"Stand up, I need you to come with me." The pale demon broke Aida's stream of thoughts.

She kept her eyes on the ground, but her ears followed his movements.

"Are you pretending to sleep, Mouse? You know it won't work with me." The pale demon scoffed and then abruptly pulled Aida to her feet, ignoring her loud hiss.

The healer had come a few days ago to treat the cuts on her hands. Apparently, Aida had smashed a window. She didn't remember doing that.

Like everything else in this house, the see-through windows were not what they appeared to be. Like everything else, they were nearly invisible, but there to keep her imprisoned.

The broken window had been repaired rather quickly, and Aida's bandages became the only reminder of what had happened.

Sometimes, however, Aida felt it was not her hands that hurt.

After the first day, the pale demon had taken on the duty of treating her wounds. Aida had to give it to him, he was dedicated. It must be a new, exciting game for him. She clenched her teeth, watching him hum while working on her bandage at the moment. Layer by layer, his intricate fingers reminded Aida of a cartwheel spider's long legs dancing on the desert's hot sand.

"It's all done." The pale demon leaned in closer with a smile.

His cheerful demeanor enraged Aida. She wondered how good it would feel to kick him in the groin, as hard as she could, or break his pretty nose with her head right now. She had done something similar before. It couldn't hurt if she repeated it, right?

Despite the temptation for violence, Aida couldn't help but be amazed as usual. Where had he learned it? How? Her mother tongue was not easy for outsiders to master. Matter of fact, none of the swindlers, robbers, and invaders who had passed through her land over the years bothered with it. Even people from Seneris or Jarramr could only speak a few basic phrases with their obnoxious accents.

Yet it came out so perfectly from this demon's mouth.

If Aida closed her eyes, she could've sworn she was listening to one of her tribesmen speak. Few things brought her comfort these days, and Aida found herself gravitating to the very thing that she loathed. She secretly feared that, someday, the pale demon would stop talking...

We are Arasil's creations. We walk His Earth and breathe His air. No matter how far away you are, child, don't forget. We are in His embrace. We are one. You, me, your brother and sister. You pray, and Arasil will guide you home to us.

Her Baba's voice echoed in the torrid winds of memory.

The first few nights in this house, before the pale demon had decided to camp in front of her room and talked her ears off, Aida had sometimes snuck downstairs. She checked the lock on every door and window before tiptoeing to a room in the back. There, a big metal box stood. The ground in front of it was hard but warmer than the rest of the house. It also smelled like burned wood, which reminded Aida of her family's big tent.

She lay down before the metal box and replayed Baba's words over and over again in her head. The only thing that kept her sane.

Her little trips ended one night when the pale demon walked into the room. Aida remembered the look on his face. She had thought she despised his smile, but in that moment, Aida had wished to see it again, more than anything else. More than this. Anything would be better than this.

She thought her life would end right there and then when the pale demon grabbed her wrist and dragged her upstairs like a ragdoll. She imagined the gruesome ways he would punish her for a crime she was not aware of before discarding her lifeless body like garbage. Slave owners were famous for their creative and generous cruelty where she came from. It wouldn't be any different here.

That night, unexpectedly, showed Aida just how much she preferred to live despite her previous belief.

Aida came so close to opening her mouth for the first time in weeks and begging for mercy. To live is to have hope, and she didn't want to be robbed of that too. In the end, Aida didn't make a sound. Her mind shut down with devastating terror as her body hit every step and corner of the stairs.

When they reached the room, the pale demon threw her on the bed and shut the door. Aida braced herself for whatever came next. She had no choice. Through the corner of her eye, she saw the pale demon pull a chair next to her bed and sit down. His face was shrouded in darkness. Aida couldn't make out any of his features, but she could hear his breathing. Heavy and in sync with her pounding heart, it kept her tense as a bowstring.

Aida strained both her eyes and ears. The outline of the pale demon's body slowly became more distinctive as the sun came up. Aida couldn't move an inch still, battered and drenched in her cold sweat. Eventually, he stood up and left without a word. Physical and mental exhaustion came along with relief after like tidal waves, drowning Aida.

What does he want?

What will happen next?

Will I ever get out?

The questions swirled in her head, but no one was there to answer...

"Wake up, Mouse." Luc grabbed the girl's wrist and pulled her toward the bathroom. He paid no mind to her kicking and screaming. "I can assure you that you are wasting your time and energy. Not to mention ruining my fine dressing. Tsk, I may have to do it again... Anyway, why do you never listen to me? Huh? Attacking me is futile. How many times do I have to prove to you that it always hurts you more than it hurts me? Now, if you kindly come settle in the bathtub. The smell that comes from you is enough to suffocate a horse!" Luc groaned dramatically and nudged her into the bathtub.

