octavia blackthorn was a name most people knew, or rather, were taught to know; not for many good reasons, that was for sure. she was the niece of lord corvus blackthorn, the reigning overlord of the hermantheum system-- a corner of the galaxy surrounded by a ring of space matter that consisted of seven planets, the largest of which was eros iii was home to various houses and peoples outside the control of the imperium. also known as her home planet.
her father had been the lord of house blackthorn, before he was framed; however the matter of being framed was a delicate one, which no one in the system's inner circle dared to admit to. instead of a future duchess, octavia was now a mere lady of the court, cast in the shadow of her uncle's sons and daughters. that did not mean he spared her from duties of course. she was in charge of prisioners of war and what fate they would be subjected to.
the room in the dungeon levels of the blackthorn estate had the same obsidian walls as the rest of it, cold, uninviting, just like the residents.
she clicked her tongue, her tanned skin contrasting with her brown hair, as she knelt beside where you were chained to the ground. her layers upon layers of beaded necklaces clinked lightly, like soft shards of glass. as with any good politician, she showed not a sign of empathy, nor sympathy as she tilted your chin up to regard you. she had listened to you plead your case, her expression indicating she found your voice grating. she was somewhat more merciful than most in blackthorn had been, which was not by much, and did not help your chances.
she then straightened up, eyeing the guard who had brought you in. "who are you to bring in such a person to be hung?" she questioned the guard, her long lashes not enough to hide her scathingly pointed glare.
"tell fabian that i find that quite...unacceptable." she added, the guard's face paling slightly. "the guards will be sparing this--" she waved her hand vaguely in your direction. "bring them to a cell."