Who: Mila Dimitrova and Walden Macnair Where: Bulgaria When: December, 2000 What: Engagement, romance, love. Obviously. Rating: G Status: Closed; complete
“Now, let’s have a look at you – Melanie, is it?”
“Milena.”
“I prefer Melanie, but -” the man trailed off as the girl in front of him gave him a look. “Obviously you don’t. Milena will do. Stand up.” He nodded as she stood, moving to the center of the room so he could circle her.
“What are you -”
“Checking for flaws,” he said briskly. “Have you always been so skinny?”
She nodded, “My brothers used to -” but she was cut off as he raised his hand and shushed her.
“I’m not interested in your stories, Milena, and from now on just a nod ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will suffice. Your accent is god awful. I assume that you can breed?”
“Par-”
He shot her a cold look, “Quiet.” He repeated the question, and she nodded slightly. Another circle and he continued, “Your body is proportionate enough – I do wish your legs were longer, but there’s nothing we can do about that. Your neck is like a chicken’s – and your arms… eat more, please.” She wanted to tell him that she already ate plenty, but he didn’t stop for long enough for her to speak. “Your parents told me that you have scarring?”
“They sai-”
“Just nod.” She nodded yes, grudgingly, and he went on, “Take off your shirt.”
“What?” No way in hell.
“Oh, for Godric’s sake, I just want to see if it can be covered by clothing.”
“It is covered right now.”
“You could have used a glamour. Take it off before I have to call your mother in to do it for you.”
“N-no.”
“This is your future, child. Do you want me to tell your parents that you’re going to spend the rest of your life alone and poor? That your insolence kept them from paying off their debt?” He grinned a little as he watched her unbutton the top. “Now, that’s not so bad is it?”
But it was, and not only was Mila embarrassed, but she was infuriated. She was being sold to this man so her parents could live more easily. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help them, but this? She never let anyone see her, and there was reason for that.
“Good Merlin.”
Her cheeks heated as she heard the disgust in his voice, unable to meet his eyes. She felt her throat thicken with the threat of tears, but kept any signs of crying off her face. She wasn’t weak. She was ugly, but not weak. Anything but that.
“Put it back on.”
She never obliged to do anything quite as quickly. “I was bu -”
But he cut her off once more, “You think I care how you got those? I told you, no stories. How you got them doesn’t matter, just that you did. You’re quite hideous, it’s no wonder your family is so desperate to find someone for you.”
Mila winced.
“At least,” he added as he came nearer, tilting her head up so he could see her eyes. “At least your face is lovely. We just won’t let people see anything else. And you can be grateful that those are not genetic,” Macnair paused for a single moment before he moved away, “You’ll suffice.”