That was enough for the girl to fall face-first into the water. It splashed out, drenching them both. The girl gurgled, swallowing big gulps while scratching the bathtub's sides like a dying cat's.

"Come on, Mouse! That's not how you take a bath." Luc shook his head.

This girl could not drown under his watch. Albert would give him an earful. Luc sighed and reached out. As soon as his hand touched her body, the girl grabbed it with furious force. Luc cocked his eyebrows at the familiar burning sensation when her nails dug into his forearm.

"There. Calm down, Mouse. You're alive." He patted her head nonchalantly.

Her senses must have come back because the girl pushed Luc away with surprising vigor and dashed to the nearest corner.

She collapsed on the floor, coughing her lungs out. Steam wrapped around her small, shaking frame like a cloak, making the sight seem a bit surreal. The girl then tucked her legs in and wrapped her arms around them. Water dripped from her wet hair and body, pooling into a puddle on the floor.

Luc watched in amazement. All the dirt, wounds, and wildness couldn't conceal that.

The girl did not possess any features of his kind. Things he would naturally consider beauty. She did not have rings of fire or see-all eyes. She did not have glorious, indestructible armor. She did not have an incorporeal heart, halo, wings, tails, or scales.

She was just that. Human. Plain and simple. Yet it was utterly beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Luc almost snorted out loud. Hot steam must have entered his brain and cooked it through. Or perhaps, alcohol did. Either way, Luc let the absurd thought pass, focusing on the simple task at hand.

He grabbed a terrycloth towel from the shelves and walked over to where the girl sat. He crouched down to her level. Despite everything, she started to look more like a human being than a dry twig he had picked up at Bessie's a few weeks ago. However, Luc knew that he couldn't take all the credit.

On that faithful early morning, after they had come back from Bessie's, Luc's coachman, butler, and right-hand man Albert Campbell quickly cleaned the first room on the left corridor upstairs, across from Luc's study, for the girl. It was a sensible solution since that was the least messy room in the house. The girl immediately crawled under a pile of old chairs and refused to come out, no matter what. Day after day since then, with unmatched patience, Albert tried to coax her out.

Sometimes, he succeeded. Sometimes, he did not, but the man never gave up. He prepared the girl hot meals every day, sometimes, from scratch. He changed the bedding every so often despite the girl's clear preference for sleeping under the bed. He talked to her any chance he got despite their language barrier.

For an uneducated ex-convict, war veteran, and Luc's number-one accomplice, Albert was a surprisingly tender-hearted human being.

"God, I do nae trust, but I trust th' good, hard-working folks lik' meself. There are a lot o' them in this world." Albert had made that startlingly naive statement one day with his chest puffed out. It was noble and all, considering human whimsical nature, but after everything Albert had witnessed in their line of work, Luc thought the man would be wiser than that.

He should have realized by now that his kind, for the most part, was hopeless and did not deserve salvation. Kindness was never meant to be granted freely.

This girl, for example, was a slave. An unruly one at that. She had nothing to give, so why waste the time? Now, Luc supposed that would be wrong. Humans were notoriously weak when it came to their desires. Maybe, Albert was weak too.

But the human had always been smart. Smart and careful. That was what Luc valued about him.

The girl, whom Luc named "Mouse", did not belong to Albert. As much as Luc hated the word 'Slave' for what it stood for-a crude method of a primitive society with an unlimited desire for control but a severe lack of imagination, one that he was thrust into, she still belonged to him in every way until Luc decided to sever all ties.

He needed to think about it.

The girl glanced up at him for a moment with her curious amber eyes before looking down and fixating on her blue, wrinkled toes again.

She was obviously a mistake. An abnormality that disrupted his life. Worse, she could be a trap they sent over as he had suspected a thousand times.

How familiar it all felt. He knew what needed to be done.

Yet it was different.

The girl was startled when the towel fell on her head, but she didn't throw it away or launch at him as usual. Her eyes sparkled under the towel, studying him.

Luc needed to think about it. Carefully.

After almost a month of nursing her back to health, breaking her neck would be such a waste. It would feel somewhat good, but still, It was a waste.

He could sell her.

Or he could let Albert handle it, in any way the man deemed fit.

Finding people who were competent, trustworthy, and didn't ask too many questions despite their natural curiosity like Albert was difficult. Luc needed the man. Sometimes, he even enjoyed Albert's company. Albert liked the girl enough, and she seemed to accept him. That was perfect. Everyone knew a suitable responsibility could feel like a reward, and a reward would go a long way in boosting loyalty.

Now, Luc needed to think about it.

Author Note:

As Zerseus commented, in the 1850s, Aida and her family, as Berbers, should practice Sunni Islam instead of the ancient Egyptian belief system. I'm always drawn to religions with multiple gods, so I decided to create a fictional one resembling that for Aida and her family. This might change in the future.