Author's note: Phew, ok, I lied. This chapter is just as long as the last one. I would also like to thank my wonderful beta, jugstheclown for taking the time to iron out the mistakes! Yay!
Brittany Pierce hadn't always been poor. Her family had never been rich but they hadn't always been as dirt poor as Brittany's siblings remembered. Her father worked for a wealthy and powerful family as a shoemaker. They had a small house on the property, near the outskirts in a relatively quiet area. Her mother maintained a small garden patch outside where she harvested the vegetables and sold it in the city market. Life was more than acceptable. But at a very early age, Brittany couldn't even remember much she was so young, the wealthy family had been driven out. With that family gone, they were also forced to abandon their home.
They attempted to follow the family but the head of the house could neither afford paying for their services nor much else since they'd been evicted. Brittany's father then turned to the new family and pleaded with them to keep them. He promised to make the finest shoes that they'd ever seen but the new family rejected them as well.
With no employment options, the family moved to the city with their daughter and newly born son. Brittany was three and she didn't remember all of it. She did remember the night the messenger boy knocked on their door and relayed to them the news that they needed to be out of the house in two days. She did remember her mother crying when her father closed the door, thanking the boy in an empty tone that signaled that he didn't really mean what he said. Her mother wailed, asking what they were going to do. Her baby brother, startled by the noise, cried too.
It was one of the first memories Brittany had. Her mother on their large bed with the covers tightly wrapped around her because it was cold. She wept and handed the baby to her husband so that she could cover her face. Her father did his best to console his new son, rocking him back and forth whispering with no real conviction that everything was going to alright. Too young to understand why everyone was so sad, and why her mother was crying, Brittany broke into tears as well.
In two days, Brittany and her family packed up what precious few things they owned, some clothes, the sheets, their silverware which they promptly sold in an effort to obtain money quickly, and her father's tools to mend shoes. They rented a small house, far too small for four people. Her father had tried making a living repairing shoes. The instant they moved in, he made a sign that said, "cobbler and shoemaker" and hung it up. Brittany remembered helping him paint the sign. But few people showed, sometimes, none at all. Where they lived, people were lucky to have shoes, much less afford to get them repaired.
Brittany took to begging on the streets for money. The first time she did it, she was four, and her mother ushered her outside, telling her to ask anyone, whether they looked rich or not, for money. She quickly learned what it felt like to be hungry all the time, that begging on certain corners got you more money and others resulted in beatings from the local bullies. But not long after she'd started begging, her mother gave birth to yet another boy, another mouth they couldn't afford to feed. Her father promised that they would manage but her mother was skeptical. A year and a few months later, her mother gave birth to another boy, and then the year after, twins. Their family kept growing until they became a house of eight and it became apparent that they were in danger of starving to death.
Life got increasingly difficult. Brittany was in charge of not only begging for money, but taking care of her younger brothers. Her mother took to repairing clothes for precious few coins. She remembered feeding her brothers before she ate and there was usually no food after that. She usually watched them as they ate, thinking to herself that they needed to grow quickly so that they could start working to help out. But optimistic thoughts did not feed a hungry stomach and Brittany found herself feeling faint after a long day. Her father would always sacrifice his meals for her so Brittany never starved, but life was hard and there was no end in sight to their dilemma.
As a child, her mother often told her stories about how one day, a wealthy and handsome Lord would see her on the streets and fall madly in love with her. Brittany went to sleep, wishing that she'd grow older faster so that she could meet this man who would not only provide for her, but her whole family. It was these stories that helped her sleep at night when her whole body ached and her stomach rumbled from starvation.
Things only got worse when her mother got pregnant again. Brittany was 9 when her mother realized why she'd been getting sick in the mornings. She sat on the bed and cried for hours, saying things like, "we can't afford any more children! They're going to die of starvation as is!" Brittany watched her mother break down hysterically while her younger brothers also cried out of both hunger and sadness. Without a word, she ran out the door and into the streets at night. Outside, it was quiet and cool and Brittany dried her tears on her palm as she wandered aimlessly. A watchmen on his night shift glanced at her, but couldn't be bothered by a stray girl crying in the darkness; he'd seen far too many of those. So Brittany walked around, following the street until she stumbled upon a church. Her family had never been religious; they usually worked all day, even when everyone else went to church to pray. Brittany had never tried it, but she fell upon the steps, hands folded together and her eyes squeezed shut.
"Please, God." She whispered. "Save my family."
