The parlor was the most lavish room the girl had ever seen.
The crimson walls were crowded with painted landscapes and portraits only serving to make the room all the more suffocating. In fact, the girl saw, that there didn't seem to be one space of the room not occupied with a display of wealth.
A chandelier flickered with candles and crystals as it hung from the intricately carved marble ceiling, the corners were full of naked statues and plants that served no function besides adding to the stuffy atmosphere.
But worst of all, in the middle of the room sat a gold and red velvet loveseat. Three spectators sat- one woman and two men- eyeing the line of girls as if they were being presented a rare species of lizard.
Even the bartender, who made drinks for the guards at his counter, couldn't help stealing glances.
The girl pressed at her restraints, already bound a bit too many notches tight. The act made the metal bite into her skin, the stinging sensation made her close her eyes but yet she did not stop the action.
"108! Keep your eyes open. The ambassador will be here any moment!"
Mrs. Fagan, she didn't know her true name, made the girls eyes shot open in obedience. The woman had been the one who separated them from the others, bathed them, and the best of all- fed them a small meal of watered down vegetable stew and a stale piece of bread.
The woman was a wiry looking thing, her nose tip bowed toward the floor, as if her whole genetic line up was built to have all her features curled down looking at the world in disdain. She looked at 108 with particular disdain, the girl had spoken out against one of the captors on the initial day-the guards reward sat stinging on her cheek as a black and blue reminder.
But it was for the bruise, she had heard the guards speaking, that would hinder her price. Like a bruised peach at a market, she was last of the barrel to be picked. On that note, she decided she would slam her face repeatedly into the walls of the cell she had been in if she were returned. Anything to hinder her price, here she was a captive but being a captive was better than being owned.
The mahogany door swung open with a groan.
The room came to a standstill, the low conversations that had hummed through the room stopped abruptly as even the onlookers reverted their attention to the cloaked figure that had since entered.
The sight of him made girl 108 extremely uneasy, he was tall but that was the only personal trait that could be detected. Every part of his body was covered in black- even his face was masked with only two holes from his eyes being the only opening.
He strode into the room, a small gray goblin looking thing trailing behind him in a timid fashion. A house elf, girl 108 recognized. She had seen a few of them long, long ago. They were fickle creatures, always on the brink of a mental breakdown and for once the girl could somewhat relate to the creature.
"Ambassador, hope your travels went well." Miss. Fagan approached the man, her lips were curled in what could have been a smile- but her features were too cruel to give a whisper to any sort of joy.
She bowed her head lightly before gazing at the lineup of girls with a bit of pride as if looking upon a stable of purebred race horses. The girl swallowed hard and diverted her attention to the floor.
"We have a fine selection here for you today, it is such an honor to bestow upon you the first vassal of our collection."
The cloaked man nodded his head in politeness, but his mask face was soon turned to the girls.
"May I take a closer look?" He asked as though they would bite. Of course he was permitted, girl 108 didn't know a thing about him other than he was called the ambassador. What such title held or who held the title was irrelevant, but she was aware even in the short amount of time he had been in there it held significant importance.
The way cruel Miss. Fagan primed herself like a hen and tripped over her words around the man, made the girl all the more uneasy of him. How cruel did he have to be to make even the devil herself blush?
She was grateful even more so for the bruise.
The man started at the front of the line- a small, mousy girl named Adelaide was the first of the lineup. Though she was well in her twenties, she looked no older than sixteen with her tiny frame. But the man only glanced at her, and kept his steady pace down the lineup.
The girls heart pounded in her chest, she could feel the blood pounding it's fists bloody into her eardrums and she thought they might burst. She gripped her clammy hands into fists, and bowed her chin to her chest wishing more than anything that she had the privilege to close her eyes.
She didn't look, but the mans footsteps clicked against the parlor floor in a smooth, sinister rhythm as though taking his time to toy with the girls anxieties. When the footsteps came to a halt, the girl hoped and prayed that finally he had made his decision. She didn't look up, she could see the polished black shoes standing right before her.
Her heart sank.
A wand was pressed under her chin, gesturing her head up as the tip sank into the soft flesh of her throat. The man was studying her, but she found herself unable to look him in the eye. Again she diverted her attention, this time to the side.
"I thought I gave clear instructions to not touch any of the captives until I made my pick?" The mans voice was deep, and almost pleasant if it didn't have the undertones of threat to an explosive unforgiving temper.
