Violet stared at the darkness growing in the sky with mild anticipation. It was the first time she had been alone among the village rose garden in a long time. With a sigh, she laid down on the stone bench, using her arms as a pillow, and stared up as the stars began popping their heads from their beds to greet those waiting below. She always felt more at peace here, outside, beneath the stars. She was one of seven children, six of which were girls, raised by a father with money and a crude desire for more. He had taken to selling his daughters in secret, though none of the other children knew it. They all thought their siblings had gone off to marry and live happy lives. Violet had seen the papers; she knew the truth. That was why she was hiding from her father now.
With three of her sisters already gone, it left Violet as the oldest of the children. She was seventeen, with a heart full of fire, and hair to match. Her name came from the color of her eyes, though no one could explain it. They had never seen a baby born with such brilliant violet eyes. Her siblings all had her hair, that was true, but they bore their father's deep brown eyes. She supposed she may have gotten the gene from her mother, though she was dead now, and Violet supposed she would never know.
"Someone so young and beautiful really should not be outside alone." Said a voice. Violet sat up so quickly her head spun and she looked around. There was a man standing in the shadows of a rosebush, his tall frame illuminated on one side by the village lights. He was well built, from what she could tell, and had a gentle and kind voice.
"Who are you?" She demanded of him, her hand secretly going to the dagger at her belt. She has always been independent, and not very lady-like. She often wore pants, as she did now, under her corset and shirt, and there was never a place she went without her dagger in tow. The man chuckled low and moved closer, becoming fully visible in the lights. Violet felt her eyes widen in surprise. He was handsome! Perhaps in his mid-thirties, with long dark hair that fell over his face a little, and blue eyes that shone even in this dim lighting.
"No one you need worry about stabbing, my pet." He said.
"I am most certainly not your pet!" Violet snapped, her temper flaring. He laughed again, which only irritated her more.
"Very well, then." He said, something disguised in his voice. She felt a whisper of fear. Perhaps this was the man her father intended to sell her to? But that was ridiculous! None of them had ever revealed themselves before. Still, she shifted further from him as he sat on the bench beside her. "My name is Eric Blaine."
Blaine? She blinked in surprise. They were one of the highest noble houses in the land! Right under the King and Queen, and more rich than her father could ever dream of becoming. He was looking at her expectantly, and she jumped in surprise.
"My name is Violet, sir Blaine. Tis a pleasure to meet you."
"You mean you are not happy to be meeting me, but must under the circumstances." He laughed again. It was not a question. Violet scowled. "In any case, I'd best be getting on. I am only in the village until tomorrow, and I need my rest."
"Good day." Violet said, as if dismissing him. And under her breath she added; "And good riddance, as well!" The man called Eric Blaine got up and strolled away, apparently in no hurry and Violet scowled after him. In no mood to continue her stargazing, she got up and stalked after him, making sure to keep him a fair distance away from her.
Her father's manor stood on a hill at the far end of the village. It was a handsome place with lush gardens of its own that she rarely enjoyed. With three sisters gone, and her father playing dirty games, it seemed…hollow. She ran up the hill and slipped in the side door that lead through the kitchens. They were deserted at this hour; everyone seemed to have gone to bed. Violet smiled wryly to herself; she hadn't realized how late it really was. She crept up the back staircase to her room, let herself in and locked the door behind her. Not bothering to light and lamps, she stripped out of her clothes and made to reach for her night-dress.
A flutter of movement from the corner alerted her and she drew her dagger from it's sheathe. There were two men in her room, near as she could tell in the darkness that blinded her. Neither spoke, but sprung from the shadows as if to attack her. She sliced at one with her weapon, and he cried out as it tore cloth and flesh, leaving a gash in his left arm. She screamed, but no one came to help her. She had a flashing realization; it was her turn. She struggled to keep away from them, backing to the window and pushing it open. The men recovered quickly from her feeble attacks and chased after her, but she had already leapt from the window.
It was a good think her room was on the second floor. Violet landed with cat-like grace, and then realized she was out of her room dressed in nothing but her pride. She shivered, ducking into some bushes and crawling uncomfortably away from the manor. If they wanted her, she wasn't going down without a fight. She put her dagger in her teeth and continued to crawl, glancing up once at her deserted bedroom window. She wondered where the men had gone. Had they given up so easily?
No. She hadn't made it fully past her fathers property when she was manhandled from the bushes by her hair. She screamed, pulling out her dagger quickly and cutting her lip in the process. Her own blood dripped down her chin as she attacked the men. They were, from all appearances, the same ones from her bedroom. They had tracked her easily. Violet cursed at her inabilities. They at last succeeded in tearing the dagger from her hands and wrestling her to the ground. Why did no one come to help her? Was the entire village deaf? Then she remembered that her father had quite an expansive property and they probably couldn't hear her. The men yanked her arms behind her back and lashed them together with stiff, rough rope. Violet struggled and screamed until they muffled her cries with a gag. She struggled against them, but her bonds were tied so tight it was useless. They ended her mutilating ensemble with a blindfold, and one of them picked her up and carried her like a sack of potatoes.