Her wish did not come true immediately. Her brothers, as each one grew old enough, joined her on the streets, begging anyone who walked by. Her mother had just given birth to a baby girl and despite the fact that there was no food for anyone anymore, Brittany was excited to finally have a sister after five brothers. She promised to herself that she would do everything she could for her baby sister. It was a little more than a month before her birthday and she treated her little sister like an early birthday present.
It was a few days after the birth of little Mary that the Count showed up. It was a cold morning, foggy and hard to see when the children went out into the streets. Brittany and one of the twins were out on their usual corner when a dog ran past them. Excited and curious, her little brother gave a squeal of delight and chased after it. Brittany heard the hooves and the squeaking of the wheels of the approaching carriage.
"No! Stop!" She called out, running after him. Just as the horses came into view, Brittany grabbed her brother and turned to shield him against danger. The horses came to an abrupt stop, neighing in protest as the driver let out a stream of curses. When Brittany opened her eyes, both she and her brother were safe.
"I ought to whip you, little girl!"
"I am sorry!" Brittany said, pushing her brother behind her back to protect him in case the driver did come down from his perch to beat her. The curtains on the side of the carriage parted and an older, bald fat man looked out angrily.
"What is the meaning of this? Why have we stopped so suddenly?"
"Sorry Count Baste, this pauper ran in front of the carriage and nearly died."
"Hmph, you should've let the horses keep going, he'll not be missed." The Count scoffed. Just as he was about to close the purple curtains, he spotted Brittany and did a double take at the girl. His eyes narrowed, perplexed. The driver was about to start the horses again when the Count interrupted.
"Driver, wait."
"Yes Count." The Count peered at Brittany who started to shrink away under his scrutinizing gaze. He snapped his fingers, clearly a signal, and the driver got off of his seat and opened the door, bowing as the Count got out.
"Little girl, come here." He said, beckoning her with his hand. He stepped down and walked towards her and Brittany caught a glimpse of a young girl, perhaps a few years older than her, sitting in the seat next to him.
Her hair was a mess and she wore heavy makeup, smeared by either crying or sweating. Her dress was hiked up above her knees and she smoothed it down as quickly as she could when the Count left the carriage. She caught Brittany's eyes and the look on her face was one of sadness, hopelessness and pity. Brittany would never forget the way she looked at her.
The Count made his way over to Brittany. His girth was unparalleled and his odor was over powering; musky and mixed with cheap perfume. His hands were decorated with rings of all colors, shapes and sizes. His coat was made out of soft fur, embroidered with jewels. Brittany wanted to gag but she remained civil and above all, protective of her brother.
"What's your name?" He asked. Brittany remained silent. He looked over her shoulder at the dirty blond haired boy peering under Brittany's arms to catch a glance of the rich man. The boy had never seen anyone quite like him.
"Tell me, young lad, what is your lovely sister's name?"
"Her name is Brittany!" Her little brother piped up. The Count smiled in a way that made Brittany feel uneasy. She never knew that a smile could send unpleasant shivers down her spine. Her father, when he smiled, always made her feel good and her mother's smile was usually the last thing she saw before she went to bed. No matter how hard life got, they always smiled at her and it made her feel good. The count on the other hand, with his yellow teeth and rank breath made Brittany want to run away but she knew her brother wouldn't be able to keep up. Nor was it polite to run from someone so obviously above them in class. The Count reached over and patted her brother's head. He produced a coin from his pocket and handed it to the eager boy.
"Do you have a father?" He asked.
"If I tell you, will I get another coin?" Her brother asked cheekily. The Count grinned and Brittany looked away. She wanted to stop her brother from speaking. This man made her feel uncomfortable. But he was rich and giving them money.
"I will give you two if you bring your father here." He said. The boy let go of Brittany's hand and scurried off as fast as possible. Brittany wished he hadn't gone, now it was just the two of them and she didn't like that one bit. The Count turned his attention back to Brittany.
"How old are you, Brittany?" He asked. Brittany thought of her little sister, her younger brothers and the crippling hunger they faced almost every day. She forced herself to speak, hoping that she was just imagining the feeling of unease.
"Nine, sir."
"Such a lovely voice." He commented. "You should speak more often." His voice was like oil. It slid along Brittany's skin, making her feel greasy and unclean. His hand shot out and cupped her chin. Brittany let out a muffled cry of protest. He turned her head to one side, then the other, nodding and muttering to himself. Brittany felt like cattle being inspected before slaughter. Behind her, she heard heavy footsteps and hoped it was her father. It was.
