The Hunter and the Serf (3/?)

[androjinii]

airing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: T for violence

Summary: AU. Santana saw her running, two men on horseback hot on her trail. She listened intently, waiting for the sounds of pursuit to fade away in the distance so it wouldn’t be her problem anymore. FeudalAge!Brittana

Disclaimer: I do not own glee. I own the DVDs though.


THE HUNTER AND THE SERF

CHAPTER THREE

When she was younger, Santana’s father used to tell her tales of when he used to live as a serf in Schuesters’ estate up North. He was born a slave; he even had a brass ring around his neck. It was not too loose as to have him take it off if he wished, nor too tight as to throttle him. It was soldered smoothly and solidly that it left no mark upon the metal collar, and therefore impossible to be removed. On it was inscribed: Carlos of the Lopez kin, born thrall of the Schuesters. Santana remembered that he had a brand on his shoulder as well, but he had covered it up with a tattoo when he escaped. He was able to remove the ring too, with the help of a blacksmith, and he kept the two halves of the ring in a wooden box underneath his bed.

Santana remembered her father telling him that the Schuesters weren’t ruthless masters-not at all, but he longed to make something of his life. He doesn’t want to go on serving another person for the whole of his wretched existence, and so he escaped. As far as Santana knew, Schuester never sent men after him. Carlos told her that maybe the Lord Schuester then, which was Will’s father, thought that he’d come crawling back eventually. God knows how many slaves who’d tried to escape turned up weeks later, begging to be taken in. It was a cruel world outside the estate; Carlos suffered too many hardships, but he never turned back. And Santana was forever thankful for that. She couldn’t imagine being owned by someone the moment she was born, as if she’s some flea-ridden dog with even the collar to prove it. Even though she’s barely scraping by, trying to make a living by hunting.

And as far as she could see, Brittany wasn’t wearing any brass collar around her neck either.

“Are you really a serf of Schuester’s? I don’t get something here. You don’t have a-” she gestured around her own neck. She was afraid that Brittany is a concubine of Schuester’s, and she shuddered. Now, that is even more troubling than she thought. Concubines could be branded, couldn’t they?

Brittany shook her head. “I wasn’t born a thrall per se... uh, I just,” her cheeks went pink. “I just... entertain him.”

Santana’s eyes went round. “Entertain. You entertain.” She had visited enough taverns and whorehouses to know the implication. Being friends with Puck has introduced her to some of the Realm’s most depraved practices.

Brittany blushed even more furiously.  “No, no. Not like that, I just dance.”

Santana was silent.

“Not with my tits out! If that’s what you’re thinking!” She bundled the cloak tighter around herself, thoroughly embarrassed.

Now it was Santana’s turn to blush. She didn’t think that she could be so transparent. “No, no. I was just... I didn’t think Lords had slaves doing just that.”

“They have money, and power. Of course, they could do as they please.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “So uh, about him,” she pointed to the man lying on the grass a short distance away. “I really think we should kill him. He’s going to be after my hide. I can’t exactly blend in with the crowd, so to speak.”

Santana knows that she is a member of a minority in the Realm. Her father used to tell her stories about her ancestors who were originally from a place called the Haunt in Fidelian across the Great Sea. A century ago, the Realm launched a campaign to invade the Fideli kingdom. They suffered huge losses in the process but managed to gain the Haunt, thereby giving them a foothold in the lands across the Great Sea. Some of the vanquished Fidelis were brought to the Realm as slaves. Santana’s ancestors included.

“No please. I think it’s enough violence for one day.”

“Then I think I’ll just go back tomorrow and finish him off,” Santana answered with a wicked grin, and Brittany gave her a withering look. “I’m just being daft! Don’t take me seriously!” she amended, wanting the look of disappointment on Brittany’s face to vanish. She sighed internally. She had just met her, and here she was, putty in Brittany’s hands. “Now, about their horses...”

xx

It did not take long for the stillness of the night to fall. Crickets began to chirp all around them and an owl hooted ominously in the distance. The moon came peering in and shone brightly upon the wooded landscape, lighting up the whole place like subdued sunlight. As the moonlight streamed through the trees, it shone upon a silent body of water.

They trailed the bank and came upon a fallen log used to bridge the narrow, stagnant river. She would very much like to have kept the horses, even just one. She knows she could get a good price for them, what with them being excellent thoroughbreds by the looks of it, but Brittany told her that having one would be suspect. She had a point, and so she had set them free with great reluctance. Also, she remembered that she had to cover their tracks so that the man won’t be able to follow them. And with the horse leaving hoofprints all over the place, it just won’t do.

She crossed the river, her gait unsteady, since her side still hurt like hell-as if she had a knife stuck between her ribs-but she managed to get to the other side without slipping.

“Are you sure you’re fine? Could you at least let me have a look at it?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m alright. Nothing I can’t handle. And what would a dancer know about broken bones and injuries?”

Brittany looked offended. Santana wanted to take it back. It’s just that her injuries are making her more crabby than usual. “How about we call it a day and set up camp here?”

