Chapter Twenty-Six: The Seventh Slave

Slaves are generally expected to sing as well as to work.
Frederick Douglass

"This is her?" The Witch asks, sitting in his velvet high-back chair. Just before entering the room, I was told not to look him in the eye if I wished to see the sun again. I kept my head done, green eyes fixed on the marble floor.

"Yes, sir. The seventh slave."

There is a draft in the room that causes me to shiver. Goose flesh rises on my skin. I'm used to me thick coat and pants, instead of this scantily-designed outfit that I was forced into. The deep slits up the side of the skirt end at the belt that keep the pieces of fabric hanging on my hips, and the top leaves nothing to the imagination. The scar that had once rest from my left hip to my right shoulder has disappeared.

I'm not sure of where it has gone, but the tattoo on my shoulder blade is permanently embedded for all to see.

"And her name?" The Witch asks for, addressing the man that has me in chains, but I can feel his eyes on me. They burn my skin, but the bumps caused by the shivers I got from the draft seem to push off the effects for now.

"Faye, sir. Shall I take her down below?"

"No."

The man that has me chained is obviously surprised, but says nothing. The Witch adds on, "Leave her here. Give me the chain."

The chain connected to the neck restraint I'm wearing is tugged, and I stumble forward. There's a deep chuckle from the Witch. He whispers something under his breath, and I barely catch it, but the words cause another shiver – this one of disgust – to roll down my spine.

I'm pulled until I'm standing before the velvet high-back chair. My eyes are targeted to look at his shoes – black leather, expert stitching, with a shiny polish on the highest-rounding tip.

"Your name is Faye, correct?" he asks me, just as the other man leaves the room. When I don't answer, the chain is pulled roughly.

"Yes," I answer, my voice cracking from the pressure on my neck.

"And what was your occupation before being found by Kingsley?"

I hesitate, not sure exactly what he means. He pulls the chain again. "Seamstress," I tell him, and he hums under his breath.

"You have been a seamstress for long, Faye?"

I shake my head. The more he pulls the chain, the less I can breathe. It's best if I answer right after he asks. "No, sir. Three years at the most."

He hums again, almost as if thinking over his options, before the chain goes lax.

"Come, my dear, Faye, sit beside me."

He motions for the cushion beside his chair. I move to kneel on it, still staring at the floor. The Witch's fingers move from the chain to my hair – I'm like his pet. He runs his fingers through my hair, playing with a curl absentmindedly when he gets to the end of a strand. For a good five minutes, I wonder to myself just what, exactly, I've gotten myself into.

OF MEMOIRS AND MAPS

Four Days Earlier

The first island we came across that wasn't riddled with Marines, Ace docked Flicker and dragged us to an inn. The first one we came across, which was only a few buildings from the dockyard, was paid for and we were given the key. Now, as I waited for him to go cool off, I thought of a plan on how exactly I was going to get to Witch Country. I knew it was in the East, but how exactly was I going to get there? I had figured for myself that only Witches would be able to find Witch Country, but I wasn't a Witch. And neither was Ace. The only probable solution was to kidnap a Witch.

But did I see any Witches walking down the street? Nope; so that plan just won't work.

Just as I try to figure out another plan, Ace walks into the inn room. He wears a calm express, but the look in his eyes is fierce. I look away from him, unable to stand the expression that breaks my soul.

"Faye," he says softly, catching my attention. I don't look up though. Ace sits beside me on the bed and takes my hand in his. "Faye, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I just can't stand to see you put yourself in that kind of danger. You remember when we were arrested and your brother went on and on about wanting to kill you?"

That memory stabs me in the heart hard, and the knife has harpooned itself under the muscle.

"The way he had his hands around your neck, wishing to squeeze out your last breath… Something in me broke then, and I never want to see you in that situation ever again. Do you understand that?"

I don't answer. I can feel the room getting warmer. He's still mad at me.

"Did you even hear a single word I just said?" he bellows, letting go of my hand and standing from beside me. He storms into the washroom, and slams the door behind me. I can hear the water running, and I know he's bathing now. While I'm not proud of my reckless behavior, I have to find a way to save Siren. If I was in her position, someone would do the same.

And then there was my plan. If I couldn't kidnap a Witch, then what's the next best thing?

A Witch kidnapping me…

When I've fully thought out my plan, Ace has finished his shower and walked out with a towel wrapped around his freckled hips, carrying his shorts and hat in one hand. He won't look at me, and I don't blame him. I step into the washroom, the steam of the hot water still floating in the air.

As I bathe the smell of saltwater off of my skin, my mind continues to go over the plan and perfect it until nothing can absolutely go wrong.

If something goes wrong, then I may not be able to save Siren, let alone myself.

I walk out of the washroom, my hair up in the towel with only a night-shirt covering my body. However, when I walk out, I'm thoroughly surprised by the candle light that fills the room. Ace stands in the middle of the room, grinning like a maniac at me. In his hand, Ace holds out a bouquet of freshly picked wild-flowers.

