Escaping Fate - Ja'far X Reader

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The cart came to a sudden, sharp stop as it pulled up to the back of the Latin Dragon. Small whispers floated around the carriage, the cries of small children, and the worried concerns of my fellow slaves. I stayed silent, keeping my head down and spacing out as best I could. A child sat next to me, tears streaming down her face, I offered her my comfort.

The guard on the ground drew his blade, screaming.

"Listen up, filth! I don't like repeating myself." He rested his sword on his shoulder, "Try to escape and you will be killed. Got it?!" He paused as if he were waiting for a reply. I nodded along with the rest of the group, staying silent. Holding the hand of the little girl beside me, I held my other hand over her mouth to avoid making a sound, "Ah, you've all been trained." The guard turned to the man closest to him, "Bring them in as groups of five. You have ten minutes." He ordered.

"Y-yes, sir!" The man choked, nodding violently, "I will have them ready as soon as possible, sir!" With that said, the guard sheathed his sword and strolled into the inn, leaving the traders in a flustered state of panic. I wish I could have laughed at their distress. Moments later, I was pulled up and bound to the person in front of me, in a "group of five" as that idiot guard had ordered. I stumbled into the person before me, and we began shuffling our way out of the cart. The little girl was whisked away with some other young children, I held back my despair.

The cold air outside clashed with the warm stink of the building as we entered, sweat beaded on my forehead. It was a loud, drunken place full of villagers, entertainers, and salesmen. People screamed and laughed. If I were free, I might have enjoyed a drink or two or had a dance. I silently scoffed at my thoughts. We shuffled miserably past the lounging alcoholics, I stared forward to avoid the heckling. As we reached the back doorway of the pub, I felt a cold stare burning into my back. I looked up and scanned the room, my eyes wandering to a dark corner. There stood two young men, a tall one with long purple hair and a large sword on his hip, and another with piercing white hair. I made eye contact with the shorter one, his eyes widening as I was shoved forward by the soldier behind me.

"Move along!" He seethed in my ear. My head shot back down, my eyes staying locked with the white-haired boy as we were herded into the backroom. Who were those people?

I felt the ropes around my neck come loose, and my hands were mobile again. I spaced out, waiting for the people to move through the line that had formed before me. I knew how this went, but that didn't mean I wasn't scared. I was terrified . . .

"Hey!"

I blinked, "Did you hear what I said? Strip!" The soldier's words sank in. I kept my head down and hesitantly began to slide my dress from my shoulders.

This was typical procedure for an auction, the salesmen had to prove a slave was in working condition before a sale. As such, to prove to the participants of the auction, we were forced onto the stage naked. There was full transparency to the buyers in those moments.

Noticing the twisting scars stretching across my half-exposed body, the soldier suddenly stopped me and told me to leave it on. He pulled me to the side and quickly left, running to the auctioneer. This was unusual, but I wasn't complaining. The soldier came back, roughly dragging me down a dark hallway half-lit by a dying torch to a small holding cell. I walked in and sat down in the back corner, anxiety building in my stomach alongside the others inside. My hand absentmindedly ran across the brick wall, it was dry and cracked, but I didn't pay it much mind. People came and went, some teary, some with empty faces and dull expressions. I knew this feeling. This despair. We had all watched each other get torn apart at some point in our lives, this was no different. I heard the young girl from earlier crying on the stage as her buyer was announced, an old lecherous man from a Partavian city a few miles away..

A few hours passed before I was collected. I heard an arm rap on the bars, not daring to look up, I stood — the last one to go, "Be ready, you're on deck." The lady's voice spoke softly against the thick air as she unlocked the cell. Her eyes traveled down from my head to my feet, processing my appearance in the thin light. "You're from (C/n), aren't you? You have the hair and everything."

I nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

"We don't see much of your people these days," She huffed. "Very well, come with me." She turned on her heel, waiting for me to shuffle out of the corner, "Stand here." She cautioned.

I watched as she shut and locked the door, setting the keys on a hook that sat below the torch on the wall. "Alright, follow me." Without replying, I followed her back down the hallway I had arrived in. Shuffling my feet to keep up with her, we reached the left wing of the stage where the woman whispered to the guard from before. Nodding her head, she left without a word. The guard sauntered over to me, lazily but firmly grabbing my shoulder and hoisting me onto the stage. My heart pounded against my ribcage. The auctioneer stood from his seat, smiling. He walked downstage, his hand gripping my arm as he drew attention from his audience.

"And folks! For our last special specimen! We have here a young, adult female from (C/n). She is (H/c) with startling (E/c) eyes." His grasp left my arm to run his hand through my hair, I cringed, "The people of (C/n), as you know, are very light on their feet! This one looks to be very healthy." He spat words from his mouth, dragging them across the stage. I tried to make myself as small as possible, feeling the perverted stares of the men below. I was glad to have been awarded the privilege of my dress. The auctioneer blabbered on, encouraging a bid to begin. Numbers flew around the crowd, the amount rising higher with every shout. The amount had reached 1,500 gold pieces as the tall, purple-haired young man stood and called out, "2,000! I bid 2,000 gold pieces!"

My eyes widened as another, older man countered with a higher number. The room went silent as the two men went back and forth, raising the price far beyond what any normal individual could pay.

"2,500!" "2,540!" "2,600!"

The young man dropped his head, glaring as he shouted one last price, "2,700!" The older man smirked victoriously, "2,850."

The auctioneer grinned at the prospect of his newfound savings, "2,850 going once!" His smile got bigger, "Going twice!" Then came a sinister Cheshire smile, "Sold to the man from...?"

"From Leam!" The man shouted nonchalantly. The purple-haired man stomped off with the other one in tow, chattering to each other, looking back at me with sad eyes.

"From Leam!" The grinning auctioneer returned, he gestured to his left on the stage, and I was dragged to my newfound master. My head pounded as I was led down to this man, who simply smiled politely and exchanged coins with the salesman. It was sickening, the buying and selling of another person; I was nothing but a commodity.

I guess I did believe in fate.