"Sir, you wished to see me?" Her father ran up to them. The Count released his grip on her and Brittany ducked behind her father's legs.
"Yes, what is your name?"
"John Pierce, sir." Her father replied.
"And what do you do?" The Count continued, not making eye contact with Brittany.
"I make shoes, sir, and repair them." The Count raised an eyebrow and he stroked his chin.
"Hmm, very good, John. I will return tomorrow. I have a pair of shoes that need repairing." Her father's eyes widened and he broke into a giant smile. Brittany looked up. She hadn't seen him so excited since before they'd been kicked out of their old home.
"Yes, sir! My house is the one along that street, sir." He pointed behind him at a shabby, cobblestone street. "The sign, sir." The Count acknowledged his statement by nodding. He stepped back into the carriage and Brittany did not miss the way the young girl shrunk as far from his as possible. The driver closed the door and they were off again.
Brittany's father ran home to tell his wife the good news. Her mother almost cried tears of joy when she heard. She said that they were finally saved. Her father swung the boys around, invigorated by the prospect of a well-paying customer. Everyone, save Brittany, danced and laughed.
Using the money they earned from the Count, they bought a feast of bread and meat. The boys ate to their hearts content and did not complain once that night of hunger. Brittany on the other hand, ate very little. The Count left her with a troubling feeling, as did the young girl in the carriage next to him. The Count's touch was cold and clammy and made Brittany shudder even to remember it. She didn't want to see him at all again. But she looked around at her happy, laughing family. She'd never seen all of them so cheerful. So she discarded the feeling of foreboding and tried her best to join in the mirth.
It was early the next morning when the Count showed up with a pair of fine leather shoes. The soles were flopping off. He handed them to Brittany's father and walked in. He looked around in mild disgust at the dirty, almost rotting house.
"And you live here? I wouldn't let my servants live in a place like this." The Count sneered.
"Yes, sir. My wife, myself and our seven children live here." The Count's head snapped forward in shock.
"Seven? Goodness man, how do you manage in this house?"
"It's difficult, sir." He admitted. The Count's eyes gleamed a little after hearing that piece of information. He rubbed his chin again.
"Well, it's good then. You have something that I am interested in." He said, eying the stairs where he knew the children slept; where Brittany slept.
"Thank you sir!" John responded. The Count did not correct him. He did not mean his cobbler skills.
Over the course of several weeks, the Count visited a handful of times. Each time he brought a present for the children, whether it was candy or a toy for them to play with. The boys usually quarreled over the gifts but Brittany tried to stay as far away as possible. Whenever he showed up, she hid until he left, even if it meant staying upstairs until the evening.
Soon, however, the Count began asking specifically for Brittany. He bought her new dresses, asking her to model them. Her father, too polite to reject such gifts and not thinking much of it at first, made her wear them and parade in front of the Count. The Count in turn eyed her with hungry eyes and Brittany would feel goosebumps form on her skin.
With every visit, the gifts got more expensive and his interest in Brittany grew more obvious. Even Brittany's father began sensing the real motivation behind his need for a cobbler. However, he now could feed and clothe his children properly and he ignored his instincts. Brittany's mother, however, started becoming concerned when he started showing up without shoes to repair.
"I don't like him." Her mother said. Brittany, who had pretended to fall asleep, listened from the floor while her brothers snored around her.
"Why?" Her father asked.
"He's got evil intentions, mark my words. I don't like the way he looks at Brittany."
"He brings her gifts. So? He's a generous man." Her father reasoned.
"I've heard things, John. I heard he looks for young girls and buys them or takes them in and raises them to be his..."
"That's enough." Her father snapped, sitting down on the bed. "It's all hearsay." But his voice was unsettled and his eyebrows creased together, troubled by the thought.
"If he attempts to buy Brittany, what will you do?"
"I would never sell her. She's my daughter. How could I sell my first born child?" He almost shouted. Brittany's mother lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. John ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in frustration.
"You remember that, John." She whispered. Her father blew out the candle and Brittany listened to her parents fall asleep. She couldn't do the same. The idea of her father selling her to the Count kept her wide awake. Brittany curled into a ball and prayed that her father would not sell her.
The Count stopped showing up after that night. Without the money he paid, the children slowly grew thin again and started to cry of hunger. In front of his very eyes, John Pierce watched his daughters and sons go from happy, healthy, growing children to sad, tired and starving ones. Every passing day brought more and more hardship upon the family. Every day John waited by his work bench for the Count to show up again. But gone were the days of relative prosperity and his family fell back into despair.
