me? I thought it had been a few months. It can’t take that long. I think you’re lying to me.”
“I thought we had already established that- what is this?”
She touched a red mark that had been burned into Martina’s skin, visible only when she pushed down the neckline of her dress. And then the despairing, feverish weight in Martina’s voice faded and she sulked like a child.
“She did that to me. The first woman. Said it was so people would return me to her if I tried to run, and I thought it would fade after a while, but it didn’t. I hate it.”
Luciana traced it carefully, and Martina shivered. Her skin was warm, she noticed, and now there was a faint blush starting at her neck.
“Blondie… I mean, Martina… how old were you when this attack happened?”
“I was about to turn fifteen. We were even talking about my birthday party. Do I- do you think I look old now?”
“You said you told all that to your first mistress? That you were kidnapped, and all?”
“She wasn't my mistress. Yes, I told her, and she called me a liar. Will this thing ever go away? I don't want to be scarred forever. How come you don’t have a mirror? I had at least six in my house.”
“You're so vain,” Luciana said. She patted her shoulder, and went back to dressing the wasp's bite.
She felt like her blood had suddenly turned to ice. Thing was - no one branded slaves. Slavery by debt was temporary; no one had the right to brand. No one would.
That was for prisoners of war.
If all this was true - then what was she doing? What was she supposed to do now?
“Our laws,” she said, and then she was not quite sure how she was going to finish this sentence, or what it was that she wanted to say in the first place. “Our laws are… not that harsh, you know? I mean, there’s a judgment and all, with the chance to defend yourself, and… all that. And my father made a mistake with his business and he had to pay the money back. That’s all. I mean…”
“What are you even saying? We were talking about me!”
“It was only fair, right? Of course it’s not… nice, obviously, but-”
“No, no, don’t even try that, it’s-” she tried to get up, but Luciana held her shoulders and then Martina lied down again, but she kept talking. “It wasn’t fair at all. Just like it’s not fair to do this to me when you know I’ll go insane and die so even if you don’t kill me yourself- you’re hurting me.”
She was. As in, right now. She hadn’t realized she was pressing the bite wound.
“Oops, sorry. Sorry. What I mean is, the law is the law. It was fair. And dad was-”
“If you believe that, then why do you keep punishing me for it?”
This time, Luciana didn’t answer. She was, wasn't she? She had been punishing Martina for everything since the beginning, and now it made her ashamed of herself.
She thought her silence would make slave feel triumphant, but Martina just went back to pouting and waited in silence until Luciana was done.
So Luciana didn’t say anything either. She made another mug of her herbal preparation and Martina groaned, but she drank it. Then she lied down on the floor, and rested her head on Luciana's lap again.
They stood on the deck until night fell, and then Luciana made her get up, her arm going around the woman’s waist to lead her inside. At the door, Martina's body stiffened, and she took one last look at the water.
The last traces of the sunset were vanishing from the sky, and the whole forest was dark, alive with a hundred different little sounds. The river bank seemed to mesh the woods and the water, turning it all into one vast blanket of darkness.
Martina got the blue mat from the cabin and dragged it to the side of Luciana's bed. Then she lied down again, as close as she could to the mattress, and Luciana stood in the center of the ballroom, disheartened.
“You can tie me tomorrow,” Martina snapped, “I’m sick.”
“But what if you try to kill me in the middle of the night?”
Martina’s reply was to grab Luciana’s blanket and pull it over her head.
“That’s mine, and I’m taking it back. And get up, you didn’t eat anything.”
“I’m not hungry,” came the muffled reply. She didn’t even move, of course.
Luciana looked at her cupboard. She settled for more fruits, and picked pears this time. There was a brief struggle when she tried to pull the blanket, but she finally managed to uncover Martina’s head.
“Stop being silly, will you? And eat this.”
“You eat it.”
Luciana sat on the floor - she wasn’t going to risk dropping the juice in her own bed - and pulled Martina’s shoulder, making her turn back. Martina tried to push her away. Luciana managed to get her to an almost sitting position, and then had to grab her wrist with her free hand to avoid having her hair pulled.
“You’re the worst, you know? You’ll pass out if you don’t get something inside you, come on.”
