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A light breeze caused the long silken curtain to flutter. The nude girl standing in the middle of the room shivered as goosebumps appeared on her fair skin. Multiple servants stood around her, each working on a different task. Some brushed her soft white hair until it gleamed in their hands. Others rubbed fine but subtle scented oils into her skin. Others brushed khol ink around her eyes, to frame them and make the sapphire blue color pop against her pale face, and dabbed a mixture made of crushed pink flowers onto her lips, making them appear fuller.

Finally Treema, the head maid and the woman who had been her nursemaid and governess since she was a child, stepped foward with a pale blue dress made of the finest silk they had. It was with tears that she dressed her little one for the last time. Pulling a golden belt around her waist, a symbal of her chastity and the status of her family, the older woman stood back and tried to smile.

"My little one, you look beautiful," she said.
[color=7bcdc8]"Thank you Mee-ma,"[/color] Amalia said, using the title she had called the maid when she was a small child.
Impulsively the older woman reached out and hugged the girl-child. "Out. All of you," she ordered and all of the younger servants went scurrying away. When they were alone Treema began braiding small bits of her hair on either side of her head, pulling them back and fastening them with a tie in order to keep the hair out of the girl's face. "Remember little one, the only way to even hope for safety and security is for you to entice a Drakken in high standing. Even if he is ugly as sin itself and smells like death warmed over, once he claims you as his property no one will dare touch you. And if he is taken enough with your beauty he will endeavor to retain that beauty by not harming you."
Amalia nodded mechanically. She had been told this many times before, since she had turned 12 and had her first woman's time. Once her first bleeding had occured her mother had informed her of her eventual fate. Both of her parents had kept their distance since then, perhaps in an attempt to lessen the blow of losing their only daughter.

Amalia had grown up with only Treema and few servants for company. Her older brothers, four in all, kept away mostly as well. She didn't blame them for this. Whenever she did see them, the look of shame in their faces was enough to make her not want to see them either. She understood that they wished desperately to save her, but there was truly nothing that could do that wouldn't lead to war. The current peace was delicate and as thin as frost. Any misstep could lead to centuries of bloodshed and the eventual extinction of her people. 

Amalia barely spoke and when she did it was in quiet tones and in as few words as possible. She had been groomed and tutored to be the perfect pet. A beautiful bird to sing and be kept in a cage, to be enjoyed at her master's whim. Amalia knew how to cook, clean, sew, weave, could play the harp and sing like an angel. Drawing had been attempted but abandoned, as had horseback riding.

Outside of the window, the town was silent. The people, who worked her father's land and lived under his protection as their liegelord, mourned for her already. They loved the fair maiden who was like an angel to them, the very embodiment of the Great Mother herself. 

Amalia Solair, born of Earth and Sky. That is what they called her.

"It is time my little one," Treema finally said, turning her to face forward and brushing her shoulders and face. There was nothing there, but the older woman was stretching out their time together, fussing over her little one for the last time.
Amalia stared at her with warmth and love. Reaching forward, she hugged her tightly. [color=7bcdc8]"I love you Treema," [/color]she said, her voice breaking.
Treema hugged her back just as tightly, as though they could stop time if they stayed that way. Finally there was a hesitant but solid knock on the door.
Pulling back, Treema, crying in earnest now, held Amalia's face in her hands. "Whoever choses you, HE is the fortunate one. HE is the one who should be grateful and HE is the one who is blessed by the Gods. No matter how the Drakken's act or speak to you, remember : the Great Mother sees all. Embody her patience, her love, her grace, her purity in all that you do and say and she will bless you."
Amalia nodded. [color=7bcdc8]"May the Great Mother look kindly on you Treema."[/color]

One of her father's men stood at the door, ready to guide her down to the waiting carriage. The golden carriage, with her family's crest, would taken her to the border before handing her off to the Drakken who would conduct her the rest of the way.

Sunlight bathed the courtyard. Many people had gathered to watch her leave. Amalia hid her astonishment that her parents were there as well. They both stood stoic, but she could see the hurt in their eyes.
She presented herself to them with her head high but her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her mother embraced her child, not speaking. Her father laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Do not forget this land," were the only words he spoke to her.

Amalia climbed into the carriage and didn't look back as it set off. She finally allowed the tears that she had been holding to fall freely from her eyes.
Ahead of her loomed darkness and the unknown. Ahead were monsters and creatures of the damned. Ahead was her future, shrouded in pain, fear and shadow. What could a creature of light do but weep.
[color=7bcdc8]"Great Mother...," [/color]she prayed in her tears, [color=7bcdc8]"Hear my plea... Faithful and obedient I have been... I beg you to turn your gaze to me... take me into your embrace as your beloved child... give me the strength to face the evil... protect me Mother... protect me... I beg you..."[/color]