Harmony was put on a lone plate apart from the other Trolls taken along with her. She was taken by a Bergen cook into a large but simple room and placed on a wooden table. "You're lucky, little princess." He suddenly spoke. "You will be eaten by my most esteemed boss, Chef. She handles all the cooking and collecting of the Trolls." Laughing, the Bergen left the room.
Five-year-old Harmony had been well-prepared for this day. Her mom, Serenity, knew that her daughter would be taken one day. She had taught her daughter how to act, and Harmony had been given ragged clothes that made her look like a street rat. She also made an effort to make her fuchsia hair ratty and matted. To finish the impression, Harmony rubbed dirt on her pale cheeks. That is when she was a human.
Carefully, making sure no one was looking, Harmony jumped off the silver platter. In midair, she switched to her human form. It had been years since she had been a human. Only her family knew it, no one else. She felt despondent. After all, she was a five-year-old child. But, even so, she was she stayed calm, knowing this could give her away. She tiptoed out of the room, making sure to keep to the shadows. She was so confident, she knew she could escape. As she was daydreaming and praising herself, she bumped into Chef, the ruthless Bergen known especially for her cruel treatment of the Trolls.
"Who are you? Get out of my way." Chef pushed Harmony out of the way. Harmony breathed in relief. That had been close. She suddenly stopped. "Come with me," She said, grabbing Harmony's wrist. She dragged her to a room where there was a wooden chair, and the Bergen King and his were son there. Harmony met his eyes, knowing she should not show fear.
"This street urchin was wandering the palace, Your Majesty. I think she is perfect for our new opening of a scullery maid, don't you think?" Dread crept into Harmony. This was the price for her overconfidence. She had been so sure she could make it and, as a result, had made a careless mistake.
The king waved his hand. "Don't you bother me with such matters, Chef. It is your job to deal with those worthless maids anyway." Chef smiled nastily down at Harmony. She dragged Harmony into a dimly lit stone room. "This is where you'll be working most of the time, street urchin. What is your name, anyway?" She asked mockingly.
Harmony came up with a fake name quickly. "Roxanne," She said quietly. Chef smiled down spitefully at her. "Well, Roxanne, congratulations, you work for me now." She called another cook. "Sherman! Come show this new servant around! And bring a scullery maid uniform. " She smirked and said "A black one,"
A golden-haired haired boy appeared after a few minutes. He was holding a black folded dress with short, lacy, and puffy sleeves. On the other hand, was a pressed, deep purple apron. He handed it to her, his bright green eyes boring into her soul. It didn't take long for him to realize he was staring, and he blushed. "Hi." He said. She smiled back and returned the greeting. Chef left them to it.
"Hi! So your name is Sherman, right?" For whatever reason, she felt like she could confide in this boy, whoever he was. He nodded. "It is so nice to meet you! Can we be friends?" She smiled warmly at him again. "Yes, we can be friends." she jumped up and down in excitement when he accepted.
He gently guided her through the intricately designed castle, taking her on a tour of the different rooms and patiently addressing her inquiries. Observing her contagious energy, he was reminded of his friend Princess Harmony. He watched as she almost lost sight of their purpose for being there. As they approached the final leg of the tour, Harmony, full of excitement, teetered on the edge of a deep chasm, her skipping causing her to sway dangerously close to the precipice. Quick to react, Sherman instinctively reached out and grasped her hand, pulling her back to safety with a firm yet gentle touch. "Careful there," he cautioned, his voice laced with concern.
A narrow, dimly lit stairway wound its way down into the cold, damp darkness below, the air heavy with the musty scent of old wood and neglect. Harmony's footsteps echoed softly against the stone walls, her unease growing with each step. As she descended, a feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. The gravity of the situation she found herself in became increasingly apparent. Her black hood had fallen, revealing bright fuchsia hair, an unusual color for humans unless they were hybrids. Sherman frowned but decided to ignore the fact for now.
