When Shinnrae came to, she found herself lying on a cement stone slab, cushioned with satin pillows. She was still in her nightgown, as she had been in the morning. It would have better if she were dressed in her fighting gear. She liked it better than heavy chain links because the thin but tough leather allowed her to move quicker, and be agile; gaining the upper with her speed. Her straight ebony black hair flowed around her like rippling water, framing her delicate face.
Something wasn’t right, and she had fallen asleep on watch.
She cursed her own foolishness. Her siblings were still sound asleep, and the night looked still.
Until she heard the noise.
At first she thought it was just paranoia until she saw something move and a noise come from behind her, and she spun around, gasping. A hand covered her mouth and gagged her tight, binding her hands together, and when she looked back at her brother and sister were slumped against a tree, hands bound and tied against a tree. They were probably unconscious over sleeping, but she hoped she were wrong. She tried to stand and shrug off her attacker, but before she knew it, she was stuffed head first into a sack, and was dragged hastily away.
***
A tall, but not colossal young man, with damp silver hair that ended it wet curled tendrils and had piercing violet eyes, rattled his fingers on a sprawled out map, a wry smile upon his lips. He stared at it, and at the important looking wooden carved figures. There was King Duncan, sitting upon a three legged creature made out of twigs and a girl, with painted on black hair and green eyes. He knocked over the king with his finger, drawing the carving of the dark haired girl towards a carving of a paled haired figure.
“My lord Zeraph, what is your aim here?” said a small, robust looking man. Zeraph turned to him, a bored expression evident on his pale face.
“Shinnrae Netherbane, has incredulous powers beyond reckoning, even amongst others of the supposed of the third prophecy child.” he said. “Even with my powers alone, as there is no doubt that I, the third grandchild and heir of Froste, am, the prophecy child, as Morgan le Fay had prophesized. My marriage with her shall be a powerful thing; as she is most probably the grandchild of one of the more powerful Knights of the Round Table. With the vows complete I will have total control over her and her powers, enough so I can take over these lands.”
After a grueling discussion of what he and Shinnrae could achieve at the heights of his reign, footsteps and struggles were heard from outside the makeshift tent. Zeraph pushed back the curtains, revealing two gruff-looking men. They entered the room, dragging in a struggling potato sack. Zeraph smiled. It was a wicked kind of grin that chilled to the bone. His fingers moved rapidly to untie the sack, unceremoniously dumping out the contents. A pair of terrified green eyes gleamed in the candle light, a gash on her cheek. She appeared to be unarmed, and straggly bits of black hair stuck to the blood on her face like glue.
“Hello.” he said quietly, reaching a hand out to her. She shrieked, pushing back against the temporary cloth wall, kicking out at him. He pulled his hand away, and in less than a second, pulled out a heavy sea-axe knife. Shinnrae’s heart beat rapidly, looking for anything to use as a weapon. Nothing.
“As you won’t come to me willingly, I’ll guess this will have to do,” He smacked the hilt of the Northern knife into the side of her skull.
*
W
hen Shinnrae were finally conscious for the second time, she was left lying on the floor of a plain looking room. She was sure it wasn’t healthy having her brains bashed out of her each time she was knocked into a state of unconsciousness, but she dismissed the thought. She analyzed her surroundings. It had a window, frosted over by the snowy weather that stormed the outside. She was still in her silk night gown, even in this freezing weather. Shinnrae opened the wardrobe and felt sick. Inside the wardrobe was a fur coat, and next to it, a white wedding gown. She shivered, and pulled out the fur coat, draped it over her shoulders. She stared; moments passing into hours, out the window—she observed it was least a three-story drop—and at the iron door that barred her way. There was no escape.
A knock resounded on the door, but she said nothing. She had wanted to shout something cruel or mean, saying she’d never give in, or she’d rather have died, but the words wouldn’t come. She made a choking noise, and a maid came in, slamming the door behind her.
“Why aren’t you in the wedding gown?” she said, grabbing it out the wardrobe. Shinnrae just glared at her, knowing she would get beat up or starved or the like if she didn’t listen. She got into the gossamer gown, staring miserably into her reflection in the oval mirror as the maid laced the corset and tied the bodice on super tight her lungs ached. Shinnrae was surprised her ribs were still intact and that they had not yet caved in. The maid had yanked the lace so tight that her figure was pulled into and ultra-thin hourglass figure that she hadn’t thought was possible. The dress had a creamy beige coloured corset pulled very tight; revealing more of her body shape than it should’ve, fitted over the top with the same coloured bodice and long sleeves that frilled towards the end of the flower-embroidered edges. It had lots of lace, The gown had a variety of layers, the top one was pale white and silky to the touch, was split at the front revealing the explosion of skirts beneath and gathered in a cluster at the back, an at the front, fastened with sky blue bow. The second layer was shown under the split of the top layer’s hem, and had simple beige, blue and white patterns, that seemed to blend in with the gown and swirl with life with every movement made. It was pleasant to look at, but Shinnrae herself felt quite the opposite. Her black hair was a dull brownish-black colour, and her eyes were like murky dark green pits, with shadows under her eyes. Her face was very pale with no colour in her cheeks, and her mouth was twisted into a thin, drawn-back line.
