You Are Made of Iron

Chapter II pt. 3

Zeilla looked up at her mother, and she grew uneasy. "Mommy, I want to go home. That person looks." Her mother lifted the little girl off of the horse and placed her on the ground. She went down on one knee, put her hands on Zeilla's shoulders, and looked the five year old girl in the eye.
​"Zeilla," she started, "I want you to know that whatever happens, me and your father love you, and that we will come back for you, we will not leave you here. I need you to stay brave and stay strong, okay?
​Zeilla looked terrified, "You're going to leave me here? Why are you going to leave me here?" The woman once again did not answer. She stood and took the rope out of the saddlebag.
​"I'm sorry Zeilla." That was what she said as she bound her daughters' wrists together behind her back. She tucked the doll that she had made for her daughter into the girl's pocket. Zeilla had only received the toy today, for her birthday. Zeilla's mother led her into the hands of the frightening figure. Zeilla saw a gold pouch pass hands, and that was when it clicked into her mind. Her mother must be selling her. "No!" She screamed, and tried to wriggle away from the firm hands clutching her. "Mommy, don't leave me! Mommy!" Her pleas fell on deaf ears, her mother did not even hesitate.
​"I'm sorry dear. This is the way it has to be."
​The person was slightly less sympathetic, "Move it, girl! She barked. –For now, having heard her voice, she knew that it was indeed a female- However, Zeilla was in no condition to follow orders. She just kept shouting for her mother.
​"Mommy, come back to me! Don't leave me here mommy!" Little Zeilla watched her mother stand there as she was dragged away, her mind refusing to believe what her eyes were telling her. Finally, after the mind numbing disbelief and fear had worn down to a functioning level, she realized that her mother was not coming back. Her mother had just sold her. She realized that if she wanted to escape the mean lady, she would have to do it herself. She would not be saved.
​Zeilla had seen people getting away from people in this situation before. So she figured that she had an advantage. Not to mention that people tend to underestimate screaming children. The mean lady was trying to cover her mouth with her hand, and Zeilla bit it, hard. The lady jerked her hand away in reflex, as Zeilla knew she would, giving the little girl an opening to ram her elbows into the lady's stomach. In those two seconds while she was winded, and before she regained her position, Zeilla ran. She didn't run after her mother. Figuring that she would have the best chance of escape if she hid, she ran for the stables which were to her left. To her dismay, it was only five seconds before she was back in her captor's hands again. The only
difference was that this time instead being annoyed, the lady was mad.
​"Get moving girl," she snarled, "or being bound will be the least of your worries." Zeilla knew she wasn't lying, but she couldn't bring herself to move anymore. Her own mother had abandoned her. It wasn't like she needed money. Her mother was really rich, that she knew. Her mother also wasn't greedy either, which meant that the only explanation left was that her mother was trying to get rid of her. But why?
​My mother doesn't want me. The thought brought a new strength to Zeilla. She got up and looked at her mother, who didn't even have the decency to continue faking crying. Actually she had a faint smile on her face, like she wanted to encourage Zeilla to go with the evil lady. But Zeilla had no intention whatsoever of doing anything for the evil looking lady when her mother was leaving her. She was a smart five year old, much smarter than most, and she knew that without a plan she would never get away. This lady was far too agile and strong for a five year old to outrun, and she had sharp eyes as though constantly searching for a way to beat an opponent, any advantage she could get she would use.
​That's when Zeilla realized how odd this was. She was trained for this. Why would someone send her to pick up a future slave? Because now Zeilla realized that that was what she was going to be if she did not escape. Usually they send untrained thugs to do this job, not women who could be assassins of the kings' royal guard or something nearly as scary. Someone rich must be really interested in her.
​Zeilla knew that she couldn't get away from this lady. So she decided on a plan. She would wait for the lady to deliver her to her real captor, and then when their guard was let down, she would make a run for it. Right now what was to make herself look as pitiful and helpless as possible, so that when the time came, no one would think twice about her. And that would be just perfect. It was a pitiful plan, one of a last resort, but she had run out of options.