"Thank you," Sherman acknowledged with a slight nod of his head before pressing on. "That leads down to the basement. It's where you'll be sleeping, eating, and spending a good amount of your time."
Harmony, now known as Roxanne, couldn't help but let out a despairing groan. The thought of living in such a place, surrounded by cold stone and shadows, weighed heavily on her. How could anyone endure such an existence?
Sherman noticed that she had not expected to live in such a place. He sighed inwardly, empathizing with her, and led her down the wooden steps to where a Bergen was sleeping. "Bridget, wake up," he ordered calmly. "You have a new coworker, Roxanne. She is a human," The grey-purple Bergen glanced skeptically at Roxanne, who looked right back at her.
"Do you want to be friends?" Roxanne asked with a genuine and childlike innocence, holding out her hand. Her bright, amber eyes sparkled with hope and sincerity, reflecting her unguarded eagerness to connect. Bridget, with her piercing gaze, carefully scrutinized Roxanne's petite frame and the warmth in her eyes. After a contemplative pause, she reluctantly said, "No." As Roxanne's hopeful expression faltered into a crestfallen look, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over Bridget, though she hid them well. Sherman observed the exchange with a furrowed brow, struck by the unexpected rejection. It brought to mind his memories of Troll Village, where Harmony, known for her cheerful and inclusive nature, had effortlessly forged friendships with nearly everyone. Roxanne seemed to have the same kind of charm and charisma, that attracted everyone.
Sherman grasped her hand, wanting to distract her from the previous rejection. "Come on, let's go meet the other servants," he said. "I'm sure they'll give you a warm welcome." Bridget rolled her eyes at the statement. "Yeah, go ahead and coddle the new girl, Sherman. But, sooner or later, Miss Pretty Face will learn that there are hardships in life, and life is unforgiving, giving us fates such as these."
When they arrived at the Servants' Hall, which was bustling and noisy, Sherman clapped his hands and announced, "Everyone, we have a new servant. Her name is Roxanne." Everyone gathered around Roxanne, giving her a warm welcome. Roxanne smiled warmly, excited. There were so many names to remember: Laura, Chris, John, and Crystal, just to name a few.
Amidst the bustling, Roxanne's heart sank as the cruel reality settled in. She realized that this meant she wouldn't be able to return home. Tears spilled down her cheeks as a surge of despair washed over her. Crystal, a 24-year-old human chambermaid, noticed Roxanne's distress and gently hugged her, asking with genuine concern, "Why are you crying, child?" Roxanne whimpered through her tears, "I won't be able to go back home." At that moment, 7-year-old Sherman, who had always been wise beyond his years, spoke up, "Even if you can't go back, you have the memories, and you must keep those in your heart. Keep those happy memories with you, and nothing, no one, not even Chef, can break your spirit. Promise you will do that." Roxanne, feeling a glimmer of hope, nodded brokenly.
The chef, who had been silently observing the touching moment, suddenly interrupted with a shrill voice. "You useless servants!" she bellowed. "Back to work, all of you! And you, scullery maid, come with me!" With a forceful grip, she pulled Roxanne away from the rest and led her back to the scullery. "Scrub the floors and tend to the fire," she commanded, thrusting a brush and a bucket of soapy water into Roxanne's hands and pointing to a hearth filled with smoldering cinders.
Scrubbing the floors felt like an endless task, made even more grueling by Chef's piercing gaze, which remained fixed on Roxanne the entire time. When she finished, her hands were raw and sore, as she was not used to such work. But she glanced defiantly up at Chef, for she knew who she was, not a lowly servant, as Chef seemed to think she was, but a princess stolen from her home.
No matter what happened, Roxanne would never forget who she was. Despite the circumstances, she would remain herself, Harmony, and would not let anyone break her spirit.
I decided to rewrite my 2nd story, as I saw many mistakes, but I also lost passion for it and used my original idea for the story, which was that Harmony could not escape until later when Poppy and Branch came to rescue the snack pack