The Devil Shall Have His Bargain

Althea was roused from the sleep she fell into that afternoon by Durai gently scooping her up into his arms. He took her out of the bedchambers, through the main room, and into the bathing room. He set Althea down on a marble countertop near a wash basin. Althea seldom had visited this area in his suit of rooms before, electing often to use her own wash room instead. She looked around and gathered as much as she could in her sight in the short time she had.

His washroom was a stark contrast to all of his other rooms. Whereas his bedroom, living room, private dining chamber, and study were all decorated and adorned with dark and opaque colors, this washroom was incredibly bright. There were to windows of any kind for much natural light save one clear glass skylight at the roof to let the sunshine in at one place. All of the surfaces were sharply clean and smooth, and all was dazzling white.

She saw that a spacious and very deep tub was directly under the skylight, and it rested above a sunken pit where she could see barely illuminated embers of wood. There was already water waiting in the tub and it was obviously warmed by the embers beneath. Resting on the gentle surface of the water were many red rose petals. On a shelf next to the tub she saw many bottles and scented soaps. The air was warm with perfumes. The whole room was immensely luxurious.

Althea had deduced that all of this had been made in preparation for her to wash, and she dared not look at Durai out of fear that he would expect to stand and watch her or, even worse, wash with her. She simply stared forward and kept her guard up. Her heart beat so strongly in her chest that she felt for sure he could hear it. The thump of each beat boomed in her own ears, and she felt that all of the strength she could muster wasn't going to count for much.

Durai stroked her hair and sent the same ribbons of light from his hands to the bonds at her ankles and knees, and they gently fell way and landed in a pile on the ground. He ran his fingers along the site where the restraints had been on her skin and inspected them for any signs of bruising. When he was satisfied that she was relatively unharmed, he stood up and looked at her. She could see a conflict, a struggle, in his eyes. Then he blinked long, and the struggle seemed resolved as he sighed. "Everything is ready for you. Take as long as you need. Your body deserves a little luxurious pampering after all it's been through with the Mist."

Althea jumped on the opportunity to make a jab at him. "Not just the Mist," she stated annoyingly, pointing out that she hadn't forgotten his treatment of her as well.

Durai hardly seemed embarrassed, but looked down in show anyway. "Take as long as you need. I brought all of these over from your rooms after you left." His tone seemed to suggest that he wanted her to feel some semblance of guilt at leaving. She was surprised he even tried to do so. It seemed beneath him. "And when you're finished," he continued, "I've left a gown for you."

Althea's stomach turned at the thought that he had picked out a dress he expected her to wear. She felt like a doll he was dressing. She was not a puppet and refused to be made to feel like one. "My own clothes –"

"Will be disposed of," Durai interrupted forcefully as his eyes flashed a stern look at her. Of all the battles that was ahead of her, she felt that this one was hardly one to lose energy over. She just hoped that what had been selected for her wasn't too vulgar. She sighed in resignation.

Durai took her hand in his and bent it to his lips. It reminded her of the very first time he had done so. He was so marvelous back then. She recalled sorrowfully how much of a gentleman he had been to her then, how much she admired and revered him. Just thinking of how far they had come since then, how far they fell from how high they had flown, made her heartsick.

He then turned and took his leave of her. She heard the heavy door close behind her and bolt shut. She wondered how she would let him know when she was done, but something in her felt as though he would have some way of knowing. The thought made her shiver. Even if she thought she was alone, she would try to be as discreet as possible.

First she familiarized herself with where everything was in the washroom. She didn't need to be walking around after undressing searching for this thing or that. She found a stack of thick towels, the bottles from her old washroom were the ones along the shelves near the tub for washing and indulging herself with, and she found the various drawers and cabinets with combs, brushes, and other necessities.

She was disappointed to find that there was no screen that she could dress or undress behind. She couldn't be certain that he was watching her except her strong instincts and feeling of disgust. She ended up grabbing a towel and sat on the opposite side of the tub away from the door as she carefully disrobed. She wrapped her body in the towel before standing. She swung her legs over the side of the large tub and stepping into the very warm water.

