Rome: The Forsaken

They were all scared of her.
No one would even deny it, but no one ever asked.

They would sit and play card games around a table, taunting and laughing because they knew they were protected by a set of metal bars. Ones that couldn’t be broken by her in this state.
“Louis, they couldn’t get her out if the gods were on their side....”

“Ya know what Crawford.....royal flush.”

“Damn you to hell Tomlinson!” The guard said angrily throwing the chips in the other man's direction.

She could hear the poker chips being exchanged and thrown as their laughter turned drunken as what she assumed was the day went on.

Currently, she was in the farthest corner. The back left corner to be exact, it was the farthest point away from them, right where she wanted to be.

The hell hole wasn’t as bad as the last one. At least she knew there were others, others like her. Survivors who were fighting for their lives every second of every day.
The lead man in charge had dark roman hair and light eyes. She could tell his accent had roman in it as well as most of the other men who made sure she was kept in line. The lead one seemed to be of high ranking with his own group of soldiers.

He was a simple man, you didn’t follow the rules you were punished accordingly. She had seen a man flogged 10 times because he refused to move. She watched them kill the old or sick. She had watched the survivors suffer like she had, but they picked on her.

Taunting and teasing, Poking and prodding seemed to be a good way for them to pass the time.
All the other girls and women had been forced to shave their heads, it was to get rid of all the lice and see if they has disease or a sickness. She remembers they had walked up to her with the rusted blades, but a man had interrupted them and ordered them not to. She hadn’t complained, in fact she hadn’t said anything at all.

The chains they were all kept in were cold and made of solid iron. It didn’t take much to hold a human, even a Arkean, but they knew the legends and they were right. No chances were taken with the tribes people.

She watched the little mouse scurry across the ground to it’s hole in the wall. She was in a cell awaiting her turn on the stage. Her body was covered from head to toe in grime and dirt. She had blood on her from the bloodied hands of the guards who dragged her from her home.
She picked at her nails, they had dirt embedded in the cuticles.She doubted they would get clean if she had a hundred baths. Her hair was greasy and fell in clumped waves, the color more of a black rather than her natural color.

Her eyes were dull, a blue and gray color. They would change depending on her mood, and currently she certainly wasn’t happy. She feared for her life, but on the outside she was cooler than a cucumber.

“Times up Rat!” A man unlocked her cell before going in. She quickly scrambled up standing a solid 5’5”. She was taller than the average roman woman, she knew that just from the walk in to the market.

She didn’t make a sound as he pulled her along to a line of young men and woman. Ages looked to range from 17 to 23 tops. They were selling off the best stock last.
They were dragged out one by one. She could hear the screams and the restless crowd. Romans were always so eager for the wrong things.

Soon she was at the front of the line and her arm was roughly grabbed. She was pulled on to the stage and a few gasps were heard. It was true she looked nothing like the Romans.
She was curvier from all of her muscles she worked hard to get. ,Her hair was darker than their browns and blondes. Her eyes were definitely not the same color, for they were not the same icy blue but a cyan blue. Her skin was not as bronze as theirs, it was rather pale with a light sun-kiss look to it. She never burned despite the fact she was light skinned.

“Start the bidding at 100 gold pieces, this one’s gonna be a good breeder!” The man next to the podium said. She wasn’t supposed to be able to understand him, she was Arkean and he Roman. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, except they would know.
She spoke in the foreign tongue fluently, as if she was raised roman. “They wouldn’t make it that close.” Her eyes flicked to a man who called out.

“100 pieces!”

“110!”

“150”

The girl seemed not to help her own case. She had flare, something roman men craved, especially in their beds. She watched a man look at the head guard who was standing at the gate. The head guard nodded and that was assurance for the man.

“500 gold pieces!”

A/N
HEY GUYSSSSSS
I am rewriting/reuploading my book because I lost inspiration and I have it back again
Hope to see more of you!

~ Anna

Notes