Nagini

She was not born out of some great, star-crossed love nor was she born out of anything as dark and dismal as the union of slave and master. She was born of simple carelessness. Her mother was a noble and strong Ṅkhya'jra diplomat sent toढघण (Dhaghana) on business. Blunt and a little cold, but with the desires of a woman held tightly under an emotional lock and key. Her father had been a human and Z'sa'Ză-'Bäa hybrid, a trader passing through ढघण (Dhaghana) seeking adventure, fun, and a little bit of relaxation. He was reckless and carefree, liked to push his luck in his quest to relish in all the joys life has to offer. They were a horrid match. She annoyed him to no end with her stuffy, uptight attitude. He infuriated her with his lack of inhibitions, his ability to disregard reputation and duty in favor of having fun. They argued and hissed at each other almost constantly...perhaps it wasn’t that much of a surprise when the two fell into bed together. For all her blunt and stuffy personality she was a woman, still, and she ached to feel the pleasures of life that her family insisted were useless for someone of her status. He was more than happy to play along and guide her through the world of pleasure. It was careless, though, this hateful friendship they shared. She had conceived his child and the news itself had shattered her world before her eyes. She had the homeland to return to, had the Pharimaya name to keep intact. There would be talk, she knew. Talk of how the Pharimaya heir had allowed herself to be ensnared by some lesser race. There would be judgement not only on her but on her family as well. There would be a great shame that would stain her family’s reputation. A daughter that had given herself over to pleasure without any care for her family’s image… She begged him, “Please, take the child when it’s born. Free me of the burden, you must…” But he had never wanted to be a father. There were too many pleasures life had to offer for him to simply settle down and raise a baby. There was no way she would be able to return to her homeland with a child, she knew, so she did the only thing she could think of; she sent a letter home telling them she had extended her stay, claiming to be captured by the bustling business of ढघण (Dhaghana). She had her own little home there, after all, and her own slaves there as well. She would be well taken care of. When the child was born, a little girl born on a cold and rainy night, her mother handed her over to the slaves. "Raise her as one of you." She had told them. "I can still make use of her, I'm sure." The child had been gifted with a simple name: Nara.

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Nara was raised by the small handful of slaves that lived in her mother's home. She had been told that she was an orphan and that the woman had taken her in out of pity; she should be thankful and she always was. Always so, so thankful…Nara held the most adoration for their master, despite the woman’s cold gaze and icy exterior. When it was just the two of them alone in the home the woman seemed gentler. Her cold gazes were curious, perhaps a bit warmer. In their solitude she taught Nara how to read and write. She taught her how to behave like a proper lady should. She would allow Nara to sit in her room with her while she worked, occasionally glancing her way with a thoughtful and curious expression. She would let Nara follow her through the home. Her patience for the child seemed to be endless when they were alone. Though her master never touched her, save for a quick touch to her shoulder or her hand, as if she were worried touching Nara would dirty her in some way. (Nara figured that perhaps it would soil the woman’s beauty, even if she ached for those arms to be wrapped around her). Around the rest of the slaves or other people the woman’s kindness vanished and was replaced with a vile disgust that made Nara ache down to her core. The woman would yell and scream at her, would hit her and talk down to her until Nara was reduced to tears. “The noble see kindness as a weakness,” The other slaves would tell her. “To be kind to you in front of others would show her greatest weakness.” Nara did not understand how being kind could be weak but she did not question her master. Despite it all, Nara held a deep affection for the woman and would do anything to please her; even put up with her cruelty under the watchful eyes of others.

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Nara was only a little over a year old when her master had a strange shift in her demeanor. The woman was thoughtful and subdued, perhaps even a little withdrawn into her own mind. Nara ached to ease whatever sudden pain the woman had but she knew she stood no chance against whatever darkness plagued her master’s heart. A part of her didn’t want to change it, though. This withdrawn version of her master held her hand, talked to her in a gentle and soft voice that soothed something deep down in Nara’s core. The joy she felt at this new turn of events was short lived, however. Two weeks of this thoughtful, withdrawn attitude passed before the woman finally sat down with Nara and told her a story of her past. A story about how she had come to this very same place, a high strung and prudish woman, and had met a man. A story about careless adventures into the pleasures of another person’s body. A story about how she had conceived a child. A child she had named Nara. It all seemed to make sense then. The way her master-her mother-gazed at her with such affection, yet so much pain and frustration. The way the other slaves had commented on Nara’s resemblance to the Pharimaya heir. It all made terrible sense and yet Nara found herself lost, unsure of who she was and what she should do.

“I will be returning to my homeland and you will not be going with me,” Her master-her mother-had told her gently, after a long silence. “There is no place for you there.” But that was not the end of it. The woman indeed had a soft spot for her and would not leave her alone to starve on her own. She sold Nara to a Ṅkhya'jra man, and Nara was not the only child to be sold into this man’s care...