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[center][color=7bcdc8][h3][i]Jehenne Alcroft[/i][/h3][/color][/center]
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Jehenne's heart was racing, and she blinked back the tears brimming in her eyes. Her face was red, fearful, and indignified. This was an abomination. She'd never felt so humiliated. Treated like an object, while she was of noble blood! This was no place for someone as high station as herself. Jehenne hadn't been to the slave auctions for a long while- she always sent her servants to pick out the chattel, but this much jeering and taunting was disgusting. They hated her. She would never have done such a thing were she in their position. Would she? No! Jehenne was way better than they were. Still, it was small comfort as the greedy eyes of the audience flicked across the naked bodies of the people onstage. The aristocrat was cold and vulnerable, the steel tightened around her wrists and ankles. Dropping her eyes, she tried to make herself as invisible as possible, but she was plain and shiny, for all to see. 

Trying to think of something, anything else, her thoughts naturally fell to her brother. The reason she was here. Him and his stupid causes. "If I am to be a noble, than surely, I must fight for a noble cause!" He said. Well, Rodrick, she thought. Where is your honor now? Dead and rotting somewhere. You deserve it, you idiot! Tears began rolling down her cheek. She missed him, terribly, and her cruel words pained her though only she could hear them. Oh, Rodrick. Why did the story have to end like this? A slave. The last Alcroft, condenmed to a life of servitude or worse. A dozen generations of history wiped away in an instant. 

There was a spike of anger down her spine. Sniffing, she straightened her posture a little and looked to the croud. The Alcroft's are not servants. She will never bow to anyone, not for long. Dignity and pride were temporary sacrifices. She would have Karl Maximillian's head on a silver plate, or die trying. The Alcroft name would be remembered. Jehenne would be remembered. Somehow, someway, she would make an impact. I have the intelligence and the skill, she thought. Perhaps she was falling back on her ego, and her arrogance, to escape from the utter horror she was experiencing. Perhaps. Either way, in that moment, Jehenne Alcroft meant it.  

The fury wilted, and she was alone once more.[color=7bcdc8] [i]"Bastards."[/i][/color] She whispered, voice cracking. She reeled from a particularly cutting insult and went silent and still once more. A rolling tear dropped off her chin and fell onto her chest. It would evaporate off her skin, were the fire in her heart a literal one. The fear and fury swirled within. But there was nothing left to do or say. Jehenne could accept that, for now. She would leave this building in chains... but she would not die in them.