Peter Pan OUAT One-Shots/Imagines

When The Stars Align (Request)

Request for Australianninjagirl

Warnings: Mentions of rape and suicide (briefly). Sexual assault and violence descriptions.

There are twelve star signs: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces. I was born on the 27th of April, 48 BC (though our calendar was different back then) with the moon in Pisces and Capricorn rising on an island that has since been renamed. I can't recall what its new name is. Back then, we called it Γραικός (or Graikós).

My mother was very spiritual. She served the temple of Artemis, goddess of the hunt, cleaning it thoroughly, keeping incense burning, praying regularly, and handling sacrifices that didn't require a priestess's hand. Of course, we were not related by blood. Only women that swore off men could dwell in her temple, so she could not conceive. Instead, she found me on the limestone steps wrapped in swaddling cloth and crying. It was decided that I could live and grow there in the safety of the loving women if I proved to be worthy when I was older and I could choose whether to take a vow of chastity to serve there for the rest of my life or not, which was to take place not long after I turned 18. They ended up naming me for the star sign in the heavens at the time: Aries.

I was raised in the temple, kneeling before the statue of the maiden goddess before each meal and murmuring memorized prayers. The priestesses always said that Artemis had blessed me with beauty, saying that my vibrant green eyes, caramel skin, and dark, cascading curls were proof of her fondness for our people. Personally, I desired to take over serving the temple from my mother when she passed. She even believed that Artemis would raise me to high priestess one day.

We were very happy for a long time. Eighteen years, to be exact. The date of my vows was rapidly approaching and we had been making preparations for me to be officially inducted.

Then they came. We knew that the rising Roman Empire was ambitious and quickly claiming land. He'd already taken many major cities on the mainland, but we foolishly believed that we'd be safe. We were wrong, though.

They invaded with fire, arrows, spears, and swords. Their war cries were loud and they would snarl at the children. Despite the passing of centuries, I can still picture when they stormed the temple, desecrating it with blood and violence, slashing at the hands I shielded my face with and leaving gashes in the shape of an X. Some of my sisters in service were slaughtered. Some were raped. All that lived were dragged into the streets and chained.

When the raid was over, we stepped over our dead friends and family as we were marched, bound together, toward different destinations. Many of us were taken to be sold into slavery or forced into hard labor. The last time I saw my mother was when they took her away for that purpose.

As for me, I was loaded into a cart with other young girls that would be taken to Rome to serve as consorts, concubines, and spoils of war for the wealthy.

At the capital, we were forced onto a small stage and auctioned off like animals. Some of the men would come up to inspect us, touching without permission and speaking with disgusting breath that made my skin crawl.

One of them took me back to his home, a large manor not far from the palace that was big enough to get lost in. I don't remember his name, just that I hated him. The night I was taken back, I was left in a small room with a window that was far above the ground. I contemplated jumping, fully aware that the fall would be fatal, but I decided not to. I would not lose my life over that disgusting leech, that ugly coward, that slimy man preparing in his bedchambers not far from mine.

Instead, I remembered a legend I had been told. It was rarely spoken of at the temple, but the most important part was still etched into my memory.