Of Soot And Cinders

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A|N: Leaving a content ⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ for implied/referenced sexual assault.

If you would like to skip please stop at: "My next breath left my chest faster than I knew what was happening." And continue reading at: "It was more than an hour."

SOOT

I had kissed him. Grimm. I had kissed Grimm. He had kissed me... I— I had kissed someone, and for the first time in my life I had wanted it, enjoyed it. And I now wanted more.

No.

No no no.

I wasn't allowed more, I shouldn't have even been allowed any in the first place. Love was not meant to be waisted on slaves.
Goddess and I was lying to him. He thought I was a servant, thought I was redeemable, that I was worth his attention, that if he— that one day I could be more than a servant.

But with my fath—masters latest visit, I wasn't even sure I would be forgiven of my sins, of ever being allowed back into welcoming arms, into society.

I'd been deluding myself since the damning mark had been burned into my skin. A child's dream turned delusion. Lies lies lies.
My chest constricted around the realization. I wouldn't ever be free of this mark, this body, this life. But what more did I deserve.

I pushed my weight into my rag, shoving it over dirty cobblestone, hoping to wash the dirt and my feelings away.
I was in the kitchens now. The only hearths I hadn't cleaned this moon cycle. It didn't seem to matter to the kitchen staff that I was helping them, their dirty gazes were enough to indicate their dislike of my presence. Their reluctance to move away from their cooking fires long enough for me to scrub the stones was a clearer message though. I'd been forced to wait a whole after I was supposed to start for the head cook to finally cave and order one hearth to be left open for me to clean, though he didn't say anything about dousing the fire. That had been left to me to deal with.

Despite being the only living body on castle grounds to ever clean the hearths, I hadn't been near fire as much as I had water. Maybe they thought I would burn something down or kill myself and waste a precious set of working hands, but the fires had always been doused before I arrived.
I had tried fanning it out first, like I'd seen done with candles. But when it only caused the flames to lick at more of the logs I tried blowing on it, hoping a more direct source of air would stop it.

The heat leapt up and bit at my face. I stumbled back, falling before I could catch myself.

"Oi, you bloody idiot. Dontcha know not to blow on a fire?" I didn't look up to match the voice to the body, though I did see a pair of worn leather boots step closer.

I shook my head.

Don't speak unless asked a direct question. Ten lashes if this rule is broken.

I'd finally been given an actual list of rules and the following consequences if I were to break any of them. Though when I had been given the parchment at breakfast with the rules listed I hadn't been able to read any of them. Sara had stepped in however to explain the characters on the paper.

"You simple or somethin?" The voice continued.

Was that direct enough? I shook my head again.

"Stupid—" I heard him mumble, though I'd almost missed it over the pounding sounds of the kitchen. I watched his boots retreat towards the hearth. Stopping before it with an iron bucket in hand.