Ashakiel walked stiffly.  She may now be a slave but in no way was she going to go hurtling to her doom with an easy step.  Despite the tension in  her body, she moved like a sinuous panther, the soft soft sway of her hips more than noticeable in her rags.  Beautiful layers of silk, hung upon her body, torn to pieces and gaping when it shouldn't.  stained in her own blood and looking like something the cat dragged in, the swelling of her eye doing nothing to deter the beauty of her face or the determined look of anger.  She held her head high as if she were attending a social event and when the guards thrust her into her cell, the chains clanking as she tripped forward.  Managing to right herself before she sprawled onto the dirt floor, she spun and glared at them.<br/><br/>"Don't give us that look, Miss High and Mighty.  No one is going to sympathize with you here.  No more good life for you.  All your friends have abandoned you but if you are are good, I'll be your friend," one of the guards said, fondling her breasts.  She spat in his face and he backhanded her for her insolence and she went sprawling in the dirt she had moments ago tried to avoid.  "Bitch!  Don't think I won't remember.  Lucky your sweet little ass can't be trifled with 'til the Slave Masters get their hooks into you first.  Make nice to the rats."<br/><br/>She had sat up and watched them go, fire in her eyes and a slight chill forming in the air about her.  Her body was testimony t aches and pains never before visited upon her and standing once more was a chore.  Still, she would not show weakness.  Not here, not ever.  She touched her face tentatively and winced at the sharp pain.  It would bruise and this damn collar was inhibiting her powers.  Everything dampened exponentially.  She couldn't even shift into her demonic form which would give her the strength to break the magicked chains.  She tugged on it angrily, desperately but to no avail.<br/><br/>She began to pace the room, shivering with every step.  The pain was horrible.  Her lower extremities protested the movement but she refused to acknowledge it at all.  She ran a hand through her dark locks, annoyed when one of the chains hit her forehead.  "I'll kill him.  I'll kill then all," she muttered like a mantra.<br/><br/>Her head lifted as she finally looked to see where she was and who she shared her fate with.  She saw two who seemed to know each other, another demoness who seemed vaguely familiar.  She just couldn't place where.  She remained silent.  She was of the noble houses and did not associate with the lower denizens of hell.  She clutched her torn clothing tighter to her body.  She only had to fight her way out of this pit and when she did, she was going to make for damn sure to take her vengeance.  On them all.  Every last Prince will die for the death of her father and then Ashakiel will be the one to rule the houses of the Prince.  All she needed was a little patience.<br/><br/>A slow smiled graced her beautiful and battered face but it was not one meant to shine or bless with happiness.  No, the smile was wicked and held nothing but evil intentions.  One would almost flinch from such a wintry smile.  Her mind flashed and she she found herself kneeling before that dark Prince, her mouth full as he humiliated her in front of the court before he turned her over onto her hands and knees.  The vision changed and now the Prince was on his knees and in her hand a burning sword.  Yes, that is what she would do. She was laughing now, the sound just this side of hysterical.  When the last of the laughter died from her lips, she stood at center and ready, the fires of Hell itself burning in her eyes.