AN: I fell in love with the character of Godric and always wondered where he came from and how he became how he was when we met him. I know there are quite a few versions of Godric's early life out there, but here is how I imagined it.

I tried to use my imagination mixed with some history, but sorry if everything isn't totally historically accurate. For those of you who don't know, the Picts were an ancient people who lived in Scotland.

Chapter 1

Captured

Godric tried to comfort his sobbing sister as the horse hooves pounded by. They were in a strange, new village, so far from the home they had always known. Each had rope tied around both wrists and was strung out in the village center for others to gawk and throw stones at. They were spoils of war, symbols of victory. The only thing these barbaric people wanted from them was their youth and ability to do work. The only thing the children represented to the tribe was their own strength. They would never again be know as the children they once were.

Even as the wind howled around them, the whoops of the warriors could be heard as each returned to his wife and children. They all knew that this victory over the Celtic village would promise a hot feast and warm women in their beds. Godric and his sister were the sole survivors of the raid that the brutish Picts had led on their peaceful Celtic village. Both of Godric's parents and all he had ever known had been destroyed in the Picts' savage raid.

The boy had watched in horror as his father fought to the death to protect his mother, sister and him. He could do nothing when the Pict administered the fatal blow onto his father's chest and rushed into the house to ravish and murder his mother. Even as the warrior was slitting through his mother's throbbing jugular vein, Godric lunged forward, grabbed his father's fallen spear and leaped in front of his little sister, Fhina, in an attempt to protect her. The spear was far too heavy for Godric but he stared at the Pict warrior as the large man swung around to meet his miniscule opponent. The warrior stared back into the eyes that had seen so few years and stared chuckling. The savage look still remained in his eyes.

"You'll make a rite fine slave you will, little one," he growled. "You can't have seen more than seven years and already you're brandishing that spear as though you were meant to." He said, slowly approaching Godric. The warrior suddenly leapt back and shrieked with pain as Godric lunged forward with the spear and slashed the man's calf. "ARGGG you little bastard! I'm gonna have to teach you a few lessons about respectin' your elders."

With that, the warrior brushed the spear away and grabbed Godric and Fhina roughly by their arms and threw them onto his horse to join the successful raiding party on its way back to the Pict village. Godric tried to stay composed as Fhina sobbed onto his bare back.

Their captor's name was Drest. He was a large man and a skilled Pict warrior. Signs of his victories in battle were splayed across his body in the form of black tattoos that were so respected in the Pict society. He had a young wife named Genovefa who was well known for her beauty and cruelty. Although Drest was not the leader of the village, he was held in high regard for his ferocity it battle and his attractiveness. Drest and Genovefa weren't the kindest of masters. Most of the time, they kept Godric and Fhina well fed and they gave them places to sleep, but when it came to love and compassion, Drest and Genovefa had little to offer to anyone who wasn't kin. Genovefa always kept Fhina occupied with taking care of her children and helping cook and tend the fire. Godric would help herd the cattle all day and, every so often, would accompany Drest on hunting parties.

It was on these hunting parties that the villagers first began to notice Godric's potential. He could run faster and throw a spear into a deer better than any of the children and, despite being a slave, he gradually earned more respect from some villagers. However, it wasn't until Godric was nearing his twelfth year that he first really proved to the tribe his natural prowess as a fighter.

He was coming home from a hard day out herding cattle. A pack of wolves had taken out a few cattle and when Drest found out, he had beaten Godric and sent him away without food. As Godric neared his hut, a boy of about sixteen, named Eogen, who had always shown animosity towards Godric, shouted at him from a few huts away.

"Godric, weak little slave boy, come here!" Godric ignored him knowing that Eogen was just looking for trouble. If he responded, he would surely earn a few more beatings from Drest.

"Ha. I bet you're too dumb to even know what I'm saying!" Eogen shrieked. "Your sister is gonna make a good little whore, even if she is a Celt!"

Godric clenched his fists and bared his teeth, but still refused to return the taunts. A whoosh split the air as a sharp pain erupted on Godric's head. The bastard had thrown a stone at him! Finally Godric had had enough. Spinning around and crouching on the ground, he turned toward Eogen.

"Keep your hands off my sister you bastard," Godric growled

"What're you gonna do little slave," Eogen retorted, clearly pleased that his words had finally hit Godric, "run off to your mum? Oh wait… she's dead."

Suddenly, Godric couldn't hold back any longer. All the suffering he had endured in the village and the anger he felt towards his master and his life was coming out on Eogen. He sprinted the short length to where the boy was standing and leapt onto him, a hunger in his eyes. He watched as Eogen's face turned from one of smugness to one of terror and finally to agression, aimed solely at Godric. The boys each clawed at each other's backs and faces, throwing punches when they could get enough space to. It wasn't until Godric threw a particularly ferocious punch that connected with the older boy's head that the other villagers had to pull them apart, kicking and screaming, still trying to scratch each other's eyes out.

Later that evening, after yelling at Godric for a long time and promising him a violent beating as soon as his new wounds began to heal, Drest met with the elders of the village.

"The boy is a slave!" Galan, one of the elders, yelled

"But you cannot deny, he shows potential. He could have killed Eogen today, and the slave is half of that boy's size!" Talorc, the village chief, retorted. "We could use as many strong warriors as we can get. It would be the best thing for the tribe if he could be given proper training with the rest of the boys."

"So then what? He can then go back and turn on us for holding him as a slave! He would turn on us in battle and slit our throats as we return!"

"He is my slave!" Drest thundered. "You have little say in what I do with him"

"But he could kill us!"

"But he could become such a great warrior!"

"Silence! I will teach him in our warrior ways, but I will watch over him more closely than I ever have before. He has a tender spot in his heart for his sister still. I will use that against him to make sure he will always be controlled. That is my final decision."

"But-"

"I said SILENCE! That, is my final decision. The boy is mine."

AN: I've written another chapter and will be putting it up once Im finished editing... I'm busy and can be an anal perfectionist so it may be a few days. Please review