AN: Hey everyone! This is my first fan fiction (although not my first novel, I have a few works on Wattpad) so go easy on me. :) I'm warning everyone know that there may be spoilers for the books (mainly because I can't always remember when certain information is given to the characters). Yeah, so don't get angry with me if I ruin anything. What are you doing reading FanFiction without reading the whole series first anyway?! Sorry for any grammar issues, I don't have a beta and have to edit all my work by myself.

One more thing. Characters will be OOC (Out of Character) but remember, Tris and Tobias will be growing up with different upbringings to canon as will act differently accordingly. you have been warned.

Warnings: Abuse, slight swearing, etc. Maybe be rated M in future in fear of the story being pulled down.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Divergent series by the beautiful Veronica Roth. I dream of the day she gives me the rights so I can change the ending of Allegiant, grrrrr. Im not making any money, I'm just playing around with her characters.

~.~.~

Chapter 1: Drunk Tattoo Consequences

"I am worthless," Tris, as she has been referring to herself as for years, repeats after Andrew. She refuses to even think of calling that man father.

She flinches as his meaty hand falls down on her tender flesh once more. Her 8 year old stomach was littered with green and blue bruises, hidden beneath the grey garbs of her faction.

"You are selfish," he spits at her, kicking her stomach when she curls up under his powerful blows.

Tris cries out as she feels something snap. Her father, Andrew Prior, glares at the source of the noise but says nothing. Since he got promoted to a member of the City Council, they were moved out to a lovely farm house. Not too far from the rest of the faction, but far enough that no one would hear her screams. The only other house anywhere near them was owned by Marcus, her fathers ally and a fellow Council member. She believed he also had a son, but if they ever heard her wails they never mentioned it. Tris sometimes thought she heard screams reflecting her own torture from the house across the way, but quickly passed them off as the howling wind. It tended to do that as it flew at vast speeds across the great plains.

"I am selfish," Tris splutters, blood dripping out the corner of her mouth onto the wooden floor. 'That can't be good,' she thinks dismally to herself, shivering as the pool of blood beneath her head grows, mixing into her sun bleached hair.

"Disgusting!" he glares down at her with an intense look of hatred. "You're trash, just like your whore of a mother!"

Tris' mother. She both loathed and cherished her mother. The mother that loved her, the mother that left her.

"I am trash, my mother is a whore. I am sorry, Sir," Tris replies autonomously, her eyes glazing over as she prepared for further punishment. She had learnt long ago how to zone out of the pain. The trick was to find a focus point; a crack in the wall or a weed pushing it's way up through the wooden floor boards in its bid to survive. Focus on the detail, the dust of plaster that falls or the way the weeds thin stem seems to quiver from the vibrations of her body being beaten.

For Tris, the world just seemed to fall away and the sharp piercing pains mellowed out into a dull thud. She dreamed of her mother, running away with her into the blissful unknown. To the factionless? Over the fence? She didn't know, but anywhere was better than this hell hole.

"Don't you forget it," he threatens while inspecting his bruised, bloody knuckles. The threat only partly works, Tris knew he would punish her no matter what the reason. He almost broke her arm once for breathing too loud. She wasn't even in the house.

"I expect your chores to be done by the time I get home. I have an important meeting with the factions so you will have to cook tonight as well." 'Like anyone else ever cooks. But It would be selfish of me if I didn't wait on Andrew and Caleb like a servant. No, a slave,' Tris thought sardonically to herself.

"Of course, Sir. Have a good night, Sir," Tris replies monotonously. Most of the fire and rebellion had been washed out of her a long time ago. Or at least, that's what he thought.

"And clean up that mess!" He calls, slamming the door as he goes.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Tris gingerly picked herself up off the hallway floor. She winces as her muscles scream their protests. Tris quickly inspected her wounds, thanking who ever was above that most of her wounds had stopped bleeding. Most of the cuts would scab over by the end of the week, but she could feel that her broken rib would need setting in place.

Tris decided she would clean up the blood first, knowing how much of a bitch it was to get out of wood. Most kids her age still don't know how to get dressed by themselves let alone clean the house from top to bottom and cook full meals.

