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Chapter 1: Nightmare

Serilda awoke from the terrible nightmare.

It is just dream. She told herself. But there was something strange about the the dream. It felt so lifelike. Like it actually happened.

The names... Helen... Andromache... Astyanax... Priam... Hektor... Achilleus... she had heard of them before. A far off memory. A story told in a cold winter's night, sang in her ears. Sweet in its melody, gory in its content. A story told in sleepless nights, from her mother's lips, whispered softly like the gurgling of a clear stream.

The Trojan War.

The name of the story came to her. But why here why now? After all it happened over 400 years ago.

She shook her head trying to rid herself of the gruesome nightmare. But it didn't work. But then again how can you shake your head and expect something to go away. Life wasn't like that. She learnt that the hard way.

She was up...so she might as well get dressed and start on the day's work. She took off her threadbare shift and picked up a pail of cold water washed her face and body. She then put on a long white linen dress with cheap metal clasps at her shoulders that were now rusting, she then tied a belt around her waist. She brushed her thick dark tight curls and tied them up with an old ribbon.

Serilda then made her way to the kitchens. They were not any old kitchens, but those of the King of Sparta, Charilaus. No one was there yet. No one was up. Then again no one had nightmares like she did. She picked up a bowl of grain and went outside.

The soft-clucking of the chickens reached her ears. A rare smile spread across her lips.

After the animals were fed she went back inside. Everyone was getting up now, some were already in the kitchens. Serilda went inside the kitchens.

Medea spotted her and beckoned her over. Medea was a beautiful woman around thirty. She had hair which looked like it was sculpted from a sheet of obsidian. Eyes that were almost violet. A body and face that was said to rival Aphrodite herself. No wonder why the King favoured her over his very own wife. Yet her outside beauty was outweighed by her internal beauty. She was probably the most kindest and motherly out of all the slaves and servants. No wonder why she was in charge.

She gave Serilda basket, three talents of gold and a list.

"Andrea is ill." she said. Andrea was the usual girl who ran down to the market as she was the fastest and sure footed out of them all. Had she been allowed to run with men she would have probably left them in the dust. "I need you to get a few supplies. There will be a feast tonight, a gathering of all the nobles."

There is not may of them thought Serilda yet they hold more power than the rest of Sparta combined.

She nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh and Serilda!" she called. "Use my cloak. I don't want men to cast a bad eye on you."

"Thank you..." answered Serilda as she grabbed the cloak that hung near the door of kitchens, she put it on before rushing out of kitchens, out of the palace and down to the agora.

~~~~~

The smell of first thing that hot her. A pungent mixture good and bad smells. Spices for far off lands mixed with the perfumes of Arabia, fish, meat, vegetables, fruit and sweat. The overwhelming heat made it smell much more worse.

Around her men wearing longs robes or short tunics. Some of the younger ones who were most likely athletes or soldiers walked around with belted leather kilts or were completely naked. Serilda kept her head down. Just walking among them made her feel uncomfortable and somehow violated. There were a few women. But most of them were like her, slave and sometimes servant. The richer more privileged women were back in their homes, preserving their honour.

Serilda always thought this idea was stupid. She, a mere slave, still had more honour than most of the priveliged more "honorable" women. At least she didn't open her legs to any man that tried to make advances towards her. In fact the last man that had tried to make advances on ended up unconscious and unable to remember what had happened to him. Which was lucky. Otherwise she would have been killed for sure.

She spotted a man who was selling fruits. There were pomegranates today, Medea would be happy about that.

~~~~~

Once she came back with fresh supplies for the night's feast and more delicacies (it seems trade had gone well for the past month) it was back to work as usual. Cleaning, cooking and avoiding sly remarks from the palace guards. The bad thing was she was used to this treatment.

She was cleaning and preparing the meat that the men had brought in fresh from the hunt that morning. She was the only woman who could stand all the blood. It was wild boar and deer tonight with some chicken. Serilda couldn't remember the last time they had chicken. Chicken was rarest meat in the whole of Hellas (Greece).

She felt sad to see one the chickens go. But food was food. Maybe if the men weren't particularly raucous there would still be some left for her.

She felt someone behind her, she kept working on the deer until there was a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll take over for now..." said and elderly woman by the name of Metis, the eldest of them all. "The king has requested all the young and beautiful ones to serve tonight. Medea told me she is waiting for you."

Serilda grimaced. Hopefully none of the men found her attractive. That was unlikely though. Last time this had happened she was ten and had been deemed to young to help and now she understood why. Eighteen is a cursed age she thought to herself, but she was glad this kind of meeting of nobles didn't happen often.

~~~~~

Medea handed her a red and gold dress with beautiful gold coloured sandals and a golden ribbon to match. There was a look of sympathy and understanding in her eyes. Medea was already dressed in an identical outfit. She looked lovely and ravishing, all for the wrong reasons.

Serilda held out the dress. It was short and one shouldered, lined with gold enbroidery, obviously to reveal as much as possible while leaving enough to the imagination. It looked stunning at first but Serilda soon realised it was old, a hand me down.

"Your mother wore that dress as well." said Medea. Serilda looked at it more carefully now, studying each line and fold. At least she had something else of her mother's. Something other than the chain her mother had given her.

"It's your father's. He will come back for you." she had said. Serilda as a child had waited by the front porch, hoping for a silhouette against teh fiery sunset. Rugged, handsome, sword in hand ready to fight anyone that came in their way as they escaped.

"She must have looked beautiful in it." said Serilda.

Medea smiled "She did."

Medea had been the closest thing she had to mother ever since her real mother died. Medea had only been nineteen then but she had looked after the seven year old girl, who's mother had treated her so kindly.

"Does it hurt?" asked Serilda, obviously concerned about how the night would unfold.

Medea nodded "It bleeds the first time, but all will be well. You'll try not think about it if you're smart."

Serilda nodded and fingered the cloth that her mother once wore.

"I'll give you some privacy." said Medea. Serilda was glad. This was probably the last bit of privacy she will be getting today.

The door closed and she was left alone in the room where she and five other women slept. She took off her white dress and slipped on the red one. The cloth felt smooth against he skin. She pinned up the one shoulder with a golden clasp. She put the sandals on. But rather than covering her long legs more they made them look much more desirable. She wished she had a cloak of some kind to cover herself. This dress would have been a comfortable change from the stifling long white dress had it not been for objectification.

Finally she tied her hair up with the gold ribbon and she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked beautiful. The beauty in her muscular figure made up for her lack of curves. Yet she prayed to the gods the gods that somehow no one would notice her. That she would be over looked. But the gods hadn't listened to her prayers for many years. Why would they listen to her now?

~~~~~

The first Chapter of Daughter of the Apple. What do you think? How was it? How do you like Serilda? Please tell me what you think and thank you for 25 reads :D.


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