A/N: Oh boy, this took a little longer to update than I expected and I'm sorry for that! It took a while to get this where I wanted it, but I'm very happy with it. Also, I sent off a few chapters of this a la Fifty Shades of Grey with the whole 'changing names' shindig and this baby is probably going to get published! It'll only be an ebook to start so it's nothing like super or anything, but I'm pretty pleased! Regardless, I'm still going to complete it here with Brittana before moving forward with that so I can work on both versions J

Review replies -

Guest #1: Sorry about the cliff hanger! I hope this ties up a few loose ends in the way you'd like it to be! Back then, it was a pretty well known fact that house Masters could do what they want with the slaves, so it's not that big of a surprise to anyone at this point. Though, it's never nice to think of your parent being a monster =/
Guest #2: Welp I'm sorry! Hope this makes it a little better!
brittanaclexa: I'm glad you're loving it :D I cried a little writing the end of the last chapter, I won't lie.
BrittanaOTP4Life: Well Shit indeed..
alamoSAuRuS99: I hope you didn't sleep too badly! Hopefully this will have you sleeping a little easier 3


Chapter 7: For You, Anything

August 2nd, 79 AD

With a wince, Brittany moved to sit down beside the basket of wet fabric and tunics. Eyes stinging, she struggled to keep them open as she started to sort out the soaked garments and sheets, tears still threatening to bleed down her pale face. Even though the sun was shining high in the blue Pompeii sky, Brittany felt the chill run through her veins. The usual optimistic glint in her face had fallen, replaced with a glum grimace.

When Brittany had finally made it back to the slaves' quarters in the early hours of the morning, she had fallen crying into Aelias' sweet arms. It took her an hour to stop crying, and another to clean her up. She wasn't sure just when she finally drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep, but Brittany had awoken in pain, her head throbbing and her body exhausted. Though she would have preferred to curl up into a ball for the day, she had to get up. She was a house slave, and she had to do what was expected of her. If she didn't, she was afraid that she would end up just another girl that had to live on the street, picking up scraps to survive.

Master Loukas was a terrifying man. Every time Brittany closed her eyes, she could see his lecherous eyes and angry snarl as though he was stood in front of her. His hands were rough and his grip was tight, even if she had tried to get away from him, she was sure he wouldn't have let her. He could have his hands all over her body, bruising her skin and around her throat, and she was powerless and weak.

Letting out a low sigh, Brittany let the fabric she was clutching in her trembling hands fall back onto the pile as she brought her hands to her face. She could feel the hot, salty stains of tears running like rivers, but she had gotten past the point of feeling herself cry. It were as though her body was going through the motions, but had bypassed the ability to feel them. Her stomach ached deeply, her head was a mess – so much so that her finger tips had become almost numb with how much her energy was being directed to other parts of her body.

Hearing the sound of a leaf crunch below a foot, Brittany's eyes shot up, the light hair on her arms standing on edge, expecting to see Master Loukas coming back to drag her away again. But, as Blue eyes met deep brown, Brittany's stomach dropped even lower than it already sat in her hips. Santana had been the one thing that made her life in Pompeii bright, even with being violated, but now, she couldn't even have the woman cross her mind without remembering the way she looked at her with such hatred.

Quickly darting her eyes away, shaking fingers threaded through damp fabric to get on with her work. Already feeling awful and in an almost blinding pain, Brittany just wanted to keep to herself. Already feeling like disposable dirt, she didn't need to be further reminded by her Masters' daughter.

"Brittany.."

She could feel Santana's presence before hearing her, an unwanted warmth flowing through her like a ray of sunshine peeking through darkened clouds. If it wasn't such a euphoric experience, Brittany would have wished she never met Santana. If she never met her and Santana was never so kind, Brittany would have never had to have the feeling of losing her only friend.

"Brittany.."

Santana's voice was so soft, Brittany had to fight to keep back a whimper at the kindness it held behind it. It were as though the day before had never happened and Santana had never been so angry at her. If only the blonde didn't know better. She knew much better than to have any false hope. She had lost it all the day before.

Against her better judgement, Britany couldn't help raising her eyes, finally finding Santana's looming above her. Sigh a soft high leaving her own lips, Brittany watched as Santana melted, taking in her drawn appearance. Though she hadn't seen herself, Brittany knew she looked as awful as she felt, with a greyed face, puffy eyes and solemn frown lines.

"Oh Brittany,"

With the choked sob leaving Santana's lips, Brittany felt her warm, soft arms encompass her and she felt more whole than she had since she lost her innocence. It was just so easy to fall into Santana's embrace and knowing that Santana had forgiven her for the day before was a he weight lifted from Brittany's buckling shoulders. As far as she knew, Santana thought this state she was in was because of their fight, and Brittany was content with that. After the nature of their disagreement, Brittany felt ashamed to think that it was because of her father.

For whatever reason, Brittany wanted to keep Santana safe.

"I'm sorry," Brittany whispered, turning into a puddle within Santana's arms. All morning had felt almost as though her insides were battling for dominance, but now, a calm washed over her. Santana no longer hated her, and perhaps everything would turn out okay. Maybe Master Loukas will grow bored with her and she could have just once purpose. Maybe then, her life would be how she dreamed.

"Hush," Santana breathed, prying Brittany away from her chest to hold her at arm's length. Before the golden haired girl could even protest, Santana's eyes were flickering between her own with such sadness, delicate fingers tracing the tear welts left behind on her cheeks.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, Brittany," Santana insisted. Although Brittany tried to shake her head, Santana held her steady, her beautiful lips trembling. "I saw,"

With just those two words, Brittany felt the shame that had been lying dormant in her gut flared ad she thought, just for a moment, that she was going to throw up. Not only did she get assaulted by a vile bully, but his daughter.. The one person that was starting to be the one person who meant the most to her, had seen it happen.

