A captured slave
1747 Words
Draven(Northern Land)
Queen Aira:
When Aira woke, her wrists ached and her head throbbed. She blinked hard, trying to adjust to the dim light filtering through the narrow iron bars. It took several moments before she understood where she was.
She was in chains.
They were inside an iron wagon,the kind used for livestock and prisoners. The floor was layered with damp straw, heavy with the smell of rust, sweat, and despair. Around her, women huddled together,young and old, some wounded all wearing the same rough sackcloth as she did. Their eyes were hollow and red from tears that had already dried. Their homes, their families, their lives gone.
They were Slaves.
“Where are they taking us?” Aira asked no one in particular.
The elderly woman beside her lifted her head slowly. “We’re heading to the Kingdom of Draven,” she said quietly
“Once we arrive, we’ll be divided and assigned to new lives…."
Aira’s stomach twisted. “And the men? Where are they?”
“They were separated from us,” the woman murmured. “Put in another wagon. Taken somewhere else. Probably somewhere crueler.”
Aira fell silent, her heart pounding in her chest.
Hours passed before the road began to smooth, and through the iron rails of the wagon, she caught her first glimpse of Draven.
Tall towers rose above the horizon, The people in the streets wore fine robes proof of the wealth they had stolen from conquered lands.
As the wagons rolled through the gates, citizens turned to stare. Some whispered. Some smirked. Some cheered. A few threw scraps of bread or stones.
To them, the captives were not people. They were trophies of war.
The elderly woman beside Aira lowered her gaze. “Keep your head down,” she whispered. “You don’t want them to remember your face.”
They were herded from the iron wagons like cattle. The moment Aira’s feet touched the ground, she felt eyes on her,from guards, from merchants, from nobles. The weight of their stares crawled over her skin.
“Keep your head low, Aira,” the elderly woman murmured.
But it didn’t matter. The guards pushed them into a line, chains still tight around their wrists. Then, one by one, the “assignments” began.
Rows of women stood before wooden platforms. Some cried quietly,others stared blankly at the ground. Aira searched the crowd for her husband, but there were no men among them.
An old man wearing a crimson sash climbed onto the platform. His voice boomed above the noise. “By decree of the royal court of Draven, the spoils of the Silver Kingdom are to be distributed according to rank and service. Each woman shall be assigned a life suited to her… condition.”
Condition. That was what they were now.
Buyers moved between the lines nobles, officers, soldiers in dark armor. They examined the women the way one might inspect horses lifting chins, studying faces,whispering about price and usefulness.
One man tugged a young girl forward, baring her shoulder to reveal a scar. She flinched, and he smirked. “Too soft for the fields,” he said. “Maybe the kitchens.”
Another stopped before a woman barely older than Aira. “This one’s pretty,” he said to his scribe. “Send her to the officers’ quarters. They’ll like her spirit.”
Aira clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. Her stomach turned, but she forced herself to stand tall.
When her turn came, her heart pounded violently, though she refused to show fear.
One of the officials a tall man with graying hair and a scar down his face paused when his eyes fell on her. “This one…” he began.
Another man stepped forward. “She’ll be sent to General Ravik.”
The first man frowned. “No. Leave that one.”
“What?”
“She goes to the Palace,” he said flatly. "Prince Kael's orders.”
The guards obeyed immediately, shoving Aira aside and pulling her toward another group.
The elderly woman caught her gaze for a brief moment. Her eyes seemed to say be safe.
They took Aira and some others through the city and up the steep road to the castle on the hill.It looked more like a fortress than a home.
Once inside, they were thrown into the dungeons, still bound in heavy shackles. Around Aira, the captives sat in silence all looking broken, and exhausted.
A girl beside her wept quietly, her shoulders trembling. Aira turned toward her and whispered, “It’s going to be okay.” The girl looked up, startled by the kindness in her voice.
But even as Aira spoke, a cold doubt twisted in her chest. Would it really be okay?
what was their fate?
When night fell,Two older women entered, their faces sharp and unreadable. They whispered to each other as their eyes moved from prisoner to prisoner,until they stopped on Aira.
One of them nodded to the guard. “Unlock her.”
The guard obeyed without a word. She didn’t resist, she didn’t ask why.