Martina hid her face in Luciana’s neck. It was hard to stay angry with someone like that, when Luciana could feel her breath in her skin, the faint pressure of her eyelashes in her neck.
She put the pear on the floor, and then locked her hands behind Martina’s back. Tall girls shouldn’t be able to do that, she thought. Shouldn’t make themselves so small and so fragile.
She could feel Martina’s surprise, the way her body stiffened, before she relaxed again. On an impulse, Luciana pressed a kiss to her hair.
“I'm sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have.”
She felt the change in the slave’s body, the way she was suddenly very alert. But Martina couldn’t help being Martina, so she said:
“Damm right you shouldn’t.”
“I’ll try to- talk to the mayor, or the overseer, and… I’m sure they’ll treat you well, I-”
It wasn’t what she expected to hear. Martina’s face fell, and then she pushed Luciana away from her body. Luciana opened her arms, and let her crawl out of her lap back to the mat.
She even took the blanket, and covered Martina herself.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Martina didn’t answer. She looked so vulnerable, like a little thing made of fine glass, holding all that fire and rage. Luciana brushed her hair from her face, the strands that escaped the braid, and then kissed her temple.
She was standing at the doorway when Martina said:
“You're not going to do it.”
Luciana stiffened.
“You're not,” Martina insisted. Now, for the first time, her voice sounded soft, strangely reassured. “I knew you wouldn't.”
Luciana turned to her.
“I never said that.”
But Martina ignored her words and made herself more comfortable. When Luciana went to bed, the crazy slave was asleep. She looked so different, so innocent. And so very beautiful, even with the cut in her lip and the marks where Luciana had hit.
She was terrible. She was proud and wild and irrationally arrogant. And she bit.
She was also telling the truth.
Luciana had to face the facts. Her first owner had to be sure no one would complain, to brand her like that. That woman had looked at the furious, fierce fifteen-year-old girl, had listened to her stories and called her a liar, had branded her for the rest of her life and then sold her somewhere no one would know.
Luciana sighed.
They had told her she was too emotional for this job.
She woke up to Martina looking at her.
It wasn't bad. Her eyes were beautiful and brightly green, and her body was soft and warm and pliant, and she didn't look upset.
Also: Luciana had her arm around her waist.
She yelped and shoved her off.
“I can explain,” Martina said when Luciana sat up. “If you want me to.”
It was the first time she smiled. It was so small, barely raising the corner of her lips, and yet it illuminated her whole face, and it made Luciana calm down enough to ask:
“Explain what?”
“This thing you gave me is not a mattress, it's a carpet-”
“You’re supposed to sleep on the floor!”
“-so I decided to sleep with you, because you weren't taking all the space anyway. So I climbed in, and then you grabbed me.”
Luciana stared.
“Maybe you thought I was someone you love,” she added, a bit wistfully. “Do you usually sleep with someone?”
“What are you even- that's none of your business! Why didn't you get up?”
“Because it didn't bother me. And anyway I tried, today when I woke up. You didn't let me.”
“I didn't-”
“You held me tighter. You didn't want me to go. So I waited. You look sweet when you're sleeping.”
“Why thank you, back at you,” she said, acidly.
“You'd have loved me, if you had met me before. I had nice dresses, and my hair looked a lot better, too. And my hands. I know you hated them.”
The smile was gone now. There was a light crease between her brows, and Luciana huffed at her.
“I don't go around falling in love, alright? Anyway you're beautiful, so shut up.”
“Do you really think so?”
She looked pleased, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, and it crossed Luciana's mind that this was the first time in years that someone had praised her with honesty. Also that her crazy sudden faith in Luciana had a lot to do with this new found good mood.
Speaking of which...
“It's way too early for this. I have a big decision to make, you know, and I can’t be distracted!”
“Then come back. You were keeping me warm. And you made your decision yesterday.”
She had the nerve to pull at Luciana's shirt. Luciana held her hand, untangling the fabric from her fingers.
“I didn’t decide anything,” she said. It made her miserable, but she had to say it. But the slave didn't even let her start.
“You won't. You won't take me there. Don't tell me you didn't notice.”
“It's my job, I-”
I have to live, somehow, I have to make money so I won’t share my father’s fate, because he hated so much to see me in that place and because it is fucking terrifying, and for that I must be cruel to prove them I can be, so they'll stop saying I'm not cruel enough. Does that make any sense?