It was the day before Brittany's 10th birthday. John Pierce had nothing to give to her. He couldn't even make a new pair of shoes for her and she walked around barefooted most of the time. He sat in his shop, hands covering his face as he wondered how his family was to survive. His youngest son had just taken ill and there was no way he could afford the medicine for him to get better. All seemed hopeless.
The door opened and John looked up. It was Count Baste. John all but cried in relief and he let out a happy sigh.
"Welcome back, Count." He said, his voice clearly overjoyed at the Count's presence. The Count walked in, his expression serious. "How have you been?"
"Very well." Baste replied. "And your family?"
"The little one has fallen ill. The others are starving. Tomorrow is Brittany's birthday and I haven't a thing to give to her." He sighed. The Count nodded as if expecting this situation. He approached the table and rested his arm on it.
"Then I have come at the right time." He said. John straightened. "I have a proposition for you." John smiled, the Count was finally going to hire him as a personal cobbler, he was sure of it.
"Anything, sir." He said excitedly.
"I'd like to ease your family's burdens." The count toyed with the hem of his sleeve nonchalantly. "I am offering to take your eldest, Brittany, into my home." John's face faltered and he turned pale. His mind reeled with what the Count had just said. He sat down on a stool and looked up at the Count, confused.
"C-Count I don't..."
"She will be very well taken care of, I assure you. She will be raised like a proper lady. Her life will be much more comfortable than the one she leads now."
"Why?" John blurted.
"I've taken a liking to her. She's a lovely little girl and she will grow up to be a beautiful young lady under my care." John felt his stomach turn over. His wife had been right. Count Baste did buy girls and he could guess the purpose. He opened his mouth to protest but the Count put up his hand.
"Naturally, you will be well compensated. I can pay you a year's worth of work, which, given that I pay generously, should be enough for your family for far longer than that." John shook his head. He had promised his wife he wasn't going to sell his daughter. More than that, he wasn't going to give up Brittany like this. She was his pride and joy.
"Count, she is my daughter. I cannot..."
"You said it was her birthday tomorrow? Pity. At this rate, I wonder if any of your sons will reach their tenth birthday." He said, picking at his coat. To him, it was as if he were buying a new table, or dresser. It was merely a business deal and he was going to win. "It would be a shame for them to starve to death, especially the sick one." John's head dropped as his head spun. He thought about his youngest son, as well as the rest of his children. They no longer smiled, they were always crying. He would give anything to see those smiles again.
"I will be at the auction house tomorrow. Make your decision tonight and bring her to me then. You have an entire family to take care of, remember that." He stood up straight and left the shop. John lowered his head into his hands.
That night, the youngest son took a turn for the worse. His breathing grew shallow and his fever raged. Without medicine or food, there was no telling how much longer he would last. John felt helpless as he watched his sons fight for scraps. His family was crumbling around him. He looked at Brittany who sat in the corner, eyes glazed over from being so tired and hungry.
"Brittany, come here." He said softly. Brittany got up slowly. Her arms were thing and he could see her cheekbones sticking out clearly. She made her way over to him and he lifted her and sat her on his lap. Brittany had always been quiet, she was his treasure, his princess.
He tried not to think about what the Count was going to do to her.
"Tomorrow is your birthday, Brittany." He said, feigning optimism. "Is there anything you want?"
"I want Colin to get better." Brittany responded. Her father swallowed the shame rising in his throat. Brittany looked at him with trusting, sparkling turquoise eyes. "I'd give anything to make him better." He hugged her tightly, memorizing how she felt in his arms, how thin she was, how frail she seemed. He tried to convince himself that she would be well fed, well groomed, but that didn't change what the Count really wanted.
"I love you, Brittany." He said, kissing her forehead.
"I know, Papa." She replied, hopping off his lap. She took her place beside her brothers on the floor and went quiet again.
John lay next to his wife and baby daughter. He could not sleep, turning over and over in his bed. The decision weighed heavily in his mind. He listened to Colin coughing and the groans of his children in the night. The Count was right, his children were not going to make it if he didn't do something soon. Even so, he felt hatred towards himself for what he was going to do.
When morning arrived, John woke early. His heart was heavy with the decision he had made. Quietly, he got out of bed and woke the sleeping girl.
"Papa?" She yawned.
"Come on, Brittany, it's time to go." He whispered. Brittany rubbed her eyes.
