I do not own any of the characters or basic story material, all rights belong to Stephanie Meyer.

Brief Summary: Bella and the Cullen family are citizens of Rome living in the city of Pompeii. However, Bella is currently a slave to the Cullen villa after the death of her former masters. As Vesuvius starts to stir, the townspeople grow further concerned that the roving Cullen family with their bizarre beauty and strange gifts have brought trouble unto the city. And Carlisle's son, Edward, begins to take more then a whimsical interest in the family's newest help…

Chapter 1: The clash of whip and will

The sun scorched the tender flesh of my arms, still swollen and blistered from the bite of the snarled rope. Drops of sweat burned in my eyes as they fell from my brow, and still I walked forward, along with the many others of my former household. We were bound for the slave markets, held every rest day in the great fountain center of the city. It was there that we would be sold to new to masters and mistresses, families would be torn apart, friends ripped from each other's arms. All while the screeching crowd jeered at us, throwing rotten food and spitting on our heads. Such was the way of Rome, of Pompeii.

It was not a new experience for me, twice I had walked the slave lanes, and twice I had survived. My first time on the lanes had come when I was but a child, only three years old. My parents had been free citizens in Rome, my father a wealthy beurocrat, and my mother a gentle soul who cared for any and all. I was cherished and loved by my family, living in total bliss. That pleasant dream had ended when the Emperor's cousin had my parents killed to settle his own debts, my parent's lives turned out to be no more valuable then thirty pieces of gold, paid to spineless thieves in the dark of night. Not a month afterward, the murder was ignored by the Emperor and I was sold to my first set of masters; the Archanos.

My 15 years with the Archanos villa were grueling, but my mind received an education far better then any other girl in Rome, slave or free, could expect. My tutor was an old philosopher who used to work in the holy court of the goddess Diana. Philo, he called himself, he never told me his true name, I only knew him as Philo, my father for all purposes. It was from his kind lips that I learned to read and write, to question and to think. I often got in trouble because of my quick wit.

My mistress of the Archanos villa was a loud woman. Who had a tendency to overindulge when she threw one of her many parties. I was her aid of sorts, running errands, dying hair, buying groceries, and whatnot. I hated her, with every fiber of my being, her vanity and shallowness pushed my patience over the edge. Too many dewy mornings I would wake to her demands. "Bella! Fetch my robe, brush my hair, get breakfast! Hurry you lazy child, or I'll have the horse-master give you a switch!" . Oh how I loathed her. But Philo told me to obey for now, or the master of the house, Acatthis, would bear down all his terrible fury. Unlike my pathetic, stick-thin mistress, my master was a man of brute strength, and little intellect. He had a short temper, and when it ran out, no pain was spared. I had several long scars to prove that little fact. So I became a humble servant, obeying every whim of my masters. When the olives grew thick and heavy in the trees, I would help the farm work. When the time came to press the olives into oil, and can the valuable substance, I was there. When the mistress ordered us to pick up her extravagant marble sculptures and fine jewelry, I was running in the marketplace. And when the time came to prepare my masters' burial, I was the one who dug their graves while the priests whispered the prayers of the gods over their cold flesh. Murder, it's practically a plague in this city. The Archanos family bore the fury of their unpaid debts, leaving the household to be sold and auctioned off. No tears on my part came from the recent deaths, no, the tears that fell now were for Philo. He knew we would be separated, just as he knew he would leave this earth soon. Philo, my father, my teacher, soon to be taken from me, into a strange man's house, and later, into the death grip of the night. The day before we were forced to march in the lanes, we said our goodbyes, and our promises.

