I'm having serious doubts about posting this, but after some pestering and the fact that I'd be writing it anyway, ultimately for nothing, here we go! On another note the first three or so chapters are going to be more Sam orientated because, well, that's how I wrote it. :)

I don't own Danny Phantom, and you'd be able to tell if I did ;)

Treacherous Borders

Chapter One: Desert Times

It wasn't all that hot of a day for the desert, but it was still day in the desert and stepping into the shade of a vendor's canopy provided little relief to the lithe young woman with dark hair and dimmed lilac eyes.

"Unk…" The merchant grunted when he spotted her. "Why you masta gotta send you trash?" He leered at her over the table he was sitting at, but she knew not to make eye contact as she checked her shopping list before tucking a roll of deep burgundy cloth under her arm and making her way over to him. The man eyed her purchase before eyeing her change pocket. "For yah…. 20 silvers…" He grinned maliciously, yellow teeth fully exposed. Her hand clenched the change pouch before she dug up the coins and handed them over. She knew the price was usually 10, she knew he had hacked up the price because she only had barely enough change for her errands and some extra she'd saved up for herself over the past few days, she'd been planning on buying extra food to share. At least their hunger would be humorous to someone, she thought grimly, no matter how sadistic a sense of humor it was.

She ducked back out into the glaring sun as quickly as she could before pulling her head cover closer over her face desperately wishing she had goggles… a thin piece of cloth or anything that she could drape over her eyes, she had seen what prolonged exposure to the sun had done to her predecessors. She wore all of her "possessions" with her: a raggedy tunic, sandals, a small money pouch and a head cloth. She also wore a green sash and bracers… but she would do away with those in a heartbeat. They were so people would know, so people would know whom she belonged to. All slaves wore them, a different color and pattern for each major family in the land. A permanent marking was burned into their hands, bearing the crest or symbol of the head of the family that owned them. Through every trade, auction or sale their markings were painfully melted back over and burned again atop the scar tissue.

She quickly scurried down the dirt road through the marketplace, she had long since mastered the art of keeping her gaze downcast while not even coming close to touching someone, either of which could end in pain, and she had the scars to prove it. She bit her lip at the unpleasant memory before turning a corner toward where she knew there was a vendor who wasn't intentionally cruel towards slaves and even took a little pity on them, especially the young ones. She let a glimmer of a smile work its way onto her face when she rounded the corner, there weren't nearly as many people on this cross street, she walked at a more relaxed pace over to the booth the shade of the tent sending a wave of relief over her scorched skin.

"The usual?" a fatherly man asked her a small smile on his face and she frowned before dumping the rest of her change into her hand.

"I'm afraid not…" she pursed her lips before holding the small wad of change out for him to see. "45 copper…." She trailed off her eyes downcast. The middle-aged man's heart clenched as he watched the young slave half-heartedly rummage through her tattered vestments. He sighed, he knew what had happened to her earlier that day and he also knew he could do nothing to help, he wasn't all that rich himself and with the dowry he had just paid for his son's happiness he could spare nothing but his kindness.

"Just… whatever will hold me over the longest." She handed him the coins and the man ducked down to pull up a half-a-loaf of day old bread, an apple and a small flask of water. Her eyebrows shot up before she sent him an incredulous look. "Now there's no way I can afford all of this." Her shoulders shrugged in a move akin to putting her hands on her hips, but due to conditioning her arms no longer made the rebellious gesture.

"You can afford the apple or this hunk of," he paused. "Bread, along with the flask. Take your pick…"

"I guess… the bread and water." She accepted the bread and water with a grateful smile before scurrying around the building to the back where she could hardly be seen stealing shade from an awning. She sat on a deserted wooden box so she could enjoy her first meal of the day. With the bread she could save part of it for later instead of having to eat it all at once. A shuffling of fabrics to her right caused her to instinctively shoot up and spill her flask of water and she felt her heart wrench out of sheer agony at the loss of her water. She turned to face the noise, silently slipping the remainder of her bread into her dirtied pockets, her head still ducked down so all she could see was a pair of tough dark brown leather boots underneath a gray cape.

