//------------------------------//
// Interjection 2: The Slave 
// Story: Blood Moon 
// by The_Darker_Fonts 
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Three long years had passed.  Three cold, hungry, beaten years, years that shouldn’t have ever happened, all to master that should’ve been dead.  Every day she stared at the spot on his chest that the arrow had pierced, the spot her arrow should’ve ended the war at.  There wasn’t even a scar to tell the tale of the attempt on his life, the bastard.  That word, and a whole slew of others were all she could think around him, especially whenever he used her.  And he made sure that it was blatantly obvious how little he cared, and how little she could do about it.  
Besides Joint Point, her three week old child began to wail.  With a tired sigh, she set aside the wet laundry she’d been doing, picking up the young child and holding her close to her chest with hoof.  She pressed her nose against the crying foal’s own nose, rubbing them together with a small shushing, slowly leaning her head down to press her forehead against the little one’s.  She closed her eyes as she softly hummed a little lullaby to her, rocking her softly against her chest.  The little filly quieted down a little, still hiccupping and whimpering, her thin lilac frame shivering in the cold.  Joint knew that she was hungry, but she was still waiting to earn her lunch to feed the baby.  Otherwise, she would be weak, and with the harshness of winter in the Crystal Empire, she would need every ounce.  
Joint settled the baby down in a bundle of their bedsheets, covering all but her little muzzle with the thin sheets to ward off the cold.  Despite living in the castle of the king himself, there were sparse amounts of heating crystals for the workrooms and servant quarters.  Despite clearly being another one of the sex slaves, Joint was kept in the lower quarters of the servant’s houses.  There was a clear spite between the two, as one would obviously expect from somepony who’d attempted to kill the other.  She muttered a curse to his name, refusing to even think of the vile creature’s monicker.  It was enough to call him “master” and “lord”, but she refused to recognize him as an individual. 
Probably why she received the most torment.  If it hadn’t been bad enough that he forced himself on her weekly, he would often kill the babies she conceived from their sex once he found out about them.  The only reason little Amethyst Heart still lived was because he’d been out on campaign, a losing one thankfully, that distracted him from the bulge.  By the time he realized, she was already nearly seven months into the pregnancy, and the other mare’s of his concubine collection were defensive of him.  Perhaps because he didn’t want to go through the effort of killing all of the mares and replacing them with new ones, or because he was attached to one of them, she didn’t know, but whatever of Celestia’s mercies had come upon him had saved her child.  The only one of six.  
And she loved her daughter oh so dearly because of it.  She smiled softly as the baby had cried herself to sleep, her soft breathing barely making a sound in the cold air.  She wanted to pick her back up again, to hold her close, but if she didn’t do her work now, she and the baby would starve another day.  It was both the happiest thing in the world to have this child, and also the most heartbreaking.  That she had to be raped and broken in order to have her enraged Joint beyond belief, but at the end of the day, her daughter still outweighed the loss of herself.  It wasn’t what she had ever wanted her child to be born into, but it was how she had come anyways.
Scrubbing away at a particularly tough patch of mud and grass on one of the campaign shirts, she grunted as she felt a weight land on her back.  Behind her, she could hear the breathing of another pony, a mare.  “Whadya want, Maricoat,” she asked gruffly.  
The younger servant, barely old enough to be out of the children’s house, told her, “I wan’ed t’ see th’ baby.  Also, th’ mistress wan’ed me t’ come ‘n getcha.”
“Get me how,” Joint warily questioned.  The king’s wife was often as ill-tempered as her spouse, and especially venomous to his concubines and any other mistresses he had.  She glanced towards her child, dread filling her as it always did.  Their lives weren’t a guarantee. 
“She wan’ed to talk or som’n,” Mari informed her nonchalantly, sitting down by the sleeping filly.  “I can watch th’ baby while ya go,” she offered cheerfully.  “Trus’ me, ya baby loves me more than ya.”
“Doubtful, but fine,” Joint conformed, warning her, “She hasn’t been fed yet, so good luck if she ever wakes up.  Also, do this laundry.  The campaign clothing needs to be spotless or we’ll both become headless servants.”
“Good luck,” Maricoat called after her as she set down the clothes she’d been washing, leaving it in the soapy water.  She trudged down the steps of crystalline gems, her eyes pained by the dim, harsh winter sun reflected and amplified by the crystals.  With a shiver, she began down one of the corridors that led straight to the mistresses bedroom, bracing herself for the scarlet mare’s wrath.  There were guards lining the hall, all eyeing her either warrily or lustfully.  They all knew who she was, or more accurately, what she was, and they all knew that no one would care if they had their way with her.  The only thing stopping them was the memory of their comrade’s snapped neck and the furiosity her master had shown when they’d attempted to kill her.  She may not be able to fight against him, but everyone else was still an easy enough kill.
