BTT x Reader | BloodXLust

Chapter Fifty Seven | FrancisXPast

"There's has to be more to the story right?"

"It was a long time ago I can't tell it like it's happening now, cher," he explained.

"Well..." I thought about what to ask next, "how did you end up in the Roman capital?"

"I was taken during zhe wars."

"Okay and?"

"Are you going to make me recall my entire life for you, girl?" He clicked his tongue and pushed my head downwards to tease my insatiable curiosity.

"Not If it's too hard," I bargained and he rolled his eyes.

I was born in Gaul. My mom had many children and my father was a hard worker, we lived more towards the Celtic region in the small villages, not a part of the more lavish stone buildings towards the capital.

I was the eldest, it was me, my little brother, two younger sisters, another brother and my mother was pregnant with a boy when I first started acting like an adult.

I was ten maybe and my father took me to the fields, showed me how to collect wheat and forced me to slaughter the cow which I'd grown fond of since I'd helped raise it. That act was a bit traumatic for me and I cried in private, if my dad saw me cry he'd strike me and call me weak.

I'm not sure if my dad was always so cruel but I noticed as the years went by. When I was made to show my brother how to do the same things my father taught me he cut his leg and it became infected. Maybe he would've survived but my father put no effort into trying to help him, he saw him as another mouth to feed and one that couldn't help so he let my brother grow sicker despite my mom's pleading.

That's when I lost my little brother, he was closer to me than anyone. But tragedy was never far around the corner back then. In the old days, people were more used to it than people are in the modern world. Because then, anything could kill you. We could be relaxing and having fun and suddenly there would be a wolf. That's how my youngest brother died, a wolf killed him and no one ever caught that exact wolf but my father hunted wolves from then on religiously. My mother died from grief and the child inside her died too.

My father raped my sister and when she confided this to me I didn't know what else to do. So I confronted him and I stabbed him with a kama, the one we used to collect wheat, in the back. He fell into our lamp and the lamp spread the fire through our home and our father and our home went up in flames leaving my two little sisters and I the only ones left in the family be age fourteen.

I had to beg and steal for food and clothing for my sisters. Everyone was too concerned with their own survival and their own rumbling bellies to care about ours. I had to kill anything I could in order to eat.

We three became dirtied and muddied and our clothes were worn and we had fleas and other sorts of awful bugs. I quickly found out the hard way I could never leave my sisters' sides or else they be taken advantage of. I learned this when I found the two, only fifteen and thirteen being assuaged by a group of older boys. One sister became pregnant and the other was stolen away by one boy's family to become his wife despite her protests she went along with it so she could have a roof over her head, clean clothing, and food.

That left my youngest sister and I on the streets still, that is until my sister died giving birth to the son she never asked for. The baby was all I had but I didn't want him to live or die on the streets so I sold myself as a slave to a richer family in the capital and I adopted my nephew out to another rich family.

I worked in the fields for years becoming muscular and tan. At the time tan was seen as a sign of being poor and in the lower working class so it wasn't slightly. Of course some of this happened during the Gallic wars and eventually, that prosperous region fell to the Romans.