A/N: This is my first real original story, I usually do fanfics so go easy on me! lol

"Come, my dear," a short, somewhat pudgy man said as he beckoned a young girl toward his chair at his illustrious dining table.

"Sir," she replied with a curtsey before walking over and kneeling next to him.

"My guest will arrive tonight and I want his temporary residence spotless. I'm putting you in charge of his needs; anything he asks is to be granted," he said with a nod to the young girl.

"It will be done, my lord," she replied as she rose, curtseyed and began to walk away.

"Anything," he called after her.

The young girl knew what he was getting at. She had been a servant her entire life, or at least since she could remember. She had been bought and sold many times during her childhood; average height and slight of frame; she was totally useless for physical labor and was therefore a common house slave. She had catered to many of her master's guests; most were fat, old nobles or even occasionally old bookworm types. She always did her best to avoid her master's guests because she didn't want to risk having "anything" asked of her.

She went about her daily chores; cleaning the palace, washing her master's garments, cooking the slaves' meals and the like. It was nearly dark before she even began paying special attention to the guest quarters. She went about straightening the room as quickly as she could. She was just finishing the bedding when she heard the door open and close. She whipped around with a look of horror on her face.

"I-I'm sorry, Sir. I'm almost finished," she stuttered as she curtseyed politely.

"It's quite alright; I'm in no hurry," he said as he removed his wide-brimmed hat revealing a young, tanned face.

"Oh, alright, well I'll be finished shortly, S-sir," she continued to stutter as she turned around and continued to straighten the sheets.

"Your name, miss?" he asked as he hung his cloak and hat on a hook next to the door.

"Um… Emilia, Sir," she answered, still bent over the sheets.

"Emilia, do you have a surname, Miss Emilia?" he asked kindly.

"Emilia Knighton, Sir," she replied as she cast a sidelong glance at him.

"Well, Miss Knighton, my name is Alexander Dryden," he said with a charming smile and a polite bow. Emilia quickly turned toward him with shock written across her face as before. "Now what did I do to receive such a face?" Alexander asked with a wry grin.

"Your majesty, I apologize for not recognizing you," Emilia said as she curtseyed low with her head bowed in inferiority.

"Now please quit, in this house I am just a guest. I'm not visiting as the prince; I'm visiting as your master's nephew. Please, stand," Alexander said as he walked over and lifted her hand, "Please."

"Of course, Sir," she said with a nod as she rose. She continued on with her work; bustling around the room, straightening curtains, dusting off the armoire and bringing in fresh towels. "Sir would you like me to unpack your belongings for you?" Emilia asked once she had finished her other tasks.

"Yes, thank you," Alexander answered as he set his bags next to the armoire. He watched as Emilia neatly folded and hung clothes in the armoire, not pausing and seemingly not noticing his admiring gaze following her every move.

She was a beautiful little creature; petite, with a slight, fragile frame, waist length, curly, curiously white hair, not blonde but white, a slim but well formed figure, and the deepest violet eyes he had ever seen.

"Sir, I'm finished. Is there anything else I can do for you?" Emilia asked cheerfully, inadvertently tearing him away from his musings.

"No, thank you for your help Miss Knighton; it's much appreciated," Alexander said after a moment's pause while he gathered his thoughts.

"Well then Sir, I should return to my other chores," Emilia said before curtseying delicately and gliding gracefully out of the door.

He really hadn't wanted her to go. He had tried desperately to think of something to have her do that would have kept her in his presence longer. There was something odd about not only her appearance but her demeanor. She did everything she was asked, offered to do more but then also did each thing with an air of defiance.

He was trying to place her ethnicity or nationality and he had narrowed down his choices. She was not wholly human, that was for sure. He had never seen chores or anything preformed with such grace and ease by a human. He had only seen this kind of grace a few times before; he had seen it when he ran across a troupe of traveling fairies in a forest when he was much younger. This new train of musings was interrupted by a knock at the solid wooden door of his room.

"Yes?" he asked as he opened the door, half expecting it to be Emilia.

"Sir, dinner will be at eight o'clock in the main dining room. Would you like someone to show you its location, or have you already been made aware?" a slave man asked after giving a deep bow.

"I have, I shall be there, thank you," Alexander said; he didn't let his disappointment show until after he had shut the door. He had hoped it would be Emilia. And thus his thoughts turned again to the quietly defiant slave girl.

Kieto: So how was the first chapter?