"I'm supposed to wear this?" Avelon's voice cracked as she held up the scant pieces of brown fabric, her disbelief mirroring in her wide eyes.

She lifted the pieces of brown clothing, the fabric swaying mockingly between her fingers, promising nothing but exposure. A hot flush crept up her neck as Brianne's silence echoed louder than words.

"I-" Avelon tried to convey her emotions. Words failed her, and with a frustrated toss, the material landed in a small heap on the bed. The room felt suddenly smaller, the walls closing in on her as her surroundings settled like a weight upon her shoulders. The walls seemed to lean in, whispering reminders of a life left behind in Uisce due to her recklessness and rebellion.

Brianne's voice, usually so steady, wavered just enough to betray her own distaste. "Balor's rules are clear. We're here to entertain, not to be comfortable."

Dark circles had managed to take refuge under Brianne's usually bright hazel eyes. Avelon knew she bore those same marks.

Avelon turned away, her arms wrapping around herself protectively, a barrier against the creeping chill of vulnerability. "Rules or not, it feels like a punishment for something I did not do- that we did not do. Are we supposed to sell our bodies- For his entertainment?" Her voice, a mix of anger and defiance, broke the pretence of calm she no longer felt.

Avelon had no intention of prancing around in clothing that could at any moment reveal things that were only meant for the bedroom. Especially not for the benefit of entertaining Balor's guests. The thought had her face heating to a point of near fever, alongside her simmering rage.

Brianne stepped closer, her hand reaching out but stopping short of touching Avelon's shoulder.

"If it helps, I always try and picture the guests in more awful attire. Imagine them in rags, or less." Brianne suggested, a wry twist to her lips.

Avelon met Brianne's gaze, a warm smile on her face and a silent understanding passing between them. They were more than what Balor expected of them. The cold realization that Brianne had endured far more evenings of humiliation and torture, had Avelon's face settling. Emotion ceasing for the second the thought had taken hold. Another sort of understanding flashed in Avelon's eyes as Brianne studied her, waiting. Brianne nodded silently and picked up the piece of scattered fabric, handing it to Avelon.

"We'll survive this night, like all the others." The unspoken truth hung between them—if Brianne could endure, so could Avelon.

"They could at least have chosen a more appealing colour." Avelon snapped in distaste, opting to steer the conversation in a different direction, deflecting the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

With a huff of irritation, Avelon began shuffling out of her very worn white shirt and the only pair of pale brown pants that she owned. Her clothing, since arriving in Teine, had been limited to the orange shirt she was given her first day here, a white shirt and pale brown pants. To her utter embarrassment, she was given no undergarments. She supposed, she could use the awful pieces of fabric she held now, as undergarments after the event passed- the amount of coverage the scraps of material had granted would suit the category.

"What happened to my nightgown?" Avelon thought abruptly as she dressed, suddenly remembering the piece of clothing she had worn on her arrival.

Brianne's eyebrows turned downward in a frown as she watched Avelon, confusion very evident on her face.

"Oh you know," She gestured with her hand in front of her, "When I first arrived here."

Brianne clicked her tongue, sticking a loose strand of her brown hair behind her ear.

"That rag?" Brianne smirked playfully, jabbing slightly at Avelon for what she wore now, "It was gone the moment I redressed you."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Avelon's face, remembering their initial animosity and distaste for each other now seemed like a distant dream. Those moments seemed so far behind her that the idea of them not tolerating each other felt, wrong.

"Good riddance." Avelon pulled her mouth in disgust, frowning as she widened her eyes. "Not even the finest soap in Teine could've saved it."

Avelon had given Brianne a dull look, rolling her eyes playfully. Brianne smiled, patting down her body and perhaps preparing herself for what awaited them. Avelon's eyes wandered to her own body, her lips pursing in reluctance at her outfit. She had lost weight- too much weight given the fact that her hipbones were jutting out noticeably. She had always been petite, though Avelon knew that she had long since surpassed petite and was now fairly underweight. Brianne had managed to keep them fed, but there had been days where they had skipped meals entirely. It was worrisome that within a few weeks, Avelon had become someone completely different.

Brianne, noticing Avelon's lingering gaze on her body, cleared her throat thoroughly- feigning a cough due to choking. Brianne's cough, feigned or not, drew Avelon back from the edge of her thoughts.

"Thank you," she murmured, gratitude warming her tone.

