NOTE: I own this world. I just own Teller/Raven and his story.

I'm on a writing spree! This chapter will probably make you cry, scream in anger, or maybe a little bit of both. Come on, I warned you all that Raven's story was a sad one. However, from here on, watch how Teller begins seeing the world around him.

Review and Enjoy! (PLEASE review with helpful hints!)

Raven's Story Chapter 3

It's been a long year for Teller and his family. After several storms and other raids, they made it to Skandia. Once there, they were sold to Oberjarl. The others from their home were sold elsewhere. Teller was sent to the yard while his mother and sister were sent to the kitchens. Only on rare occasions did they run across one another. However, despite the consequences against him, Teller did everything in his power to meet with them. They were still his responsibility.

Working hard in the slave yard, Teller got a pretty good understanding of the layout of the Great Hall. His sister was often sent into town for provisions. Thus, she learned the routes that led out of Halasholm. The two of were hoping to break free at some point. That meant they had to wait. One false move from either of them would alert the Skandians put in charge of them. Each day, they made notes on guard rotation, the routes out of Skandia (a massive map was hung inside the Great Hall where Quince often served), where supplies were being kept, and where the best place was to meet up. Quince would be charge of helping Mother reach the rendezvous point. Teller would be in charge of getting supplies.

The plan was perfect. When the time was right and the Skandians lowered their guard around them, Teller would lead his family to safety. He only wished that he could Gorgon as well. His friend had been bought a herder and taken out of Halasholm. Teller knew deep down that he would never see his friend again. If Gorgon had been taken to the slave yard as well then Teller would include his friend in the escape. That way they all would get home. Every day Teller hoped that Gorgon would be dragged into the slave yard and put to work with him. That would be perfect…

Teller should have learned that dreams were easily destroyed.

It was sudden. Quick. Rapidly appearing and going away. Yet it left a massive hole in Teller's heart. He had been working with several others. They were busy sharpening blades under careful watch. That's when a black wagon pulled up outside. Teller had seen it several times before. That wagon came to take away any slaves who had died. He felt sorry for that slave, for his or her friends and family. Maybe they would see each other in the next world.

"Come on. On to new work," snapped the slave driver of Teller's group.

Teller obediently put down his tools and rose from his chair. The slave master, known as Krunk, ushered them out of the covered workplace into the snow. Teller pulled his small cloak tighter around him. He hoped that Gorgon was doing better than him. He knew his friend had never liked the cold. As they passed, Teller watched them two slaves into the wagon. One of them Teller had known as Joshua, a man from southern Celtica. He had been a nice man, always ready with a joke and a laugh. By the looks of his body, the frost had finally gotten to him, ending his life. Being tall allowed Teller to look inside the wagon…

And seeing his friend's body.

Teller stopped, staring at his friend. "Gorgon," he rasped.

Indeed it was. His friend had been beaten beyond recognition. The cold had already taken away any sign of life in his friend. Those brown eyes stared blankly at the cart wall before him. Tears in his eyes, Teller stumbled forward. His right hand grabbed his friend's shoulder. Dried, frozen blood covered his shirt and skin. Black and blue bruises still showed. Several smaller cuts could also be seen. His friend's back was opened up by numerous whip marks. A huge gash split open Gorgon's skull, the wound that killed him. It was true. Gorgon was gone, just like Joseph, just like Joshua. There was nothing Teller could do about it. He had failed one of his childhood friends.

Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away. Teller met the eyes of Krunk. The big Skandian was one of few who seemed to remember that the slaves were humans too. The big Skandian could see the shock and pain on Teller's face. Calmly he led Teller away. Softly he whispered, "I'm sorry. Had I known I wouldn't have taken you by the cart."

Teller shrugged weakly, "I needed to know…needed to know my friend is gone."

The rest of the month was a fog in Teller's memory. He could not get his friend's face out of his head. Quince tried constantly to encourage her brother. However, it was too much for Teller. Too much to know that he had lost two of his closest friends in the span of a year. He continued to work, perform his duties as a slave, a brother, and a son. Always part of his mind was distant. His feet and hands moved methodically. Krunk watched him like a hawk, feeling sorry for the youth.

It pained the Skandian even more to wake Teller during the night.

Teller opened the door in a rush. He was breathing hard, terrified. Quince was beside a low bed. Tears spilled from her beautiful green eyes. Normally they were filled with joy and hope. Now they were dark. Teller approached the bed on which his mother lay. His mother looked up at him with dull, blue eyes. She smiled weakly up at him. Teller knelt down and touched his mother's cold face.

"Teller," she coughed.

Teller pressed closer, "I'm here, Mother. I'm here."

"Protect your sister…sorry…I can't be with you…anymore," his mother said in a hoarse whisper.

With that, she let out a soft breath. Her eyes closed for the last time.

"NO!" screamed Quince.

The young woman began desperately shaking her mother. Teller bowed his head as the tears fell. Everything was falling apart. First Joseph, then Gorgon, and now his mother. He was failing at his promise. Tightly he grasped his mother's cold hand, willing her to come back to him, to them. They needed her, her warmth, her wisdom, her love. Teller did not know what to do without her. He could not lose her…and yet she was gone.

