The overcast sky barely shown through the thick clouds representing the mood of the day. The bare dirt road hardly kicked up the dust and rocks the simple wheels bounced over. The small shack on wheels rumbled in the silent day as the grungy old man drank his cheap wine and flicked the reigns once more, eager to return to his destination in town - for that night anyway.<br/>Her head banged against the side with his careless driving, making it easier to halt her persisting tears. She bit her lower lip fiercely with only one or two staining her face every few hours. She pulled her knees tight to her chest, smashing her eyes into the boniness of her knees, so firm as to give her a headache. Her strange reddish hair fell past her head beside her lap, tickling her calves. The unkept ends swayed with the movement of the wagon, loose and disheveled. The images she couldn't remove continued to blur her mind's eye - nothing but blood and the deaths of everyone she ever knew. How could they... What prompted such an act of violence against her village? They were so far out of the way and never brought any attention to themselves, let alone hurt anyone.<br/>She lifted her head, smearing away the dirty tears from her freckled nose. Her palm pushed her speckled cheek over briskly, letting her supple olive skin rest back into place. Translucent green eyes stared down, almost glowing in the dim light next to her auburn tinted, dark-chocolate hair.<br/>The rickety cart eventually came to an abrupt stop, tossing her off balance again. Couldn't she just lay here for the rest of her life - what little there may have been left of it? She heard and unappealing grunt and cough, hack, and spit before the door slung open. She wasn't blinded by any form of light as her dim, minty green eyes stared into the floor of the wagon. A crude tug to her ankle brought her to the edge, bringing her a bit more to her senses.<br/>His hoarse tone demanding and impatient as he pulled her down and pushed her around the wagon's horse, but not before prying her rags from a snag in the wood. She pushed what remained of her skirt down, trying to flatten it beneath the dirt, sweat, blood, and who knows what else. The shoddy off-the-shoulder "dress" hung from her petite frame decently, off set just a bit by the fine rope bound at her waist. The lower half barely covered her unmentionables after the tear, but at least the unevenness of the tattered hem hid her decently enough.<br/>The grip on her shoulder halted her once more as they stood at a large iron gate. Two large Roman guards stepped into view, barely looking in their direction.<br/>"State your business." one of them growled.<br/>"I have a delivery for the master of your house. He is expecting<span style="font-style: italic">this</span>." the man grumbled.<br/>"This?" Who did he think she was? She wasn't just a piece of property or meat. This was never how we spoke about people where she came from. But then again, she wasn't home anymore.<br/>They guard unlocked the gate, guiding them through as the other made his way to a door a couple paces to the left where he had to unlock a large wooden door. He led them up a long flight of stairs into a majestic room, borders made of small marble tiles and glass mosaics along the floor and ceiling. Most surfaces were made of alabaster stone which had a surprisingly cool touch considering the heat this part of the land typically baked under.<br/>She was led from a far corner around a small pool under an open sun roof, leading down a decorative aisle to a man standing amongst several others. He looked to be of some importance, or at least holding a certain amount of power, even just standing there. Her eyes began to raise just as she felt that same callused hand shove her back, tripping a few steps in the man's direction.