"Don't mention it," Brianne lifted one shoulder in a half shrug with a smirk, "Now let's go make some friends." Sarcasm was evident in Brianne's tone, her eyes shining with a blend of defiance and mischief.

They had stepped out of the room in unison, their steps light and fast.

"Should I be prepared for anything else tonight?" Avelon's voice trembled slightly, betraying her worry as she noted the tension in Brianne's posture.

Brianne's gaze flickered to Avelon, a light guttering within them as she spoke, "Be prepared for anything, Avelon." The weight of her words had pressed hard on Avelon's shoulders.

"With every event, every day-"Avelon's ears flicked as she listened beyond Brianne's voice for any possible intruders,

"Balor changes his tactics. He never does anything the same, so be prepared for anything." The emotion in Brianne's voice resonated with Avelon, leaving her with a silent nod, her throat tight.

They had been playful, and had joked fruitfully at any given chance, but they had both been enslaved to an ark of emotions threatening to open up on them. Brianne had been stronger than Avelon in a sense, having endured much more than she, though Avelon knew the fragility that lay beyond her tough exterior as Avelon had been strong for just as long in her own sense. She had not been a slave to Balor for her entire existence, no- yet her own life had been riddled with so many questions and uncertainties that she had prepared herself for the worst most of her life. Helena and Phelan had never made Avelon's life easy. They had insisted on training her to near death, pushing and belittling her. They had left her almost entirely to fend on her own- which had made her grateful for her own dependability but left a gaping wound that only a parents affection could heal. Brianne's words resonated deeper than she could possibly intend. Her words had Avelon's heart spiking in anticipation, and her mind preparing for battle.

Avelon's breathing hitched as they drew closer to the hall. They had spent the entire day changing tablecloths, shoving material over chairs and aligning candles to create suitable lighting. It was an upgrade to their constant kitchen and stable duty, but the strenuous activities of moving heavy metal objects around had winded and tired Avelon inexplicably. She had grown wearier than she'd liked to admit.

"If all else fails, smile. Just smile." Brianne whispered under her breath as they entered the hall.

Avelon barely had time to register Brianne's words before she veered in a different direction. They had vowed, before the event, not to be seen together too much. The fear of having Balor separate them had been enough for them to decide on maintaining different areas of the hall. Guests had already started filling the tables, their senseless chatter almost diluting the sound flowing from the small orchestra lined in the far back of the hall. The music that had played was pleasant and filled Avelon with a sense of warmth. Her chest constricted at the innocence of music.

The hall was a beauty beyond words bathed in candlelight. As the lights danced from the pillars of intricate fine work, Avelon's breathing hitched. Beyond the thought of the darkness that dwelled within Balor, the beauty that lived within the castle was breathtaking. The rectangular tables had been adorned with tablecloths of gold, that liquified in the candlelight. The contrast the gold had been against the stark grey of the walls and flooring had made the colour pop to life. On top of the tables, golden candelabra's stood adorned with white candles- which blending uncharacteristically with the gold of the tablecloths though the red of scattered rose leaves brought attention to the stunning centrepiece. The décor choice had been Brianne's idea. She had stated if there had been anything Balor loved more than his riches it was the blood of his victims. The gold and red blend was the boldest move she could make. A shiver ran down Avelon's spine as the feeling of someone watching her loomed overhead. Her brow furrowed, gaze darting to ascertain the direction of the feeling.

Sharp cackling to her left had snapped Avelon out of her daydream, making her jump slightly at the intensity of the sound. She had to move, if only for her own sanity. Gods, she had felt bare to all the eyes that lingered on her. She passed a few tables, keeping eye contact to the bare minimum. Apart from her body's bareness to the elements, she had been barefoot. She had been given a pair of Brianne's old black slip on shoes; a size too big for her own feet- however Balor had insisted that all slaves wear the bare minimum for any event. The thought had a snarl catching in Avelon's throat.

A slave rushed past her as she drew closer to the other side of the hall, brushing her arm slightly. Surprise shook Avelon every time she passed another slave, each less forthcoming than the next. At the start of her duties, Avelon had challenged Brianne into proving the existence of other slaves, thinking that they had been the only two slaves in the palace. Brianne had proven her wrong one afternoon when she had taken Avelon to a river that ran just outside the palace walls. Some of the slaves had gathered there to wash off the days' dirt. Brianne had mentioned that it did not happen every day as Balor would grow suspicious and confine them even more than he already had. The relief and gratitude that flooded Avelon that afternoon was enough to bring her to her knees in the distastefully dry dirt. She had been relieved to see other fae that served the same fate – as horrible as it may have felt, and she had been grateful to be able to bathe- as cold as the water may have been.

