Sorrow breathed in the morning air. She loved the feel of fresh air on her face. It was times like these she couldn't believe she was free. All was quiet in the early morning. It was so early, however, that hardly anyone in the palace was awake. Except the slaves. They were awake at this ungodly hour every morning. And so was she. It was a part of her past she couldn't give up. She had never once slept past the rising sun, always waking before the sky turned the light blue hues of day, even when she was late.

She knew she wasn't supposed to converse with the slaves now that she was of higher status, but she did. She stood by one of the cleaning closets every morning, slipping pieces of bread to the hard workers. Every one of them knew her now. There was no line, for they knew if they were found out accepting bread from a Lady, a princess no less, they would be whipped. So they took it secretly, a small nod or smile on their face.

Sorrow enjoyed this part of her day almost as much as seeing Loki when he came back from his duties as prince.

A small girl walked past, her pale face too worn for her young face. This sight wasn't foreign to Sorrow. She remembered her own face when she had been a slave. The girl couldn't have been older than Yvette, and this almost brought tears to Sorrow's eyes. She had been twelve. She was lucky enough to have been twelve. But this girl… who knew how many times she had been whipped or starved already at the age of, what, eight?

The girl hesitantly walked up to Sorrow, unsure and suspicious when Sorrow motioned her over. Sorrow held the piece of bread out to the little girl. Her huge brown eyes began to water as she looked from Sorrow to the food. She looked around the hall, looked behind her, even looked down at the floor to see if it was for some sort of animal. Her eyes flitted back up to Sorrow's.

"Is this…" The tiny voice trailed off as she lost her confidence.

Sorrow smiled and knelt down to the little girl's level. Sorrow took her hand and the little girl flinched. She placed the bread gently in the girl's hands. "What is your name?"

The girl hesitated. "Lily…" She whispered.

"That is a very pretty name, Lily." Sorrow said reassuringly.

Lily looked at the piece of bread in her tiny hands which were already calloused and rough from work. Then she looked at Sorrow's hands, which still bore the scars of slavery. "Is this… for me?" She asked sheepishly, not meeting Sorrow's gaze.

"Of course it is."

Lily put the bread to her nose and took a deep breath, her face lighting up with pleasure. The sadness disappeared from her eyes and she smiled the prettiest smile Sorrow had ever seen. "Thank you." Lily whispered in a reverent awe.

Before Sorrow could say another word, Lily ran down the hall as a Head Maid came walking by. Sorrow stared at the Head Maid as she passed, and the Head Maid stared at her. Neither spoke, for now, Sorrow was the one who could make the demands, though she never would. Sorrow was only glad that she could help the slaves who, to her, were the strongest set of people she knew.