But she didn’t say any of that. Martina waited, and then she pointed out:
“You kissed me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did, twice, you can't kiss me and leave me to die underground. You won't.”
“That's the fever speaking, right? I knew you couldn't have got over it in one afternoon.”
Martina closed her eyes.
“Give me more tea, then. Maybe it won't be as vile today.”
This is what she looks like, Luciana thought, when she's not fighting for her life. Teasing and beautiful and demanding and completely crazy in a different way.
“Fine, fine, princess. Fruits,” she said, “And maybe more carrots, if you behave. I won't give you meat.”
“I like meat, and I'm tired of your carrots and fruits.”
“Then you're not getting any, since you're not behaving. You refused to eat for two days, so now you can't take meat.”
“I can!”
“You made your bed, Blondie, now deal. I'll give you an apple.”
She made broth instead, with everything that looked healthy for a convalescent, and hoped for the best. And then she went to the navigation room while Martina tried to eat.
Now what?
It would be almost comforting if Martina tried to attack her. Then she’d lose the fight on purpose, and claim the woman had escaped on her own.
Not that it would help, they would still make her pay the full price. And give back what they had paid her to start the journey. Luciana tried to imagine her life if she sold her ship to pay all that. Where would she sleep? Who would give her a job if she couldn’t do even this? It had been her only chance.
Now what?
Martina came to her after a while, stood at the doorway and let the wall support her.
“Go back to bed.”
“I'm not sleepy.”
“Go back and don't sleep.”
“Come and make me.”
Luciana looked at her. Martina glared back.
Luciana relented. She was starting to get used to that.
“Stay there, then. I'm trying to think.”
“Oh,” she said, a bit smugly, “That must hurt. Where are we now?”
Luciana pointed the place in the map. Martina touched it, tilting her head to look at it.
“It's the first map I see since- this is really far from the city, isn't it?”
“Not really... I could be back in one day, from here.”
She stressed the pronoun, and Martina turned to her. She frowned.
“Luciana...”
“Don't you Luciana me, this is not as easy as you think.”
“It's just my life,” she said, “You won't let me die. You won't.”
She wasn't asking. There was no trace of doubt in her eyes, just a faint impatience at Luciana's nonsense. For now. There would be, if Luciana didn't answer. There would be doubt if she turned on the engine, pulled up the anchor, if she started them back on their way, if Luciana refused to play her silly game. Then Martina would go back to being that desperate, terrified shadow of herself, she would hate her forever for giving her hope and then taking it away, and this... this fragile, unnamed thing between them would break. And Luciana would always know she was a monster who had helped to send an innocent woman to that hell.
Luciana reached out. It took a moment, but Martina rested her hand on hers, and let herself be pulled near, until Luciana could touch her waist.
Warm and tall and proud and beautiful. It felt like holding a flame in her hand. This crazy girl who could be so full of fire and hate, and still had let herself be tamed by a kiss and a single day of kindness.
“What am I going to do with you,” she said, and didn't mean to sound so miserable, but she did and now there was no taking back. Martina took it for what it was, and then threw her arms around Luciana, almost strangling her in the process, and then she leaned down to kiss her head.
“Take me home,” Martina said, “Take me home. I want to go home. I know we can reach it by boat. Will you take me? I want to go home.”
Luciana pinched her waist. Why not? She got up and embraced her and at least it helped a little, even if Martina was still so damn tall, and had to lean to hide her face in Luciana's shoulder like she wanted to. Luciana held her tight, and pretended not to notice the tears soaking through her shirt.
Martina refused to sleep alone during the rest of the trip.
Luciana had the vague suspicion that Martina shouldn’t have any say in it, but now she was in too deep to tell her to go back to her mat. Plus, Martina just lied down on her mattress as if she owned it, and had the nerve to tell Luciana to relax.
“I don’t mind if you end up hugging me,” she said, and then she blushed, and turned to the other side. Being embarrassed made her upset.
“Why, thank you, that’s generous of you,” Luciana said, a little annoyed herself. She almost pointed out that Martina should be feeling grateful and awkward, instead of acting like Luciana needed her permission to sleep in her own stupid bed.