This is the first truly romantic notion I've ever been given, and I'm not quite sure of how to deal with it.

"Um… Ace?"

His grin widens and he steps forward.

"We've known each other for two years. We've been together, officially, for six months. Shouldn't you be jumping on me, already?"

I continue to stand in the doorway of the washroom. The candlelight makes his eyes look lighter than they really are. The freckles seem to blend into his skin in the dark. He doesn't look like my Ace. He looks like someone else. And then his words ring in my head:

Something in me broke, and I never want to see you in that situation ever again.

Ace had changed, but I believed it was for the better.

I took the flowers from him and tossed them onto the nearby desk. Ace's expression changed slightly. He couldn't read my face, couldn't see the guilt I felt growing in the pit of my stomach. I was about to purposefully put myself in that situation again, and the hurt that I was going to cause Ace was almost too much to bear.

But I had to do it. Who else would?

Slowly, almost as if I was afraid he would be able to read my mind with a single touch, I placed a hand on his freckled cheek and smiled. "Thank you," I told him, before whispering a soft, "I love you."

He whispered it back, and while my heart broke from me having to hurt him with my impulsive plan, my soul blossomed with the passion that he filled me with that night. I would come back to Ace. I had to. If I didn't, I wasn't sure if I could live without him.

OF MEMOIRS AND MAPS

Present

After the Witch had gone to bed, I was lead from the marble-floored room and into a side chamber with six other girls. One was being embraced by two others as she sobbed pitifully. The three others were huddled around a bed, heads together as they planned an escape. Kingsley, the Witch that had captured me, pushed me into the room and slammed the door behind me.

All six looked up, surprised at the sight of me.

"Did they just get you?" One asked me. Her honey-blonde hair fell in straight strands down to her shoulders. I shook my head.

"I've been here since this morning. I've been at the Witch's side all day."

They stare in disbelief.

"Did you do something to upset him?" Another asks. Her dark hair and dark skin are a definite change of scenery. I shake my head again.

"I kept my head down. I spoke only when spoken to. He kept me on a pillow beside him the whole day. I was only allowed to stand when he finally left for bed. I was brought in here."

"You're the seventh slave. That's why," an eerie voice states from the sobbing girl's side; looks of confusion fall on many faces. "Every seventh slave is picked as his favorite. Seven holds much symbol in the Witch culture. He believes you are his lucky charm, to put it simply."

Although still confused on why the Witch would think that, I say nothing and sit on the bed not yet touched.

"What's your name, seventh slave?" the honey blonde asks me.

"Faye Callaghan," I state, introducing myself to the six other girls. One by one, except in the case of the crying girl, I am told their names.

Mona. Hama. Kurie. Vevan. Luloia. Beatrice.

"Why is she crying?" I ask Hama, the dark skinned girl that has a bed beside me. Her expression is grim.

"Vevan just found out she was pregnant today, and she overheard one of the Witches saying that they can't have a pregnant slave…"

With an extreme look of horror, my stomach begins to hurt. I feel too sick to even reply. Standing up, I walk over to the sniffling girl, her cries finally calming down into tired wheezes of sadness. I take Luloia's place on Vevan's right. My hand rubs soothing circles in her back.

"It's going to be okay," I tell her. I'm sure she has heard it a thousand times from Luloia and Kurie, but for some reason, whether it has been exhaustion or the need for some hope, Vevan tells me she believes me. What have I just gotten myself into?

The next morning, I'm awoken before the other girls. Kingsley stands hovering over my bed, arms folded over his chest. He commands me to get up before going to the other girls. I rub the sleep from my eyes and slowly rise. Vevan looks worse now than she did in the morning. It is then, as they all rise from bed, that I realize the difference in our outfits. The bits of fabric I wear make the draft in the room even more evident. The others are wearing dresses, none of them as revealing as mine.

The six girls are lead from the room by another man dressed in a strange suit before Kingsley grabs my upper arm and pulls me from the room. I go in the opposite direction of the other ones. "I don't know see how he found such a fascination in you," Kingsley mumbles under his breath. "You're not all that pretty and that horrible scar on you sickens my stomach."

My hand comes up and touched the skin on my stomach where my scar should be. I can feel the bumpy, smooth scar tissue, but when I look down, it is just tan skin that I find. No blemishes or scars. Just skin. But it's not my skin.

Kingsley leads me into the throne room, as I have dubbed it. The Witch sits in his velvet chair yet again, a goblet of wine in one hand and his other free to wave back and forth as servants stand around him holding plates of food and bottles of wine.

"Come, my sweet Faye. Sit with me again."

This time, I do look him in the eye. I noticed the different colors – one was a light brown and the other was a dark blue-gray, but his grin was hideous. There was malice in his voice that I hadn't caught last night, and the sickening feeling I felt in the pit of my stomach grew and grew until my heart got caught in my throat.

"Hello, my beautiful charm. Did you sleep well?"

I didn't answer. I hadn't slept well, in fact. My dreams were laced with the frantic Ace. If I had to watch anymore of it, I would have gone insane.

