✘ Trigger Warnings ─ slavery, death, fights.
The smell of iron was permanently imbedded into the stone walls that towered around her. Too much blood has been shed for it to ever go away, and too frequently. Sloane had long since become numb to the cheers, jeers, and brutality that sounded in the arena. Listening was a distraction and the lost princess had long since learned that distractions got you killed. She was a survivor, a fighter, and she hadn’t made it this long just to be killed because of a silly distraction.
Her fight had ended ten minutes previous and she was still covered in blood from head to toe. It had been a no weapons fight, just their hands and bodies as their weapons. It was the slavers favorite type of fight to put her in, the type that showcased her brutality. She had been cold and efficient, eyes and soul dead, when she ripped her opponents throat out with her teeth. They had been weak, untrained, and she killed them in under ten minutes. She didn’t particularly know, nor care, how long the fight actually was. Just that it was over.
Sloane was crouched on the balls of her feet, playing with the cap of the water bottle she had been permitted as a reward when the alarm sounded and people came rushing into the arena. Cops, she immediately noticed. She tensed as the slavers and their willing viewers were surrounded and cuffed, she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to defend her masters or surrender to the law officers. Ultimately it was decided for her it was made clear that they saw her as a victim and not a member of the guilty party. And so Sloane found herself being taken to the hospital to be checked over.
“Miss?” Sloane turned her head a fraction of an inch to look at the paramedic. “Can you tell me your name? We want to look into missing persons and find your family. Do you know it?” Sloane blinked and looked away so she could consider her options. “If you don’t, that’s fine. The hospital will run a DNA test for you.”
Sloane was well aware of who she had been ten years ago. The curious and playful daughter of the Luxem Queen of Germany. But in her mind that child died when she was kidnapped. A slow death it had been, her identity stripped from her over the course of her training to be an assassin. But her rage and vicious desire to fight them, ultimately got her sold. Her cold and emotionless eyes remained upward studying every detail of the ambulance ceiling as she clenched her jaw and refused to speak.
The rest of the ride was filled with the paramedic trying to get her to speak, asking her various questions that she ignored. They were pointless, having a favorite color or food was redundant when she was constantly fighting to survive. By the time that they rolled into the emergency room entrance she was ready to strangle him and her fingers were literally twitching to do so. She was quick to stand from the gurney and fix the chatterbox male with a glare that made him flinch before he could even attempt to make her lie down. Sloane walked inside with a confidence that showed that she was well aware that she was one of the, If the the, most dangerous people in the room if not building.
She was settled in a private room with a dressing gown to change into and a few towels with a bowl of water. Sloane cleaned herself the best she could quickly before choosing to instead look for a pair of scrubs in the cabinets. The gown would be a last resort in her mind, the vulnerability it left her with was something she’d prefer to avoid. She just barely finished getting changed into her stolen scrubs when a nurse came in with barely a knock to alert her presence.
Sloane climbed into the bed, keeping her eyes on the new person. The distrust was clear and unhidden. The nurse smiled nervously, obviously trying to seem calm and soothing. “I’m Nurse Emma. I just need to ask you a few questions, okay?” She spoke soft and slow as if she were talking to a skittish animal. Again like with the paramedic Sloane remained silent, simply watching the other woman.
“Okay.” The nurse uttered softly before looking at the clipboard in her hands. “Does anything hurt? Do you have any injuries that you know of?” Sloane studied her for a second before shaking her head in denial once. “You were covered in blood when you came in, was any of it yours?” Again she shook her head. “Are your vocal cords damaged in any way?” Another shake of her head. Sloane was beginning to notice the nurse’s shoulders tensing and her grip on the pen tightening. She grinned inwardly at the visible signs of annoyance she was causing.
“Very well. Another nurse will be in soon to draw blood in order to run a DNA test unless you’d like to tell us your name.” Sloane’s gaze sharpened at the waspish and bold way the nurse began to speak. People knew to fear and respect her, even her masters feared her enough to never be alone with her. None of them were stupid enough to disrespect her, they all saw what she was capable of when she unleashed her temper. When her eyes met the nurse’s the nurse was quick to leave sensing that her presence was no longer wanted.
It wasn’t long until another nurse came in and hooked her up to an IV with fluids and began to draw a few vials of blood to test for any anomalies and a DNA scan. She listened to the woman chatter on about current news and music and other unimportant things. She wasn’t used to the quiet, noise having constantly surrounded her for the last six years at the arena.
It was hours later while she was drifting in and out of sleep that a doctor came in with a cop. Both of them were tense, lines of worry and fear making it easy for her to read them. Her eyes darted to the files in their hands and she knew they knew.
“Princess, we’ve contacted your mother. You are to be transferred to Germany and her private physician’s care immediately. Local police will pick up your case there.”
The next day Sloane was in her childhood room. Very little had changed besides her. A new bed, but all her toys remained as did the horrifying pink on the walls. She felt suffocated and she’d barely been there an hour. Trapped, she knew that’s what she was. A lion in a cage. A thought that made her laugh, always in a cage she realized. She felt sick, angry, out of place. This life wasn’t hers anymore and she didn’t want it back.
A gentle knock rapped on the door and five seconds later it opened to reveal the queen in all her regality. Sloane swallowed and looked away. It was hard to look at the woman she had once wanted to be just like. “Sloane, my darling daughter.” The emotion was thick in her voice causing Sloane to flinch. Broken bones might’ve hurt less. “You’re so beautiful.”
The lost princess shook her head, eyes downcast as she clenched her teeth together. She refused to look at the woman who gave birth to her, she couldn’t look at her. “You should have let me stay dead. The daughter you knew died years ago. I’m not your daughter anymore.” Her words were carefully void of emotion, cold and precise. In her mind it was better to hurt the woman now than to string her along only to disappoint and hurt her later. “I am a killer. The night the cops came I had just ripped a man’s throat out with my own teeth. I can still taste the blood on my lips. Your daughter is dead and has been for years. I am merely a monster sharing her face.”