She remained deathly still as the figure's boots disappeared from sight, she was tempted to look up when she heard him crouch down behind her and lift something (presumably her flask) up before he turned. She couldn't help but look up when she noticed the cape shuffle. The figure before her appeared to be a young man, not much older than she was. Although she was certain that through emaciation and her own efforts she didn't appear to be as old… or developed as she should, which always a good thing for a slave, especially a female one. She couldn't see much other than the silhouette formed by his cool grey cloak, she decided to sneak a peak upward at his head to find all that all she could see under the hood was a pair of green eyes that seem to radiate in the late afternoon sun.

He caught her gaze and she instantly fumbled before his demeanor changed, his shoulders sagging as he took a step backwards and handed her flask back to her. She accepted it; her head bowed, this time in a heat of embarrassment.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of…" His voice was soft and hesitant as she glanced upwards again. "It's not your fault society is like this, and it certainly wasn't your fault your water ended up as mud." She stiffened slightly, taking a quick swig of water before jamming it back down her tunic, instantly suspicious of his pity.

"You're…" her voice faltered. "Not from around here, are you?"

"Not in the least." There was a smile in his voice and she found her eyes welling with tears, with frustration. She held in a bitter retort and the young man took a step backwards, her violet eyes following him curiously. "Well then… Magram's, I assume?" He had noted the color of her sash and bracers, signifying that she belonged to the Magram Clan. She nodded her eyes gazing to his left, refusing to look at the more fortunate passerby.

"I have to go." Her voice held a small smile as a single gong resounded across the lowers of the city. "They don't want the trash in the street all night." She turned away from him before hopping up onto the box she had been using as a chair and easily back-flipping her lithe body onto the stone roof of the shop. "Thank you…" Her voice was a whisper before she moved to make her way across the rooftops, the easiest way to avoid a preemptive arrest by the city guards.

"You're welcome…?" He asked the still air before he turned around to face darkening sky to the east. All night? He pondered; the sun was barely beginning to set. "It's a lot worse than I thought here…" He spoke to himself before wandering casually over to a contraption that was a mix between a sled and a boat.

She watched him shoot off across the dunes, leaving only a trail of dust in his wake; the young "nameless" slave felt a smile work its way onto her lips, glad that not all people that were born better off were cruel.

Her gaze turned to the west; the inners of the city lay in front of her, behind her only desert. There were no magical barriers to keep slaves from running away, only miles of unending heat and sand. She wandered lazily almost enjoying herself as she made a journey toward one of the four largest fortresses within the city of Janaran.

She belonged to the Magram family's head, Feahn; he was a middle-aged man living in their desert country as most wealthy middle-aged nobles did. A wife, a mistress and many slaves to do all of their work for them, although according to them they handled the diplomatic and monetary part of the "business" that was a slave enterprise; that roughly translated to that they got to do all of the vacationing and handled all of the money involved.

She stopped a few buildings away from a solid white washed stone wall that was several stones throws from where the common houses and mercantile buildings ended. She idly hopped off of the building and continued up to dirt road up a large wooden gate. Green flags hung from brass poles out the side of wall, the golden symbol that was etched on the flags matched the one that was tattooed into her right hand. She continued to the gate where she was allowed passage beyond two stoic guards, one of whom took her day's work of shopping from her.

Upon entrance to the fortress she took a sharp right and along a well-traveled servant's pass that lead around the main castle while remaining out of sight. Children should be seen, not heard; slaves should be neither seen nor heard. The venomous thought whipped through her mind.

"Maeyml !" There was a shout from a redheaded boy when she entered the servant's mess hall, she was glad to hear that she was missed… but that ridiculous nickname…

"Aww… Mae doesn't like her name…" A darker skinned young woman came over to walk with her to a table so that they could sit together.

"That's not my name…" She grumbled to herself as she sat down.

"You know there's a chance it could be!" The other young woman's gold eyes glimmered with a shred of amusement. They had to take humor where they could find it and her "name" had been a cause for humor for a while now.

"You have amazing timing," The olive skinned woman sat down near Mae at their table, the redheaded little boy who had first called to her sat close between them. The three friends in slavery sat at one of the long tables that filled the food hall, they ate twice daily, once in the morning and again in the evening. All seventy-eight of the Magram estate slaves ate at once, if you were not on time your plate would be emptied by hungry neighbors.

