A/N: Decided to throw something together while I was taking my 5 week summer class. I was reading ahead and found that I actually enjoyed reading about the middle ages, which was new to me! So this is based during that time frame, some things may be historically accurate, others may not be. I trust you will be able to sort out the two. This is my first Hetalia fanfiction, so please keep all the hateful comments and other fuckery to yourself.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, just my OCs.
1.
Justine would never forget the moment she first saw him, across the small cramped room. A sea of disorderly bodies, disoriented slaves up in the fit because someone of such a high status had suddenly appeared, separated them.
Valiant and strong, he was handsome embodied and the epitome of elegance. As one should be if they were a knight of the king's court.
The tight rope that bound her thin wrists were abruptly pulled, tugging her to her feet and all but dragged her over to where the slave holder and the knight were speaking by the door. She had to blink a few times, the sun burning her eyes.
He stood tall in the opened, shabby doorway. The dim sun shone beautifully on ashen, almost silver tufts of hair. Hard, violet eyes stared at her expectantly. There was an air of confidence about him, and it was nothing shy of intimidating.
Justine had never felt so small, so insignificant.
In that instant, Justine realized almost immediately the difference in their worlds. He was breed for greatness, from a noble family no doubt with wealth and fame to spare. He had the highest education offered in their kingdom, and fought in wars far and wide to protect that kingdom. His ivory skin was clad in fine fabrics, a small broach encrusted with semiprecious gems on his chest for the world to see.
This was the ugly truth that separated their classes, the masses of the people. The wealthy and noble, and the poor.
There Justine stood, heads shorter, in a dirtied dress that had seen better days. Her hair was pinned up as neatly as she could get it, her dark skin carried residue from the earth beneath her bare feet. She looked like she had crawled out of a hole in the ground, and was ashamed to even look the knight in the face.
She didn't deserve such a right.
Her gaze averted his, and she felt herself shrink further under his scrutiny.
"What is your name?" His voice was deep, baritone. It was laced with a rich, heavy accent. He spoke properly, annunciated every word. When she didn't answer him immediately, he asked again, this time with force. "Your name."
"Justine Willis." She answered quietly.
"My lord," The slave owner interjected. He was an older man, with no character or shape. "May I recommend another slave girl? Perhaps one with less… moxie?"
Justine shot him a nasty glare.
"Nyet, she will suffice." The knight replied, simply.
"But my lord, this wench has been returned more times than I can count. Not even the abbesses want her!"
The knight spared the older man an uninterested glare, "I take pride in breaking tough spirits. How much?"
Justine felt her heart sink as his violet gaze slid over her, briefly, before meeting the slave owner's quizzical one. She had heard horror stories of some of the dark deeds quite a few of the knights partook in from other slaves, the ones that were lucky enough to get away alive. They spoke of odd gatherings in the dead of night where knights forced them all together and made them have sex while they watched, sometimes the knights forced themselves on them. Others included slaves being used as target practice.
Either way, nothing good ever came from a slave being bought for a knight.
And she suddenly wondered, what did this knight have in store for her?
He paid for her head, and without a word lifted the rope that bounded her hands, and tugged her along.
Some of the knights chose to live a lifestyle of modesty, occupying a small cluster of manors about a few miles walk from the market square. And so they walked, in silence, down a dirt road that, in particular, led to his home.
It was smaller compared to the others neighboring it, but no less elegant. The yard was filled with towering sunflowers, some standing as tall as she did. He unlocked the wooden door and pushed it open, gesturing for Justine to enter first.
When she didn't move, he gave the rope a tug.
"Go."
Justine hung her head, venturing into the knight's home with caution. Sunlight shown through the few windows, illuminating the room and entrance way. His lodgings were simply, a couple of sofas and a large oak table that was centered around a stone fireplace. To her left was a small set of stairs that led to what she assumed was the second floor. To her right was the kitchen.