The sound of her brother, if he could be called that, shuffling around his room travels to her sensitive ears and not for the first time, she finds herself cursing him. He knew what was going on, but arrogant, perfect Caleb couldn't possibly lift one of his 'selfless' hands to help with such plebeian work. Gorgeous, golden-boy Caleb, the epitome of Abnegation. What ever he was, her 'brother' could never be Candor, that's for sure. He was too good of an actor, but then again, so was she.

Turning back to her cleaning she watches the dying sun sink over the horizon, taking a little piece of her soul with it as she let a single, silver tear fall from her eye. By the time she finished her chores and cooked dinner the sun had long set and the moon has taken it's place. The blood had taken a while to get out, but luckily for her the dark wood hid the small amount of blood that was completely absorbed.

Tris snuck a piece of bread for dinner, knowing her stomach could hold no more in its current state, and headed lethargically up to Caleb's room, tray in hand. Knocking on the door, she heard an annoyed, "come in!" Depositing the tray on his bed where he lay with an arm over his face, she quickly retreated only to be stopped at the door by his voice.

"The carrots are undercooked!" He sniffed indignantly. Rolling the offending carrot across the plate as if it was plagued, a scrunched up expression on his haughty face.

"Then why don't you find out how to cook them properly with one of those lovely books you have hidden behind your dresser against the wall!" Tris sneered back, close to breaking point. Her ribs throbbed and she could feel a headache coming on.

He looked like steam was about to started coming out of his ears, like a cartoon she overheard two girls talking about in the school yard from the Old Times. This was the only power she held over Caleb, the knowledge of his fascination with the subject. An Erudite quality. A quality that no matter how perfect Caleb seemed, he would not be forgiven for.

Tris rolls her eyes when he simply sneers at her, unable to come up with a response. She inwardly laughs at his puerility despite his Erudite attitude. She walks off without another word, knowing she's won the battle for now.

Walking to 'her' room - in the sense it was also used as a storage cupboard - she grabbed a couple of bandages and some antiseptic from the medicine cabinet. Placing the items down on her single bed, she slowly stripped down to her underwear to assess the situation.

Tris cringed at the sight of her body. She couldn't count the number for bruises as they all blended together like watercolour. Both lucky and unluckily for her, the unflattering, baggy clothes Abnegation wore would hide any sign of her abuse. If there was one rule her father followed, it was never hit the face, the only real place where skin was shown in Abnegation. Bruised hands could be passed off as a trick of the light or from hours of selfless, heavy labour.

A myriad of colours had invaded her entire left side. Tris stood, almost hypnotised by the various shade and contrasts. It was to be admired, in a morbid sort of way. After all, Abnegation saw things such as art and colour as vain and self-indulgent.

The trance was broken as she gently brushed her fingers against the affronting bruises. The pain was so intense Tris saw black dots in her vision for a few seconds and was forced to sit down heavily on the bed, jostling the contents against her thin blanket. Blinking her eyes rapidly against the pain, Tris cautiously picked up the antiseptic, twisting the lip open with an audible 'pop'.

The next few minutes of Tris's life were spent muffling screams in a pillow as she poured the antiseptic on her already stinging wounds. She comforted herself with the knowledge that at least Andrew wasn't home to give her another beating for being too loud.

She took a few minutes to rest before bandaging up her cuts, the most prominent being a slash wrapping around her bicep lovingly like a snake, adding to the collection of silver spiral designs that ran up and down her arms and parts of her legs. Andrew had taken a liking to cut patterns and designs into her body, turning her into a living artwork of scars so fine and precise, they seemed to be a metallic kind of ink, a tattoo almost. Tris had heard about and seen the tattoos the Dauntless wore like badges of honour, but they were always in black with the occasional red, blue and green. Never silver, never scars.

~.~.~

Tris woke up many hours later and confirmed this by the clunky, but deemed practical, watch that sat on her bedside table. 2:14. The numbers flashed dimly in the unlit room. She could hear the faint snores of Caleb and Andrew as they slept the precious night away. Tris vaguely remembered passing out from pain after setting her broken rib back in place. She can see the indents left in her beds headboard from where she bit into it to keep from crying out. Her young body had started to build up a pain resistance, but there was only so much one so young could take.

