Angel In Tattered Clothing
Broken Butterfly
Amalie stood in the market square, a list of items neatly written on some parchment in one hand and a big, woven thatch basket in the other. She always bought the seasons produce, as it was in big supply so it wasn't expensive to buy. It was Summer, and a sweltering one at that. Her dress was white, made from the finest cotton, just cut above her bosom, pastel blue and red thread stitched in the bust fabric and the waistband. It fell to just below her knees and was delightfully cool in the humid weather.
As she was heading back to her Father's manor, she saw two men walk past her, and felt a shady, ominous aura coming from them so she sped up, as much as the heavy basket laden with food would allow her. The men were behind her now, one hitting her, knocking her to the floor. Her basket's contents were now all over the street. The last thing she saw were their blurry outlines and what appeared to a sack that was nearing her head. She blacked out before the panic could truly set in.
She awoke in a cell? Bars, a tiny window, manacles? Maker, this is a cell! Amalie's nerves kicked in and she shook, like a cold breeze had rattled through her bones. She has always been a shy and nervous person, so this was the worst possible situation she could have been placed in. She choked back a sob and looked at her dress. No longer virgin white, but a dusky, dirty white. The sound of a man's voice jolted her nervous system and she wanted to throw up, badly, but there was nowhere to without her ending up standing in it by accident. And she had no shoes on anymore, so that was a no go. The bile stayed down as the owner of that voice opened the cell door.
The man, he had grey hair, and vile light yellow eyes, lifeless, lackluster, and sunken in orbs that made Amalie want to scream. But that would be useless. The man seemed to recognize her, but he still dragged her up by an arm and into a big, torch-lit room, guards on every corner. The men threw her onto the cold, hard stone floor and sat in front of her. An elf was hunched over next to the man, he had green eyes, but his still had a slight spark of life. He had a thick metal collar around his neck, and the nauseating man held the lead that connected to it. The poor elf was terribly thin, and had strange white tattoos, possibly? They were on his neck, arms and for from what she could see of it, his chest. The horrible bastard finally spoke, and his voice was a monotonous drawl.
"My my. What a catch men. I have had my eye on this one for a long time. Lord Talen's young little whore of a daughter. I am surprised you did not fight back, I hear you are quite the feisty one. Won't this be a serious blow to your esteemed, highly regarded Father, when he finds out that I beat the fight out of his precious little gem, hmm? Isn't she something, little wolf?" He yanked on the lead and the elf huffed in pain. "Yes Master". A guard came in with a tiny female elf on a collar and chain, naked and shivering, her bones clear for all to see and Amalie almost threw up again. "Master Danarius? Here is the woman you asked to see Ser". The woman was thrown next to Amalie and gave her a sickening look, her azure eyes had lost that passion and happiness that resided in the spark. Danarius just smirked, lifeless gaze on the poor, helpless, defeated victim of his masochistic ways. "Show Amalie what we do to keep the women in check". The guard nodded and got the elf on all fours, and raped her in front of the terrified eyes of Lady Talen. She was made to watch the whole thing. This man, this order, he was terror incarnate, and he knew that all too well.
When the guard was done, shackles were put on the woman's ankles and wrists, but she didn't move. She wasn't breathing, and death crept up on her, and it's bitter, freezing hold made Amalie suck in a breath, to stop herself from sobbing.
The woman had died. Far too fragile, far too young.
Another rose in the Maker's garden.
Maker look after her soul.
The guard then grabbed Amalie by her hair, making her hiss and Danarius laugh. "Not her. Make sure she is untouched. She is mine and mine alone. Do you all hear me?" He looked to the guards, their hands twitching and armor shaking in fear of this man and his words. "If I see, or hear of anyone looking at Amalie, I will slit your throats and feed you to the dogs. Now Hadriana?" She appeared in a cobalt blue dress, that went down to her ankles, and bowed to the degrading piece of crap. She grabbed the lady's arm and dragged her along only to stop when a guard ran into the room, an arrow through his chest. "S...Ser! Hadriana, there's been a breach, the west wing is...". He died and Amalie again fought the tears that wanted to stain the floor with her sadness. She bit her lip and was thrown onto that very floor. Hadriana ran into the hallway, only for a sword to slash her chest, and she crumpled down, bleeding, her crimson poison tainting the stone. Lord Talen appeared and sat next to his shaking daughter, cradling her like he did when she was a baby, it instantly soothing her, but not of what she had seen. That would haunt her, turn her into a broken mess, exactly what Danarius would want.
