Fates Unbound: Across The All-Realm

Chapter 5: The First Time

"Wake up you lazy shit, time to get scrubbing on those floors." Greta was kicked lightly on her leg, rousing her from her resting place on the floor in the musty room she'd been living in since she'd been detained. As she woke, the soreness of her body overwhelmed her. Sleeping on the mold infested mat provided to her was a far walk from the goose feather bed she'd been so used to. Greta hadn't taken well to her new position, as a measly scrub maid in Greyhome. Seeing her now, one would hardly imagine she'd once spent her hours tending to her children and home. Now her days were spent cleaning up the kitchen after meals, collecting and cleaning soiled laundry, and scrubbing chamber pots. She didn't mind cleaning the kitchen, it meant she could sneak scraps of food in her apron, but she could've done without the latter task.

The chirping of birds through the iron barred slit of a window overhead confirmed the morning had already begun. Chattering and clanging of work being done echoed down the hall and into the room. Greta hoped she wouldn't be shamed for her late rising, but sleep often left her exhausted. Her nights were riddled with terrible nightmares and horrible thoughts.

A groan of discomfort rumbled from her chest as she rolled onto her knees, hands propping her up on the gritty stone floor, and then managed to get to her feet. Wiping the dirt from her palms on her skirt, she begrudgingly readied herself to begin her long day of tasks. Shoes. Apron. The bucket and rag she'd left outside her door the day before had been kicked across the hall but were there nonetheless. She scooped them up and then wandered out to the servants yard. There she could fetch fresh water from the well.

If one walked into the yard without having gone through the main gates of Greyhome the space could easily have passed as any other slum in the city the lowest born called home. Where there once may have been grass only yellowed patches of pratgrass and dirt remained. No gold or ornate decor adorned the walls and windows. The only color in the space came from water chalk murals on the bricks that would eventually wash away with the rain.

Near the well a few children, most likely bastards of the servants, played a game together. Their clothing was nothing more than tattered rags sewn together to the best of their mothers' abilities. Bony shoulders and knees poked out from beneath the pitiful clothing. The sight of them made Greta wonder about her own children. She knew her brother swore to watch after Freda and Rian, but what of Alden? Her heart ached as she thought of her son deemed a traitor and fugitive. And her poor Jessa, hardly given a life before it was snatched away.

"Greta! I'd hoped to see you today," a friendly voice approached, pulling her from the emotional whirlwind blowing through her mind. It was Corrine, a friend she'd managed to make, and a much needed distraction at the moment. Her short cropped hair bobbed as Corrine pranced toward her, cheeks rosy with a strange sense of happiness, or strange for their position at least. Greta greeted her companion with a gentle smile, her sadness shining through her eyes despite her attempts to hide her sorrow. "I came across this at the market today, thought you'd like to have it." Corrine held out a cloth wrapped object, which Greta gratefully accepted, tucking it into the pocket of her apron without inspecting the gift. Not two days earlier she'd been given a necklace by one of the children. It was not of precious stone and metals but of twine and wood. Still, the guard of the servants' quarters took it, a successful attempt of breaking her spirit further. She would have plenty of time to admire what her friend gave her when she was alone at night.

Greta began to turn from her friend when Corrine grabbed her wrist, pulling her in close. Corrine hoped her words to only be heard by the two of them, some kind of secret. Greta's blue eyes met Corrine's green gaze, studying them for a moment. Then Corrine whispered, "It's from Rian, he's working for the city courier now. Says your brother wanted him to help set things right so that you can return home to them sooner." The mention of her son filled her heart with a burning ache. She wanted to ask so many questions. Did he look well, fed, clean? Did he mention his sister, Freda? Was there word of his brother? For now, she gave her thanks, patting her pocket as though to make sure the item hadn't been imagined, and then hurried off before her dillydallying was noted.