The women took her by the arm and led her out of the cell in silence.
They bathed her in perfumed water until her skin stung from scrubbing. Then they dressed her in a clean gown and seated her before a table covered in food that looked almost unreal.
Bread. Meat. Warm broth.
She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she began eating, but even then, her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing.She wonder if her husband Elian was still alive.She prayed silently in her heart for him to be.
That night, they led her to a small chamber where she was to spend the night. Aira sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the flickering candle beside her. Thoughts of Elian, of her fallen kingdom, of the unknown future ahead swirled endlessly in her mind. But exhaustion soon overpowered her, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
She woke the next morning she woke to the sound of footsteps.
A girl, perhaps her age or slightly older, stood in the doorway. “You’re awake. Come with me.”she said softly.
Aira followed her down a long corridor lit by torches.
“What’s your name?” Aira asked quietly.
“Lira,” the girl replied, glancing at her. “And you should keep your voice low when we reach the upper halls. The Head Maid doesn’t like chatter.”She added.
She stopped in front of a tall wooden door and turned to Aira. “When you enter, bow your head and don’t speak unless spoken to. Understand?”
Aira nodded, her heart thudding.
The door creaked open.
Inside, an older woman sat at a long table, writing. Her hair was silver, tied neatly in a bun. She didn’t look up right away. When she finally did, her eyes swept over Aira from head to toe cold and assessing.
“So,” she said. “You’re the new one they brought from the Silver Kingdom.”
Aira kept her head bowed, hands clasped tightly in front of her.
“My name is Halen,” the woman continued. “I am Head of the Palace Maids. You’ll do as I say, when I say it, and only then.”
“Yes, my lady,” Aira said softly.
Mistress Halen set down her quill. “From today, you will serve in the East Wing of the palace,the princes palace".
Aira froze.
“You will clean their chambers, serve their meals, and respond when summoned. You will not speak to them unless they address you directly. You will not look them in the eye unless instructed. And above all…” Her voice hardened. “If any of the princes calls for you, you are to go to him without complaint. You mustn’t refuse him, it’s not your place".
“Yes, my lady,” Aira murmured even though she doesn't understand what she meant by that.
“Good.”
The older woman gestured to Lira. “Take her. Show her where she’ll be working. And pray she’s not foolish.”
“Yes, my lady,” Lira said quietly.
They had barely taken two steps into the corridor when Aira asked Lira about what lady Helen meant.
Lira looked at her, in a pitiful way. “Listen carefully,” she whispered. “They say the men of this realm draw their strength from the bodies of foreign women. Each time they lie with one, their power grows , turning them into the beasts they are.”
Aira stared at her in stunned silence as Lira went on, her tone flat. “We’re not just their comfort,” she said. “We’re the tools they use at their will.”
"You are not just a servant,a comfort. The princes are warriors, bred for conquest, and they take what they desire. If one calls for you, you go. If he keeps you, you stay. And if you wish to live long in this palace…” Her lips curled faintly. “You will learn to please, not protest.”
Aira’s throat tightened. She could feel the blood drain from her face.
"we mustn't slack,come let's go"Lira said.
As they stepped back into the corridor, Aira’s mind swirled with questions about the palace, the kingdom, and most of all, the men who ruled it.
Lira kept her gaze fixed on the floor.
“Lira,” Aira whispered, “tell me about the princes.”
She hesitated. Then, in a voice barely above breath, she continued.
“The eldest is Prince Kael,” she said. “They call him The Blade of Draven. He doesn’t blink when he kills. He’s cold,colder than the steel he carries.”
Aira’s heart thudded.
“The second, Prince Ronan…” Lira’s tone faltered. “The calm one.He is mostly out of sight hideen in his chambers,plotting wars.”
Aira’s pulse quickened.
“And the youngest?” she asked.
“Prince Darian,” Lira whispered. “The charming one.always smiling at peoples misfortunes. He's cruel Aira,he finds joy in fear the servant say he laughs when people cry's ”
“Do they ever fight among themselves?” Aira asked.
“Always,” Lira replied instantly.
They stopped before a tall black door adorned with the crest of a serpent.
“This,” Lira said softly, “is the East Wing. The princes’ wing.”
- Writer