The maid made a satisfied noise, and clucked her tongue. “Hmmm… You would have been really pretty if you didn’t look so—dead; I’ll guess you’ll have to do.” The maid dusted her face with powdery make up, and she coughed and spluttered all the way.
Shinnrae, feeling hurt, ran a hand through her hair and grunted in reply.
“Lord Zeraph will return to you shortly.” The maid left, bolting the door shut firmly behind her. Shinnrae slunk to the ground, knotting her fingers through her hair. She had always thought the day she had got married would be a cheerful day, and she would have been, well, happier.
Shinnrae sighed in despair, and sat on the tiled floor. There was no escape. She glanced briefly around the room. There was the wardrobe, hanging empty wire coat hangers. Shinnrae spread them out before her, unwinding the wire fretfully. She laced a string of them together, knotting one end to the leg of the wardrobe and tugging the other across the door. Shinnrae held the vase steadily in her small fists, lodging herself snuggly behind the door, crouching low, vase poised over her head, tripwire tight in her fingers. Even if she managed to miraculously escape from her prison cell, how would she return to her friends and family? She shook her head, clearing her mind of all distractions. Light footsteps pounded down the hall snapped her out of her unpleasant reverie, opening and closing doors in haste. The footsteps stopped abruptly in front of her cell, and then she heard the faint rattle of a key. The doors flew open, and Shinnrae leapt up, yanking the tripwire tight and throwing the vase towards the figure at the door. The figure, seemingly surprised, dodged the vase, stepping lightly over the makeshift tripwire and came skidding across the floor, ceramic shards falling to the ground and soaking the figure before her.
Shinnrae staggered back, clutching her hand. A ceramic shard was lodged in the palm of her hand and she ripped it out, letting her crimson blood run freely. She stared at the figure wide-eyed, now standing before her.
It sure wasn’t Zeraph. He had tousled, ink black hair that fell just above his soft, chartreuse green eyes. He wore a leather tunic and the same green cape like Alice’s. At his belt was a string of weapons. He stared at her, brows creasing.
“Seriously? You can’t go around trying to trip people over with tripwire and soaking them with old flower water you just met in the face. It may be vexing to you, but others seem to find it rather impolite,” He said. He had a small trace of a peculiar accent, which rolled on the vowels slightly.
Shinnrae just stared at him.
And he stared back, taking her in.
She turned, to the door. If she could just reach the hallway, she might be able to find another exit. Shinnrae hiked up her skirt and ran, barely making it to the metal doorframe. The boy grabbed her hand.
“You can’t go down that way,” He said, tugging her arm. She struggled against him, yanking her arm back. “Let go of me! Who are you, and what do you want? You want to marry me as well as the other guy?” He blinked, and then grinned, eyes sliding down her body. Shinnrae resisted the urge to punch him in the face. “Nice dress, by the way. I am Caspar Ashwell,” He said. “I don’t know about the ‘other guy’, but I’m just here to return you to the City of Air. And about your other question, why would I come here to marry you, that’s a pretty awkward question to ask somebody you just met, especially without going on a date—yet,”
Shinnrae sighed. She never thought she would meet a more annoying soul in her life. She pushed a stray ebony lock of hair off her face, hoping the room were dark enough to hide the blush on her face. “What makes you think I’m ever going to date you? You have not even courted me yet. Why should I go to this ‘City of Air’ with you?”
Caspar looked at her through his lashes, genuinely annoyed. He gave her a blank look that told her she was wasting time. She dropped his gaze. “What choice do you have? I highly doubt that you’d rather stay here and rot,” Shinnrae shrugged. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “And why wouldn’t you want to date me? I am charming, ‘have dashing good looks and—” He grinned at her. “have Fabulous hair.” He flipped his hair for emphasis. Shinnrae rolled her eyes, and pressed her thin hands against the window pane, her shallow breath fogging the glass.
“What is your escape plan?” Her face was grim, her green eyes dark and shadowed. She closed her eyes, thinking about her siblings and her friends. And Elessa. A tear rolled down her cheek. Shinnrae wondered if she would ever see them again.