First Step in the new World

James reached out gently, pulling Ofelia into his arms without a word. She didn't resist—in fact, the moment she felt his warmth, she leaned into him, burying her face against his chest. Her slender frame trembled slightly, but as his arms wrapped securely around her, she seemed to relax. Slowly, she let out a soft, shaky sigh, her body melting into his embrace as though this was the only place she felt safe.

James rested his chin lightly atop her head, inhaling the faint scent of her hair. His hands moved slowly, one resting against her back while the other cradled her shoulder. He could feel her heartbeat through the closeness of their bodies, rapid at first, but gradually slowing to a steady, calmer rhythm.

Neither of them spoke. Words didn't feel necessary at that moment. Instead, they simply held each other, letting the silence speak for them. James found himself focusing on the rise and fall of her breathing, the way she clung to him as though afraid he might disappear if she let go. He tightened his embrace ever so slightly, reassuring her without needing to say anything.

Ofelia closed her eyes, her cheek pressed against the fabric of his shirt. For the first time in years, she felt a sense of peace—not the fleeting kind that came from a distraction or momentary escape, but something deeper. Something real. Being in his arms, she felt… safe. Protected. The walls she had built around herself, the ones she had depended on for so long to survive, seemed to soften just a little. She didn't need them right now. Not with him.

Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity. Neither of them moved, both content to stay like this for as long as possible. James found his own thoughts quieting, the turmoil from earlier fading into the background. All that mattered in this moment was her—her presence, her trust, and the fragile connection they were building together.

Ofelia eventually shifted slightly, her head tilting up so she could look at him. Her emerald eyes glistened with unshed tears, but there was a softness there now, a tentative hope that hadn't been there before. "James…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

He looked down at her, his expression gentle. "I'm here," he said simply, his voice low and steady. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, and she lowered her head again, resting it against his chest. "Thank you," she murmured, her words muffled but sincere.

James didn't respond verbally. Instead, he held her a little closer, his hands lightly stroking her back as the two of them sank into the quiet comfort of each other's presence. For a long time, they stayed like that—two souls, scarred but slowly healing, finding solace in the shared warmth of an embrace that neither wanted to end.

As Ofelia moved closer to James, she became acutely aware of the faint earthy scent lingering around both of them. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she instinctively leaned near and sniffed him. James blinked, caught off guard, his brows raising in mild amusement.

"Did you just sniff me?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and playfulness.

Ofelia froze, her green eyes widening. A rush of embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she quickly turned her face away. "No!" she blurted, her voice a little too loud. Then, realizing how obvious her denial sounded, she added, "I mean… I didn't mean to. It's not like that."

James smirked slightly, leaning back against the bedframe, clearly enjoying her flustered state. "Not like what?" he teased gently. "You sure you're okay there, Ofelia?"

Her cheeks burned hotter, and she shot to her feet, desperate to escape the situation. "I'm fine," she said quickly. "I'll… go get food for us. And water. For washing."

James tilted his head. "Washing, huh? Are you saying I smell?"

Ofelia's eyes darted to him before quickly looking away. "We both… do," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her thoughts racing. She had never noticed things like scents before—certainly not her own. Back when she was a slave, such luxuries as soap or even regular baths were out of reach. Being clean was something entirely new to her, and over the past few days, she had begun noticing all sorts of things she never had before.

Without waiting for James to respond, she hurried toward the door. "I'll be back," she said quickly, leaving him behind before he could tease her any further.

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Before he could respond, she was out the door, her heart pounding in her chest. What is wrong with me? Why am I acting like this? she thought as she descended the stairs. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before approaching the innkeeper, Marlin, who was busy polishing a wooden mug behind the counter.

The older man looked up as she approached, his weathered face breaking into a friendly smile. "Morning, lass," he greeted warmly, setting the mug down. "What can I do for you?"

Ofelia hesitated briefly, then straightened her back, trying to sound confident. "I'd like to order breakfast for two, please. And… a bucket of water. A large one, for washing."

Marlin raised an eyebrow, his smile turning sly. "Ah, making sure you and the lad upstairs are nice and clean, eh? Sensible girl. I'll have the meal ready in a few minutes, and I'll get the bucket filled for you."

Her blush deepened, but she nodded. "Thank you," she said softly, stepping aside to wait.

Marlin watched her for a moment before chuckling to himself and disappearing into the kitchen. As she stood there, Ofelia's mind raced. Why am I so flustered? He's just my Master. But he's also… James. Kind, patient, and nothing like anyone I've ever known. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt again. I need to stop thinking like this. Focus.

When Marlin returned, he set a tray on the counter, loaded with warm bread, a small bowl of eggs, and some roasted meat. Beside it was a pitcher of water and two simple cups. "Here you go, lass," he said, his tone lighter now. "And the bucket's just being filled out back. You're welcome to carry it, though I could send someone up if you need help."

"Yes. Thank you." Ofelia murmured, reaching for the tray. But before she could turn to leave, Marlin paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"You know," he said, his tone casual, "most folk ask for a bit of soap when they're looking to clean up properly. It's not something I keep out in the open, mind you—luxury like that tends to get swiped—but I've got a bar or two tucked away. If you're interested, I could add it on for, say… two silver coins?"