Tris quickly threw on some clothes and her watch. Quietly opening her window, Tris took care not to put any weight on the left side of the window sill. She knew from experience the loud creak it would make with even the tiniest burden. Leaning over the edge she checked to make sure the coast was clear before dropping down onto the grass, flinching as her ankle groaned and almost gave way from the shock. 'I really need to learn how to roll when landing…'

Standing up straight, Tris crept silently away from the house and when she was a good distance away, sprinted along the familiar path to her nightly get away. The wind caressing her long hair as it trailed behind her. It was much longer than the rest of the Abnegation girls, even longer than most of the older girls too. Tris knew it should be cut short, practical and efficient. Not her long, sun bleached locks that tangled with the slightest teasing. But there had been no one around to cut her hair. Not since she was three.

As the city grew bigger and bigger in front of her, she slowed down to a walk just taking in the night. Tris loved the crisp air, the deafening silence, the way everything was bathed in an ethereal glow. The night consumed her senses and she willingly allowed herself to be dragged into its frosty embrace. Taking off her Abnegation jacket, Tris immersed herself in the glory of the night. The biting wind seeped through her tank top, but she didn't care. It awakened her. It was the only thing that made her feel alive.

The factionless in the area fled at the sight of her luminescent apparition. Stories of the ghostly girl with silver impressions had been past around their colony. All had agreed it was a sign of bad things to come.

Tris arrived at her destination with rosy cheeks from the wind and anticipation. She had arrived at the train tracks.

Her bright, blue eyes had always followed the train with wide, undisguised excitement. The sight of the Dauntless swinging dangerously on huge train, laughing and daring each other to go further had fascinated her. Their carefree nature, but stoic expressions when in the presence of a perceived threat. Their hair was crazy, their bodies tattooed and their will, wild. Tris loved it.

They were truly Dauntless and inside she felt, so was she. A Dauntless hidden in the unwilling, unyielding skin of Abnegation.

She craved their lifestyle from the second she saw it. Tris still remembered vividly in Primary School, when the factions first started mixing, the appearance of the loud Dauntless children, complete with colour streaked hair, piercings and even some tattoos. She had snuck a look at her scars that day, comparing them to her Dauntless classmates ink. She knew the difference between tattoos and scars. The Dauntless had chosen to mark their skin and she had not. However, her scars proved something. They marked her as a survivor.

Dropping the coat she clutched to her chest, Tris checked her watch knowing the train would arrive around the bend in less than a minute. Sure enough the train slowed around the bend to a speed that her little legs could just keep up with. She had taken the train a few times into Dauntless territory now and had observed how the Dauntless jumped on and off the train for countless hours.

Pumping her arms, Tris sprinted along side the train before leaping to the side. She landed with an almighty thud, one of her thin arms just hanging onto the metal handle. Using all the strength in her arms she managed to pull herself in. She never noticed the young boy watching from the shadows.

Tris just lay on the train for a few minutes, catching her breath. The frigid metal caused goosebumps to pop up all over her skin. She could feel the lull of the train as it went over bumps and bridges. It comforted her, the repetitive movement. The only sound was the whistling of the wind, the train as it chugged along and if one listened closely, the sound of slow, steady breathing. Sometime later, Tris sat up. The vibrations of the train alerting her to the fact she had almost arrived. The train slowed once more, but never to a stop. That would be too easy.

It's now or never... Taking a few steps back, Tris took a deep breath, a running start and leapt. For a moment she was just suspended in air. The world fell away and she was hanging in nothingness. It was invigorating. Her mind ceased to exist, then her heavenly experience was shattered by the rapidly approaching ground.

Twisting with cat like reflexes, Tris narrowly avoid landing on her side. She rolled a few times letting out a breathy laugh as she finished, laying on her back staring up at the speckled heavens. 'I guess I know how to roll now…'

Jumping to her feet in anticipation, she spent only a second to brush off any gravel before she dashed to the other side of the roof and dove head first off the side of the building, relishing the feeling of free fall. Most would call an eight year old child diving off a building suicidal, but Tris had done this many time before and no long felt fear in the same way. To conquer your fear, you need to face it head on. And head on she did.

The seven story drop past in a blur and Tris twisted onto her back as she reach the bottom. The safety net cradled her body in its tight embrace. There was no doubt to anyone who saw Tris' true face that she was Dauntless, if not by blood, but by nature.