"Go where?" She asked. Her father blinked away the tears in his eyes. Brittany did not see them in the dark.
"Your birthday present." He responded. "We're going to get your birthday present." Brittany yawned again and blinked. John opened his arms to her. "I can carry you too until you wake up." Brittany opened her arms and her father lifted her and cradled her. They slowly walked down the steps and he opened the door, the creaking loud enough to wake her mother.
"John?" She asked, noticing the empty space beside her. "John?" She got up and looked around in the darkness. She got up and looked around for Brittany and noticed that she was missing. Her heart plummeted as she raced downstairs and out the door.
"John? Brittany?" She yelled but there was no one in sight.
The walk to the auction house was a long one and for most of it, Brittany slept. Her father carried her carefully until she woke. Taking the opportunity to enjoy his last moments with his precious daughter, he walked slowly and let her explore when she wanted to. His legs hurt from all the walking but even so he chased her through the fields and she laughed brightly as she ran from him.
They stopped at a stream and she pointed out the little tadpoles in the water. He stroked her hair and watched her shining smile and her genuine eyes as she looked back at him. His eyes watered and his heart sank with every step they took. He contemplated turning back but he knew if he went back now, Colin would die and his other sons might follow suit.
For the greater good...he thought to himself but that did nothing to console him.
When the auction house came into view, Brittany jumped up and down excitedly, pointing and exclaiming, "There it is, Papa!" He took her hand and squeezed it firmly.
"I will always love you." He said.
"I know, Papa." She replied, squeezing his hand back. Together, they walked through the giant doors and into the grand hall.
There, Brittany marveled at the expensive and beautiful items, wondering if her father was really going to buy her something here. They had no money to speak of but Brittany couldn't help but indulge in her fantasies that maybe, maybe her father had come into some money. As she walked around holding her father's hand, she was oblivious to the stares she got from the other patrons who wondered what this peasant and his child were doing at an auction like this one. Her father set his jaw and kept looking for the Count. As they searched, the auction went on in the background. Brittany marveled at the expensive items.
"One day," she promised. "I'm going to marry a Lord and we'll have all of this!" Her father couldn't look her in the eye at that point. He remained silent and solemn. Something scarlet caught Brittany's attention and she walked towards it. It was a bright red, jeweled music box. She took it in her hands and wound it up. A ballerina popped out from the top and it started to play music. Her father quickly took it out of her hands and put it back. Brittany kept glancing back at it. She wanted to hear more of it but she understood that there was no way they could buy something like that. Suddenly, her father stopped walking, causing Brittany to almost run into him.
"Papa..." She asked looking up. She froze and her blood ran cold. Leering at her was Count Baste. She hid behind her father.
"You brought her after all. I knew you would." The count said, turning to her father. Brittany looked up at him, bewildered.
"Papa, what's going on?" She asked. Her father didn't respond. Instead, the Count reached into his pocket and began counting out notes. Brittany remembered to the conversation her mother had with her father and realized exactly what was happening.
"Papa, what's going on?" She asked again, tugging on his pants frantically. "Please, Papa."
"I will take very good care of you." The Count smirked. Brittany tried to take her father's hand but they were balled up so tightly that she couldn't. Panic settled in and Brittany backed away. As she turned heel to run, her father caught her arm and forced her back towards the Count.
"I'm sorry." He whispered as he pushed her towards Baste.
"No! No! I don't want to go with him! Papa, I want to go home!" Brittany began crying. Baste counted the money as her father bit back tears. "Please, Papa! Don't do this, please!" Her father struggled to keep her under control as she thrashed about. This only seemed to make the Count grin more.
"Please don't leave me, please papa, please!" She turned and grabbed her father's pants, determined not to let go.
"This is for the best." Her father said, his voice wavering. Brittany let out a cry and tears overflowed from her eyes. She hadn't done anything wrong, why was her father doing this?
"Don't leave me, papa! Don't send me away!" She pleaded, getting down on her knees.
"You have five brothers and a new sister. This man offered enough money for us to take care of your mother and your siblings. They'd die of starvation, don't you understand?" He asked. Brittany buried her face into her father's leg and held on for dear life. She didn't understand. All she wanted to do was go home. She didn't even care if she got a birthday present or not. She kept begging her father to stay or better yet, take her home. But her father kept repeating, not to convince Brittany but to convince himself with little success, that it was for the best.
