Lodira stood in the bedroom that was no longer her own. It was everything a noble’s daughter should have, expensive polished dark wood, richly appointed furnishings of every type. A thick, soft bed, not one, but two wardrobes that were stuffed with clothing for every occasion.

Things she hadn’t even bothered to take with her when she left for Pas’en years before because the expensive Pasenian fashions were different. She wanted to go and open the wardrobes, to look one more time at it all. Her eyes welled up with tears.

The memory of what her father said was still looping through her mind, ‘The Prince of Pas’en got rid of you to save himself.’ It wasn’t true… and yet it was. He was still there, ruling the city, ‘While here you stand.’ She stared down at the maid outfit the old Steward had held up for her. His gray old face was much like her father’s, stern, unyielding, and uncaring of what this was doing to her.

He’d held it up, then laid it on the bed. Now it was all she had. ‘The only clothing you need for the next year.’ She thought, and covered her face with her hands. “How did this happen.. How… how could this happen to me…” When she covered her face, she felt a renewed pain, she was sure the flesh was swelling where her father had hit her, her jaw sent a jolt of pain with every choked sob.

She tried to run through her options as she stared down at it. ‘Would my siblings take me in, any of them?’ She immediately dismissed her older sister, ‘She’ll make me a maid too… and her husband is a lecher and he’s always had eyes for me, besides, she knows that, and so she’d keep me away just for that.’ Then her thoughts turned to her brothers, ‘Too much like our… no… no… he’s not your father anymore. They’re too much like their father… I’m just an orphan maid now, in practice if not in fact.’

She clenched her eyes shut, and heard the pounding on the door. “Hurry up!” A rough voice that had never dared speak that way to her before, shouted through the door.

She flinched. “Y-Yes of course…!” Lodira shouted over her shoulder, and with trembling fingers, she reached behind her to undo the laces of the dress she wore. Her eyes were on the maid outfit the entire time, the black and white clothing had been customary for centuries, simple pockets for basic maid tools, space for a duster, a rag, a pad and a tiny vial of ink with a quill for writing notes or incidentals.

All were ready for her already. She swallowed hard when the dress fell to the floor, her breathing became labored. ‘You could just die… just one quick cut.’ The thought came to her and she immediately threw it aside. ‘While I’m alive, something can change, when I’m dead, nothing can…’ She thought, and reached for the simple dress. It was a very basic design and fit over her head with ease.

The straps hit her shoulders, and she felt the touch of the cheap linen, she then reached down to the front, and bound the laces tight, the fabric pulled taut against the skin, highlighting her figure. She clenched her teeth. ‘I’ll bet the old bastard doesn’t even give a damn about people leering at me… well, at least this place is full of prudes, I hated that before, but maybe now at least that will be in my favor.’ She set aside the thought and slipped into the simple dark shoes, then drew her hair out from behind the dress, and looked at herself in the mirror.

Of all the clothing she’d ever pictured, this was the last she’d ever pondered wearing, and in fact a tiny part of her doubted that she truly could, as if a maid outfit would flee from noble skin.

But as she looked at herself… it fit, at a glance other than better than average poise, Lodira pondered as she looked herself over in full, ‘Nobody would ever think I was anything more than just another maid in a noble house.’

‘I was right though, my face is swollen, father… no… I have no father… I have no family… I have no one… the master of this house hit me so hard… so hard…’ She sniffled and wiped her eyes.

She heard the sound of pounding on the door again. “Hurry up or I will send in a maid to do it for you!” The grouchy old voice snapped at her.

She scurried to the door and flung it open. “I… I’m done, Albaer.” She said hastily.

She barely had time to register the slap of the white glove. It didn’t hit hard, but it hit her face where she was already hurt, and it renewed the pain she felt there.

He stared at her expectantly, waiting while her face came back to look at him in disbelief and confusion. Then she realized what she’d done, she hung her head. “I am sorry…. I mean… I am done, Steward.”

“Better.” He said in a huff, putting his glove back on and giving it a sharp and decisive tug. “You know the master’s edict, you get not an ounce of leniency, you are not his daughter, just a maid, like any other, you answer as they answer, you do as they do and do as I say in the way I say and how I say.” His rigid words hit hard. A memory came back to her of being a small child, her siblings were throwing acorns at her for some reason, laughing and teasing her, the acorns hadn’t hurt… but the fact that they were thrown at her, had.

So it was now, she bit her lower lip and nodded demurely. “Come along, Lodira.” He said sternly and he led her through her former home. The walls were drab and empty as ever, art and beauty were absent for the most part, a few stern family portraits, sharp eyed men and women sitting poised, dignified, and judgemental. She felt the eyes of generations on her, despite their passing, she felt weighed, measured, and found wanting. Her pulse raced and heart pounded as she went down the steps.

The stone echoed with their walking, and the faint musty smell of straw hit her nose. ‘Right, right I don’t get a mattress of feathers and thick fur blankets, nor pillows of down. I get… I get straw bedding, cheap thin wool, and whatever rags I can stuff into a sack for a pillow.’ Bitterness piled atop bitterness until the long, low winding stairs came to a stop in the coldest part of the manor.

She didn’t have far to go from there, the steward turned a handle on a door that had no lock, and flung it inward. A crude bed of unfinished wood and a few candles greeted her. There was no window, as she was now underground, and that knowledge chilled her more than the musty cold air as it felt like the grave. The furnishings within were spartan at best. A simple wardrobe large enough to hold two or three sets of clothing, and a basic dresser that caught a drop of water from the stone in a steady, audible rhythm. She approached the dresser and pulled the drawers one by one, they stuck.

“This is your room. Make the most of it while you can.” He made his grim estimation of her chances of remaining, evident with the way he spoke, and then he did something unexpected, at first it filled her with fear.