She slowly lowered herself into the nearly steaming water and discarded the wet towel over the side after her whole body was submerged. Though she felt some guilt at it, she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall of the tub and sighed deeply in relief. It had been so long since she had a warm bath not in a cold lake or river. Even in the summer, the water was always too cold for her. Now her muscles melted with the soothing heat. The scent of the water filled her head with the sweetening, musky perfume of the rose petals. She ran her hand along the length of her opposite arm and felt the oils in the water soften her skin.

While she washed her body and hair with the multiple shampoos and mixtures of delicate pampering, she started to notice the changes within her body in the last year. Her once cream-colored skin had deepened in color from exposure to the sun. Her skin was no longer delicately thin and fragile. She felt that the nights of rain and the days of dust and wind, not to mention the winter through the snow and without a shelter, that her skin had become tougher and more resilient. The one thing that hadn't changed was the softness of her glamorous hair. It was her greatest source of pride filled with personal connections and memories of her mother and Mireya; she had kept diligent care of her hair.

She felt as though she were a new person. Instead of mourning those fair features in her that had been lost, she smiled at who she had become. She had been a shrinking violet in comparison to the force she was now. And perhaps her changes in strength would be enough. Perhaps now she would be a match for him.

Long moments passed in that tub while she enjoyed the safety and quite of the solitude. Soon the water became tepid, and she felt that she had to face the future before long. She took a towel she had set close to the tub and quickly wrapped her body in it as she stood. Any prying eyes would not have gotten the chance to see much if anything at all.

Once she had brushed and put up her hair, she walked over to the gown laid out for her. Though she expected it to be green like he always liked, it was actually deep red. That was her favorite color to wear, and she hadn't worn it in a long time. She stepped into it and looked at the cut of it in the mirror as it flowed down her body. It was modest and decent with a scooped neckline that didn't reveal much. The sleeves were long and contoured around her skin much like the rest of the dress. The fabric was heavy but clung to her like a lover's embrace and showed every bend and curve of waistline and backside before finally flaring out elegantly. There were no embellishments, no intricate designs. Just the deep color and smooth fabric.

The dress felt like a compromise. He was getting her like he wanted, but he was giving her a comfortable and modest dress that seemed something she would choose as opposed to something he would choose.

It felt like a trap.

The moment she seemed all finished, the door opened. Durai walked toward her and stopped a few meters short. He slowly looked her up and down more than once. She could swear she could even see the slightest trace of a tear in his eyes. She had to concede that in his perverse, despicable way, he did love her and had missed her. And now she appeared before him much the same way as he had known her when they were together. It must have felt like the long year's patience finally reached reward.

He reached out his hands and took both of hers. "You look…just so beautiful," he said as he could not catch his breath from the mere sight of her. Even if her look back at him was contempt, he found all the ways to admire her. This new fire he sensed in her was going to be delicious, he thought.

"Dinner is waiting for us," he said as he started to lead her away by the hands. But Althea held her ground and resisted going anywhere with Durai.

"I told you before," Althea began, "that I had no intention of dining with you. I have a job to do, and that's what I intend to do."

He then turned back to her, smiled his wicked smile, and closed the distance to be very close to her. "Perhaps I hadn't made the situation clear before. For that I apologize. Let me explain to you plainly. You will have dinner with me because it is what I wish. You will only do what I wish you to do. You have nowhere else to go but to me. The rooms have my guards posted, and ONLY my guards who are loyal to only me. No one else in this world even knows you are still alive. If you want anything, anything at all, it will only be through my good graces."

With that he brushed a hanging piece of hair behind her ears and brought his face closer to hers. His lips brushed her ears as he continued to speak. "So if you want a chance to play the hero and stop the Mist, you gotta play nice. I will deny you nothing as long as you make me happy. So you better get very good at saying 'please…"'

And with that, the devil laid out his terms to the angel. The life of the world for her very soul.