Dusk. The sky was starting to dim, sunbeams fading away into early evening. A slight figure turned away from the grimy pane of the dirt-marred glass window and took a deep breath, clutching at her chest briefly for reassurance. The setting sun silhouetted her slim shape on the wall, from the stray strands of her short hair to the worn toes of her shoes. "It's time," she whispered to herself, feelings of raw nervousness coursing through her body.
Footsteps pounded quietly on cobblestone streets. The figure slipped softly through narrow alleys, ducking in and out of the shadows in an attempt not to be seen, for her destination was not one of high morality. Though none of the passing townspeople knew who she was, she still felt embarrassed about what they might think of her. Even if it wasn't her fault she had to go there. She had no choice. Her family had lost all their money, status, and power during the rebel attack. Her family...they'd lost their lives as well. As the sole survivor, she had no one to care for her except herself.
Occupations were hard to find these days, especially for a young girl with no useful talents. She had been brought up as a noblewoman and would not have used skills such as cooking or quilting. And since the use of magic had been outlawed in that region... Life was tough, and she had to do what she had to do. For survival. To prove that she could make it on her own.
And suddenly she was there.
Taking her second deep breath of the evening, she dared to mount the crumbling back steps of the brothel and rapped smartly on the solid oak door. The following silence unnerved her, but she held her ground. Presently the door creaked open and a small, elegant-looking woman stared down at her. The girl cleared her throat several times, trying to find her voice. "I-I'm here..to..."
"Ah!" The woman opened the door wider, recognition dawning over her stern features. "You are the new girl, no? Entrez, entrez! I am Madame Danielle, the proprietor, as you must know," she informed her, ushering her into the building. "Je suis tres hereuse que vous etes ici. We've been a bit, as you say, short of hand lately." The young girl took the opportunity to look around her as the older woman nattered on, shivering slightly at the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. The entry hall was rather small, but invitingly decorated, probably to entice customers. A large staircase led to the upper floors, a smaller one down to the cellar. The door to her right led to what appeared to be a sitting room, beyond that a cavernous dining hall.
The woman, Madame Danielle, was wrapping up her little speech. "I've arranged a room for you - third on the right at the top of the stairs. Put your things there, and then you can join the other jeune filles for dinner." Madame paused for a moment. "What is it you are called, ma chere?"
The girl swallowed hard. "Amelia," she said. "My name is Amelia."
She surveyed the long dining hall apprehensively, feeling very out of place. Most of the girls in the room were barely dressed for public exhibition, seeming not to care much for modesty. Hovering in the doorway, she gulped audibly. What in the world was she thinking? She couldn't do this. She couldn't go through with this.
One of the twenty some-odd women across the room appeared to notice her and waved her over, cordially making some space on the bench next to her. Timidly, Amelia approached the table and sat down, tucking her legs under the bench to keep them from trembling. The woman, a pretty blond girl with expressive eyebrows, looked at her with interest. "You're the new girl, right? A bit small," she observed companionably, "but you'll do just fine."
"Aye," the brunette across the table agreed, looking Amelia over critically. "Pretty face and a nice rack. Good skin, too," she added, stuffing a sausage into her mouth. "They'll like you."
"They?"
"The customers," she answered, still chewing her food. "Which reminds me, you may want to change into your shift before you entertain tonight. They gen'rally don't like dealing with a lot of clothes."
Amelia helped herself to a ladle of fried potatoes, feeling a deep blush spread over her cheeks. "Thanks for the...advice."
"Aw, look Mattie, she's blushin'!" a rather plump-looking girl exclaimed, a large grin occupying her features. "Ooh, she IS a fresh one!"
"Don't tease her, Mol," the young woman admonished, secretly hiding her own smile. "You'll just scare the wee girl." She turned her eyes back to Amelia. "I plum forgot to introduce myself! Silly me, I've been sitting her chatting and I don't even know you proper! I'm Mattie, that there's Molly, and this here's Julette."
"I'm Amelia."
"Pretty name," Julette commented. She looked her over again, this time wrinkling her brow in concern. "You are small, aren't you. You know," she said, leaning in confidentially, "if one of 'em gets too rough with you, just holler real loud and Brin will come running."
"Brin?" she asked, blinking.
"The porter," Molly explained, busily spreading butter on her biscuit. "Madame doesn't allow the customers to mistreat us."
"If you get a man who likes to play a bit rough, that's one thing," Mattie added, flipping her long hair over her lean shoulder. "But if you think he's really damaging you, just give a good yell."
Amelia felt a lump rise in her throat and quickly swallowed it down, trying to ignore the twinge of fear and apprehension those words triggered. This job might be a bit more stomach-turning than she thought. Playing rough? Damaged? What kind of men were these customers? Idly she watched one of the servingmaids approach the table and fill her glass with a rich brown ale. Amelia wondered if the ale might perhaps be the reason these young women were able to deal with their occupation.
