A s t a

She should have been expecting this as soon as the Sovereign had announced the ball. Should have known her parents would use this as a means to try getting her on their right path. She stood in the middle of her old bedroom (she was keenly aware nothing from it had changed). In front of her was the same old mirror as her parents stood by the door, to supervise the process, and the servants of the home (sorry, staff - heaven forbid her parents are aware she refers to them as servants!) scurry around her to make her as presentable as possible. Her quiet gaze was settled on her reflection, emotionless as she watched the brush be dragged through her sunset mane. Another member of the staff was following it all up with curlers, encouraging each strand to be pulled out in soft bouncy locks, gushing over how lovely the style was coming together, how many eyes she would catch - how the betrothal contacts would be coming in. Those words washed over her like an icy river in winter. Chilling her to the bone.

She already knew that was her parents focus for tonight - to get her introduced out into society properly. To find a sucker of a stallion to marry her to, that they would be able to have some degree of influence over. So, she was a barbie doll to be dressed up to her parents specifications. Her tail was already done up in soft curls, left simple to highlight the natural beauty her parents treasured so much. Her own mane was being curled in the same soft way, while other pieces were braided and being slowly wound up in a bun where it was usually just pulled back. Small strings of gold where being dangled among those locks, matching the jewelry she had always worn, and would wear again today. 

Bangles were slid over her ankles, jingling with each movement she made, while her normal shawl was traded for one in a similar design, but longer, with gold filigree designs embroidered at the ends. Ah, Lovely as always Asta. Do not worry, we shall make sure you are introduced to all the young gentlemen in the market for a wife. We intend to make sure you are wed and happily settled soon, my dear, as you promised. Her mother instructed in a gentle voice, and Asta silently nodded in understanding. It had been the agreement that kept her from being forced back into her parent's home. She'd agree to an arranged marriage, and they would offer their support to her endeavors in managing her bar, "My items, the ones I expressed from my room here - they will be transferred to my rooms above my shop while we are away - yes?" She inquires softly, to which her father nodded once, sharply, Yes, we gave your list to the staff, they will be taking care of it while we enjoy ourselves. You included a map of the desired layout? They'll have it set up and waiting when you return home. You have done well in these negotiations as well . . . your mother and I are rather proud of how well you've come to accepting your role with in the Stendahl House once more, Asta. You are my heiress, and I am proud to address you as such again.

Asta bowed her head in acknowledgement, but the rock in her belly sat heavier, knowing what her father really meant was to remind her of who she was, and the control he had. That it was his willingness to accept her requests that saw those 'negotiations' go so well. Both sides knew that she was at their mercy. As the staff stepped back, Asta dutifully followed her parents from the room, from the manor, a meek shadow, a treasure they were happy to display as they made way to the Court Rooms. No, not truly meek though. There was always an underlining fire in her gaze, there was always a certain rippling of muscles that spoke of how close she was to spiriting away. But she was also dignified, she held her honor in high regards, and she would abide by the promise given. And so she allowed herself to be paraded around, introduced to a variety of 'eligible gentleman from the proper families' and all the while, she offered beautiful, simpering smiles, and buried that desire to burn the entire place to the fucking ground.

Uzi may have issues if I burn the place down . . . . The ball was opened by such a mare, and Asta had to literally bite her tongue to ignore her father's whispered comment to her mother, Dreadfully shameful, a female in a solo place of power. Should be a man's job to run a kingdom - women are too soft for the trials that come with such daunting leadership, particularly our new . . . . Queen. Looks as dainty as a dahlia. The words were whispered so quietly, Asta knew no one else would have heard it, but it still irritated her. Sighing, she bowed her head to her father, "I find myself in need of refreshing. The numerous dances have wearied my nerves. Do you mind if I find a place to sip on a drink and relax? I'll be just over in the sitting area, I want travel father." Playing dutiful daughter again. But her father had caught sight of some of his friends, and waved her off with approval, and a reminder for her to be on her best behavior, Your future partner may be somewhere with in this event, after all; Asta.

She watched her father lead her mother off, before she shook off the perfect daughter look she'd been wearing, and instead allowed the weariness to creep back into her bones. Moving to the table of treats and drinks, she made herself a small plate, before grabbing a drink from the non-alcohol section of the table (perhaps the greatest proof of how disturbed her mind had been in recent days) and allowed herself to sink among the pillows, the food soon forgotten as she sipped on the drink, and counted down the minutes until she'd be free to go back to her bar, and crawl into bed and hide away from the world for a few more days.


"Speech"
Thoughts
Open to any.
Notes: