Simply Difficult

The Good Doctor

They scrubbed me...everywhere. Apparently if I was going to be working up and close to a Royal I had to be clean and disease free. After the brutal cleansing, which really didn't help out my already soar freshly tattooed arm, they had to question me. It's the first time I've ever really spoken to a Royal, and the whole thought of it made me shake with discomfort.

I was lead to a small room with nothing but two chairs in it. The room reeking of intimidation from the dim lighting illuminating the grey walls and blank white floors to the single two way glass window in the room. My attire at the moment was stripped to a white towel rapped around my body barely covering my ass. I was led barefoot by the man who imprinted the writing on my hand, my tension building every second I was left alone with him.

I was then left alone in the small room and told not to move. My hands ran up and down my arms feeling goosebumps form on my skin. The temperature in here was ridiculous. I always wondered if Royals could feel the heat or the cold like we mortals do, but they barely give any info about themselves to us.

Another man in a white lab coat entered the room and ushered for me to take a seat. He sat across from me, his legs crossed and a clipboard in his hand.

"Let's make this quick I don't want to be here long," he groaned. "What's your gender?" He asked, his eyes not leaving his clipboard. Is he serious? The Royal sitting next to me looked nothing less than intelligent. Whenever a Royal addressed him they always said doctor. Him being so smart couldn't conclude that I, wrapped in nothing but a white towel, was a female?

"I'm a girl!" I almost shout.

"Okay, okay, geez. I'm just making sure you know that dear. Some of you humans aren't smart enough to comprehend gender differences." I arch my brow at him. I was more surprised that he didn't back hand me for using an inappropriate tone with him. He must have a living of dealing with mortals.

"Do you know your origin?"

"What's an origin?"

"I see." He sighs scribbling something on his pad that laid on his knee. Every Royal was beautiful, ugly was foreign to them. They were all perfection. So when I say the doctor was a gorgeous brown haired and light brown eyed beauty, I'm saying he's simply ordinary. The only thing different about him was his light texture in hair and tint in eyes. This wasn't at all common in Royals, so I assumed he had died his hair, and wore contacts.

"Do you know your nationality?"

"What's a nationality?"

"Do you know your date of birth?"

"What's a date?"

"Do you at least know your own damn name?"

"Angel 07980," I reply. He sighs relieved I had actually answered his question with an answer and not another question.

I really didn't know anything about my past, except work. I had always thought I was born and just started labor, I can't remember the first time I held a broom. As for my name, every slave had a label, which was a number used when trading and selling them, and a name, which was used to depict us.

"How old are you?"

"17," I say proud to remember the one thing I knew about myself.

"You look younger," he said demolishing my pride.

"Whatever," I say before thinking. I see him give a quick glance up at me, but only for a second.

"How many children do you have?"

"Um...I don't know."

"Have you ever had sexual intercourse?"

"No..." I reply awkwardly.

"Then you don't have any children."

Oh. So that's where babies come from.

"I swear mortals are the dumbest of species," he murmurs.

"Well it's not like I've ever had an education! I can thank you Royals for that," I bark. He looks up at me, his eyebrows raised and hazel eyes wide. "I'm s-sorry I didn't mean that," I stutter. Now I definitely expected him to back hand me, but he doesn't. Instead he does the last thing I could have expected.

He laughs.

He threw his head back in laughter. When he recovers he shakes his head chuckles still escaping from him.

"I like you, mortal. Your not like the other ones, you have an attitude...a personality," he sighs his eyes returning to his clipboard in his lap.

"You're the family doctor for the Royals here?" I asked.

"That I am."

"How long have you worked for them?"

"A year," he responds casually. I blink. For how long Royals live that's a questionably short time.

"So you're new?"

"Why so many personal questions?" He asked laying his head back in his hands.

"You got to question me," I snap at him, which only makes him chuckle again.

"Fine, fine, you have a valid point," He says rereading his notes.

"Are Royals hot?" I asked. He squints at me holding back laughter. Gods, he is so childish. "I meant do they feel warmth?"

"No, all Royals are cold blooded. Absolutely no warmth at all, love."

Something about his attitude reminded me of Seth, not just his lightness in hair color and eyes but the way he talked, and laughed, and smiled...and the way he crossed all boundaries between Royals and mortals without a second thought. He looked up and caught me eyeing him and flashed a smile at me. As long as I'm allowed to speak to a Royal who won't cut my hand off for doing so, I might as well take advantage off it.

"Hey how many Royals live here exactly?"

"112. Wait why?" His eyes shoot up and meet mine immediately. "Did someone ask you to find that out?"

"Um...yes. My friend Seth did. I guess he was just curious about it."

"Is your friend a mortal? Are they one of the house slaves?"

"Yes..."

"And you said he is a male?"

"Yes, is something wrong?"

"None of the house staff are men. All the men mortals are field workers." That's strange but true. I don't think I've seen another mortal man working in the mansion.

"Don't tell anyone else about your friend...Seth," he ordered, his voice suddenly stern.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Come with me Angel," he says rising from his seat. "We need to get you dressed for your job as a...personal maid?" He exclaims rereading his paperwork. I nod slightly and grimace at the reminder of having to face Daemon. "You're going to be a personal maid? For the Royal son?" He questioned. I swear I could hear pity throughout his voice. I nod again and arch my brow. "I feel so sorry for you."