She fidgeted under the table, feeling quite like she didn't belong there. Would she, too, become like these women? It was too late to turn back now...
"Oh, piddle," Julette complained as she saw Madame Danielle bustle into the room. "I hate it when they come during dinner. Interrupts the digestion, it does."
"Don't worry," the blond told her, taking a sip of her own ale. "Amelia'll have to handle this one. Newest girl always has to take the ones no one wants," she informed the raven-haired female.
That appeared to be true, Amelia decided as Madame's gaze rested upon her. The elegant woman scuttled over, a bit of a twinkle in her gray eyes. "Ma chere," she spoke softly. "Please go to your room and prepare yourself accordingly. I will send your first customer up shortly." She started to walk away, then paused, a small smile forming on her lips. "You'll like this one," she added. "He's young. And tres beau, too."
The other girls giggled at the blush that marred Amelia's face, whispering comments that would have made the former princess faint had she been her old self. Putting down her napkin, she excused herself and departed shakily from the hall.
Several minutes later she waited timidly on the edge of her new bed, dressed only in a low-necked cotton shift. Fear and anxiety coursed through her veins, coupled with an intense sense of wrongness, which she pushed to the back of her mind. There was no turning back now. She needed the money. She needed to live. Amelia swung her legs nervously and closed her eyes.
Toc, toc. She nearly jumped as someone rapped sharply on the door. The customer, she though to herself, gulping. It was time. Time to become a different person, a person to whom the real Amelia would be a mere memory. She honestly didn't know if she could do it, didn't know if she could suppress her personality enough to go through with it. "Come in," she shakily called out, her voice taking on the flirtatious tone she'd practiced, as she looked down at her bare feet.
The door slowly creaked open, and her visitor gave a sigh. "Somehow I knew I'd find you here."
Amelia's head jerked up at the sound of that familiar voice, her eyes widening impossibly in recognition. "Xelloss!" she sputtered, shocked. "What in Cefied's name are you doing here?!"
"I might ask you the same," he answered drily, closing the door behind him.
She ignored that remark. "Xelloss, I don't believe this! Do you often frequent brothels? I wouldn't think that a Mazoku of your rank would have to pay for...well, I didn't think you were the type who'd be a customer here..."
"A customer?" He stared at her, eyebrows raised. "Here? L-sama, Ame-chan, what do you think I am?"
She rose from the bed. "What do you think I am?"
His violet eyes glowed with a soft sadness as they connected with hers. "A little girl who's about to make a big mistake."
Her gaze faltered and dropped back down to the floor. "I have to," she mumbled. "I have no choice."
The Mazoku made his way behind her, slipping his hands around her waist. "What would your father say if he saw you now?" he murmured into her ear.
Amelia trembled, disconcerted by her closeness. The last time he'd held her like that had been just before the rebellion, teasing her about how much she'd miss the "fruitcake Mazoku". The group had been splitting up then, Lina and Gourry going off on some adventure, Zelgadis going to find his cure, Xelloss going off on his next mission, and Amelia returning home. To everyone else it looked like he was just bothering her for kicks, but she'd felt his pulse beating against her, the warmth blossoming in her abdomen from such a close encounter. As it was now. "I don't have a choice," she repeated. "Would you rather I die? Would you rather I starve?"
His arms tightened around her. "I looked for you, Ame-chan, after I'd found out what had happened. I searched. I couldn't even track you with magic, since you haven't cast any spells since."
"It's against the law."
"I know. Stupid rule." He was silent. "Why didn't you call for me?"
Amelia bit her lip, feeling tears rush to her eyes. "I...I don't need your help. I'm not helpless. I can do it on my own. I don't need anyone."
Xelloss's laughter sounded strained, weary. "That's my Ame-chan. Always independent."
"So then you'll leave me now to do my job?" she asked curtly.
His hands dropped from her waist and spun her around to face him, eyes dark with anger. "Do you think I'd let anyone else touch you? Do you think I could bear knowing that anyone else had had you?" he hissed. "Ame-chan, when I said you were mine, I meant it."
The tears were already dripping steadily down the young girl's face, and she plunked herself unceremoniously down on the floor. "I thought you were joking...I thought you were taking advantage of the fact that I..." she trailed off, too timid to finish the sentence. "I need...I love..." she whispered, the huge gap in her heart hurting more than ever. "I don't want to...but I do...and I need..." Living alone had certainly taken its toll on her. She craved companionship so much that she thought she might burst at times. Her whole family was gone. Her friends had disappeared. She had no one, not a soul.
The Trickster knelt on the floor and gathered her into his arms. "I need you, too." He wiped her tears away with his thumb. "You'll come with me now?"
Amelia nodded in response, feeling a heavy weight lift from her chest. The mind-wrenching were gone, too, the old justice that had screamed at her since she'd decided to take on such a job. She burrowed into his chest, elated, because this was right. She was doing something right, something she would feel no guilt for. Love.