Tris carefully got out of the net only to have her foot caught at the last second and fell face forward on the ground. She unhooked her foot and sat up grumbling at her luck, rubbing her eye which she knew would be black in the morning. Tris quieted down quickly remembering where she was. She shuffled over to a near by crevasse that ran vertically in the black rock that made up one of the Dauntless walls. Reaching into the darkness she took out a Dauntless jacket and black trousers she had stolen earlier in the year.

Slipping them on Tris smirked in the shadows, her posture visibly changing from small and forgettable to confident and striking. She was stripped of her Abnegation mask replacing it with her true Dauntless face.

Dauntless headquarters was a hive of activity 24/7. Initiatives could be seen running across the pit, obviously late for some sort of meeting. May they rest in piece when their trainer found them. A large bonfire was burning in the center of the pit. Dauntless raucously yelling and singing songs surrounded the pyre, a bottle of alcohol in their hands. Tris smiled at the sight as she continued on with her journey.

She entered the tattoo parlour and Tori gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment. Tris had been working their as a helper for just over a year. She had told Tori she was a orphan, which wasn't surprising considering it was Dauntless, and left it at that. She had eventually earned enough points to buy her own set of throwing knives which she asked Tori if she could keep in her back room. She had easily agreed, seeing Skylar, as Tris had introduced herself, as her adopted niece.

"Hey Sky," she called over her shoulder as she tattooed a feral looking wolf on a drunk, balding mans shoulder. "You're not down at the bonfire?"

"Nah, not in the mood," Tris replied. "What's it for this time?" she inquired, rifling through one of the drawers. She let out a small sound of frustration when a needle sprayed some ink on her bandage. She knew she was going to have to change it later to avoid suspicion.

"I'm surprised you don't know. It's all anyone's been talking about. Some initiate was killed in training. Apparently he was stupid enough to try and get his knife whilst everyone was still throwing," she scoffs. "You know, just because we aren't Erudite doesn't mean we have to be complete imbeciles."

Tris made a noise of agreement before letting out a whoop of joy at finding her knives. The jagged, obsidian blades took on a midnight sheen under the blue lights strung up around the room. "Let me guess," started Tris, grabbing the knives and slamming the drawers shut. "They are praising him for his bravery and dedication?"

"You got it," agreed Tori with a roll of her eyes. "There's bravery and then there's stupidity," she explained sending a wink to Tris and a pointed look to the now passed man in the chair.

Tris let out a snort, telling her she should tattoo a bunch of flowers around the wolf as a lesson.

Tori's voice stopped her as she was about to walk out the door, "You know? I might just take it a step further."

Tris turned around noting the sinister smile and thoughtful look on her face. She laughed outright before calling out her goodbye.

"And try not to cut yourself this time, Sky!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Tris waved her off with a slight grimace, heading to the currently empty training rooms. She had used a cover story last week that she had been she slipped and cut herself on a knife. Really, Andrew and been bored and decided he was a lumberjack and her leg was a tree.

In the silence of the Training room, Tris let her emotions run wild and released a deadly stream of knives at the various of targets. She imagined they were all Andrew, her supposed loving father. The blades all struck home with a satisfying thwack. Tris collected her knives and repeated the process, letting her anger and frustration at her situation flow out of her.

Tris hurled dagger after dagger and it wasn't until sweat was pouring down her face and sunlight streamed through the windows above that she stopped. She looked down at her watch worriedly, not realising the time and rushed out of the room. She never stopped running back to the tracks except to laugh at a man exclaiming angry into his drunk friends. His hands furiously indicated to his shoulder which had a tattoo of a wolf wearing a laurel upon its head and a pink butterfly on it's snarling nose...

~.~.~

AN: I know Tris may seem older than she should, but remember, she's had to mature quickly and she's impressionable. she has been treated like a slave and abused almost all her life and is going to be heavily affected because of this.

Over 3 thousand words on the first chapter, not including AN. Not bad if I do say so myself! :)

Please leave me a review, good or bad! Try not to flame, but criticism is appreciated as it helps me grown as a writer and fix up my terrible grammar skills.

One more thing… You may notice I am a bit of a comma whore, so don't be afraid to call me up on it.

~ Mercy