A/N: Sorry for the delay, and about being a brat about reviews. But you, that means you browser-types, have no idea what a lack of support can do to the communication between a writer and her muse. And while she's not exactly singing an Italian aria to me as of late, I think I've been enough of a brat. Anyways, these next few chapters will be the "big talk" chapters. Prejudices and preconceived notions, jealousy and confrontations, psych-textbook-desired kinda stuff abound. A mess o' thanks to Lady Sorrow and lanthene. A masterpiece? I don't know what to say, except: baton down the hatches, these next few chapters are gonna be angsty ones! Hopefully it won't last as long as I have a feeling it will. We'll kick this one off with Sasha. Here we go.

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I was worried about Jason. He hadn't been the same since the night the intruder came. The lessons were longer, and we started going even faster, we finished the letters and started moving on to spelling and sounds and sentence structure. We worked so much of the time; we more or less stopped talking afterwards. He would read some, only some, then declare it too late for anything else, escort me to the servants' quarters, and then disappear into the darkness. I was so confused, what in God's name was going on up there in his shaggy head to make him so remote all of a sudden? I was pretty sure it was nothing I did, I KNOW when I screw up. The only thing that made sense was the intruder's promise.

I wondered what this girl would be like. Would she be very young? Would she be my age? I doubted she was of noble birth, but what if she could read? I felt a tight knot of worry deep in my stomach. What if Jason liked her better than me? I felt foolish thinking it, so what if he does? I felt the defensive shell that paid servitude had built wrap around me, make me spiky and hard on the outside, a quivering egg-like substance that was me on the inside. I'm the help, he's the master, I will do as he says, my mind repeated the mantra. Even if it is to stop coming to the library. The shell hardly flinched, while the goo inside wept. Oh, get over it, shouted the shell at the inside, You never had a place there anyway, you can't even read! It's the master's library, not SASHA'S library! He asks you to leave; you damn well better or you'll get fired! The shell sounded suspiciously like the head maid of Lady Winters, Gretchen. If there was ever a boss less like Crawford, it was Gretchen. I'll leave it at that. At the sound of it, I whipped myself to attention; the memories of the hours of instruction came flooding back. Do your work! Ignore the nobles! Back straight! Know when you aren't wanted! Leave as quietly as you possible can, you cow, Sasha, so they don't have to look at your unworthy face! Yup, that's Gretchen all right, screeching instruction into my head. And I followed it, word for word.



I worked all day, first in the garden, then the kitchen, then the library, then the castle, then at lessons. If Jason was a block of ice, I was the glacier it was chipped from. I left on my own after lessons, the shell whispering venomously to leave him alone, he's only doing you a favor, servant, you don't need to take up anymore of his time by forcing him to read to you! The inside tried to fight, but was mercilessly crushed down so hard, its tears were even imprisoned on the inside. They stayed locked away as a lump in my throat. Then, the shell hardly took notice; the intruder's daughter was here.

I watched from the shadows of where I was scrubbing the main hall's floor as Crawford walked briskly, as usual, to the door. I realized that this was probably exactly the way he looked when he'd opened the castle door to Dad and me. It was strange to see it from the inside this time. I felt a spark of sympathy for the girl outside, being confronted by those snarling stone lions, and the main door itself. Although it didn't creak as it had, we'd made sure of that. In fact, I realized, she wasn't coming to the castle I had. She would never be exposed to the darkness that once shrouded it, or the decay the rooms had once been dying of. Not to mention the claws-for-trees I'd had to contend with. That had been fixed with the coming summer. I had never imagined those claws could grow anything beautiful, but there they were. She would see a sprawling, spotless castle emerged from lush foliage, with good food and fairytale rooms. She'd probably sleep in bedroom 45, since it was the best one in the castle. I knew, all the time I'd used to daydream about it being mine. That wouldn't happen anymore.

I watched her come in, looking frail and frightened. She was older than me, by maybe two or three years, taller too. She had feathery-soft brown hair that drifted around her shoulders, tucked back by a ribbon. How quaint. Her eyes were big and brown, like pools. She was pretty; there was no denying that. Fan-freaking-tastic. Crawford led her up the stairs, presumably to her room. I finished scrubbing, then moved to the kitchen to help Svetlana with dinner.



