Disclaimer: not mine, merely my sarcasm.
A/N: written as a gift for cookie-moi after I made a sarcastic comment about a picture that stated
"In ancient Rome, redheaded slaves were typically more expensive than those with a different hair color."
Part One
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"You are kidding me!" Donna sighed with exasperation.
"Come to Rome," he had said. "We'll see ancient culture up close and marvel at the wonders."
Yeah, she'd like to marvel at his wonders right that second… All over his face with the back of her hand.
Placing a firm grip around the bars of her cage, she did her level best to shake the whole thing whilst yelling, "Get me out of here, you pasta munching has been!"
Not very polite in the circumstances, but what's a girl supposed to do when she has been sold into slavery? It's not your average, run of the mill problem for a temp from Chiswick.
"Shut up!" the more glamorous slave trader shouted at her.
There wasn't much to choose from between the two slave traders watching over the cage, but you could definitely make a glamor distinction. Donna instantly made her feelings known by using a finger gesture, since one of the other prisoners… oops, commodities... had clamped their hand over her mouth in an attempt to halt an answering retort. She was not pleased! It almost ruined her whole morning.
The least glamorous trader sauntered over to peer in at her as he cut off and then placed slices of what looked like a pear into his mouth; the rude pig. He didn't even offer her any. "Don't damage the goods!" he warned the owner of the clamping hand. "She will fetch us quite a few sesterces come market day."
"If you think I'll go begging for you…" Donna managed to blurt out when she broke away from the hand.
The guard had laughed. "Begging? You won't go begging, love. It'll be the other way around when they see your hair."
She had raised an anxious hand to touch her head. "My hair?!"
"They'll all be gagging for her," the second guard agreed, a large toothless grin spread across his face. "I'm already planning what I'll spend my share on."
"What's so special about my hair?" Donna demanded to know. "Are they all wig-making businesses?" It was a question that was more hopeful than enquiring, if the truth were told.
"Nah! Redheads are collectors' items. Didn't you know that, slave?" the first guard sneered at her ignorance. "Some stupid myth about them being better for sex. All the better for biting, if you get my meaning."
Her blood ran cold. Surely that wasn't what they thought of her. She'd certainly bite, kick or scratch any man that tried out any nonsense on her; no one did that anymore and got away with it. Drawing herself up to be as haughty as possible, she asked, "What if I refuse?"
"You won't have any choice in it, darling," the second guard gleefully informed her. "You'll be their slave to do with as they deem fit."
He really did relish those words far too much; so she did her glare of death at him. With a defensive sniff, he deliberately turned away so that he could be unaffected by her continuing stare. A small part of her trilled with triumph.
"I won't be when my husband turns up. He'll sue the backsides off you!" she spat out.
"So you keep saying, Red," the first guard retorted. "I'd like to see the evidence that this bloke exists; that's what I say."
"He does exist," she assured them. "And he'll kick your butts!"
"Fine words," the guard replied with exasperation. "If he wants to pay up, he can have you; but until then, you go on sale first thing in the morning and I'll be rid of you for good. Thank the gods that you will be, because your incessant moaning is getting on my nerves!"
Donna sank into her corner of the cage. There was no point in continually goading the guards. No, it worked much better if she were sporadic with it, leaving them unprepared for her verbal onslaughts. Up until then she had won every round, but there was only so far you can push that kind of thing.
Peeping out of the rails, there was still no sign of the Doctor. Where could he have got to? This wouldn't do. Searching around the small cage frantically with her eyes, she started to forge a possible plan for when the cage door opened in the morning.
Early morning came, and there was still no sign of the Doctor. Even swearing at the slave trader guards was no fun anymore, so Donna eased herself in to a position where she could see any proceedings, since this was all so new to her.
"Don't worry, love," one of the other people in the cage mumbled in to Donna's ear. "I hear they'll start with the old and useless in an effort to boost up the price of those that are fit."
"Are you trying to say I'll be one of the first to be sold?" Donna had indignantly asked.
There was an answering shake of the head. "Oh no. They'll probably save you for almost last, what with your bright red hair and all."
"Thanks," Donna retorted; partly glad she'd have her freedom for a bit longer, and partly scared that whoever ended up buying her was going to expect an awful lot for his money. With a deep sigh, she turned her face to the bars and desperately looked out in to the gathering crowd.
"He still not turned up then?" another women queried in what could have been mistaken for friendly teasing tones. "That's if he ever existed…"
"Shut it!" Donna bit back. "I don't need to convince you to know he does. And you'll be bloody grateful when he turns up."
"Of course I will," was the sarcastic reply.
That was it! Donna forced herself up against the woman in a menacing manner. "You will bless the day he was born by the time he is finished; so if I hear another word out of you I shall personally rip your…"
"Captives!" one of the guards interrupted her by yelling loudly. "Prepare yourselves for the slave market. Anyone who tries to escape will be put to death. Immediately!" He then threw in a meaningful glare at them all whilst holding on tightly to his sword.
"Not exactly going to win prizes for being welcoming, is he?" Donna uttered to no one in particular. "They'll lose their Michelin stars at this rate."
