I was in a state of shock. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. This man, Cyrus, who had saved me from drowning the day before, wanted me to become his slave. To do whatever bidding he required of me. I shuddered at the thought; at the vulgar images and memories that flashed across my mind.
I had few options: I could accept this stranger's proposition, effectively selling my soul and body to him to do with as he pleases, or I could refuse him, breaking my code of honor (however little was left of it), and return home. Home, however, was a different threat entirely. All that waited for me on those shores was torment. I would surely be recaptured, locked back up in that horrible place without food or sunlight, my only company the harsh visits from my captors that often left me bruised and beaten.
At least here, it would be my choice to stay. At least I would be fed and clothed and allowed to see daylight. At least this man seemed kind and would take care of me...at least I hoped so.
"If I were to become your...serf, as you put it, what would that entail exactly?" I tried to keep my voice from shaking. Tried to appear headstrong and decisive. I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth to stop its quaking. If he saw how hesitant I was to accept his deal, he may very well drop me back off where he found me and leave me to the wolves that hunted for my life.
Cyrus grinned, pleased that he seemed to have piqued my curiosity. He seemed to ruminate on the question for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin. I steeled myself against whatever possible horrors would spill from his lips next.
"You will dine with me for every meal unless otherwise specified. You will be by my side throughout the day to keep me company and aid in any work I think you're capable of. You will be like a loyal dog, and always come when I call for you, no matter the hour or the reason. You will wear what I choose for you, as you have today. And you will do all of this without argument. Does that sound agreeable?"
I hummed, thinking over what he said. In reality, none of it seemed as bad as I had first been expecting. The amusement still danced in his eyes, however, leading me to believe there was more to his bargain than he was letting on. But perhaps it was worth a shot after all. Being someone else's lapdog was still better than what waited for me on land in any case. Do I risk the possibility of surrendering myself to someone who could very well be worse than I had experienced, or return to an evil I already knew? I weighed my options carefully, trying to school my features into a look of cool contemplation.
"I will agree to your terms," I said at last, "but I have some conditions of my own, if that's alright." Cyrus gave a wave of his hand, permitting me to continue. I dug deep, to memories of my father's trade negotiations, delving into a knowledge I had left untouched for years. I would have to word this carefully, deliberately. "I will sleep in my own bedchambers, I have a right to refuse any request that I am completely uncomfortable with, and I get at least one evening a week to myself." At least this way I could have a sense of autonomy, even if I would essentially belong to him in every other way.
His saccharine grin only widened however, as he agreed to my conditions. He had most likely expected me to either laugh in his face and demand to be returned home, or else shrink in fear and cower from him. For me to agree to stay with him...his expression was over the moon. He could not contain his excitement, however hard he may have tried, and told me they would dock at the next port in order to procure me a new wardrobe that was to his liking.
As we began discussing which night of the week I would get to myself, a knock came at the door. The man that entered was shorter than Cyrus, and quite muscular despite his slender frame. His shaggy hair was bleached from the sun, and freckles adorned his nose and cheeks.
"Captain," the man said, gratefully ignoring my presence all together, "There is a problem on deck that needs your attention."
"Yes Jonathan, I will be right there. No no no, you stay right here," he added as I started to rise from her chair. "Eat what you want, pet, and then you can return to your room to rest. I will send for you in a bit."
A part of me bristled at the diminutive nickname, even as an even as my face warmed. And with that, he followed Jonathon from the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts...and my now cold breakfast.
********
A little while later, while I was sitting in my room, exploring the contents of the desk drawers, a crew mate came to collect me. He informed me that the captain requested my presence in his study, and that he would take me there if I was ready. Having nothing to freshen up with, I raked my hands through my unruly mass of hair, trying, and failing, to get it under control. The saltwater from my little dip in the sea the day before had left it feeling dry and frizzy.
Giving up on the impossible task, I followed the crew mate out into the hall and up to the top deck. The sun felt warm and inviting on my skin, like the embrace of an old friend, and I turned my face up to the sky to drink it in. Never again, I thought, Never again will I deprive myself of this feeling.
I was led to a door marked "Captain's Quarters", where yet another guard acknowledged me with a curt nod and let me in just like at the galley. The center focus of the study was the large desk, behind which Cyrus sat, engrossed in reading some documents. He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, and he seemed intent on deciphering the text in front of him.
Not wanting to disturb him, I walked to the wall of bookshelves to my left, examining the spines of old, leathery tomes. Each cabinet was protected by a glass cover, presumably to keep them from flying off the shelves during rough seas. As I perused the titles, I noticed many of them were in languages I had never heard of, a few even seemingly written in hieroglyphs of some kind. The bottoms half the shelves were devoted to scrolls and parchments, each unique in size, coloring, and each tied with little pieces of ribbon or leather.
