You're from a really rich family and you've been kidnaped by pirates a month ago for money. They treated you well, there wasn't a single scratch on your body, you received all the necessary meals and no one laid a finger on you; you even received books and painting materials in exchange for your collaboration.

To be honest with yourself, you didn't miss your home – if you can call it that way – you don't have a good relationship with your stepfather and you couldn't miss him less.

Nahla was the captain, the one in charge of that whole crew. Nahla could not be described as a villain, much less as a good girl, she liked to see herself more as someone that few understood. She wasn't all bad or all good, but then again, no one is.

Nahla comes usually on thursdays and sundays to check on you. You noticed she was bossy but she wans't feared by her people, yet respected by them.

Nahla spent some time with you, obviously trying to make you feel more comfortable in her own way. She thought you were an attractive woman, a smart one, one that would be real good for the crew, you were too stubborn to be just a pliant princess. At this point you weren't even considered a hostage anymore.

Nahla even took you to your bed a few times, she would watch you get sleepy and then sleep mid reading a book in her office and she'd take you to your bed and make sure you have all the quietness you need. She was a real gentleman and respectful with you, and she was falling for you easily, even if you were a stubborn pain in her ass sometimes.

You're in her office, she had called you there but she haven't arrived, so you were looking around and taking mental notes about her stuff. There's a wall of books, comfortable armchairs, It was clean and well-polished; the bed was hidden behind a half-open door, a red velvet sheet was all you could see.

There you are, my favorite hostage. Definitely a sight for sore eyes. How you're doing? Nahla walks in her office carefree, using her hat like always, she stops in front of you to greet you with a kiss on your hand. She knew it was pathetic, but she couldn't help it.