Carefully Teller moved to his sister's side and wrapped his into an embrace. Quince continued to cry into his shirt. Teller stared at the wall, not seeing anything. How could he? His whole world was being torn apart piece by piece. The only thing he had left was crying in his arms. Hearing noise, Teller looked around. He saw two Skandians removing his mother's body. Anger seethed inside of him. He knew that they were going to dump her with the others that died. No proper burial for any slave. Nothing. His green eyes caught Krunk standing at the doorway, looking uncomfortable. That's when Teller started understanding that feeling deep inside of him, the one that had been growing in the pit of his stomach:

Hate.

He hated every Skandian. Not even Krunk's kindness could make up for everything that had happened. Yes, Teller hated every Skandian in existence. Most importantly, he hated Anderson (the skirl who kidnapped them), Jeffery (the first mate), Erak, and Ragnak. They were responsible for the suffering of his family. They were the ones who captured them, dragged them all the way here to die a slow death. Erak and Ragnak had mocked all of Teller's attempt at being friendly. They made his life hell while on the ship.

One day they would all pay!

Two months later

Teller was working out in the slave yard, nursing his hate. That small feeling had grown into a raging fire inside of him. He swore that one day he would get revenge. That day would come after Quince was safely back home. Already he had set a date for their escape. It was in two days. They just had to fly under the radar until then. Come that night, they would be free again.

Quince's scream suddenly filled the air.

Dropping the wood he had been carrying, Teller raced for his sister. Rounding the corner, he found a massive, drunk Skandian pinning her against the wall. His sister struggled against him. His grip only seemed to tighten with every movement she made. That hate boiled over at that moment. Teller did not care if the man was drunk or not. He did not care if Quince had done something to anger him. That Skandian was hurting his sister, threatening her. Teller would not see her get hurt. With a hiss, he leaped onto the man's back. The Skandian roared angrily, releasing Quince. Teller released then swung a powerful blow into the man's jaw. Stumbling back, the Skandian hit the wall. Teller would have pounced on the man and continued beating the man up if Krunk had not grabbed him.

"Enough, Teller!" Krunk bellowed.

Rage blinding him, Teller spun around and slammed his fist into Krunk's abdomen. The massive man grunted and stepped back. Teller went to one knee beside his sister. Blood dripped onto the white snow. The drunk Skandian had cut her arm on the wall. Using his own clothes, Teller pressed it against the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Quince shuddered and whimpered. Slowly she pressed herself into him.

"Sorry, boy," Krunk growled.

He grabbed Teller collar and hauled him away from Quince. Another Skandian grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her. Two men grabbed Teller's arms and legs. Hissing angrily, Teller twisted but to no avail. That's when the first strike hit. The pain was excruciating. Wondering why, Teller opened his eyes in time to see the next blow. The horsewhip cracked across his face, gouging deep marks into his cheeks. One of the Skandians holding him grabbed his hair in order to keep his head still.

"Teller!" he heard Quince cry as the beating resumed with vengeance.

By the time they were done, Krunk had struck Teller one hundred times across the face. The horsewhip had cut deeper with every stroke. The pain was immense, never fading away. Even as his bloody face hit the snow, Teller could still feel the sting. He spat some blood that had collected in his mouth. Looking up, Teller saw the world spin. His hands struggled to lift him up but his body was just too weak after all the hard work. Then Quince was in his vision, wiping the blood away with snow.

"What's going on here!" bellowed a loud voice that Teller knew too well: Anderson.

Slowly the skirl and his first mate, Jeffery, strode forward. Both studied the scene before them. They could see that Teller had suffered for something. The drunk man, one of their crew, staggered towards his skirl. He was babbling incoherently. Anderson's lip curled in a snarl. He hated when his men got drunk. Of his whole crew, only Jeffery and Erak seemed to listen to his rules. That's why Erak had such leniency on board his ship. Jeffery did not need any since he was the first mate. Now, however, something had happened to one of his crew and he wanted to know about it.

The drunk Skandian finally spoke clearly enough for them all to understand, "That girl tried to poison me." Teller alone saw the hard look that entered Quince's eyes. "I was punishing her for it. Then that brat of a boy came in and punched me."

"I see," Anderson growled slowly.

Krunk spoke up, "We saw nothing other than Teller attacking him. Based on the girls' torn and bloody clothing, I'd say your man went a little overboard on the punishment. She's a good girl. I doubt her crime is as severe as poisoning."

"Agreed," Anderson said with a nod. "Well, why don't we take this up with Edson (the Oberjarl)?"

So they did. Anderson's man ranted and raved about how Quince had tried to poison him. When asked, Quince defended herself firmly by stating that the man had attacked her as she went to get provisions for the next meal. Teller then came forward and stated that his sister knew nothing of poisons and never wanted to learn. She only valued the herbs that were meant for healing. He had attacked because he saw his sister in trouble. As the older brother, it was his duty to defend her.

The next day, Oberjarl Edson gave his decision. Teller and Quince were brought before him and forced to kneel. Teller waited patiently, calmly. Quince showed no signs of fear. She knew the truth of the matter. Therefore, she had nothing to fear. Also, her brother was there to protect her if needed. She knew he would…at least, he would try.

