Thirty Gold Coins and Five Mares
Summary: "Silver eyes. A sign of demon's scourge, they say." Beauty that beckons misfortune, it's her silver eyes are all about. What she never expects to come is a proposal of matrimony, coming from a cold-eyed noblewoman. Maybe there's always more madness in this world than we thought. A medievalish fantasy AU
WARNING: Slave trading, nudity and implied sexual content
"Silver eyes. A sign of demon's scourge, they say."
The spoken silver-eyes flickered, fiercely, upon the lantern's lighting. The golden light of the caged fire did no enough merit to cast off the darkness, but nonetheless it gave her a chance to spy who was in front of her.
A pale woman in a set of luxurious—somehow masculine—female garb of white, grey and ashen blue. Snowflake-themed art noveau embroidery snaked on her short white cape, with a silver lion's head clasped the snowy linen around her narrow shoulders.
Definitely not a brothel's pimp, or an upjumped merchant looking for a new bed warmer. The pompous clothing and adornment of pure silver spoke of sky high status, emphasized by the sword on her hips. A female of nobility—and maybe someone with military standing too?
A small whimper croaked out as her chin was lifted and allowed her an up-close view of her potential buyer. A visage of a matured young female, blemished with a single slash of scar, that nested a pair of cold eyes of frozen lakes. Beautiful, but laced with discomforting presence.
Who was this cold-eyed woman? Most probably a female knight or even a noble commander, but that raised more disturbing question of her visit. What did she seek here? A post-battle prize to be passed around among her knight comrades and loyal subjects?
"Surely I can pay now and bring her home immediately, can't I?"
"No you can't, my lady," the slaver's hoarse reply came. "I myself ensure all slaves are only obtainable in auction, every bidder deserve equal fair chance at auction."
"So virtuous of you, even it's for something as atrocious as slave trading."
Even with only dim lighting, the murky expression of the slave merchant wasn't unnoticed by her.
"I'll come back tomorrow, Ichabod."
She watched the prospective buyer left. The steps of those boots-lined feet were uncannily light, making the pale noblewoman like a white ghost gliding amongst downtrodden slaves in this grim hall.
"Even your silver eyes are beautiful enough to seduce the Little White Lion, eh?" He chuckled and stroked her cheek with a leery smile. "Fetch me some nice glittering coins tomorrow."
xxxxx
Whenever anyone hear the word 'Atlas', what would come in their mind would be a land of harsh snow and savage cold winds—Even in summer, the cold was a stubborn overlord.
Yet here, in the southern borders, the sun was as merciless as the frost. The air was hot and humid, with icky coolness lingered from prematurely melted snow.
The frosty air gnawed her bare skin, the sun's glare splotched disgusting patches of warmth and pairs of scrutinizing eyes feasted upon her naked body. She wasn't a stranger to the auction stage, but at least in her past experiences rags preserved last pieces of her dignity. Yet, for this certain auction, all slave on sale were bared to the skin, as the slaver Ichabod's promised not to hide any physical deformities of his showcased slaves.
An honest merchant practicing fair trading…in the despicable slave trading business.
She tried to ignore hungry lustful stares among the buyers. And by doing so, she found the cold, calculating eyes of a certain white-haired noblewoman.
So she really wants to have me.
"The bid starts at three hundred silvers!" roared Ichabod, announcing the start of the bidding race with a grope on her butt.
"Three hundred and thirty-three!"
"Three hundred and fifty!"
"Four hundred and twenty-five!"
The silver coin stacks offered for the silver-eyed slave inflated madly. The latest bid was eight hundred and seventy-five silvers, coming from a thirty something woman, probably looking for fresh addition to her band of courtesans. At this point, most would think she was an overpriced slave, cutting the competition to only wealthiest patrons with hefty sum of money to waste.
She cared less of who would buy her, but she was tired of being bought as a prostitute. For her, breaking her backbone and died starving in a wheat field was better than servicing a long line of horny customers and sleep with soreness and seminal fluids all over her body.
"Three gold coins!"
"Gold coins for a single slave?" squawked someone from the crowd. "What a waste!"
She looked the man bidding with gold and barely able to contain her gasp. An obese man dressed in gaudy expensive clothing and uneven blotches of stubble on his sweaty face, visually feasting on her paraded breasts and womanhood from far. He had been eyeing here the hungriest among the patrons, so hungrily that her entire body shivered. Either he was a sexual deviant, or a brothel owner—or heaven forbids, both.
Anyone. Anyone but that fat pervert monster.
Why that white-haired female knight stayed mum? Wasn't she so adamant to have her the night before?
"Five golds."
Finally, the knight stated her price.
A wave of 'oohs' and 'whoahs' rippled among the bidders, with the fat patron harrumphed arrogantly. They knew this auction suddenly became a duel of wealth, with a silver-eyed beauty as the contested prize.
"Seven golds!"
"Fifteen golds."
"Twenty-five golds!"
Twenty-five gold coins could buy you a stable of thoroughbred horses, a farm of fat cattle, and many more. A preposterous amount of money one would spent for a single slave, no matter how exotic she was. No one would sacrifice their precious gold to win her from him—or her murky fate in the hands of that sleazy fat bulk of a perverted man.
This is the dead end. I'm going to be a fucktoy for that rich pig.
"One"
The knight did and spoke nothing.
"Two"
She tried not to cry, but the image of her being abused and soiled every night by that monster was just too strong.