He stepped into her room, uninvited, and closed the door behind him. The click was terrifying, for a moment she thought of all the stories she’d heard about maids in the manors of lords, and then she saw his face. Albaer took her shoulders in shaking, white gloved hands. “I’m sorry, Lodira.”

She brought her hand up to her mouth as she understood her fear was baseless, “What… steward?” She asked with a low and deferential look.

“I’m sorry.” Albaer repeated. “I have known your father for many years, longer than you have been alive, and I watched you grow up from an impetuous little girl to a bright spirit that didn’t fit here. Your leaving for Pas’en was a happy day for me, because I thought you might blossom there… seeing you back, this way… it doesn’t please me.”

“But… but you hit me…?” She stammered and touched the cheek he’d slapped.

“I am the Steward of this house… I cannot show favor to anyone, least of all you now… Lodira. But please listen, if you work hard, if you master the tasks given to you… it isn’t so bad, you’ll live no worse than we do. I know the… the man who was your father. He will be cruel to you, but… but I will speak with other stewards, I can see if one of them might find a place for you. If you work hard, you might be able to leave this house for a kinder home. It’s all I can do, for the little girl I saw grow up.”

“Albaer…” Lodira reached out to the old steward with the severe, cruel face and kindly words, and hugged him, “Thank you. I will try, I will do my best… and whatever happens, may the stars be kind from here on out. Or at least… may they stay out of the way.” She forced a smile despite the fact that it hurt her face to make it.

“Our lesson begins now, are you ready?” He asked.

“I have no choice but to be.” Lodira quipped, and followed him out the door.

“What answer can I give that would satisfy you?” Nua asked from where she sat. Her eyes closed as she reflected on the question. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised, whatever was normal about me, either here or at home, is long since gone.’ She took a deep breath, as she was taught when her mind began to threaten her with chaos.

“You shrink from pleasure and comfort from me! But run to violence and death like it’s a long lost lover! I don’t know what answer you can give, but something?!’ Sobella yelled, her bare breasts heaved as she tried to put together the disconnected pieces of the escort she’d come to revere. “I just want to understand you! I call you ‘friend’, I trust you… but… sometimes it’s like I’m riding with just a beautiful monster! I don’t want to think like that! So please… please just…” Sobella slowly went down to her knees, and prostrated herself like one of Nua’s many slaves.

From her prostrate submissive posture, she said with more gentle calm. “I shouldn’t shout at you, not like that… but please… help me understand how you can be this way…”

“Sobella, there isn’t any one thing I can say to tell you what you want. I was born far away, lived through terrible times in a terrible place. I got the miracle I prayed for, I became strong. I was taught by monsters, spat on my miracle, spat on my blessing, and now here I am on the other side of the world trying to make it right, by doing every evil I deserve to die for, because that is all I know to do. I’m a priestess of the god of death, who proclaims weakness to be a sin. Some weaknesses I have purged. Fear of death, fear of pain, those are gone.” Nua gave a bitter laugh and put her hands on the sandy bank behind her. They sank into the cool ground by a few inches, and a tiny part of her savored the hedonistic pleasure she felt by their squelching around and between her fingers.

“But I have others, to you… touch is comfort, the right kind of touch? Well, that is bliss. You decide what things could make me hesitate from accepting those comforts, maybe it’s better if you do think of me as a monster. Nothing of what I can say is going to make you feel better about me. Think of me as a pretty monster, and don’t think too much more about it. I do envy you though. Not ‘everything’ of course, but in some ways, you’re braver than I ever was. When a man loved you, you grabbed hold of that and savored it. The only touch I can give, is pain, and that… as much as anything else, is why I have to turn you down. I will hurt you. Is it so wrong not to want that guilt on top of everything else?” Nua asked the question as gently as she could, and waited while the prostrate demon-elf absorbed it.

“You don’t trust happiness much, do you?” Sobella asked, slowly raising her head.

Nua snorted, “Only one thing will make me happy, and I’ll purge an empire to get it.”

“You must have loved… him… her… very much?” Sobella said softly, giving a fragile smile to the wood elf, whose blue eyes flew wide to capture the red of the demon-elf.

Sobella gave a tender, golden laugh, “I’ve seen it before. Seen men throw their lives away, seen women do the same for that. I’ve seen a slave so desperately in love with his mistress that when she married, he devoted himself to protecting her children. He never took a mate for himself, and never had children of his own, he died putting himself between them and a unit of Pasenian Cavalry, buying time for the lady to escape with her children and her husband.” She sat up, crossed her legs and looked over the slow rolling waters of the grand wide river.

“You know,” she said, “I think that does tell me what I want to know… I’ve seen constant wars in this place for as long as I can remember. Every year the levy isn’t enough for whatever reason, a war is fought somewhere. Sometimes there’s some other excuse, land, money, power, a natural resource, or even pride. Of all the reasons for war though, love was the only one I ever understood.” Sobella straightened out, and drew herself closer to her champion, “You can relax completely, we’re totally safe here, that much I can promise you.”

The confidence in Sobella’s voice made it unquestionable, and Nua’s eyes slowly closed, “You’re very tired… and you should be. Timnah had a reputation even among us, and you brought him down… let me look after you. Just sleep, rest, my champion, I’ll watch over you tonight.”

Nua yawned in the darkness as her exhaustion from the day hit her like a mountain fallen from the sky. She relaxed and let Sobella lay her down on the cool, cozy sand. “I’ll get the blanket, I’ll take care of camp, I’ll take care of everything. I’ll take care of you.” She kissed the forehead of the monster, and slowly stood up.

“Thank you… Sobella…” Nua whispered before she drifted off, not knowing if the demon-elf responded or not, though even in her sleep, she felt the blanket being placed over her body.