Post by jessimyre on Dec 11, 2008 3:46:54 GMT -5
"I will not marry that disgusting pig!" Ashante screamed in defiance, her shrill voice echoing through the rooms, her face twisted in disgust. "That vile, repulsive man shall never have my hand..."
Her father strode at her, his face a mask of fury and she shrank back, suddenly afraid. He grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and shook her. She slipped, half kneeling as her father leaned down, his curled, crimson bearded face bearly inches from her own.
"My daughter, the choice is not thine to make." he growled at her, forcing her to look at him. "You will show respect as due to your elders and betters, and thy shall marry thy betrothed before the next full moon or thee shall feel my wrath."
He let her go suddenly and straightened up.
"Thou would do well to remember, daughter, that thee is a woman and therefore can be punished for disobedience and disrespect to her father. I have spared you this once, as thee is blood and kin. I shall not be so lenient again."
He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. Fear forced tears from her eyes and Ashante crouched where she was, on the steps between the lavishly furnished sitting room and her own expansive bed-room. The slaves and servants that had stood well away as per their station - eyes averted during the tirade - bowed to Tarkhaan Beshelte as he left and then hurried to their mistress as his echoing footsteps faded away.
Ashante wept bitterly, arms around herself, hugging her knees. Terror and exhaustion lending strength to the force of her sobs as she bowed her jeweled head into the crooks of her arms.
Her father strode at her, his face a mask of fury and she shrank back, suddenly afraid. He grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and shook her. She slipped, half kneeling as her father leaned down, his curled, crimson bearded face bearly inches from her own.
"My daughter, the choice is not thine to make." he growled at her, forcing her to look at him. "You will show respect as due to your elders and betters, and thy shall marry thy betrothed before the next full moon or thee shall feel my wrath."
He let her go suddenly and straightened up.
"Thou would do well to remember, daughter, that thee is a woman and therefore can be punished for disobedience and disrespect to her father. I have spared you this once, as thee is blood and kin. I shall not be so lenient again."
He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. Fear forced tears from her eyes and Ashante crouched where she was, on the steps between the lavishly furnished sitting room and her own expansive bed-room. The slaves and servants that had stood well away as per their station - eyes averted during the tirade - bowed to Tarkhaan Beshelte as he left and then hurried to their mistress as his echoing footsteps faded away.
Ashante wept bitterly, arms around herself, hugging her knees. Terror and exhaustion lending strength to the force of her sobs as she bowed her jeweled head into the crooks of her arms.