I had always enjoyed books; their smell, the feel of the paper, the contents written inside. Standing inside this study I was brought back to a time when I was younger, when I would often spend time in my father's study, reading each and every book on his shelves. The memory brings a smile to my face, even as it soured and faded back into the corners of my mind only a moment later.
I am so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't notice Cyrus had come up behind me until he places his hands upon my hips, the touch feather light, almost lover-like. I startle, a small yelp escaping my lips at the unexpected contact.
"It's just me, pet. No need to be frightened. I see you're admiring my collection."
Even without turning to look at him, I could hear the playful smile in his voice. He gave my hips a light squeeze, as if to assure me of his pure intentions.
"They are quite beautiful. I've never even seen half of these before," I replied, unable to keep the wonder from my voice.
"That's because most of them are one of a kind. Journals and memoirs from adventurers and sailors all over the world."
I could tell he was proud of this achievement, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit impressed. But, despite the fact that I was sure of his innocent intentions, the feeling of his hands on me was beginning to make me nervous. Before it could drag me into a terrible memory, I gently stepped out of his hold, walking over to his desk instead, to ask about what he had been working on when I had first entered.
On his desk was a mess of papers, most making little to no sense to me. I didn't want to pry and come across as a busy body, but I was genuinely curious, and so I attempted to pose the question as such.
"Ah, don't worry about any of that right now, it's a bit difficult to comprehend, and you've had a trying day already. I simply want you to keep me company while I go through these documents. Is that alright?" He smiled with such warmth that any nerves I had been feeling began to unwittingly melt away. "If you want, you're more than welcome to sit and read while I work. There a number of classic books on the far side of the shelf here that you might be interested in."
My eyes lit up and I scurried to the shelves he referenced, an eagerness pooling in my chest that I hadn't felt in...I don't know when. Indeed there were plenty of titles I recognized, and a handful I had read and enjoyed long ago. I chose one of my favorites, a romance about two ill-faited lovers, and made myself comfortable on the sofa that sat to the otherside of the desk. I folded my legs underneath me, leaning against the arm of the sofa, and began to read.
*******
Cyrus sat back at his desk, but he found it hard to focus on the papers in front of him. His eyes kept skirting to the beautiful woman curled up just a few feet from him. He watched as her eyes darted across the page, devouring the story like it might disappear. He watched her facial expression change as the narrative went on, first happy, then wistful, then sad, etc. He drank it all in as if she were his oasis in an otherwise barren desert.
By the time lunch rolled around, he hadn't gotten any work done at all. Jonathan, his first mate, appeared with two simple plates of various fruits and cheeses. Alice smiled kindly at Jonathan and thanked him in a soft, sweet voice. Cyrus likened her to a little bird, small and frail, but with the sweetest song. I will have to be gentle with her, he thought, lest my little bird takes flight.
The two ate in comfortable silence, Alice still immersed in her book. She balanced her plate on her knee, holding the book open with one hand so that she could eat with the other. Cyrus almost chuckled at the picture it painted before him. Once he watched her drop her third grape, he decided it was time to intervene.
He moved to sit beside her, taking the plate from her lap so she wouldn't knock it to the floor. She looked like she was going to argue with him about taking it from her before she was done, but stopped in her tracks when she realized what he was doing. Cyrus plucked a grape from the vine and held it up to her lips. She looked between his face and his hand, no doubt trying to discern if there was some master plan behind this otherwise wholesome action.
After a moment or two, she seemingly makes up her mind and hesitantly parts her lips, allowing him to feed her. Before long, he had fed her the rest of her lunch, and he set the plate aside on the corner of his desk. Then he stretched his arms above his head and yawned before laying out on the couch, settling his head in her lap.
*****
"What, may I ask, are you doing?" I asked, looking away from my book and down at the man curled up in my lap like a babe.
"Taking a nap, what does it look like?"
I rolled my eyes. "Don't you have work to do?" I gestured to the stacks of papers on his desk, left unattended.
He just shrugged and closed his eyes, "I've given up for now. You're too distracting. And I'm tired."
I rebuffed the color that came into my cheeks at the compliment, rolling my eyes yet again at the childlike responses he was giving. Realizing, however, that there wasn't much I could do to stop him at this point, I let out a sigh and continued on with my book. After a little while, I too fell asleep, and we remained just like that until collected for dinner. We ate again in the galley, neither of us speaking of what had just taken place. The silence, however, was not awkward or uncomfortable, as if two strangers falling asleep in such an intimate position was a completely normal afair. Perhaps for him it was. Perhaps he had had many women... serve him, as I was now expected to. After supper we both retired to our separate bedchambers and drifted back to sleep.