It was near supper time when Annallya arrived back home. She hurried up the steps of the palace and strode past the guards without so much as a glance. Adrenaline was still hot in her system and her mind raced through the events of the day. She replayed every moment as if they were pages within a book, and she read through them over and over again. Her steps were quick and light, she felt as if her feet were barely touching the floor. That human, that man she made herself think, Gaelin, he had been something she would never have dreamed of in her life. Humans could only be separated into two categories, the rescued and the wild. The rescued humans were the only ones that Annallya had ever met throughout her life, and they were usually all the same. Small, quiet, and subdued. They never snapped at their owners, nor bite at a Titan who would hold them. They never roamed far from their owners and were obedient without question. Wild humans, though, were the furthest thing from tame. All her life she had been taught the lessons and heard the stories, just as all women had when they were girls. Humans, especially men, were mindless wild beasts. They think of nothing, care for nothing, save for the blood of their next kill. They roam the woods in light and shadow, scouring the land for the meat of another living creature, maybe even one of their own. They would pounce upon their prey and slaughter it with their bare hands and teeth. They felt nothing, not love, nor compassion, nor sadness, nor fear. Only hunger, and rage. Terrible, terrible rage.

But that man, that Gaelin, stood against every lesson she had ever been taught. His clothes, his weapons, his mannerisms, and his actions all spoke of a man worth more than the poultry words written in so many books about his kind. He stood with a knife against the throat of a Titan, perfectly capable of killing her on a whim. Yet, for some inconceivable reason, he chose to save her life from poison, and then allow her to walk free. It was almost unsettling, to have something that one has believed in her entire life, shattered before her like hot glass in a field of snow. Annallya had ventured into those woods with the hope of discovering answers to her questions. However, upon emerging from the ocean of trees, she was distraught to learn that she had only been handed a greater number of questions than before, and it ate at her. So engrossed was Annallya in her ponderings, that she failed to notice the woman in front of her before it was too late.

“Annallya!” Thoren exclaimed after the former had driven into her. “What under Sun and Stars are you about now?”

“Oh, Thoren?” Annallya said in a tone of both confusion and surprise. “My apologies for running into you.”

Thoren paused for a moment to closely observe her friend. “Where have you been Annallya?”

“Me? Uh . . . I have been locked within my room for much of the day.” she answered. “I have only just now had the chance to step outside for some air.”

“Annallya if you have gone off into those woods in search of more animals I swear-” Thoren began, only to be cut off by her friend.

“No no! I have been studying, I promise. As a matter of fact I must find my mother. I have to ask her what an Offering is. We shall speak again later Thoren, I apologize again for my haste.” Before Thoren could utter a word in reply Annallya had already strode the length of the hallway and turned left towards her house. Once inside she dashed up the stairs that led to her room. She wasted no time in removing her sandals this time, and only lit a minimal amount of candles.

“Andrill?” she called out as she continued lighting candles. “Andrill are you awake?”

From the cage that served as his home, she heard a small groan. “Yes mistress?”

Annallya gave an exasperated huff, and continued to light candles. “For the last time Andrill, stop addressing me as mistress.”

“I’m sorry mi-” he began but stopped himself. “I’m . . . sorry. What can I help you with?”

Annallya reached for the diminutive man, but stopped herself. “May I?” she asked, placing her hand at the door of the cage with her palm towards the ceiling. Andrill remained where he stood and considered her for a moment. Eventually, though, he stepped carefully onto her palm, which was large enough to comfortably hold a man as full grown as him. Very slowly Annallya carried the tiny man over to her bed, where she allowed him to step off. Once he had walked a good distance away, Annallya reclined on her bed, with her back resting against the pillows.

“My apologies,” she expressed with a sigh, as she began to remove her sandals this time. “Were I less tired from the day, I would gladly speak with you at my desk.”

“It’s alright. What did you want to talk about?”

Annallya bit her lip as she considered all of the questions now bubbling to the surface of her thoughts. There was so much she wanted to ask him. So many beliefs of hers that were now being challenged by the three inch man standing before her. But she had to be careful. If she was wrong about his people, then her ownership of Andrill would be nothing less than imprisonment, even though she thought of him as more of a friend than a pet.