Ofelia froze. Her emerald eyes widened slightly as she looked at him, her mind catching on the word soap. She hadn't even considered it before, but now that Marlin mentioned it, the idea lodged itself firmly in her mind. Soap was something she'd only heard about during her time as a slave—something reserved for people who mattered. For nobles, merchants, or anyone whose status far outshone hers .Slaves aren't allowed to spend their master's money, not without permission. But… he did mention wanting to buy soap. Making her hesitate.

"Yes," she said quickly, her voice firm despite the blush creeping back to her cheeks. "I'll take it."

Marlin's smile broadened, a hint of warmth in his expression as he reached below the counter and produced a small bar of soap wrapped in coarse paper. It had a faint herbal scent, clean and sharp, and he slid it across the counter toward her.

"Good choice, lass," he said, his voice kind. "It'll go a long way toward making you and your lad upstairs feel fresh as daisies."

Ofelia flushed deeper but quickly handed over the two silver coins, tucking the soap carefully into the pocket of her skirt. "Thank you," she said softly, glancing away.

"No trouble at all," Marlin replied, his tone light. "Enjoy your breakfast—and the wash." he added with a wink.

As Ofelia carried the tray back upstairs, her thoughts weighed heavily on her decision. I wasn't supposed to use his money like that, she thought, her steps slowing slightly. Her fingers brushed the bar of soap tucked securely in her pocket. It had felt like the right thing to do, even if she wasn't entirely sure how James would react.

When she reached the room, James looked up from his seat on the edge of the bed, his expression curious but calm. She set the tray down on the small table and took a deep breath, steadying herself.

"I got us breakfast," she said quietly, "and… I also bought a bar of soap."

James blinked, tilting his head. "Soap?" he repeated. His tone wasn't accusatory, just surprised. "That's a luxury. How'd you manage that?"

"Marlin offered," she explained quickly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. "It was two silver coins. I… used your money. I know I'm not supposed to, but you mentioned buying soap before, and I thought…" She trailed off, unable to meet his gaze.

For a moment, James said nothing, and her heart pounded in the silence. Then, to her surprise, he smiled softly and leaned back in his seat. "Ofelia, it's fine," he said, his tone warm. "You don't have to ask my permission for something like that. You made a good call. Honestly, I should've taken care of it sooner."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she risked a glance at him. "Really? You're not… upset?"

"Why would I be upset?" he asked with a chuckle. "We needed it. And besides, I trust you to make decisions like this. Two silver for something as useful as soap is worth it."

His words eased the knot of tension in her chest, and she gave a small nod, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Thank you," she murmured, pulling the bar of soap from her pocket and placing it on the table beside the food.

James's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he gestured toward the tray. "Alright, let's eat before it gets cold."

The two of them sat down and shared the meal—soft bread, eggs, and roasted meat. It was simple, but the warmth and flavor made it satisfying. Ofelia found herself enjoying the quiet moment, the small sense of normalcy that came with sitting down to eat together. Every now and then, she glanced at James, noticing how easily he seemed to accept her presence, her decisions, her very being. It was strange but… comforting.

After they finished eating, James stretched and stood. As they were eating, an employee had brought a basin of hot water and some clean cloths, which Ofelia carried into the room, refusing to let James do it.

"We'll wash now," she said, her tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

James blinked, sitting up straighter. "Alright," he said cautiously. "I'll handle it—"

"No, you won't," she interrupted, cutting him off without hesitation. She crossed her arms and gave him a look that dared him to argue. "You're too weak. You can't even walk properly yet. I'll help you wash."

James raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Too weak? I just had a small cold yesterday."

"Exactly !" Ofelia countered, her voice sharp, though her cheeks flushed slightly. "And now you need to sit for a while and let me care for you. Don't argue with me, James. I'll wash you, and that's final."

He blinked again, caught off guard by her sudden assertiveness. "Ofelia, I appreciate the concern, but—"

"Stop," she said, holding up a hand. "This isn't up for discussion. You're not strong enough to take care of yourself properly right now, and you need to rest. I'll make sure you're clean."

Her tone left no room for protest, and James found himself momentarily speechless. Ofelia took his silence as agreement and moved toward the bucket of water that had been delivered earlier. She unwrapped the bar of soap and set it aside before testing the water with her hand. Satisfied with the temperature, she turned back to James, who was watching her with a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment.

"Stand up," she ordered, gesturing for him to move closer.

"Ofelia, this is really unnecessary," he said, though he didn't move. "I can manage."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're so stubborn...," she muttered. "But so am I. Now. Stand. Up."

James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he reluctantly got to his feet. "Fine," he said, his voice laced with mock exasperation. "But only because you're so insistent."

Ofelia grabbed a clean cloth and drop it into the hot water, her movements brisk and efficient. "Take off your shirt," she said, her tone matter-of-fact, though her cheeks reddened slightly as she avoided looking directly at him.

"Alright," he relented. "But if I… uh, get a little… distracted," he stammered, his voice dropping awkwardly, "I'm blaming you."

Ofelia blinked, her head tilting slightly in confusion before the meaning of his words dawned on her. Her emerald eyes widened briefly, and a faint blush dusted her cheeks, though she quickly masked it with a straight face. "Then you'll just have to behave," she said firmly, turning her attention to the bucket of water by the bed. Grabbing the bar of soap, she knelt beside it and began preparing the cloths they had on hand.

James rubbed the back of his neck, his awkwardness growing. This is going to be… interesting.