Arran was happy, truly happy, for the first time in a long while. He knew that he was getting closer to Isan. He felt that it was only a matter of time before Isan would develop feelings for him, if she hadn't already.

“Every woman will definitely fall for a man, no matter who he is, if she was approached the right way” Ermic had joked once, nudging Arran in the ribs playfully.

“Yeah, right.” Arran had shrugged it off then. But he did have to accept that there was some truth to Ermic’s dodgy philosophy.

Isan’s frequent visits to the stables did not go unnoticed. The other slaves had long started pestering him with questions about Isan. Some of them wanted to know more about Isan, others wanted to know why she spent so much time in his stall.

“It is not my stall, It is Equs’s. There is a difference. She is here for him.” He had replied hotly then, regretting it immediately. They would surely take his testiness as a sign that he was hiding something.

Ermic on the other hand, was enjoying being the centre of attention. He became something of a celebrity among the slaves. Arran’s cold and aloof personality only helped showcase Ermic’s outgoing boisterousness. Everyone just assumed that Ermic would definitely be privy to Arran’s personal matters. They were right. But they had greatly misjudged him if they had thought that Ermic would divulge any of Arran’s personal affairs.

The whole affair just seemed to bring drama and amusement to an otherwise dull life of the slaves. They jumped at this opportunity, trying to make the best out of it; all at Arran’s expense.

Some of the bolder slaves even offered him their unconditional support, in case he ever wanted to elope with Isan. They were awed and delighted, that one of their own had been able to gain the attention of a noble lady.

There were others too, jealous and petty, who only saw Arran as being opportunistic; that he was just trying to get out of his slavery by seducing a noble. They could only watch grudgingly as Arran continued to receive Isan’s attentions.

Though Arran was quick to publicly deny any romantic involvement between the two of them, he himself suspected that Isan liked him. He loved her. He had daydreamed often that they would elope, riding Equs into the horizon. He knew, that the only chance they had at being together was to elope. But he quickly discarded that train of thought, why would a noble like Isan give up all the wealth she had and trade it up for a life on the run? Surely, he was not worth so much?

If only he knew how she felt about him….

If only he knew what fate had in store for them….

Lord Egon had come barging into the stables one day, escorted by dozens of guardsmen.

Arran quickly kneeled , his head hung low, as was the custom of the slaves.

“You filth. You are a slave…an ant underneath my shoe. How do you fucking dare dally around with a noble?” Lord Egon went straight to the point.

Arran didn't know how to respond. He couldn't afford to anger Egon, It would only take a word from Egon to end Arran’s life. Arran might have been more apathetic to his situation and rebelled against such accusations and oppression if he hadn't found Isan.

Not now, not when he had found happiness again. He had nothing to gain and the world to lose by angering Egon now.

“I would never dare do such a thing milord.” He had to reply meekly, subserviently…his freedom and will chained by vile slavery. He hated it.

“Fucking nonsense, Do not over estimate your worth as a rider…..do not think, do not dream, for a single moment that I will not get rid of you.”

“Yes, milord.”

Though Arran knew he was quite valuable to Egon, he did not doubt for a single moment that Egon would dispose him without a second thought if the need ever arose. Arran was Egon’s property, according to this warped society.

Egon had paid a few gold to the slavers and that gave him the right to own a human? Who gave the nobles to dictate the hopes, dreams, the life of another human? Society did not care a single bit about the lowest rung of the ladder. People like him suffered everywhere. They were treated like dirt.

They were the vast majority, yet they were so powerless; wealth was everything in this world, in every world.

What was the lesser evil?

Forever distancing yourself from the one you so dearly love, knowing that you would always love her; even if you could not be together?

Or every bone broken, discarded, the life bleeding from you, slowly trickling into this cursed earth that had been nothing but cruel to you?

How could one decide between the two of these?

Arran knew the value of love, he believed that it was the most valuable thing in the world. Only someone who had needed it, yet lacked it would know it’s value, it’s warmth, and bliss. Arran knew this.

Where would one draw the line between emotional and physical pain? When would you trade one for the other? When would you say one is greater than the other?

Arran did not know.

He toiled about with this internal struggle for a couple of days before deciding on a course of action. He had always been a realist. He had always prided himself on being prudent. He felt that prudence was what would let you survive in this world. There was nothing else that he could do.

He had to ask Isan to stop visiting him.

He hated the world. He hated himself. If only he had the power, he would burn the whole world down, destroy it’s roots and build one anew…one where he could be happy.

One where love was worth more than pieces of shiny metal.

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PS: For those of you waiting for action and badassery, we are nearly there. Hold your horses for a few more chapters and then we can bathe in blood together. :)