“Andrill . . .” she began. “If- . . . if it is not too personal . . . would you tell me about your home. Your . . . former home.”

Andrill settled himself down on the landscape that was his owners bed. Though his clothes were wrinkled and worn from weeks of being continuously worn, with only minimal washings, he managed to find comfort, as he let out a long breath or relief. “You mean the woods?” he asked with a measure of contempt in his voice. “The forests where I would run and hunt like the animal I am?”

“No, what I mean is . . . Tell me about your home. Did you live in a house? Did you have a family? Others whom have loved you?” she asked, holding nothing back.

The man on her bed looked up sharply at the Titan reclining before him. It was her face that he searched. Searched for signs of trickery, mockery, anything that would tell him she was not being sincere. It had to be a trick of some kind. That is all that Titans lived for, after all. They desire nothing more than to bring people smaller than them into complete submission and despair. That was all that Annallya wanted. It had to be.

Over the past few weeks, however, he thought he had seen signs in his captor that told him otherwise. The way that she insisted being addressed by a name, rather than mistress. The way she never grabbed him in her fist like the others, and the way she apologized to him for acts she considered to be harmful or frightening. But the biggest surprise had been after the first week, when she had shrunken down and faced him in his own cage. She had literally put herself in the only vulnerable position a Titan could be found, human sized. At that size, Andrill could have overpowered her as easily as a human woman. He could have snapped her neck in one hand, and escaped, it would have been so easy. But he did not. Perhaps it was the shock of the moment that had halted his movements, or it could have been that he was moved by how hard she tried to reach out and make a connection to the little human. Annallya had to have known as well as he the kind of danger she had placed herself in, and yet she had still done it willingly. Andrill wanted to believe her, he wanted so bad to believe that she was a friend. If she was not, though, could he bear that kind of betrayal?

He looked the Titan in the eyes. “Why?” he asked. The conflict in his mind was heard clearly in his voice.

“Because I have ventured into the forest myself and I have seen . . .” she hesitated, not sure how to explain herself to him. “I only need to know if I was wrong about you. About every human.”

Andrill took a steady, deep breath. “What do you want to know?”

Annallya nodded, the hard part having been concluded. Now came the answers, something she had been craving for longer than she had initially realized. “Did you truly survive alone in the forest, or did you take refuge among other humans? In a . . . a village?”

“I lived with my family in a house we built ourselves when I was a boy, barely old enough to help.” he answered. The words had to be dragged from his lips, the memories were painful to recall. “That house became part of a village that we had stumbled upon.”

“Your family was travelling through the woods by themselves?” she asked. When he nodded she pressed on. “Why?”

“To find a safe place to live.” Andrill replied. “A community.”

“A . . . community?” Annallya pronounced the alien word slowly, tasting its unique flavor. “I am unfamiliar with this word. What is it?”

The tiny human raised an eyebrow at the big Titan. “A community is what happens when a large group of families come together and live in the same area. Each family lives in a separate house, but they all help and care for each other.”

“That sounds quite . . . civilized.” the Titan expressed with a gentle sigh. “It sounds peaceful. Is it so?”

“Very.” he agreed. “Humans naturally crave the safety and security that comes from other humans helping and protecting them. It helps bring us together. Isn’t it the same for Titans?”

Annallya tilted her head to the side. “What would give you such an idea?”

He shrugged. “Why else would you all build a city and live in it?”

The giantess sighed as she gazed off into the distance. “Unfortunately it is not as peaceful a life as your community sounds. We Titans are constantly beginning wars with neighboring cities.”

“You don’t get along with other Titan cities?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Perhaps. I myself personally believe it is because we are a naturally violent race of creatures. We create the conflict for ourselves, and then revel in it.”

Andrill was silent for a long moment. Annallya hardly noticed, as she continued to stare off into the distance. Her mind analyzing her entire race, unsure whether or not she was correct, all the while hoping that there truly was more to being a Titan than useless fighting. After a minute of heavy silence, Andrill found the courage to bring his own question to voice. “Do you enjoy fighting, like other Titans?”

Annallya snapped out of her contemplation with a shake of the head and a blink. The question had caught her off guard and opened her mind up to a whole new kind of analysis. Did she enjoy fighting the same as all of the others?