"I have decided," Edson's booming voice proclaim. "I find Teller guilty of his attack but I believe he has already served his punishment. As for Quince…I find her guilty of attempted murder and sentence her to death."

Teller instantly leaped to his feet, "No! My sister would never do such a thing. If what he says is true then you are punishing the wrong person!"

Rough hands seized ahold of Teller's shoulders and arms. Edson glared at the young man before him, contempt all too obvious. Quince fought against those who were holding her. She knew she was innocent. That drunk man had attacked her, ambushed her. She was not going down for a crime she did not commit.

"Kneel," Edson spat to Teller.

Teller glared up at the Oberjarl, "NEVER! I won't kneel. I can't kneel. They need me. I'm her brother and I'm…" That's when Teller realized that it was just him and Quince. No one else. He shut his eyes tightly and bowed his head.

Eyes opening, anyone could see the absolute hate that glowed within his green eyes. With a powerful twist he sent both the men holding him sprawling across the floor. He leaped to his sister's side, ready to defend her. He had lost everything but her. Teller was not going to lose her. With snarls on their faces, three Skandians charged him. All of them were from Anderson's crew. Knowing this, Teller willingly stepped forward to meet them. Remembering watching them practicing on the ship, he knew how they would attack. Diving low, Teller ducked the swinging axe and punched the carrier in the stomach. His legs took down the man on his right. Teller's hands caught the final axe as he rose. Hate made him stronger, better. His foot took the man in the stomach, sending him sprawling across the floor.

"Tel-!" Quince's scream was quickly cut off.

Spinning around, Teller found that Anderson had snuck around him as he fought. The man's huge broadsword had pierced Quince's stomach. Teller leaped forward, reaching his sister's side. She coughed and sputtered, trying to speak, trying to breathe. Her brother pulled her close. Looking at the wound, he knew there was nothing he could do to save her. Tears raced down his cheeks. Quince stared up at him, those green eyes slowly dimming.

"I…love…you," she gasped.

Teller touched his forehead to her's, "Quince? Don't leave me…I can't do this without you. QUINCE!" He screamed the last word out as she gave out one last, shuddering breathe.

Growls of agreement swirled around him. Teller stared at his now dead sister. Her blood continued to pour across his hands and legs. He could not believe she was gone. His light, his joy, his only sister was gone. Raising his eyes only, Teller glared at the men responsible. They would pay. They would pay for everything. In the end, it will cost them their lives.

"A life for a life," his father always used to say.

With a resounding hiss, Teller leaped at Anderson. The man dodged the fist. However, that was not what Teller wanted. Unknown to Anderson, Teller's left hand drew the man's saxe. Spinning around, he spotted the man who had attacked Quince, the man who caused her death. He sprinted forward, aiming for the doors. Several men leaped in his way. With an easy sidestep, Teller lunged at the man. Anderson's saxe ripped into the man's throat. With a gargled cry, the man hit the ground.

Releasing the blade, Teller charged, leaping right through of the many windows in the Great Hall. Shouts of astonishment followed the sound of glass hitting stone. Teller landed on his feet and rolled. A second later he was diving into town. It may have been midday but a storm was brewing. Most people had already gone home. That allowed Teller to easily race through town. Soon he was entering the forest at the foot of the mountain.

Twenty minutes later, the storm hit full force.

Teller stumbled through the snow. His head was bowed as he faced the racing wind. His arms pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. However, the thin cloak was doing him no good. Shivering, the young man stumbled another few steps. Soon the ground sloped upward. Teller had reached the mountains. Teeth chattering, he pressed onward. Hopefully he could find shelter soon.

With a gasp, Teller felt the snow give out beneath his feet. He slipped and hit the ground hard. There he lay, a shivering bundle of skin and bones. Tears raced down his cheeks, stinging the fresh injuries, freezing at his chin. Quince's smiling face appeared before his eyes. Then his mother's kind voice whispered into his ears. Teller could still feel Henry's warm body pressed against him during a cold night. Sniffing, Teller pulled a numb hand over his face.

Alone…

After everything that had happened, he had failed. He failed his friend. He failed his mother. He failed his sister. Teller fought for them, tried to encourage them onward. Now they were gone. They were on a path he could not follow. They were dead…gone…

He was alone…

All alone…

"What'ssss thissss?" came a deep voice.

Opening his eyes, Teller saw the outline of a man standing before him. Slowly the figure knelt beside him, touching the scars on his face. Teller by this point was so numb that he could not feel a thing.

"An escaped sssslave," the voice replied to itself. "Well now, I think we ssssshould get you back to camp."

With that, the figure picked Teller up. The young man pulled closer to the body of his rescuer, seeking the man's warmth. The man chuckled as he sensed what Teller was doing. The powerful arms tightened around him.

"Rest easy now, young now. You'll be ssssafe and warm soon enough. Old Ssssserpent here will make ssssure of that," the voice hissed.

Yep, within one year Raven loses everyone that he loves.

And yes, that is Serpent. Yes, that is how he talks all the time so get used to it.