Her brother Oren came in next, killing all of the other guards easily. "Sister". He and their Father looked at the dead woman next to Amalie and shuddered, blood dripping from her impalement. "You bastard. If you so much as looked at my daughter, Maker help me, I will rip off your head". Stephen picked up his daughter and put her in Oren's safe arms, where she just stared at the dead elf, wide eyed and unable to look anywhere else. 15 other slaves came out of their cells, some convulsing and ghostly white, they just stood, barely clothed and some had their limbs bound with rope, others with chains or manacles. Oren searched the guards and found the key to releasing their bonds, but he knew that they wouldn't trust a man brandishing a sword, let alone a man they had never seen before. He put his sword down, and all his other weapons. He felt himself choke and well up at these tiny, underfed, undernourished people. Most were elven, and it saddened him. Two of his grandparents were Dalish, and he was brought up to care for people, no matter their race, skin colour or sexuality, so to see elves being made slaves simply because some human's believed they were filthy creatures angered him.
He carefully approached the men and women. After some coaxing, keeping his voice an even tone, and his actions small, he managed to free them of their bindings, the clank of chains on the floor echoing in the big space. Stephen severed the lead that Danarius held, so the elf could get away. Instead of doing that, he somehow picked the slaver up and slammed his hand through his chest, ripping out his still beating, malice infested heart and throwing it onto the floor. Oren gave the elf the key and he took off his collar, the effort of that and killing his former master made him dizzy. Amalie suddenly shot up and caught him before he fell. He did not trust her, at all, in fact, he glared at her, death filled his emerald orbs, blackening them with hatred. But she was so scared, that her hazel doe eyes made something stir within his chest and he knew then that she would not hurt him.
Stephen did not touch the slaves, he did not wish to panic them further, so he asked that if they wish to follow him, they would be taken into his home, fed, given clothes, they could wash and be given beds to sleep in, but only if they wanted to go. And they would certainly not be their slaves. Some nodded, but their expressions were still blank. They had no right to feel anymore, and that affected Stephen, tears marring his deep brown eyes, dripping onto his beard. The people followed the family, but Amalie stopped, took one look at Hadriana, who was almost dead, and slapped her. She turned on her heel and kept her other arm around the skinny elf, who now glowed faintly, a pastel blue hue.
Stephen finally spoke up when they had reached the door that he and Oren had breached earlier. "He didn't...he didn't touch you, did he, cub?" Amalie violently shook her head, almost shaking the elf under her arm, and quickly stopping to hold him up straight. "No Father, not that I know of at least. But, look". She moved her head in the direction of a female human slave, who had a slightly distended stomach. "Are you with child?" The woman nodded. "Can I still go with you? Please. I do not care for myself, but my child". She begged Stephen and he nodded with vigor. "Of course you can. Now I have a carriage outside but it won't fit all 15 of you. But do not despair, I have another that Oren can go and fetch, that is much bigger, and that will accommodate the rest of us. We will go to my family home, Talen Manor. It is big enough for all of us to live in comfortably". Oren went off to get the other carriage, as quickly as he could.
Finally the elf under Amalie's arm spoke. "Amalie, why? Why help us when society threw us out?" Amalie sat him down but bent down in front of him. "Because none of you deserve to suffer. Innocent souls do not deserve to be crushed under someone's heel. And I accept everyone as they are, I do not care what race, colour, or sexuality someone is. We only wish to do what we think is right. And these people are free to say no". The elf's eyes flickered, a warning to a perplexed Amalie. "Free? That word is overrated. Free implies that your mind, nor body, nor soul are trapped in any way, and we always will have one, or all of those things shackled, that we may never truly be able to take back as our own. So tell me, Amalie, are we really free to make that choice?" She looked away and the tears now fell, flowing freely. He was right. "I'm sorry. I had no grounds to say that when I do not know what has happened previously". The elf's next move surprised her, he held her, his skin and bone arms cradled her, and she tried to twist her head so her tears didn't wet his thin clothing.
Oren soon returned and everyone got into the carriages safely. The elf let go of Amalie and looked into her eyes. Lush forest green meeting teary hazel eyes, and the slight smile he had confused her, but she couldn't help smiling herself. He was quite the handsome man. "I'm sorry. I did not have any reason to shout at you like that. You...I don't know if I can trust you yet, but I see no malice in your eyes. I'm Fenris". Amalie blinked and some more tears fell from her lashes but she took his hand in hers and smiled, helping him up and into the carriage, and then climbing in herself.
Her life changed that day.