My hair is yanked roughly, causing me to look back up at the Witch. He glares angrily at me. "I asked you a question, slave."

"I slept wonderfully, sir."

These words seem to do well enough for now. He releases my hair and continues to drink his wine and eat the exotic foods fed to him. For the rest of the day I sat at his side, my eyes drilling into the elegantly painted and designed walls. Sometime during the late afternoon, however, Kingsley entered the throne room and came up to the Witch.

"May I have the key, sir?" Kingsley asks and the Witch continues to drink his wine and eat his foods.

"Which key?" he asks nonchalantly, but Kingsley's reply causes him to stop his drinking and eating.

"The key, sir."

My ears perk up at this, but I show no outwards motion that I heard. From underneath his silk shirt, the Witch pulls out a simple copper key. Unlatching the thin chain from around his neck, the Witch hands the key over to Kingsley.

"Are we not on the correct path?" the Witch asks as he places the key in Kingsley's hand.

"Jura predicts a storm later tonight. The Captain wishes to go around it. This will save us much time."

"Understood." The Witch waves Kingsley away and he leaves. I hold back my question before gathering the Witch's attention.

"Sir?" I speak softly, biting my tongue when my heart tells my brain to shrink and run away. I can't dare leave the six others now, not after what I learned about Vevan. The Witch looks down at me.

"Yes, my beautiful charm?" I look from the wall to his face. He sips his wine.

"Where are we going, if I may ask?"

The Witch chuckles and places his wine goblet off to the side.

"We are going to my home country, Faye. Witch Country, to be exact."

I nod. The best act to play is the innocent façade.

"And how to we get to Witch Country?"

There's another chuckle. "My, my, such a curious little charm, aren't you?" He rhetorically asks, patting my head and waving for the servant nearest to him to bring over a bowl full of apples and grapes. He takes a bright red apple and hands it to me. "There is a special Log Pose Witches must use to arrive in Witch Country by ship. The Log Pose is powered by our magical abilities."

I'm glad to hear we're headed to Witch Country, but five days of my thirteen have already been used. I don't know how much longer we have until we get to Witch Country, and knowing Ace, he has already found the Whitebeards and sent out a search party. Even when I do arrive in Witch Country, I won't know where to start looking for a curse-breaker. I should have thought this out a bit better.

"Good night, my beautiful charm," the Witch tells me, running his fingers through my hair before Kingsley returns and takes me back to the chamber room with the others. Vevan is in the corner, shaking like a life as she stares lifelessly at everything. I walk over to Mona.

"I'm going to need your help with something," I tell her. She raises a brow. "I have to escape from this ship the moment we land in Witch Country, and I want to free you all, too. But I need your help."

"Whatever we can do, we'll help," Beatrice says, butting into the conversation I am having with Mona. I smile and nod at her.

"What do we have to do?" Mona asks, and the others slowly slink over to listen.

"I need a distraction. Any type of distraction. I ate a Devil's Fruit, and I have the power to shrink myself. Once I've gotten away and found what I need, I'll come back to save you all."

Luloia looks reluctant at first, before turning to the still fearful looking Vevan.

"I'll do anything to keep Vevan safe," she says, and I know I've gotten the rest of the girls just off those seven words."

"We should be docking in two days," I'm told, and I nod. Two more days of endless thought to be spent on a plan. Hopefully this next one will learn out better than the last. "Oh, and Faye?" I look up. Hama stares at me with dark eyes. "If you're lying to us, I will personally come find you, and cut out your tongue."

The threat isn't empty. I can see the fire in Hama's eyes.

"I would never lie about something like this."

"Let's just hope you can keep that statement as a truth," she comments before going to her bed and lied down, facing away from me.

That night, I got no sleep; from the fear of seeing Ace in my dreams again and the threat made by Hama, I'm begging for some silent peace.

"Faye?" I hear Vevan whisper. She's at the end of my bed. "I heard fairies have divine voices. Will you sing me a lullaby?"

My heart pangs with sadness. "I can't sing, Vevan. I'm sorry." She smiles sadly and nods.

"Then, may I sleep with you?"

I move from the middle of the bed and over to one side. Vevan crawls under the covers and we share a pillow. Just as I'm falling asleep I swear I hear Vevan say,

"You're nothing like your brother."

However, when Jyrik enters my dreams, I place those words as part of that nightmare. I never saw the ring or realized that Vevan's last name was Callaghan, too…

A/N:

To all those that might how caught the Princess Leia reference at the beginning (the slave scene~), go you! To all those that didn't but now see it, go you! To all those that have no idea who Princess Leia is – you need Star Wars in your life.

Yay another update!

In response to a review that I had received: If Faye simply killed Lorenzo, then where's the fun in all that?

This chapter is much longer than my last couple chapters. But it has important information! Do you see all of it between the lines? Next chapter should be out sometime soon. I'm feeling inspired. :D

(but I shouldn't say that, because when I do say that, it takes me three-four months to update again…)

Apples.