"Three—"
"Thirty golds and five Valean Strider mares."
All ears and eyes were turned to the white knight and her fantastic price that made people gasped with their slackened jaws.
"I know you have interesting 'fascination' towards mares, Ichabod." She strutted to the front, approaching the stage with thinly veiled smile of triumph. "And Valean Strider horses are luxury up here in Atlas, no? Last time I checked, it's three hundred silvers each."
The slaver gulped with a small frown. "Thirty gold coins and five Valean Strider mares for this silver-eyed girl! Raise your hand if you have higher bids!"
No hands were daring enough to shoot up and challenge the white knight's extravagant bid. The fat man in gaudy gold garb growled, his stubby fingers clenched into a meaty pair of fists but never raised.
Please, the silver-eyed slave prayed in the verge of her tears, just let this fucking ends already.
"One."
"Two."
"Three!"
The knight flashed a smug smirk.
"Sold to Lady Weiss Schnee!"
The mention of the name gave the crowd of bidders a shock. That name was supposed to be sung among soldiers of northern Atlesian frontier, not being announced amongst patrons of a slave auction.
The slave was handled roughly by the dreamy-eyed slaver before getting unshackled and given to her new mistress. Thanks to weeks of malnutrition, her muscles lacked energy that she would've stumbled down and stuffed her face with dirt, if not for glove-lined hands of the noblewoman that held her shoulders. She felt thick, soft material of the noblewoman's white cloak draped over her shoulder, covering her modesty from the world and its further humiliation.
Under the sun, she finally got the clear and close look of the pale face and ice-like eyes of her new mistress, Lady Weiss Schnee.
"Get her cleaned well and dressed properly," Weiss told her valet.
"But m'lady, we have nothing to dress her with!"
"Can you think a reason why I bring some unnecessary extra sets of clothes along?"
Next thing she knew, she was ushered to one of the fancy lodgings, scrubbed from head to toe and dressed up in Lady Weiss Schnee's spare attire.
Few hours ago she stood naked without any dignity in a damned stage, now she was dressed like a noble inside a lush carriage. This ensemble of clothes was far from the scratchy rags she used to wear; the linen was soft against her skin, surprisingly not as fancy and decorated as she expected from wealthy aristocrats—probably depicting the Schnee noble's pragmatism over aesthetics.
Opposite her was Weiss Schnee, emotionlessly looking back at her and the glare of contempt she was putting on.
"That glare of yours isn't necessary. It's not like I'm interested in raping you or any other indecency."
As if she would buy those words. Indeed, the noblewoman didn't look at her like a beast looking at fresh slab of meat, but worse things might hide behind those indifferent blue eyes. This white knight-lady-whatever might have just saved her life from a pervert fat bastard, but it didn't guarantee this pale woman isn't another predator.
Who knows, this woman bought her to—
"Marry me."
"What?" Her silver eyes blinked. Did she hear it right?
"I ask you to marry me, or are you too dolt to understand two simple words?"
"Why the hell a noble, and a woman nonetheless, wants to marry a slave?"
"I can declare you a free woman before I take your hand in marriage, if you're really that concerned."
"No, that's not what I mean!" she shook her head and gritted her teeth. "You must have something on your sleeve!"
She didn't give a damn if the way she rudely pointed her finger roused her mistress' anger. The way Weiss looked at her with such unwavering cool calmness made her blood seethed, as if she looked down on her and make this whole predicament as a jest. She'd had enough of mockery and cruel games life pulled on her, she didn't this lady to nonchalantly added one to the pile.
"Indeed I am," Weiss answered calmly. "Pray and tell, what do you wish to fulfill?"
"I want to seek for my sister and…and… " she stuttered in the end, her silver eyes dulled for a moment. She grunted and glared at the noblewoman. "For now, it's only that. What's that with you, anyway?"
"Ponder about it, by being a noble's spouse you can gain more help and resources to seek your sister, as well as protection coming from my authority. If any, it should've been you begging on your knees for me to take you as a wife, not just bring you home as a slave or an exotic bedwarmer."
"What's the catch? Of me being your wife?"
"I may or may not in need of your silver eyes, for my own personal quest from my late grandfather."
She should've known earlier. If this ice of a woman knight didn't desire her body, she was after her silver eyes.
Again, her silver damned eyes.
"Can I say 'no', to your… proposal?"
The muscles of Weiss' unmoving face scrunched slightly.
"Sure you can, I'll declare you a free woman still. However…" There was an eerie pause, followed by the darkening of her blue eyes. "Don't expect I'll sought your assistance without force. I won't hesitate to resort in violence to have your silver eyes for my need. At least, by being my wife, you will have more leniency as well as benefits of being married to a noble."
There was no room to parley, it was so obvious.
"Fine. I accept your proposal."
What followed her answer was a haughty upward curl on Weiss' face. She wanted to beat the hell out of that smug face, but what the odds a famished slave had against a sword-armed knight?
"Before everything, you should know I hate the idea of referring my wife as 'silver-eyed slave'. So tell me your name."
"Ruby Rose, if you're really that concerned, Lady Weiss Schnee."
This is the first half of the first chapter of a stalled plot. It's not my favorite, considering there's too much plot holes, inconsistencies and weak storyline and I haven't written much of this, but it's still interesting to share how far I've got for this nonetheless.
Comments, suggestions and any kind of feedback is welcomed as always.