"QUIET!" the guard shouted directly into her face, spittle landing all over her clothing.
She flicked off as much of it as she could and glared at him in revulsion. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? You seriously need to get someone to invent toothpaste."
A large stick came down, hitting the bars in front of her face with such force that the whole cage shook. There was a gasp as everyone tried to back away from the impact spot.
"You are lucky we are selling you this morning or you would have been beaten to within an inch of your life, Celt!" the guard spat out irately.
As he stomped away, she commented, "Yeah, really lucky. Look at all the luck I've got and am giving."
Fortunately he didn't hear her but was more intent on heading for the nearest supply of wine to quench his sudden thirst.
"You shouldn't have done that," a woman to her side anxiously whispered.
"Why? What's he going to do?" Donna retorted. "Sell me off or something? Like he wasn't going to do that anyway."
They shared a glare, and then Donna went back to thinking.
Outside the cage there was an obvious dais that would presumably be used as the setting to parade them before any sale was carried out. If they were displayed in a group she might be able to edge her way over to the outer area which looked as though it was quite near an open alleyway, devoid of any stalls. The drop from the dais to the ground wasn't too far to jump, and then she could be off, and on her merry way; wherever that might be. As plans go, it wasn't brilliant, but at least it was a workable plan for the time being.
Her musing were loudly interrupted by the large padlock on the gate to the cage being opened, and then four poor souls were dragged out by a huge hulk of a man who bound them together first using their wrist bindings.
Bugger! If they were going to ruin her first plan like that, she'd have to bite through the hemp they were using at a fast rate. Would she be able to do it in time? And what other option did she have? Not a lot, by all intents and purposes.
It felt like hours, standing there waiting as several more batches of slaves were dragged out of the cage, until there were only a few stragglers behind. But Donna Noble didn't do scared, not when it was in front of other people. The only person she had allowed to see her cry was the Doctor, and he had never mocked her for showing her feelings. Where was he? Her heart sunk as she considered the fact that he might never get to her in time.
And then the inevitable happened. The guard opened the cage and sneered gleefully at her. "It's your turn next, Celt. I'm going to enjoy this one!"
The guard roughly grabbed hold of the cord that bound Donna's wrists, and pulled, taking no notice or care whether she was following easily. Even when she stumbled as she crossed the threshold of the cage, he made no attempt to slow or show any mercy.
"Shouldn't you be preserving the goods?!" Donna demanded from his unfeeling back. "This had better be a proper date you're taking me on, with dinner and dancing."
Without turning, he chuckled and yelled back, "I'll miss you, Red. Once you're up there and sold, you won't be my problem anymore, and I'll have plenty of sesterces to spend."
"You're all heart," she mocked, but he didn't reply since they had reached the dais and he was busy undoing some of her bonds.
"Just get up there, and show them what you're worth," he grumbled, and gave her a shove.
Using great caution, she climbed up onto the dais as best she could, not wanting to land splat on her face. Well, a girl has to have some pride, after all. There was a murmur of interest as she stood up, and then the noise increased as she gave several punters her glare of death. The sight of a redhead for sale was a rare treat, and there was suddenly a great deal of anticipation concerning how much she was worth and who would end up with her as their prize.
The master of ceremonies jumped jubilantly onto the stage, and began his selling spiel. "As you can see, fellow citizens, today we have quite a rare specimen for your delectation; a genuine red head no less, all the way from Britannia."
A hand from the crowd reached out and tried to touch the hem of Donna's tunic, and she reacted with venom as she flinched away. "Get your filthy hands away from me!"
Guffaws of excited laughter rose up from the assembled people.
"This woman, as you can see, is full of fire and passion, with the voice and grace of the goddess Venus herself," the slave seller announced joyfully. "She would make a very fine accompaniment for any citizen's bed chambers. Not every bedfellow would be this magnificent, this sweet to master or this well-endowed!"
"Oi! Mussollini! What exactly are you implying?" Donna roared at him before she could help herself. "Nobody gets to lay a finger on me!"
He ignored that, and continued, "Red here doesn't want a finger laid on her. Who would be willing to do more?"
Feral growls filled the air as greedy eyes from the crowd leered at her. So much so that Donna quickly decided that staying quiet might be the best option in this situation. Who knew what ideas the blighters might come up with? The mind boggles.
"See how she cowers when faced with lust, citizens! She would be very willing to do your bidding," the seller claimed.
Oh for the love of Pete! Was there anything she could do to stop this idiot from making her sound like the Roman equivalent of Mata Hari? "And look at how willing she is to button your cake hole," she sarcastically pointed out, raising a threatening fist in his direction.
Another roar of delighted laughter filled the air, but she rather got the impression they were laughing at her rather than withher. The sound increased when yet another hand reached out to touch her leg, and landed on her calf. Letting out an angry growl, she kicked it forcefully away. The owner of the hand yelped in pain, but his associates thought it was wonderful!
Her senses went on alert and she readied herself to flee when she heard the next shout.
"Do I have the first bid for this delicious specimen?" the seller cried out.