She gave one of the catcallers a steady glare, to which he chuckled crassly, giving her a deliberate view of his underside.  She gagged and turned away, intending to never look the stallion in the eyes or anyplace else again.  He and his companion guffawed, but she paid them no mind.  If they actually had the courage to face her, she would be a split hoof and a kill older, with a whole argument to get through.  Luckily for them, they remembered what she was.  Rumor had spread about how and where she came from thanks to the survivors of the ordeal that she’d put them through in the forest three years ago.  Had it really been three years?  With a sudden wave of sadness, she realized that it had, and that she was now at least twenty.  Maybe twenty one, depending how late into the winter it was.
Slowly, she pulled up in front of the great double doors that led into the mistress’s bedroom, staring at the exquisite wood that contrasted the surrounding crystal so strangely.  The guard’s at either side eyed her, too professional to be the goons that openly goggled at her.  They were searching her for weapons and threats to the wife of their supreme leader, not for an easy hard on.  
“Open your mouth,” one demanded harshly.  “You’re the maid right?  Kippler?”
Ah yes, her slave name.  Her own choice for the moniker that she would be forced to live by until she gained her freedom, or the name she would die by.  Not the name her good parents had given her, the name that the Princesses had depended on to end the war.  Well, not them personally.  Why had she been so foolish?  
She complied to the order, opening widely and allowing one to prod his hoof in her mouth before ushering her forward.  “The queen is waiting for you,” the other guard told her, but from his tone, she knew it was more of a warning than information.  
With a nod, she allowed herself to be pushed through the double doors and glared around the brighter room.  There was a sudden rush of warm air from the confines of Her Majesty’s bedroom, the commodity of warming gems within keeping her comfortable while the servants shivered under their thin coats.  With a slight growl of disgust, she stepped fully into the room, not quite ready to face the most deadly mare in the castle other than her.
As one might expect, the whole room was lavishly adorned, a large bed for the queen to sleep in if she wished to spend the night (or year) alone in the center of it all.  With a resignated sigh, she saw the queen immediately emerge from her closet, a glare preeminently summoned for the occasion.  The queen was a black coated devil with red highlights in an otherwise black mane, her eyes sharply centered on her opponent.  There was no question that, despite Joint growing older and being incredibly troublesome, she was his favorite of the concubines.  And that pissed the queen off.  Funny how petty she was, that she was jealous her husband raped Joint more than he bedded her.
There was a sharp contrasting silence as their eyes met, and it was almost as if by making eye contact they knew what was going to happen.  “What’s your relationship with my husband,” she asked sharply.
“He rapes me every week, and then we have tender cuddle time afterwards,” Joint answered coldly.  “Then, we have a good talk about starting a family together and how much of a better lay I am than you, and he rapes me again.  Consensually though.”
The queen’s glare sharpened, and without warning, turned away, her tail swishing to the right and staying there for a moment too long.  A signal.
Instantly, she ducked away, scrambling to the side, hearing a large crack as a bolt slammed into the crystalline ground beneath her, shattering instantly.  There was a brief pause as the three ponies glanced around at each other, each giving each other a solemn look.  The door was locked; Joint could tell from the sounds that came from the direction of the double doors that the guards were struggling to get in.  There were another couple of moments as the cloaked assassin and her sized each other up, and she read her surroundings.  She could see the side dagger sticking out of the cloak unprofessionally.  A cheap killer, then.  Probably nondescript too, to ensure the king didn’t find out who had done it and under whose orders.
With a growl, the queen yelled, “Kill the murderer!” 
Ah, a setup then.  Smarter than she thought the queen could be.  Her fault for underestimating the queen’s ability. 
Without a noise, the pony charged, drawing the knife with their magic.  Oh great, a unicorn, she mused.  She was going to have to be quick and lethal, which was luckily her standard.  She sidestepped one of the jabs before ducking under a swift slash from the blade.  Leaping to the side, she was right beside the bed in a moment, grabbing one of the curtains that could drape across the entirety of one side.  Raising it in front of herself, she held the cloth out whilst pushing the entirety of her weight against the baluster behind her.  