Once the door shut, Justine jumped slightly and immediately turned to face the towering man. For a moment neither one of them spoke, one simply stared in mild interest while the other tried their damnedest to think of a way out.
"Do not think of running, you will not get far." He said, as if reading her mind. "Because if you try to, you will be punished. It would be in your best interest to abandon such thoughts now."
The knight tugged the rope behind him as he led Justine to the second floor of his home, directing her to the bathroom.
"Undress." He said.
"Excuse me?" Justine managed with a cough.
"I said undress." He said. He busied himself with running warm water to fill the ivory bathtub and gathering soap. "You will bathe before I show you around." The last thing he wanted was her tracking dirt and grime throughout his home.
Justine clutched her tattered dress closer to her body as she stared at him. It was like if she parted with the torn rags it would leave her horribly exposed and that was a level of vulnerability she wasn't willing to accept just yet.
"I will undress once I am alone." She said, firmly.
His amethyst orbs drifted from the defiant look in her face, over her body for a moment, then back to her face.
"Very well." He unbound her wrists, gesturing towards the tub. "I will leave you to clean yourself up. Join me in the sitting area once you are done."
He left, shutting the door behind him. Justine stripped down slowly, emerging into the warm water. She couldn't remember the last time she had a bath. She couldn't remember the last time she washed her hair. Within seconds she was scrubbing every inch of herself in the soap the knight had given her, it wasn't scented but it was soap and she loved it.
Under her nails, arms, breasts, between her legs.
And her scalp, it praised the heavens! She hummed in delight as she scrubbed away layers of dirt.
Justine didn't know how long she had been in the bathroom, but judging by the now cold water it had been some time. She dragged herself to her feet, the dirty water sloshing around her knees, as she stepped out of the tub. She dried herself off, toweled her hair, and dressed. Justine smoothed out the fabric of her dress, staring down at herself.
Her bodice laced up the front, fitted with brass grommets and the full skirt was split down the front to show a modest peek of her muslin underdress. It hung a tad low, leaving her shoulders exposed, but overall, she didn't care. It was the finest article of clothing she has owned since a child, and the fine fabrics clung to her skin nicely.
Dark, thick hair draped over her shoulders as she made her way down the staircase. Most of the walls were bare, save for a few carvings and a crucifix.
Knights had two loyalties, one to their king and kingdom, the other was to their god. Justine scoffed, she supposed if an 'almighty force' had her set for life, she would offer prayer and thanks as well. Sure there were times she prayed, she prayed when she was first sold, and she prayed whenever she was scared, she prayed for some type of hope that would help her along in the shit hole of a life she lived in.
And no one ever answered, nothing ever changed.
Justine found the knight sitting on the larger sofa, a fine gold laced book in his hands. When he noticed her standing at the base of the stairs, he looked up. He eyed her closely, the dress fit her nicely. Though some could say a bit too well, but he didn't mind. She was more appealing to the eye clean.
"Very nice." He closed the book, sitting it down at his side. "Come sit."
Justine did as she was told, taking a spot on the floor beside the fireplace. Slaves were not allowed on the furniture without permission, of course. She looked submissive, there at the large man's feet. Staring up at him with eyes that mimicked the earth.
Fresh earth, ripe and brown.
Earth that wasn't stained with blood.
"This will be your home," The knight began. "So you will treat it as such, respect it. You will make daily trips to the market for ingredients you will need to prepare the meals. You will cook and you will clean. There is a washboard and tub out in the backyard for the laundry, horse feed in the barn. They need to be brushed daily." He paused to make sure she was still listening.
She was.
"There are four bedrooms in this house, one of which is yours. It is the only bedroom down here, south of the kitchen. The three bedrooms upstairs belong to myself and my sisters, Natalya and Katyusha. They are currently not here, and you are not allowed in any of those rooms. You, of course, already know where the bathroom is. Are there any questions?"
"Yes," Said Justine.
"Well?" He urged.
Her gaze lifted to meet his, "What is your name?"
There was a pause before he answered, "Ivan… Ivan Braginski."