The Maid (18+) - Pilot
A SEVERED LOCKET OF FLAXEN HAIR AS BEAUTIFUL AS SILK FALLS TO THE FLOOR. The head of the Empress aged fifty years, to which it fell from–beside her’s is The Emperor’s aged sixty years. Sudden shock rests on his face, fixated on theirs–his sapphire-blue eyes, aghast; a trait they’d inherited from the Patriarch.
The eyes of a disgusting, deplorable man.
The vicious, sword-toting royal heir, now sovereign sneered at the fallen head of the man they reluctantly called Father.
To see their mother tormented and murdered by said Emperor–to see their mother’s homeland bleed and robbed of their lives and riches.
They waited so long, to kill him, to see his blood on their hands.
Now, everything is over.
A new era would be entered–the land would come under a renaissance under a new ruler.
“Marcus, fetch their heads and set them on pikes.”
“Perhaps, you were too through, my Lord. The heads are cut clean off.” The knight beside him, only shaking his head at the sight of what the maids will have to clean up.
“Either way though, this should tell people properly that the Emperor has died. Long live Imperial Highness Gisele.”
On the other side of the kingdom, a middle-aged maid cleans a floor with vigor. Her braided hair, which greyed beyond her years was tucked under a white, thick bonnet. Her face dark and earthy, like burnt umber–her face was filled with scars from prior traumas.
She scrubbed and scrubbed until–something suddenly struck her.
Memories flooded in, of another time, another life.
She…she was a student, one that worked plenty to take of herself. She was an ordinary girl, who didn’t go and spent most of her time reading a novel of intrigue, royalty, and…salacious scenes. She did every right, but in the end, it didn’t really matter.
In the end, she died after a man strangled her to death.
Then, how did she end up in a time where society seemed to regress instead of evolving. Carriages instead of cars, chamber pots instead of toilets. There wasn’t even the internet here to keep her company.
She was taken as a slave for Goddess’ sake!
What would her ancestors think of her?
What kind of fool’s luck was this?
She throws her rag down and sighed.
She recalled the day she became an orphan and was sold as a slave.
When she was a girl, just a wee thing, this king came to her village. Her family didn’t have much. Her father worked as a traveling doctor, her mother an herbalist. At the time they were separated, they were situated in a village where they were made up of refugees from different places.
And one day this mixed village was attacked, savagely by those who want their resources.
She recalls her final moments with her family.
Curled up with her mother, she smelled the heavy sharpness of smoke fill her little lungs. Her father carried both of them through the flames, but in the end, neither of her parents survived the ordeal. Outside, an amber blaze lit up the night sky, screams followed the smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air.
It was something that even the bravest person could not stomach.
A massacre that only left women and child left.
Soon, they were sold as slaves.
The male children were sold to labor fields–the female children and women, in some way, were luckier to be trained as maids rather than be sold to brothels.
To think she’d end of in this type of story.
To think she’d be working in the house of the fated female lead, a prim and proper noblewoman.
The young woman who didn’t want to step directly into dirt ended having an arranged marriage with a person who was described as a ‘monster’.
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