The whole room shifted to sit up straight as the clock tower at the center instead the main castle and rose above all of the other turrets chimed seven times. At once the plates up and down the eight long tables were filled with a thin slice of meat, half a biscuit and a meager bit of apple; their steel cups were also filled halfway with water. She eagerly at the apple, fruits had to be the best thing on a slave diet, but hey didn't last very long in the desert heat making them a special treat, and she'd never been a wasteful person, even when she wasn't a slave…at least she thought she remembered as much.

The little boy sitting between herself and Allae giggled as he munched on his own quarter piece of biscuit. (Children were given even skimpier portions.)

"Mae eats even more fruits and vegetables than a rabbit!!" He giggled happily and said plant-lover (in more ways than one) flushed an annoyed blush. Allae, the other young woman let a slight giggle slip through her usual stoic expression.

"That's not my name," she grumbled to herself before shrugging it off, she just knew it wasn't her name (it was in a language foreign to her native country) and it bothered her to be called something that wasn't her name. Probably, she reasoned, what bothered her the most was the fact that she couldn't remember her name or who she was. She sighed as she peeled her lunchmeat apart and ate it bit by bit, lost in thought.

"I thought you said you weren't going back there?" A young man's voice magically echoed throughout an elegant tent set up on a medium sized open area covered entirely by sandy dunes.

"Well I did, and here I am!" The young man in the tent shrugged off his cool grey cloak as he fell gracefully onto a pile of pillows. Underneath he wore plain brown leather vest, a short sleeved white shirt and darker grey pants, tucked into a pair of matching brown leather boots.

"Why…exactly?" The exasperated voice was coming from a rather large gold pendant that hung from one of the supports over a small collapsible wood table. A ruby red stone was set square in the middle, engravings swirling around it.

"Not sure really, I always feel as if there's something fishy going on in this place…"

"You mean aside from the boorish caste system, and slavery?" The deep voice was sarcastic this time; the oddly colored young man frowned to himself.

"Yes, aside from that."

"If you say so…" His green eyes flashed in slight annoyance at the humoring tone in his best friend's voice.

"And I do."

Mae, if she was to be called that, had finished dinner and had made her way over to a long dorm hall for the females. She was currently lying on top of her canvas covered cot, a single raggedy sheet crumpled at her side; she sighed listening to her two roommates' soft breathing. Anger filled her vision at her current position, she had been a slave for more than ten years and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

She had almost been killed as a child trying to fight her masters and escape; they had taken pity because she was a child. She knew some who wanted to retain their dignity and hanged themselves upon capture… but she knew she couldn't give up hope like that. Hope for freedom was all any of them had aside from the sporadic, yet stressful company of each other. She rolled onto her side, her thoughts on the young man who had filled her water up further than it had been when he had knocked it over. (Well, technically she had, but he had helped.) He was her hope, her hope for society and the human race, her hatred for all conscious beings had been temporarily numbed away. She smiled slightly, a wistful sigh escaping her lips before she drifted off into a light sleep.

She woke the next day at the sound of six chimes from a smaller replica of the clock tower that was in each of their rooms. Each replica was synched up to the main tower so the slaves would be on time without having to wake up the actual residents.

"Mae!" There was a shout and she turned instinctively toward one of her roommates who tossed her a bucket and wet sponge that she caught without a thought.

"We're washing today…?" She asked groggily and her roommate nodded emphatically, an actual hopeful smile on the dark-skinned woman's face.

"There's a special request purchase today!" she practically chirped, and Mae's eyebrows widened. Someone wanted to buy a female slave that they had seen yesterday; for better or worse they had to make themselves look nice… it was a common thought that no place could be worse than the Magram Barracks.

Mae Sam, I hope that was obvious. I really wanted to call her Sam, but it wouldn't make much sense if she could only remember her name, so I made one up. She's not vegetarian because that also wouldn't make any sense; in her situation you'd take what you could get.

I also have a vague idea of where this is going so you get foreshadowing and I don't get bored… hopefully. Hmm, reviews would be nice, I haven't posted a fanfic in over three years so this is kind of worrisome for me.

I'll be dropping links at the bottom of a chapter if an outfit is described in the chapter and I've drawn it already.

Links:

http://www. deviantart. com/deviation/40404186/?qo10&qby3Aasatsuyu&qhsort3Atime+-in3Ascraps Sam