The fact that she woke up holding Martina like a plushy doll against her body didn’t help her mood.
It didn’t help Martina’s, either. It made her think weird thoughts.
“You’ll like me, when we’re home,” she said, before even saying good-morning. “I’ll have new clothes, clean, too, and dresses that fit right, not like this one, then you’ll find me beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful now,” Luciana said, sleepily, “Do you know how to make coffee?”
She did. It was the weirdest thing Luciana had ever tasted. But she smiled anyway, and thanked her graciously and pretended to like it. It saved a lot of trouble, and it was worth it to see Martina’s shy smile. It almost distracted her from what would happen when she came back home.
Even more when they got near, because then Martina started to get anxious when they got close to the Silver Shore. Luciana wasn’t going to mention the change, but Martina’s nerves took the better of her and Luciana had to sit her down and give her the most relaxing herbal tea she could make.
“What is with you? This course is still difficult, and I can’t concentrate with you acting like that.”
“I changed my mind.”
“… what?”
“I don’t want to go. Take me away from here, is that so hard to understand?”
It wasn’t. Luciana looked at her, at her eyes bright with alarm, and the fear plain in her face, even if she was struggling to hide it.
“Blondie, come on.”
“Don’t call me that, you know my name, and I don’t-”
“I’ll be right next to you. If anything weird happens, I’ll take you away. Alright? But you know it won’t. They were probably crazy worried about you.”
Martina bit her lip. Hard. Luciana was almost expecting to see blood when she finally spoke:
“Why didn’t they find me?”
“We’ll find out soon,” Luciana said, firmly, and then kissed her cheek.
Martina turned, and held her chin. Luciana was about to smile, to say something nice and reassuring, maybe a joke about the tea or something equally light, but she never got the chance. Martina’s lips pressed against hers, soft and willing and a bit chapped, and so warm, and then she pulled back before Luciana could think of how to react.
“You-”
“You need to turn on the engine, or we’ll never get there.”
“You kissed me.”
“It won’t happen again, alright! Go away!”
“Why not?”
Now they both stared.
Then Martina pulled Luciana to herself, into a tight, desperate hug, and hid her face in her neck like she had done a million times.
“You’ll love me,” Martina said, “You’ll end up loving me, I know that. When you see me right.”
“I might be doing it right now,” Luciana whispered.
Martina tightened her hold, and Luciana held her back. Her heart was racing, and it felt so glorious, so wonderful, to do just that. To have this fiery, magical, absolutely insane woman in her arms.
“And you’re already right,” she added. “I told you that.”
Martina was a bundle of nerves when Luciana started the maneuvers into the small harbor. She had to ask for permission to enter, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, she said Martina Hernandez was with her.
Martina grabbed her hand:
“Why did you do that? I didn’t say you could do that!”
She looked pale. And furious. And terrified.
“I don’t have to ask you,” Luciana said, pulling her hand away from her claws. “Anyway they’ll call your brothers, this will make it easy for us. Now let me focus.”
Martina waited, gnawing on her lower lip, and when Luciana finally let down the anchor and went to the sun deck, she refused to leave.
“I’m fine right here. I’m feeling sick. I won’t go.”
Luciana almost told her she would get the rope. But she wouldn’t - she didn’t want to imagine the people’s reaction if she came down like that, but even if they were ok with it on account of knowing Martina’s charming personality, she wouldn’t - so she put her arm around her waist, pushing her kindly, as gently as she could.
They stood together at the sun deck, looking at the Silver Shore.
“It changed,” Martina whispered. Her voice was trembling. “See, there weren’t as many houses, ours was almost the only one. It’s that one with the white columns, see? That window, that was my room. And that place was empty, and we didn’t have so many people to guard it. I’m going to be sick, Luciana, I don’t want to-”
She stopped. She saw them first, but Luciana followed her fixed stare and recognized them right way, the two boys - no, two young men just coming to the harbor. One was tall and blond, the other a bit shorter, with darker skin a little like Luciana’s, and they looked a bit sick themselves, obviously worried, obviously searching, so Luciana waved at them.
They saw her, and them they stopped. Luciana braced herself.