It wasn't a secret to the rest of the slaves that the Master did with them what he pleased, and Brittany was his new prize, but Santana seemed oblivious the day before. Brittany had never felt so ashamed. The fact that she was an object wasn't even a secret. Not to anyone.

The tears came before Brittany could stop them and she found herself breathing in the sweetest of scents as Santana held her close, cradling her frail body as though she was afraid that she would shatter under her touch. If only Santana knew, that she was the only thing keeping Brittany together.

"It's okay, Brittany. It's going to be okay," Santana's thick voice coated Brittany like a layer of thick, healthy milk, soothing her wounds and aches in a way she had been begging for since she limped from the Masters' bed.

"I didn't mean for it… I didn't want.." Brittany tried to explain, getting cut off by the constricting motions of her own throat. She wanted, so badly, to apologise. To say sorry for being the object of her fathers' desire – something only Santana's' mother should have been. The young girl had been so offended that Brittany had even suggested something of the sort – she was terrified that Santana would hate her for being the very thing that came her worst nightmare.

"I know, Brittany.. You don't have to say anything," The sweet hushing and gentle stoked of Santana's hands against her back were like bandages, covering Brittany's worst fears. The whole disagreement from the day before had been forgotten in this new light, and Santana was here – with her. Not with her father. Not angry.

She was holding Brittany.

After a long few minutes, Brittany finally got her breathing under control, tears drying up as though the reservoirs behind her eyes had dried up like barren, summer fields. Her fingers loosened around the fabric of Santana's tunica she had been holding onto so tightly, as though she would float away if she didn't, getting lost somewhere between the sky and heavens in a constant limbo.

Sitting back, the pair sat side by side on the cool tiles of the courtyard, a pregnant silence hovering around them. Even though her body was still shaking through the pain, Brittany felt more alive than she had in hours. Her heart was warm and Santana was her medicine.

Looking down as she felt a ticking against her hand, Brittany's face cracked into the first smile since she had enjoyed lunch with Santana the day before. Slowly, Santana's hand crept into her own, resting so comfortably against her open palm. As delicate finger tops traced intricate patterns against her skin, delicious heat ran through Brittany's veins.

"How long has he.." Santana trailed off, unsure how to proceed with her questions, obviously not wanting to upset the blonde.

"My first day," Brittany replied quietly. She didn't owe Santana any answers, but she trusted her. Santana was her one real friend, and she wanted to tell her. "It's only been twice,"

Though the silence set over the two of them once again, Brittany felt Santana's hand flatten against her own, finger to finger, palms slotting against one another like missing mosaic pieces.

"Had you ever.." Santana continued, drifting off.

"No.."

Santana's hand gentle grasped Brittany's, pulling it up into her lap and lacing their fingers together. Even with just a small gesture, the blonde girls' heart leaped in her chest. Even being damaged, impure and nothing more than a purchasable object for slavery and sex, Santana cared for her.

Santana cared.

As the raven haired woman let out a low sigh, she cradled Brittany's hand with both of her own, running her thumbs gently over the back of her hand, soothing away her aches. Her touch was so soft, but Brittany felt as though she was holding her in a way that no one would be able to pry off the grip. Secure and safe, Santana was keeping her close.

"I'm going to help you.. I can't.. Make him stop, but I will look after you, Brittany," Santana murmured, her voice low and gravely, seemingly on the verge of tears. "You have my word."

Brittany had never been in the position to trust someone in such a way that Santana was offering her. Her parents cared for her, but Brittany was never in harm's way. Oplontis was small and unthreatening. Brittany could walk alone at night without having to fear for her safety or rely on her parents to keep her safe. Here in Pompeii, being a house slave in such a regal villa made sure she had a bed to sleep in and food to eat. Nothing from outside the walls could get in and see was safe by default.

Master Loukas had been the only source of pain Brittany had ever experienced, and she couldn't get away from him. Slaves that went against their Masters in such a way were thrown out to live on the streets or put to death. Brittany was stuck and there was no way for her to escape.

But Santana? Santana was promising to look after her and soothe her when she hurt. If she couldn't get out of having to lay with the Master, Santana's care was her salvation.

Her Goddess.

"I must have done something right for the Gods to bless me with you," Brittany smiled, closing her eyes as she soaked in Santana's gentle caresses. The giggle she earned was almost pleasurable, filling the courtyard with Santana's sweet laugh.

All too soon, Santana rose to her feet with Brittany's hand still cradled in her own, offering to help her up off the ground. With Santana's support, Brittany slowly rose to stand. She watched the concern cross the beautiful woman's' face as she winced, the pain from her pelvis rising back to the surface, but she forced away a hiss. Even if Brittany knew that Santana could see through her façade, they shared a small smile.

"Let me help you," With a squeeze of Brittany's hand, Santana reluctantly released the blonde from her grip before turning to the basket of clothes. With inexperienced hands, Santana started to hang up the wet laundry alongside Brittany.

"Thank you," Brittany sighed, completely in awe. This gorgeous creature, who was born into wealth, surrounded by slaves and never having to lift a single finger her whole life was sharing the workload with a slave she had only known for a very short amount of time.

As Santana turned to her, white sheet in her hands, a shy smile slowly formed on her plumb lips. In just a few short seconds, the sun seemed just that little bit brighter by just being reflected off the woman's tanned skin. Brittany's heart lurched, beating so fast against her ribcage, it was on the verge of bursting through her body to get as close to Santana as it could.

As Santana's lips parted to speak, Brittany's breath caught in her throat.

"For you; anything,"


A/N: My Brittana heart is aching! Thanks again, lovelies! Please read & review!