"Bella, my dear little rose-petal, listen now to me. You know we will never see the other again, don't you?" I had only managed to nod my head, my throat too thick with tears to speak. "There's my smart girl, no tears for old Philo, keep your head up, yes, like that. Now Bella, please, you must not try to escape when we reach the slave lanes, you've seen what they do to the runners, so stay in your place. Walk slowly, hold your chin high, and never allow anyone stare you down." He paused, wiped a few glistening beads from his withered eyes, and continued, holding my hand in his wrinkled one, "You will be sold in no time, the plague has left the city in dire need of slaves, you're a strong girl, you'll be chosen quickly. But when you reach your new villa, swear to me that you will run the first chance you get. My dear child, you were not meant to lead this life, so run, fast and far, anywhere, so long as it is away from Pompeii." Philo kissed my forehead gave me the lightest hug he could. "I love you, my little dove, my little Bella. We will meet again in paradise someday." And those were the last words I ever heard my father speak.

It was loud, the slave lanes, horribly so. Carts clashed, pots broke, children screamed. Such commotion! I ducked my head against the onslaught on noise, a growl low in my throat.

"Faster you dirty curs! You move as the slugs in the morning! Faster!" The slave-drover lashed his whip into the line of slaves, one blow struck me square in the back, I did nothing, just continued to shuffle forward, blood seeping into my gown.

When we reached the fountain center, we were divided up. Men and boys, women and girls. I looked to see Salina being manhandled by a pair of oafish brutes, she was the one who used to sing me stories in the night. And over there I saw Petrion, the stable boy, being pinched and plucked by a fat woman. He used to be my playmate. Off went Ratchel, and Julian, Herod, and Falia, my friends and family, sold before my eyes. Eron, the chef's son, was bought for twenty gold coins, to the city's wine merchant. He taught me to fish. Datia, the chef herself, was bought for a mere ten gold coins, she screamed as her son was carted away, her new villa was to be the bath house owner. We had made cakes together in the winter.

I tried my best to stand tall and wipe the dust and grit from my eyes, but my back was screaming in protest, blood continued to seep down my gown, a few wealthy women laughed and pointed. I watched with contempt as their gold bangles shuddered against their fat, rosy flesh, shining with oil and perfumes. Disgusting luxury. My knees began to buckle as my strength waned, but still I stood, just like Philo wanted. And my resilience paid off.

"How much for the girl?" A man in a thick swathe of black robes glided toward me. His skin was clean and his eyes were bright and kind. He didn't come across to me as a slave dealer. Two girls stood with parasols above the man, keeping the light from reaching his dark olive skin.

The slave-master clapped a hand to the nape of my neck and threw me forward, I endured it all in silence. "The little brown-eyed wretch?" The slave-master fingered his shaggy beard, calculating just how much my body was worth. "One hundred gold for her, she can read and write, and her figure's not half bad eh? Pale skin and dark hair without so many scars, a rare find!" It took all of my self control not to leap at the slave-master and tear his eyes out. I stood still as a rock in the wind.

The olive-skinned man did not hesitate in his thoughts. "Done, one hundred gold paid up front. This girl is well worth her price. My masters have been wanting one who can read for a very long time now." The man's voice was calm and soothing, I felt no anger toward him.

"Paid up front?!" The slave-master scoffed. "Who is your master to pay so well? The Emperor himself?"

"Close enough, the Cullen Villa has done well by our Emperor, they are new in town and have recently purchased a new Villa. The family is quite picky about who works for them, and this girl would do well with them. Money is of no matter, they have made that clear." The dark man seemed almost smug as he said this.

A grumble from my captor. "Very well, pass my regards to the family, the Piazzi market always enjoys a rich benefactor. Here's your fish wretch, from what I've heard she could keep the Cullen's sons happy for a few nights."

I bit back my sharp reply and stepped forward to fall in line with my new Villa. The blood had stopped seeping and the wound had crusted over. I healed quickly, a good trait when you're a slave. The olive-skinned man paid my price and instructed me to follow to the nearest bath house. Apparently my new family had issues with blood.

Well? "Are you not entertained?"(I'll give kudos to whoever can guess this quote!) What do you think, good or bad, should I continue with this? Please let me know if I'm wasting my time or not, your reviews are much appreciated!