But then she didn’t need to drag Martina after all - the woman almost ran to the edge of the deck herself, and then she was stepping down and the two men were waiting, and the dark-skinned one had his arms around her and Martina was sobbing in his shoulder, and holding the blond’s hand and pressing it against her cheek.
Luciana stood forgotten, looking at the siblings reunited. She grinned at the sight.
A few hours later, she was standing in a nice balcony in one of the largest guest’s rooms she had ever seen. Also in one of the largest dresses she had ever seen, too. Martina had personally shoved it into her arms.
“I want to see you in this,” she ordered. It would have been more effective without the red eyes and the swollen nose. Luciana decided to be nice, and didn’t comment on it.
Now she was here, wearing that dress, and looking at the sea before her. No wonder Martina was so arrogant, if she had grown up here. She had the ocean for herself.
Dad was a bit like that, too. He used to say that no one needed anything else, if they had the sea nearby.
She closed her eyes. This time, she didn’t feel that familiar touch, the sense of presence like before. But it was all inside her anyway, the hand in her shoulder and the smell of leather and the way his beard brushed against her face. All there, the little things she had to remember he had loved her, in his way.
I’ll find a way, she thought, just in case he could hear. Somehow. I don’t need much anyway.
Which was true. She had this vague idea that had started to bloom when she talked to Sebastián and Daniel, Martina’s brothers. When she had seen the market in the streets on their way to the house.
She could find something to sell in the capital, then bring back whatever they needed. There were other people doing that, and she wasn't sure how much she could make of it, but still, it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? At least she wouldn't get indebted, and she'd be able to put food on her table.
Luciana smiled.
“I’m a bit like you, dad,” she whispered, “I just need the river. And…”
Someone knocked on her door. Martina floated in.
“You’re late! We’re waiting for you, and I’m hungry, what are you doing here?”
She looked better now. And not as much like she had the weight of the world on her thin shoulders.
They had looked for her everywhere, Daniel - the dark-skinned sibling - had explained. But they thought the invaders would have taken Martina with them. It never crossed their minds that they would drop her in the first slave post they’d find.
“You see,” Sebastián - the blonde sibling - had said, “There’s a treaty saying that in time of peace taking slaves is forbidden. We assumed you wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t,” Luciana said, just in case they were having murderous thoughts, but Sebastián looked a bit surprised, and embarrassed, and then he laughed. They had their own ideas about what Luciana could do to make a living, and involved going to that post to make a lot of impertinent questions. She could do that, too.
Martina wasn’t interested in treaties and, for the moment, not even in punishing her kidnappers. She wanted to know all about the searches, every detail, every sleepless night and heated discussion, every curse and tear, she listened to it all, anxiously searching for any sign that they might have not wanted her back.
As for herself, she was bright, and enthusiastic, full of smiles, as her fingers grabbed her brother’s hands so tight that her knuckles turned white.
It made Luciana feel terrible.
And here she was, in her bedroom.
“I was thinking,” Luciana said. “About how beautiful you are.”
Martina beamed at her.
“I told you I’d be,” she said, twirling so Luciana could admire her dress, “Nice, isn’t it? Did you like your dress?”
“Dear,” she said, “Come here, my dear.”
Her voice was soft. Martina didn’t ask anything, she went to her and put her arms around Luciana’s neck, and held on tight. She was trembling.
“You’re beautiful,” Luciana said, her own arms around Martina’s waist. “You’re so beautiful and brave. And you were right, and I was wrong, and you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
A sob escaped Martina’s lips.
“I was just fine,” she said, “Don’t do that, I’m fine. They were searching for me, like I said, and you were wrong as usual.” She broke the hug, and yes, her cheeks were streaked with tears. She sniffled, and rubbed her eyes. “You ruined everything. Now I look all blotched and stupid and they’ll think I’ve been crying.”
“You’re gorgeous as always, all the time, and everyone knows that.”
She held Martina’s chin, turning her pretty, flushed face to herself.
Martina closed her eyes, let Luciana kiss her pout away, leaning into it as if this had been all she had ever wanted.
Maybe it was. Luciana knew about herself, about what she wanted, and now it was clearer than it had ever been, even in the middle of her plans of an unexpected future. She wanted the river, the monsters, the life and the poison. And this tall green eyed fairy, so right and comfortable in her arms.