[h3][color=a1e4ee]Kaelira Isrilen[/color][/h3]

Kai stood stiffly among the crowd of other girls, rage, terror, and horror coming off of her in almost tangible waves.

[i]How DARE they! How dare they! Isn’t there a law against taking a betrothed girl...[/i] Kai’s thoughts tumbled through her mind as the soon-to-be-brides huddled together like scared sheep. She was not scared. She was furious.

When the Drakken soldier grabbed her arm, her and a very tall girl, Fire by the look of her, she did not aid him. She did not resist him. He was nothing to her, certainly not something to exert herself over to follow or resist. Resistance would be futile, but of course she would try. But only where it might make a difference.

It was only standing before the Drakken who was to be her husband that she allowed herself to consider what course of action she might take. She would not allow him to have his way with her, not when she was promised to another.

She pressed her hand to her throat, to the ring hidden just under the lacy neckline of her dress. Let the strength of it flow through her.

[i]For you, Ridian, I will be strong. I will come back to you one day, as surely as rivers flow to the Great Sea. My love.[/i]

Her eyes were icy, totally blank as she looked at her new husband. He asked for her name, of course. She wouldn’t give it to him straight, though.

She’d heard the guards whispering when they’d looked the girls over. Marking who would be given to whom.

[i]“These two for Krone?”
“They’ll last better than any of the others.”
“Hmm…. I suppose. The one is tiny, though.”
“But look at how she carries herself. So confident. And besides. A small water gem and a graceful strong fire gem would make excellent husbands for one so well-placed in our court.[/i]

[i]So this must be Krone.[/i] She inclined her head slightly, her eyes glittering harshly. [color=a1e4ee]“I have many names… [i]my lord.[/i]”[/color] She let the words hang in the air, sarcasm and hatred turning her pretty voice harsh.[color=a1e4ee]“But as for the ones I answer to, well… That remains for you to figure out.”[/color] She flashed a sly smile, meeting the man’s eyes. Sure, she was terrified. But she’d push her fear and self-preservation instincts away, she’d let herself suffer, just as long as she could get back to her Ridian someday.
[hr]

[h3][color=e3c5ee]Astaelin Cassiel[/color][/h3]

They had spent the whole carriage ride holding each other. Miry for protection, Asta to be there for her little sister. But as they got to the massive doors of Shadow Worth, the girls were separated.

The Drakkens assigned to guard Asta were idiots. They didn’t know how dangerous she was; they didn’t check to see that she was practically bristling with daggers under the flowy, yet revealing dress she was forced to wear. She had four knives: One on the back of her neck, one down the front of her dress, one in a sleeve sheath on her forearm, and one strapped to her thigh. The one on her thigh might not be helpful, but it was her favorite knife, and she couldn’t bear to leave home without it.

As she was led into a separate room, she felt a thrill of fear run through her, and quickly quelled it. She would not be afraid.

To take her mind off of it, she sized up the girl next to her. Another Fire, if the golden eyes were anything to go by. A little shorter than Asta, perhaps a bit less muscular. But with fierce alert eyes. Another fighter, not someone to go along meekly.

The man who came in was large, as all Drakken were. But there was something… off about him. She realized he must not be all… there, watching him cavorting around the room.

And then she was presented with a knife and a collar. A collar.

Lord Pyrus save her, she would never wear a collar.

Without being bidden, she picked up the knife, wincing at how poorly-balanced it was and how the ornate engravings dug into her palm. But it would serve the purpose she intended. Making eye contact with the man, she cut the collar into pieces. The knife was sharp, at least.

She had half a mind to stab the Drakken, to teach him to not give her weapons. Instead she simply continued cutting up the collar into little tiny bits, then threw the bits back at the drakken as a macabre sort of confetti. Playing to the unstable, childish part of his mind. Hopefully she wasn’t getting it wrong.

[color=e3c5ee]“Are you amused?”[/color] she asked simply.
[hr]
[h3][color=a251bf]Aymiria Cassiel[/color][/h3]

Miry was petrified. As she’d watched her sister being pulled away by two guards, she couldn’t stop the tears from trickling down her face. Even as the guards had pulled her away to a small room, stripping her down and putting her into a different dress, her mind was paralyzed with terror. She couldn’t move to cover herself, couldn’t hide, couldn’t even say anything.

When she was led out into the main room to wait for her husband, she could barely breathe, the fear threatening to overwhelm her. A glance at the girl beside her made her blink in confusion: She had a lovely face, sure, but her skin and hair were unkempt and blemished, and her legs… were unshaved? Self-consciously Miry crossed her own legs, shaved smooth and lotioned to make her as, what did they say? As desirable as possible?

Those thoughts were forced out of her mind by the arrival of her husband. He was rather small for a Drakken, though he still towered over Miry by a foot and a half. She flinched as he walked over, inspecting them like they were… like fresh meat.

[b]”Your names are?”[/b] the lord asked them.

[b]”Amaryllis.”[/b] said the girl next to her, fiercely and bravely. Oh how Miry wished that she could be brave.

[color=a251bf]“M-my name is, u-um, m-my n-name is Aymir—Aymiria…”[/color] she said softly, her high, sweet voice scarcely more than a whisper. [color=a251bf]“O-of House C-Cassiel.”[/color] She flinched at her own stutter and inability to form coherent thoughts, nervously glancing up at the Drakken lord through her thick eyelashes.