From a very young age the children of the town were taught to never ventured to the upstream of the river, it was the place for the death.. It was within this very spot, somewhere deep into the heart of it, laid a small but steady house. The simple townsfolk called it 'the waiting room', it was the place for the sacrificed, an unfortunate person would soon travel to the after world with his or her master.
It had become almost tradition that with every rich or powerful person's death, they would gather offerings, a virgin poor servant to send along. No one remembered who had built up the rule about a sacrificed, that the servant would serve their master for eternity, they just simply followed it. A servant, was simply just a slave with freedom. The only thing distinguish them from slaves was that they were allowed to leave if they want to. But no one ever had. They all needed a shelter and food. Earlier this month, the village chief had died after a years suffering with pain and sickness. Some said he had reached his time, some said he had worn himself out with all the young women he shared his bed with.
She was one of his women. And he in fact was also just one of her men. People either looked at her with disgust or licked their lips hungrily staring at her boobs. It was not a secret that she sold her body for anyone who can paid her price. Ellyn the Whore, that was what they called her. It was a pity, though, since the young girl possessed a unique beauty.
The first thing a stranger would notice probably was her unusual long ginger hair. She would be a real life Rapunzel only if the hair were blonde. Her eyes were blue, topaz blue, made great contract with the color of her hair and would catch one's attention when looking at her. And now those eyes were staring at the ground, as she was waiting for her destiny. Her wrists and ankles tied together, preventing her escape. As if she would run! She had volunteered herself, been willingly to die with the chief. Not that she loved him, of course she didn't. How could she love that hairy man with a huge belly that nearly obscured his cock? She had often fought to breathe as she labored beneath the crude, smelly old man. But, he thought he was the lord's gift.
To speak ill about the death would send her to hell, but wasn't she in hell already? People looked down on her like she was a piece of shit on the streets that they would avoid to step on. If they didn't spit in front of her face, they would grab her breast or squeeze her ass. She was the whore, wasn't she? The one that women would be glad to throw rocks at her as she steal their husband. The one that young girls would giggle and whisper every time she passed by as she slept with the men they disgusted. And the one that would never be able to win his heart.
He was the third son of the chief, one of those decent gentlemen that wouldn't come near a prostitute. But never had he made her feel cheap and unwanted. Ellyn felt her eyes well up with tears. Despite his warming smile, despite all the kindness he had showed her, despite this painful feeling she had been hiding, she knew he would soon marry a young educated woman from a wealthy family. She would never be an option if he searched for a wife. She had heard somewhere, that there were only two kind of love: the love of joy and the love of agony. Hers must belong to the second type for every time she saw him, her heart clenched. Why on earth that she loved him? Why on earth that she loved anyone? Perhaps it was one of the reasons she wanted to die, to get away from this world.
And the other reason was to have his arms around her, in the mourning hug each member of the chief's family would give to her at the funeral. She leaned back against the wall, imagine how his warm and scent would surround her, enclosing her, before the heat of the fire took her away.
She sat there in silence, eyes closed, head bowed, body relaxed. It was in those moments when she finally accepted her fate.
It is a tradition of her people, to have a servant to escort the dead one on his way to the after life; another way to say a slave would be burned with the master during the cremation. Of course they would ask for a volunteer and would choose one if no one come up. Normally they would have to choose, but this time she volunteers herself.
She was officially a maid of the village chief's family, and unofficially she was the whore of the whole village. She sleeps with many men to get what she wants: money, and power. Even though she's just a maid, others would avoid to mess up with her except for those who want to get in her pants. She slept with the chief, no doubt. But she's secretly in love with his third son. He is one of those rare people treat her like a human, even though she knows very well he would never fall for his father's slut . His dream girl must be pure as snow and innocent as a lamb.
If a servant is to die with the master, the master's close relative such as children and wife would come and embrace the poor servant to thank them. And that is the only reason she volunteers: to be in the arms of the man she loves, even just for a short moment.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately that man, the third son of the chief is against those out-dated customs. Killing a person just for another person's funeral makes no sense in his opinion. He frees her and hides her in the near by forest, waiting for nightfall to help her escape. When the time comes, they discover an army of the enemy village. They try to warn their people but it's too late, and as the enemy is searching for the chief's family, he has to run too.
That's the basic idea, other details would be discussed. But I'm searching for a world before the Roman empire, I think it's the Celtic civilization, a setting that is familiar with the one in the Red Riding Hood (2011 film). And mainly, I'm looking to play a two-faced girl. She has her reason to open her legs for every body, and not proud of it like the way she acts.