Thread: The Queen's Harem! ...er...I mean...Retinue! (Javorcek X SomethingEsoteric)

It all felt so surreal to her, then again life had been surreal to Faith since the age of eight years old. Shed spent many years in a gilded cage, watching it wither and die, oxidize and tarnish with patina she did not recognize till the silver and gold she was so lavished by was entirely stained by time, blacks and greens, sable splotches where once ivory had been like rust on stone, dirt apathetically smeared where once nothing short of pristine had been acceptable time had-had a toll on the grandiose home shed become the matron of at just fourteen years old, now on the edge of her nineteenth birthday, time and disuse, complacency from all others. A fourteen year old girl not fit to rule left behind by a pigheaded man who was no different. At the time Faith had little to give to her name sake, of course, when her mother was still alive they held hope all would be well given time, father would return from his bloody conquest with riches and pride in excess but as time yielded no results save the passing of seasons and civil unrest in the court below their keep. When winter had placed blight on mother, there was no maester who could help her, a miracle was in need and a miracle was not delivered, only a pyre. Faith was alone, entirely alone to allow her doubts to eat at her, she felt as though she were the trees in the court, leaves withering and spiraling to the ground in the arrival of winter, her luscious bark turning black and hardening, appearing as though she were dead and listless only creaking in the strongest of winter winds spring would come one day however, she would blossom a bloom -or maybe she was the bear on their family crest, only hibernating? her journal gave no insight, what it did, in time however show was shed become resigned. Faith no longer relinquished or regretted the realizations no good awaited her, her father would not return, even if he did hed return to a throne of dirt and thorns, she resigned herself to the fact all she could do was wait she became the dormant tree, the hibernating bear, the blade of grass beneath a sheet of snow, protected herself and her emotions till numb to them entirely. Her mothers death meant little anymore, shed been young but not so young such things were truly tragic, the ebb of servants and riches that once fortified their standings ebb meant little as the less men and women stood beside her the less riches she need to house them, the less men and women of the court wished to pay taxation the less they could provide for them it was a slow match toward the end she could only prolong so much, resigned to that she was too. When one day, her fathers had was place in her lap she did not scream, she did not cry out hysterically, she turned him to face her and could only look into dead eyes with scorn for condemning her to this creeping normalcy, to condemning her to a death of one thousand cuts as it were she expected her head would soon meet his, free of body, the final gash however was one that never arrived. The words were a loss on her, long had they been a loss on her, they mattered very little a long public speech, a public pandering of how their conqueror was merciful and kind but not to be crossed, an appeal, Faith was given her life but none else banished from her home, exiled to the wilds. A lecherous knight did find her, one she knew well, thought she knew well his words were far more cauterized in her mind. He promised her safe passage, he would not have the daughter of his Earl freeze to death or be dishonored by men of the wilds shed one day be happened upon by if not for his protection, his final act of honour before he lay down his knightly mantle after failing her father in war. If the coming of her fathers folly, the coming of the man whod bested him was like the first ray of sun a relief her dormant state was over and relieving, in all truth it had been, than the knights gift was the first day of a premature spring, she the first flower, just as likely to bloom as to wither the knights true motives would be the final weeks of winter that brow beat spring back. He did not seek his honour made whole, only his purse. Hed taken her as far as a new country, one shed never known, one of slavers and hierarchy shed no understanding of. She was sure hed received quite a purse for her sale to the Slavic man. -and here she was, ten years and change to the day her father left on his steed bound by furs, steel and leather. Faith had remained dormant an entire spring and summer, fed and clothed by the Slavic man, denied time and time again by men and women who had no interest in paying his asking price for a virgin exiled princess lofty offers that reached her ears sat odd in her stomach, sometimes she was sickened, others maybe flattered by the denominations she didnt fully understand. Each time they examined her, she stared forward with cold lifeless eyes, hibernating, it was almost a warmingly familiar ritual, Faith liked to imagine it was like she was home again, her hand maidens preparing her as she was a little girl, dressing her and painting her features with chalk, berries and ash salves so shed appear beautifully for mother, father and their guests, for her people, so lavished she was. Her teeth were perfect, her skin without blemish, her hair was long and likened to spun gold by many minstrels, eyes a vibrant blue grey like the sky above her homelands, she was lithe and taught, small perky breasts and a modest behind accentuated by posture uncommon of a slave, while she looked browbeaten and cold there were no scars of what had left her this way and everything about her had an air of regal eloquence just as uncommon as her posture. Given an order she followed, almost as if for the first time seeing her surroundings she looked around with a small hissing breath as it were, feeling the chill of the chamber reach her as she removed the clothes the Slavic had provided, while she did look confused and maybe slightly alarmed she did not cringe away from her setting anxiously while she did not feel belonging she appeared it. Yes, yes, yes Faith, the Slavic chortled joyously as the Queen reached the pale girl in her bluff. Reads, writes and speaks as royalty, he assured the sales pitch beginning his brows raising as he clapped his hands together and rub them together as if already grasping a mound of gold between, Why you ask? he added, Royalty she is . fine addition she would make to any collection, yes? virtue intact, beautiful body, adoring submissive mind surely. A gift, however, she is not. A man paid entirely too much for little Faith to simply give her away! for my queen, a small dowry would suffice. Faith did not cringe at the idea of being sold, did not whimper or shy from the touch, just another long since realized resignation this all was shed been sold once already and as it were, amidst all those whod appraised her, this woman seemed by far the greatest choice of all the worst circumstances. -and so she spoke, with grace and tact An honour to be in your presence my Queen, I am Faith Alvarnah Draschkt, the Slavic is mistaken I am no princess, I am an exiled daughter of a late Earl to the North. Her words frank but honeyed, even after the slaver hissed angrily for his sales pitch being stifled.