"More wine." An awfully high-pitched voice snapped and slammed a glass into Avelon's awaiting hands.

"Yes, Milady." Avelon nodded her head, her gaze lingering only enough to catch the fae's dark hair and bright red lip liner. Avelon swiftly took note of the table before retreating to a nearby refreshment table to refill the glass as requested.

She had barely returned to table when another hand had waved her over to request a refreshment. This fae had been a male and had been too keen on gaining Avelon's attention, especially after noticing her lack of clothing.

"Aren't you a fine creature?" He purred as she approached, smiling lazily as he awaited her response. His eyes were bright green- as colourful as the greenest parts of Vexar, she could imagine, and their focus had been solely on her.

The attention was intriguing.

Avelon's lips pressed into a firm line, her smile strained and uneasy, "May I assist you?" she offered, pointedly omitting the honorific 'sir' in her question. She would not give him the glorification.

Surprise flickered across his face, amusement quickly taking its place at her curt tone.

"Ah," he chuckled, his laughter deep and unfathomably lined with intoxication- which surprised her given that the event had barely started.

Licking his lips, he sat up straighter and rested his cheek on his fist. The mop of shoulder length golden-brown hair that sat atop his head tousled as he moved.

"There are many ways you could be of service." His words were laced with an implication that sent a chill through Avelon, her resolve hardening against his insinuations. She had no intention of getting involved in anything he had planned for her. His lingering smirk as he studied her movements ignited a bout of irritation within her.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked, her voice quipped and faltering only slightly as she fought back the tide of retorts that begged to be unleashed instead.

Stay compliant and friendly—that was her mantra.

His gaze swept over her- slow and analytical. Avelon felt exposed under his watchful eyes- more so than she already was. It was as though the feeble fabric she wore had dissolved entirely under his scrutiny. He rose, his smile morphing into something sinister, and stepped toward her. Instinctively Avelon retreated a step and cursed herself for her reaction, as it seemed to encourage him further.

Just then, a touch at her elbow broke the tension, but had her heart lurching.

"Ernin, leave her be." A gentle and caressing voice whispered behind her. It did not stifle the frantic beat of Avelon's heart as realization struck her- she now had two fae males to fend off.

Avelon steadied herself mentally, drawing a breath before turning toward the fae who had touched her elbow- a steadying gesture though Avelon felt as unsteady as a broken glass.

Her breathing hitched as warm golden eyes met hers- the same golden eyes that had entrapped her the first time she had been wandering around in the castle. He smiled, unaware or unfazed by their prior encounter.

Pins and needles prickled along her skin as she strategized her next move. If realization struck him- which, by her calculations, was seconds away- she would be left to fight off the wolves. Figuratively speaking. His gaze remained warm and unfazed as he shifted his attention back to Ernin.

"You should leave them to their work." The golden-eyed fae inclined his head towards Avelon as he addressed Ernin.

Ernin rolled his eyes, his lip curling in annoyance. "You have an unlikable habit of ruining my fun." He clicked his tongue at Avelon, then resumed his seat at the table.

His friend chuckled, the sound warming some broken part of Avelon's chest—though the feeling was undoubtedly frightening. Waving him off, he returned his gaze to Avelon- eyes narrowing slightly in assessment.

"You're a slave." He stated, his face twisting like the words had tasted bitter on his tongue. Avelon suppressed a snort of annoyance.

"How can I serve you?" Annoyance crept into her voice, despite her attempt at pleasantness. Of course she was a slave.

Ernin whistled low, his eyes lighting with playfulness. "Seems like you struck a nerve."

His friend paled slightly, opening his mouth. "I meant no offense." His hand retracted from her elbow.

"I'm Lugh." Lugh extended his hand again in greeting, surprising Avelon.

She did not raise he own hand in greeting. Instead, she clamped her lips together, considering her next words.

"And how can I serve you, Lugh?" she repeated, waiting silently, unsure of Lugh's intentions.

He smiled and droppedhis hand, eyes lighting with enthusiasm.