I Must Be Crazy For Dreaming Of You (Or Someone Like You) - Prologue
Summary: Not a prince. Or even a knight. Just someone that would be kind to her, for once in her life.
So I finally couldn't put off writing this any longer even though I already have a million things I need to update. Stop flying at me plot bunnies! Those damn adorable ebil plot bunnies...
Well, enjoy the bunny.
Her hands slip along the yellow stalks of grass, wet with sweat after being outside for so long, with the sun beating down on her back. But the grass is dead, so she needs to pull it up to make way for new grass or possibly flowers. Whatever the people on the farm wish to plant here when she's done.
If she can manage to finish, that is.
Krista stares down in dismay as the brittle reeds slide from her hands again. Why? Why was this happening to her?
It was such a simple task. One she should have finished with an hour ago, but the heat... It was keeping her from doing even this. If her mother caught wind of this fact...
"You're so useless! This is what I get for carrying such a selfish brat for nine bloody months. You were a pain then too, you know? Never letting me get a second of sleep. But I put up with it, and for what? An ungrateful child that can't accomplish the simplest of tasks around the farm. I should've let you die in the cold after you were born!"
She cringed at just the memories. Of all the times her mother had berated her for simply living.
"I was suppose to move up in the world when I had you! Did you know that? But your father won't even acknowledge that I had you, that you're here. He hasn't even come to see me once after I told him that I was carrying you inside of me!"
Her shoulders dropped completely, her gaze only raising when she heard laughter on the other side of the fence.
"Again!" A pair of small hands were raised above field of flowers, and a man bent down to take them in his hands, a smile on his lips even though he looked so tired.
"Okay, my little hummingbird." The man's hands gripped the child from under the armpits. "Are you ready to fly?'
An enthusiastic yes turned into a shout of joy as the girl was raised in the air, the man spinning the both of them around. The child feet skimming the tops of the flowers as they were spun around in the air, laughing from the sheer exhilaration.
Krista ducked her head back down when the man's gaze flickered over the field of grass, perhaps seeing her blonde hair within the patch of dead grass. She peered out from the stalks, but his gaze didn't stray to the patch again, instead picking up the little girl over his head and running off in what she assumed to be the direction of their house.
She was stuck between a sigh of relief and disappointment. Where was her own father? Did he really not care about her like her mother said? He mustn't since she had never seen him. Had never played with him like that little girl had with her own father.
It had looked like a fun game, but she could never imagine her own mother playing it with her.
Every other child she saw was always telling their parents that they loved them before going out to play with others their own age. Others that weren't her. And their parents would also say those words, "I love you." Without a single reason for doing so, except for them being their child.
While her own mother would spit venom at her, always shouting, "I hate you!" in every possible way she could think up.
Why couldn't she have that? A normal family.
With a resigned sigh Krista wiped her hands on her already drenched tunic, going back to attempting to clear the dead grass.
When night finally fell, allowing for a soft breeze to caress her skin, she closed her eyes. It felt nice, soothing after the heat of the day. Plus she was nearly done. This was the last batch of dead grass she had to carry back to the farm, to be used as fertilizer or add to the horse's dwindling pile of hay.
A hand clasping on her shoulder made her eyes snap open, turning swiftly to meet the gaze of a man dressed in black, towering over her own small form. "You're Krista, right?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice sounding even softer next to his. So demanding, loud.
His lips twisted up into a grin that made an unpleasant shiver run down her spine. "Hey, Locke! I found her."
"You did?" Another man came out of the darkness of the night, standing alongside the other one and peering down at her. "She's rather young for our usual clients. How old are you, girl?"
"Seven." But why was that important? And what did he mean by clients?
This man, Locke, let out a snort. "I can't believe you made me agree to this. They won't ever buy her."
"Why not? She's cute for her age." The unnamed man pulled at a strand of her blonde hair as he said this, causing her to flinch. "It'll be much easier to train her for whatever they want at this age, as well. I'm sure you can find a buyer. I mean, her mother did pay us to find someone that would take her. Not doing this would just be bad business sense. Besides, if you can't find a buyer I will."
"Then you sell her. But I'm keeping her mother's money."
"Sure, sure. Just don't come crying to me when you realize what a deal you walked off on."
A snort followed those words. "Let's just get her out of here, then."
"Come on, little lady." His hand descended from her hair to wrap around her hand. "I'm going to find you a new home."
What? "Who are you? How do you know my mother?"
His mouth split into an open grin. "My name's Cato. I became friends with your mother when she gave Locke that pouch of money to take you off her hands."