Dinner was normal, all things considered. Jason didn't eat with us, never had. The intruder's daughter didn't either. It was just Crawford, Svetlana, and I. Nobody spoke, what with me being locked up in my shell, and Svetlana being, well, Svetlana.

Finally, Crawford spoke, "The girl's name is Belle," he said informatively, "I don't know how long she'll be staying, we'll just have to work around her now." I got the feeling he hadn't taken an instant liking to her. What must she be like? "Sasha, if she needs something, and asks for it, you will get it or do it or whatever she wants, is that clear?" I was hurt by his tone. Something must have happened, something that upset him that he wasn't saying. I had no doubts I'd find out.

"Yes, sir," the shell answered for me. I kept eating without tasting.



Not a day later, while I was working in the library, I heard faint, light steps coming down the hall. I knew who it was immediately, and the shell hardened that much more. Belle walked in, her feet barely seemed to touch the ground. She came within six feet of me, then stopped. Probably concerned I was contagious of some servitude-causing sickness. The way she stood, I could tell she must have SOME money. She certainly knows how to treat the help. Without speaking I could feel her distain of talking to me.

"Servant?" Figures, why would SHE care what my name is! I could immediately see what had gotten to Crawford, "I need something." No shit, Your Highness! I shut my brain off right there, lest I say something rash. I have to say, letting the shell do all the talking was a sweet relief.

"Yes, my lady?" Nothing had changed, I was the servant, or, even lower, the servant's daughter, and I would do any damn thing she said. It was as simple as turning off my mind.

"Clean my room, 'tis filthy!" WHAT!? I'd just cleaned it yesterday! And what the HELL was this 'tis shit? Okay, calm down right now! Shut it off, just shut everything off! I could actually feel my eyes dim as I went on full-servant mode.

"Yes, my lady." I abandoned the library. Suddenly it wasn't as magical a haven as it had been. Not if she could violate it so easily. Before I let myself completely slip under, I glanced around the library, observing the darkness creeping around its edges.



Clean her room, HA! She had twelve more jobs where THAT load of shit came from. Not that I minded, being that the entire time I was a machine. In fact, I didn't actually do the work, the shell did. And it did it with a smile on its face and a "Yes, my lady." at every new order she spat at me.

I knew that this wasn't healthy, shutting off like this, however relieving and easy it was. In the old days, I could revive my comatose self at the festivals, but not anymore. Now I was off all the time, and I knew I would slowly forget how to turn myself back on. I hated it, the castle had gone from a prison to a haven to a prison again. I found myself missing the dankness of the castle when we'd fist came, missed nurturing it back to health. Ivan said the gardens were growing splendidly, but the flowers only reminded me how things would never be the same. I missed Jason. That was the only weapon I had against the shell. A thought of him could almost get the tears through the cracks, but not all the way. Oh well, there'd be other chances. I had no idea how he and Belle were getting along, and I really didn't want to know. All I knew was that he wasn't my friend helping me out anymore, he was the master doing some charity work.

I was shocked and wounded at how far we'd fallen. How could this have happened? It couldn't have been all Belle, could it? Something else must have happened, I must have done something wrong. But I could think of nothing. Besides, I shouldn't be having these thoughts, I was the help. I have to go back to work.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A/N: It's gonna be a long couple of chapters. But I've already got most of it planned out, and it won't be too long. Don't expect a Jason p.o.v too soon either, maybe after the next chapter. Also, I've got an idea for a new story. I've been thinking about it for quite some time, and while my muse (I should really name her) wasn't cooperating on True Beauty, she was singing for this new one. However, during my stint of writer's block, I created a new principle for myself: I will NOT start a new story until I finish the one I'm on. That way, my Rainne place won't get all cluttered with half-finished stories, like, about EVERY other author's place I've ever seen! If I really and truly can't keep a story going, it's gone, deleted, not stickin' around, no matter how many good reviews I get, k? Read and review, please, you browser-types have no idea how inspiring reviews can be.