"Here's your money." The Count shoved a wad of notes into her father's hands and the transaction was sealed. He stroked her hair, looking down at her for the last time. Brittany let out a loud sob as her father wrenched her arms from his leg and handed her over to the Count. She reached out for her father as he quickly disappeared into the crowd, hands covered over his ears to avoid hearing his daughter screaming for him.
"Be good!" The Count slapped Brittany across the face. The force of the blow caused every cell in her body to freeze and she stopped crying loudly. Her chest heaved in an effort to breathe. She kept hoping, praying that it was just a bad dream, that she would wake up in her house and her father would be there to reassure her that she hadn't been sold.
Brittany could still feel her father's hands stroking the top of her head. The Count had her wrist firmly in his grasp. She was abandoned. With every passing second, she resigned herself to her fate, to the fact that her father wasn't going to come bursting through the crowd and shove the notes back into the Count's face and carry Brittany home. Her eyes, once expressive, dulled. That was it. She was never going to see her family again.
"It's your birthday today, no?" He stroked her cheek and Brittany flinched. "Let me buy you a necklace, hmm? It will look beautiful on you." Brittany turned her head away from his hand. She prayed to God again, prayed that someone would save her. She looked around, trying to find anyone who had seen, who would take pity on a little girl and take her back to her father. In doing so, she made eye contact with a girl about her age, standing a few feet away. The girl had dark skin, dark hair and dark eyes. She was rich, her clothes showed that plainly and Brittany wondered what her life must've been like. She looked away and didn't notice when the girl started walking towards them.
"Miss Lopez! What a pleasure this is!" The Count's voice was unnaturally high and Brittany looked to see who he was talking to. It was the girl. Feeling ashamed that she was being sold like one of the items in the auction house, Brittany looked at her feet.
"I want to buy her." Brittany's head snapped up when she heard the sentence. The girl held out a bag, heavy with coins.
"Um...Miss, if you don't mind me saying, she's not for sale." The Count replied.
"It's my birthday. My father said I could have whatever I wanted at the auction house." Brittany allowed herself to hope. Anyone was better than the Count.
"But what would you do with her?"
"Servant girl. My own personal servant girl." Brittany could tell that the Count was uncomfortable with the scenario.
"Please, is there anything else I can do? I can offer you another servant girl, one much nicer and more obedient than this one." The Count said. Brittany looked at the girl with desperate eyes, shaking her head a little. Whether the girl noticed or not, it didn't matter.
"I want this one." The girl said, putting her foot down. Brittany almost smiled in relief but her cheek still stung and it hurt to do so. Instead, she bowed her head thankfully. A man, tall and proper with a gentle looking face walked up to them.
"Did you win, princess?" It was the same nickname that Brittany's father called her but Brittany was almost sure that this girl was an actual princess.
"No Papa, I want this girl." The girl insisted. The three of them talked it over and Brittany felt like she would faint from relief. Once the other man dropped the coin purse into the Count's hands, Brittany started crying again. Her whole body shook and she wiped her eyes. Her lungs were still petrified. She wanted to tell them to take her home, that she wanted her mother and brothers, even her father. But she couldn't get the words out. The whole ordeal had frightened her so much. The man gently ushered her towards a carriage waiting outside for them, grasping her hand firmly. His hand was warm and even though they weren't calloused like her father's, she felt safe holding that hand. Brittany got in and instantly balled up defensively. She glanced out the window and noted with a hint of despair that they were going in the opposite direction of where she lived.
"No one will hurt you." The man said. His voice was comforting and Brittany allowed herself to relax a tiny bit. She trusted this man and his daughter. They had saved her from the terrifying Count. "Will you tell us your name?" He asked. Brittany tried to speak but nothing came from her throat and her mouth wouldn't open. She shook her head. The man handed her a piece of candy and Brittany, still scared but starving, took it and ate it. She savored the sweetness, having tasted nothing like it in her life. As the ride went on, the man fell asleep and Brittany kept glancing at her actual savior, the "princess."
The girl sat up straight and proper. She had a golden hairpin in her raven hair and her skin was clean and soft. Brittany felt ashamed of being in the same carriage, knowing she must've looked so poor and dirty and she wondered what possessed her to save a pauper like her. But the girl didn't look at her and judge her, she merely observed with a curious eye.
"My name is Santana. What's yours?" The girl spoke. It was the first time she'd said anything to her directly. Brittany's fear melted the instant she heard her voice. She felt relaxed around this girl. This girl wasn't going to hurt her. She opened her mouth and found that her voice had returned.
"My name is Brittany."