The knife came tearing through the curtain, much to the dismay of the queen, who let out a strangled cry.  As soon as the knife pierced the fabric, she wrapped it around the entirety of the blade, smothering the magic and controlling it completely.  With a swift motion, she cut it out of the fabric, arming herself with the sharp blade and glancing between the two ponies.  The queen looked shocked and frightened, as she surely knew the dangerous potential Joint had in fighting.  The hired killer, however, seemed more naïve to who exactly she was, and simply attempted to charge her while powering up a magical blast.  
Throwing herself to the side once again, she let go of the knife, sending it perpendicular to her path, and straight into the unicorn, who had been caught unaware.  The pony fell with a gurgled scream, and continued to make pained noises as they attempted to pull the blade from their own chest.  It was in vain, however, and by the time Joint reached the fallen assassin, they had either fallen unconscious or died.  The queen stared in terror at the sight of Joint emotionlessly pulling the blade from the failed killer’s body, their eyes staying locked the entire time.  With a slightly sadistic smile, she suggested, “Your turn?”
“N-n-n-no,” she pleaded helplessly.  “Y-y-you can’t kill me!”
“Oh, I can,” Joint told her with a smirk that she knew caused the queen to stumble to the ground.  Before she was able to add anything else, before she was able to demand that the queen beg for her life, she heard the doors behind her shatter.  Turning, she saw a team of almost twenty of the queen’s guards entering.  
“Stop, don’t worry,” she yelled to them, thinking of a story quickly.  Pointing to the body of her assassin, she lied, “This was a killer.  They attempted to have the queen’s life!  I stopped them however, can’t you see?”  She held up the bloody knife, turning to look at the queen, who’s shock and fear were beginning to subside.  
“Uh, Your Highness,” one of the guard’s asked for confirmation.  As the whole room turned their attention to the queen, Joint made it blatantly obvious that she would be able to end her life with a quick knife throw by tossing it from one hoof to another.  The queen gulped, looking towards the bleeding corpse on the floor of her room, then back up to the mare who’d killed them.
With a grimace, she informed the guard, “The whore did indeed save my life.  Let her go about her way.”
Dropping her knife, Joint ran.  She ran straight through the guards.  Before she’d even managed to clear the doorway, the queen yelled, “Kill her!  Kill her!  Bring me her head on a pike and heart on a platter.”  
There was a great noise of confusion from the guards within the room, and it took some valuable seconds before they reacted.  By that time, Joint was already far down the hallway, racing towards the stairwell that would lead up to the washroom and her child.  Huffing, she made it the rest of the way there by the time the guards were out of the room and chasing after her.  She flew up the stairs as quickly as she physically could, her earth pony strength lending her in continuing her gain on the guards, many who were either unicorns or just weighted down with their armor.  
Within a few minutes, she’d made it to the top of the tower, heedless of her child’s crying, and wrapping the young one up tightly.  
“I di’n’ know what t’ do, Kip,” Maricoat informed her sorrily over the noise of the baby and Joint preparing for her flight from the palace.  With a quick glance up from her ashamed ground staring, she asked, “Hey, what ‘n Tart’rus are ya doin’?  Ya can’ seriously be run’n away!”
“Unfortunately, Mari, I am,” Joint told her breathlessly, hoping the harshness in her voice informed the little mare of the danger they would both be in.  “The guard’s are comin’ for me.  I need you to hide in the laundry so they don’t find you and hurt you.” 
Mari stared up at Joint as she finished wrapping her baby tightly against her chest, then finishing up tying a series of clothes together.  “Sweet Celestia, this is real,” Mari breathed in wonder and fear, before quickly assuring her, “I di’n see nopony up here!” 
“Good girl,” Joint breathlessly commented, turning to the only window used to light up these sections of the castle.  Taking a deep breath, she put her weight on her front legs and shot her back ones out, shattering the window glass.  By now, the sounds of yelling guards and clanking armor were swiftly getting closer to the laundry room.  With a deep breath, Joint threw the cloth out of the window, before jumping after it.  
Her hoof clipped the bottom of the windowsill as she lept out, causing her to lose her balance slightly.  She fell out at an awkward angle, little Amethyst wailing loudly as the mother and daughter fell for several dozen feet.  Joint turned her back to the ground at the last moment before the linen suddenly tightened around her waist, halting her several feet above the ground.  Flipping herself over, she was able to escape the knotting with concerning ease, falling the rest of the way onto her back to protect the child strapped on.  The landing knocked the wind from her, but she recovered quickly nonetheless, standing and beginning to run once again.  Night was beginning to fall, which meant frigid temperatures, and after a moment of hesitation, she ran back for a bundle of the cloth to warm them through the night.