“I . . . do not know, Andrill. Truly. I have been told that I am unnaturally angry for a Titan. However I never believed that I was meant to be a soldier. I . . .” she shook her head, a little frustrated for not understanding it herself. “I simply do not know.”

Andrill rested his forearms on his knees and grunted. “I know what you mean. I used to have trouble with my temper too.”

“Used to? What aided you in combating it?” Annallya inquired.

“A man helped me. A friend really.” he clarified.

“A man?” Annallya exclaimed in disbelief. It was going to take some time for her to fully realize that humans were not the animals she had been lead to believe. “How did this man help you in taming your anger?”

For the first time since she had met him, Andrill looked up at Annallya with a small, but genuine grin on his face. “He taught me how to wield a sword.”

Annallya sat upright so swiftly, she shifted the covers beneath Andrill, who rolled backwards quite comically. “So it is true! Your kind does know swordplay! And to think, I had wondered how it was you were so knowledgeable in the craft. This is incredible.”

“I did make a good teacher,” he said. “Didn’t I?”

Now it was the Titan’s turn to grin. “You certainly did,” she said with a small chuckle. “Better by far than the instructors whom have taught me personally. Tell me, did this man teach you how to wield a blade with both hands?”

Andrill nodded.

“Is . . . is it possible that this man would be willing to teach me? How to properly wield a blade? How to reign in my temper?” she asked, her hope and excitement building with each question.

Andrill was taken aback by her enthusiasm. “Uh . . . Maybe.” he said. “I mean, you are a Titan. But he’s . . . a complicated man. Perhaps he would.”

That seemed more than enough reassurance for Annallya. “Complicated, you say? How so? What is this man’s name?”

“Gaelin Val’ Saida.” he stated simply.

Annallya froze where she sat. The memories of the events mere hours before came back all at once. The rush of fresh air on her skin, the cold of a knife at her neck, the fear and intrigue as she stood face to face with a wild man. Very slowly, and very very carefully, Annallya cupped her hands underneath of Andrill. The tiny human had grown accustomed to being picked up, whether he wished it or not, and did not even flinch when she brought her hands together underneath of him. As gently as if he were lifted on a cloud, Andrill was brought close to the Titan’s face.

“Forgive me,” she whispered. “But you are sure that his name is . . . Gaelin Val’ Saida?”

The little man nodded. “Have you heard the name before?” he asked.

Annallya’s lips trembled a bit as she continued to experience the knife that had been held to her throat. “I-I . . . I have met this man before.”

Andrill sat up right in her soft palm upon hearing this. “What! When?”

“Mere hours ago,” she explained to her little friend. Starting from the events that had taken place the previous week, when she encountered the family travelling through the woods, to her meeting of Gaelin. Andrill listened patiently as the Titan who held him unfolded her story.

“And you’re sure it was the same man I named?” he asked when she had finished.

“He threatened to kill me should I attempt to find him or the village again.” she answered.

Andrill barked out a laugh. “That’s Gaelin all right. Our village calls him ‘The One In Hiding’.”

Annallya cocked an eyebrow at the human laughing in the palm of her hand. “Yet you claim that this man can teach me to quell my anger?”

“Like I said, Gaelin’s a complicated man.” he replied with a shrug.

The red haired giantess sighed. “I am beginning to believe your whole kind can be described as complicated.”

“It’s really quite easy to understand us humans,” Andrill stated.

“Is that so?” she replied. “How then does one such as I accomplish such a feat?”

The mirth and laughter present in Andrill’s face a moment before slid right off. “Stop looking at us as animals.” he said in a very simple voice.

The tone of his voice, coupled with the set of his features made him appear older beyond his years. Sometimes, when she looked upon that face, which seemed to hold back much pain and unhappiness behind its mask, Annallya was surprised to recall that she was Andrill’s senior by four winters. At first her features softened, as sympathy crept across her face. With a small shake of her head, though, she quickly rid herself of such an expression, replacing it with set determination. “Under Sun and Stars I swear it” she declared, bringing her little human level with her eyes. “Never again.”

Andrill blew out a long breath. “Thank you mistre- . . . . thank you Annallya.” he amended.

“You are welcome,” she said in a warm voice.