​She burst out in tears, and fell to the ground. The tears were nothing as she was already holding them back; all she really did was let them flow. The falling was easy as well, as she had used almost all her strength struggling for her mother and away from the woman. The hard part was staying limp. The evil lady kicked her and every part of her wanted to get up and retaliate, but she couldn't, she needed to stick to the plan. It was essential to stick to the plan. If she didn't appear to give up at the first sign of stress, then no one would ever believe that she suffering from trauma.
​The evil lady wasn't falling for it, "Oh come now. I can hardly believe that you'll just curl up in a ball after acting like that." But Zeilla wasn't moving, even though the kicks were getting more and more painful. Evil Lady was putting more effort into them. One advantage of not having a regular brute handling me, she thought, is that it means no steel tipped boots. She remembered one of her friends saying that Kind Galleon's guards had them. Although, the kicks still left small bruises. Zeilla couldn't help whimpering, and although it helped her plan she hated that she had to. After about a minute Zeillas captor realized that it would be faster to just pick her up and carry her than it would be to try and get her to come by herself. So she did.
​When the evil lady finally got inside of the castle and to the throne room with little Zeilla she was so frustrated with her that she threw her on the floor in front of the king. "Stupid little piece of scum!" she said spitting on her.
​"Please Veinneias, control yourself." Zeilla resisted the urge to look up at the speaker; instead she curled up into a ball and whimpered louder. "Ahh," he said, "your mother said you would try something like this. You were thinking that if you made yourself look small and inconspicuous that I would forget all about you, ensuing loosened security and a better chance of escape. Am I correct?"
​Zeilla stiffened but otherwise did not respond, hoping the little response to go unnoticed. But Veinneias (a.k.a. the evil lady) said, "I saw that you little runt." She kicked her in the gut harder than she had kicked her before. Something Zeilla hadn't thought was possible. However, she knew nothing of the evil lady's strength.
​"Okay, you win." she said standing up and brushing herself off. She had abandoned the plan for want of answered to questions she couldn't ask while on the floor. It wasn't much of a plan in the first place. "I'd ask you what you want with me, but I'm pretty sure that I know as much of the answer as I want to know. Considering what's happened, I hope you can forgive my rude behavior, your majesty." she said bowing to him mockingly, "I'd say sorry, but I doubt that you didn't expect me to put up a fight when I was being taken from my mom at the tender age of five." Lately the girl had been using that phrase a lot. 'The tender age of five' sounded so cute, while using log words like tender. She wasn't quite sure what 'tender' meant, but it sounded fancy. As Zeilla looked up she tried to give her best pitiful stare without looking like she was trying to make someone feel sorry for her, which of course she was.
​"Is your opinion of my intellect really that low insolent girl? Do you think that a king of my stature might be overcome by a cute little face? Please, you should have a little more confidence in the people who rule over your life."
​I have a name. She thought, mad. Regaining her mocking composure she said, "I'm sorry your majesty. I didn't know whether you had a soft spot for children or not. I had to at least try. You know, with all of the kings who get the throne from their parents, I wasn't entirely sure if you were just a pretty face or a real king." Zeilla was proud of herself for remembering this piece of information. Her mother and father had talked about kings and queens who didn't do anything. Mother was annoyed at them for shirking their duties. Father didn't like anything that made mother angry. Zeilla really didn't see what difference it made though. King Galleon's eyes flashed with anger. He glared fiercely at the girl.
​"Is that an insult I hear?" he said menacingly, "because I'm sure that if you know why you're here then you would know that an insult of the king is be punishable by death. Especially if the insult is made by a child slave who no one knows about, cares about, or misses."
​If nothing else about this situation had pushed Zeilla to her breaking point, it was then that the stubborn child realized what a position she was in. This man could kill her. He now most likely wanted to. She couldn't do anything. Whatever motivation she had to stay strong and act maturely dissolved instantly. She broke down and began yelling the foulest curses she knew at him, despite the fact that she didn't know many. This time she wasn't kidding, acting, or playing a part. King Galleon knew it.
​"Have her taken to the dungeon until the arrangements are finished." He said with a slight wave of his hand, motioning to Veinneias and her. "Oh, Zeilla," he added mockingly, the girl's lower eyelids went up and she glared ferociously, snarling at him, "the correct procedures for you to take when greeting a king is to curtsy."