“Brittany, the town is a three-day walk from here. And with my limp, it’s going to take even longer. We have to cover as much ground as we can in order to put more distance between us and Schuester’s henchman.”

“I know, but with the condition you’re in...”

“I can manage. I cannot rest easy knowing that we’re in the same vicinity as the man who tried to... you know,” Santana sighed, continuing on. Brittany followed, watching her closely. She knows since she could feel her blue eyes burning holes into her side. She realized that maybe Brittany isn’t staring at her injury at all, but at the squirrels hanging on her belt. Nah, Brittany wouldn’t feign concern like that. Santana thinks she’s one of the most guileless people she ever met.

After a moment, she said, “You know what, I think you’re right. I think this is a good place to have dinner.”

Brittany gathered some twigs while Santana dug a hole to make a fire. Afterwards she skewered a squirrel on a spit and roasted it. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she sunk her teeth into the delectable meat, even when she and Brittany had been snacking on berries earlier. After the tasty repast, Santana threw some dirt into the still-smouldering embers.

“No use painting a target on us. We’re already vulnerable,” she said, stomping it out with her boot for good measure.

“Santana, thank you,” Brittany whispered, leaning against a large tree trunk.

“It’s nothing, really,” she said, sitting down carefully beside Brittany to avoid hurting her already injured side. The evening chill began to descend upon them and Santana rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Brittany noticed the action and unclasped her cloak.

“You’ve already injured yourself enough for me. I don’t want you to catch fever as well.”

Santana began to internally panic at sharing the cloak with Brittany. She was all but naked underneath, and the thought of those breasts rubbing up against her bare arms was almost too much.

“C’mon. This is your cloak anyway, and we could keep each other warm through the night...” she trailed off, probably realizing how suggestive she sounded.

“I, uh...,” Santana began, her throat going dry.

“Not like that. I mean, just get in already,” Brittany said, sounding embarrassed. Santana sidled up closer to her reluctantly, taking care not to make contact against Brittany’s skin.

Their proximity was maddening and frustrating for Santana. Especially when Brittany wrapped her arms around her, taking care to do so gently so as not to aggravate her injury. Santana could feel Brittany’s breasts pressing against her back and her head spun-in a good way, of course.

“You’re all tense and stiff,” Brittany whispered, and is it real, or did her voice just sound so husky to Santana? “Did I hurt you?”

“N-no, you didn’t,” Santana answered in a strangled voice. She wriggled out of Brittany’s embrace. “Uh, tell you what, how about you go to sleep while I keep watch?”

Brittany looked at her curiously but did not press the issue. “I see.” She pressed her lips tightly and slid down onto the ground. “Good night, Santana.”

“Good night, Brittany.”

xx

Santana could feel herself nodding off to sleep when she was jolted awake by a faint rustling behind her. She turned around to see Brittany getting up.

“I can’t sleep,” she mumbled apologetically, sitting down beside Santana. A gust of wind blew, sending a shiver down their spines. The forest creaked and moaned. Brittany moved closer to her. “I’m... I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, I’m right here,” Santana said, hesitantly placing a hand on Brittany’s shoulder to soothe her. Brittany leaned her head against her shoulder and Santana was surprised at how good they fit.

They sat like that in silence, with Santana rendered unable to move because she’s just too comfortable.

“Did it hurt?” Santana asked.

“What?”

“When you were, uh... branded?” She heard Brittany’s sharp intake of breath and she regretted asking. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it. I was just wondering.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Brittany said, then she thought for a moment. “I don’t remember much, honestly. I was very young when... when it happened. I think I passed out the moment the brand came in contact with my skin.”

Santana winced, trying to imagine how it must feel to be branded like cattle.

“How old were you?”

“I was five,” Brittany sighed. “Other than that, EI wasn’t treated like any other slave. I mean, yeah, I helped out some around the estate. But most of the time, Will kept me by his side. He gets frantic whenever I disappear. Which I tend to do. A lot. It just feels so good to... you know, just be. But I never get flogged for it though. Most of the other servants resented the way he treats me.”

“He didn’t... He wasn’t grooming you to be his mistress, was he?” Santana could not resist asking.

Brittany did not answer.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ... uh,” Santana stuttered out, shuddering at the implication of Brittany’s nonanswer.

“It’s alright Santana. Let’s go to sleep now?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course,” she answered automatically, mentally kicking herself for being so tactless. She could feel Brittany withdrawing into herself.

They lay down together, and although Brittany draped an arm around her midsection, she did not offer to share her cloak anymore after seeing how uncomfortable it made Santana. She did not know if she should feel relieved since it lessened the palpable tension between them.

It did not take long for Brittany’s breathing to even out, and Santana found herself snuggling closer to her comforting warmth, letting sleep claim her at last.

xx

Santana woke up shivering in the crisp morning air, missing Brittany’s warmth. She tried to get up, but she hurt all over-the exertions of the previous day finally taking its toll on her. She paused, gathering strength until she managed to sit up. Her side hurt even worse.

Panic started uncoiling in her chest when she looked around unable to find Brittany.

“Brittany!” she called out.

Just then, a scream rend the air. It was unmistakably Brittany’s.

TBC.