There was no time to lose as she raced off in the direction of the woods behind the castle.  The trees were barren of leaves in the late winter, and were barely able to cover anything with their twiglike structure.  Quickly becoming exhausted, she raced through the lightly dusted snow grounds, frantically searching for anything big enough to hide the two of them inconspicuously.  Quickly, she began to realize that the endeavor would be fruitless, and quickly began formulating a plan in her head.  Laying down the clothing she’d stolen, she quickly covered the entirety of them in dirt and snow until it looked like another uneven patch of the winter ground.
Before sliding under them, she pushed her baby under, checking how it looked with the smallest of the two under the camouflage.  With a deep breath of relief, she saw that the ground merely looked as if it had a stone pushing the dirt up.  With a sigh of relief, she slunk under the disguise as well, nestling in next to her child and holding her tightly.  The poor filly still wailed from the trauma of the fall, the run, and being left under the muddied cloth for a short amount of time, and most likely her unsated hunger.  Joint’s motherly instincts kicked in, and she wrapped herself around the child, pressing her against one of her teats to suckle the young one.  Amethyst wasted no time in accepting the meal, and soon the baby was making soft gurgling sounds as she finished up.
Joint pressed her against her chest, rubbing the filly to keep her warm.  The garments they were hiding under provided some cover and warmth from the frigid air, but there was still a creeping cold from the ground they laid on.  As such, she kept the tiny child in her hooves, keeping her raised off of the ground and nestled against the warmth of her mother.  For a moment, Joint forgot that they were in such danger, and took a moment to observe her daughter as she looked around curiously with a slightly open mouth, confused by the whole situation.  Joint wiped away a trail of saliva, planting a small kiss on her forehead, which caused her baby to sneeze softly.
The tender moment ended as soon as it had begun, the noises of distant voices and clanking metal reaching her ears.  As subtle as she possibly could, she pressed the young baby’s muzzle deep into her own fur, muffling any of the soft sounds she might make that would give them away.  The voices grew closer and more distinct, masculine and feminine voices gruffly giving orders and passing information.  From the sounds of it, some thirty or forty soldiers were scanning this forest for her.  She heard them whacking trees with whatever weapons they had, most likely checking for hollow trunks she might’ve hid in.  
The hoofsteps grew closer, the crunching of brittle snow and weak branches and the growing noise of the enemy’s voices closing in around her.  Just a few hoofsteps away, a branch snapped as a guard tread closer to their hiding spot.  She held her breath, putting a hoof over her mouth and wrapping her other one around her child tightly.  Slowly, the guard, and two others, passed by.  They continued to order each other around and check different trees and hollows, but they were soon out of earshot.  Letting out her breath, she looked back down at her child.  Little Amethyst squirmed against her hoof, but it seemed less because she was upset and more because she was uncomfortable.  
She finally relaxed her grip on her foal, letting her slide a little out of her grasp and against her belly.  Together, they laid there for the rest of the day as Joint waited until she felt safe enough to leave.  As night quickly fell, she pulled them out of their makeshift cover, collecting the cloth that wasn’t too dirty on her back and rewrapping her child around her chest.  With a last glance back through the barren forest, towards the crystal castle, she trudged away to her freedom.

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Ruby watched mercilessly as the little filly maid was thrown against the wall of the palace’s dungeon, her weak frame slapping against the dark crystal.  She fell to the ground, and remained there, shivering.  
“I swear,” she yelled hoarsely, “I swear I di’n see ‘er!  She di’n pass by me!”
With a nod to one of the guards, the filly was delivered a ruthless strike across her face, a bruise forming near instantly on her cheek.  Tears stained her cheeks as she sobbed from pain and fear.  
“Tell us where she went, and we’ll let you go,” the guard shouted in her face, causing her to whimper and shrink away from him.  The guard, receiving no answer, kicked her in the gut, yelling, “Tell us!”
“She did run pas’ me,” the little servant confessed.  “She pushed me in’ the laun’ry an’ told me ‘f I moved, she’d kill me too!  She jumped outta th’ window, an’ then ya came ‘n right on afta.  I di’n wan’ no trouble!”
Glancing from the filly to the guard, Ruby jerked her head to the left.  The guard, without response, pointed his spear at the filly’s chest and ran her through.  She gasped, her jaw gaping for a moment as she stared in shock and pain at the queen.  Slowly, her head fell as her body became limp.
“Be rid of her corpse, and search the borders and rivers,” she instructed the guards harshly.  “I don’t want her to get away with all of the problems she's caused here.  Dismissed.”