Aveira was back on the chainblock.
It had been a week of nightmares; the assassination and her return here.
She sat there, her eyes still shining with rebellion, but that was the only hint that there was still a human being within her broken shell.
Her body was covered in scrapes visible through the somewhat ragged dress. The bruises were gone, mostly.
She remained chained to the stake, unable to do much more than sit there.
Her black hair was tangled and matted but despite that it was clearly beautiful. Despite everything it was clear that she was truly beautiful... just broken.
"Slave for sale... once mistress and now slave brought before you in her true form," the auctioneer sneered, "untamed. For thirty-five silvers."