“Gaelin might be a hard man to deal with, but somewhere deep underneath all of his . . .” he sighed. “Somewhere deep inside he’s a good man. I’m sure if you could reach that part of him, he’d teach you the sword.”

“If he is such a man as you have described, are you sure I am capable of such?” she asked.

But Andrill only shrugged. “I was able to do it once.”

Annallya gazed intently at the little man, nestled comfortably in her palm. The ideas racing through her mind were such that she had never considered possible before. To put so much faith in a human was madness. But Andrill had proven to her that humans were nothing like she had first thought possible. Now, she was sure more than ever of what she wanted to do.

“Perhaps,” she began. “It would be far easier for me to convince him if I were to take yo-”

Suddenly the doors of Annallya’s room were thrown open with violent force, and through them strode an imposing woman. She wore a dress of white and red with a red cloak over her shoulders, the hood drawn back. Her hair, which was a smooth shade of brown, was held up on her head by an ornate pin bejeweled with many precious stones, excluding the curly bangs framing her face. Her features were sharp and pretty, and the nails on her hands were manicured to perfection. Her eyes immediately locked onto the girl sitting on the bed, and the human held within her hand.

“Annallya!” she snapped like a whip. Her tone full of authority that demanded the utmost respect and obedience. “What under Sun and Stars are you doing with that!”

With speed that comes only from years of obedience, Annallya sprung to her feet, clutching Andrill protectively against her chest. “Mother!” she cried indignantly. “What are you doing here?”

Oragale Rhaolin, advisor to Queen Phelonous herself, stood just three inches shorter than her daughter. However, there was no mistaking the presence she commanded upon entering the room. All but the Queen herself deferred to the authority of Mistress Rhaolin. With dark eyes of steel focused primarily upon her daughter, and the human she held, Annallya’s mother strode to her.

“Thoren approached me mere moments ago, to confide in me some worries she has been having over your behavior,” she explained. “She claims that you have made mention of the Offering. Is this true?”

Annallya swallowed as she steeled herself before her own mother. “Y-yes I have.” Taking a breath, Annallya stood straighter, using her height to gain a little lost confidence. “And I would like to know what it is.”

“What it is is of no concern to you,” her mother spat. “She confessed to fears that you have been speaking too often with your pet. It is clear to me now that that is exactly what has been going on.”

“Andrill has never once mentioned any offering to me mother,” she protested. “I have discovered this myself.”

“Then we shall speak more of this later,” her mother stated. “That does not excuse the behavior of your pet.” She made sure to place specific emphasis on the word pet. “You will give him to me now, so that I may take him to the trainers. There he will be taught not to speak unless spoken to.”

But Annallya only held her human closer to her. “No mother.” she asserted.

There was no time to react, let alone avoid the blow, as the back of her mother’s hand struck Annallya soundly across the mouth. Much like all Titans, her mother had served her time in the military before becoming an advisor, so the strike was more powerful than the shorter woman looked capable of delivering. Annallya herself staggered one step to the side, though she never once let go of Andrill.

“Ungrateful girl.” her mother muttered in contempt. “Did I not gift that man to you? And yet you take such a tone with me? I have raised you to be more respectful than this.”

“I am sorry mother!” Annallya gasped. “But I beg of you, please do not take Andrill from me. He is a good pet. He will never speak out of turn to me again. I promise.”

But Mistress Rhaolin only held out her hand. “Relinquish him to me now.”

With tears streaming down from her eyes, and blood dripping from her split lip, Annallya held Andrill close to her trembling face. “I am sorry Andrill,” she whispered. “I cannot refuse her.”

She was not sure what she expected from the diminutive man. Fear perhaps? Anger or contempt for Annallya’s inability to stand up to her mother, certainly. But the man only set his face in grim determination, and nodded once to her.

“Find Gaelin,” he instructed. “Ask to be taught. And tell him ‘a bottle is a home for no man’.”

Annallya sniffed and nodded once. Then she held her hand out, and allowed her mother to snatch her friend from her hand.

“I shall return him to you when I am confident that he is docile once more.” she explain in a voice no softer than before. Without another word, the Titan mistress strode from the room, leaving a very lonely Annallya to cry for her friend’s fate.