"She's a bit hard to handle, she has a mouth on her- nothing our training won't smooth out, but she had to receive a punishment nonetheless." Miss. Fagan's words were cool, but her face was contorted to that of anxiety.
"I wasn't the one to do it of course, wasn't even there to see it. But what's one bruised savage? It'll clear up with time and she'll be good as new."
The wand still pressed into 108's skin as the man surveyed the bruise on her cheek. She hadn't yet seen it, only just heard how grotesque it looked. She was grateful almost she didn't have the luxury of a mirror.
"Is it broken?"
"N-no, well can't be sure- it'll heal up though, I'm confident in that." Miss. Fagan found the confidence to approach the man, but she still held the timidity of encountering a wild stallion.
"You don't want that one, sir. With all so respect of course- you see she's utterly unmannered, completely disobedient- no good wits to her, not even to help herself." She continued surveying the girls tattered face in disgust.
The man lowered her wand from 108s throat, the girl sighed lightly in relief that Miss. Fagan's disgust in her had rubbed off. She relaxed her chin to its resting position as the man scoffed lightly.
"I'll take her."
108's eyes widened and only now did she look at the man, her hands went cold and her knees felt weak- no, no, no!
"Great Ambassador, with all respect that girl is far more trouble than she's worth- plus, you don't want to be looking at that face for the next few weeks, spare yourself the trouble and-"
"You think I can't handle an unhinged little girl? You dare question my abilities?" He barked in agitation.
"No!" Miss. Fagan's words slipped her lips in a loud horrified tone, as though disgusted at herself for insinuating such a offense. "I just think you deserve better, here how about girl one hundred and twenty-t-"
"Where is 108s papers?" The man cut her off. "I want a challenge."
This seems to brighten Miss. Fagan's mood, this man was about to receive her problem child- what a perfect punishment of such cruelty, she was surprised she hadn't thought to find the glee of it herself. She smirked lightly at 108, who shivered.
"Really, how thoughtful of you." She smiled before nodding at one of the men sitting across the room at the loveseat. One got up, and carried a briefcase to a small desk. He opened it up with a click before shuffling through some papers.
The other girls in the lineup were now looking towards 108 in pure empathy, she could almost feel the heartbreak as the watched for her. Her blood ran cold, but she didn't dare show a reaction for their sake. She didn't want to terrify them even further.
Before the ink on the papers signatures even dried he came back to collect his property. Miss. Fagan was popping a bottle of champagne but evidently the man had no interest.
"Come along." The man ordered 108, but she stood frozen in place. Her feet felt too heavy to use, but the man grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the room.
It was only when the great big door creaked and groaned to a close that she really debated running, or perhaps throwing a big enough fit that the man really brushed her off as too much trouble. But she just walked, like a lamb to the slaughter.
This man owns me.
My actions.
My body.
My thoughts-
He owns me.
I want to die.
It was the first time she had ever thought such a thing and truly meant it, she wanted to die. If someone were to have handed her a letter opener she would have sent it into her stomach and twisted its handle as if spinning her intestines like spaghetti on a fork.
But still she kept walking, each step she felt as if she were to be ill.
They came outside to a buggy parked at the front, the house elf hopped onto the footrest to open the passenger side door to the old fashioned vehicle. She didn't look up to see her captor, even if she could stomach it he wore that disgusting mask.
Her shackled hands reached for the door handle, slightly by habit before the man stopped her.
He held a key up in front of her face, before his black gloves hand gestured for her restrained wrist. Her mind felt foggy as he gently took the chains into his hand and stuck the key into its lock. The twist brought for an utter relief as the restraints loosened over her wrists. He slipped them off and the girl could now see the purple and blue imprint left. She rubbed them lightly as she looked down at her feet.
"Ventura."
Her eyes widened- was she hallucinating? But as she looked up the man remained unmoving- he knew her name.
"You know my..." But she couldn't find herself able to finish. He reached a hand to the back of his head to take off the cloak, exposing the white unmistakable locks. He removed the mask as Ventura's mind fumbled with the prices of the puzzle- it was elementary, but she didn't want to believe it.
But the mask came off, exposing a face she had not seen in three years. It felt like a lifetime ago since the name had slipped past her lips.
"Draco?"