Thank you so much emma . ray (without spaces, don't know why it disappears without them), best beta-reader of the world, for helping me A LOT with this.
Unlike my first fic, I wrote this one in French first to offer a more varied vocabulary and help me with descriptions. Every review or comment will be very appreciated.

To please our modern readers, the names have been changed. Alyssa Di Laurentus became Alison DiLaurentis, Pagina Macullerus became Paige McCullers.
I tried to be as close to reality as possible about this period (spices known at the time, prices, housing…) but I have romanced some details.

Ugh. I really didn't want to go. I'm 17 and this is the first century, it's time my parents let me make my own decisions. But I don't have a choice anymore.
I opened my carriage's curtain and breathed the fresh and salty air of the coast. In a few moments I'll be in Pompeii, discovering the house my parents had bought since they decided that the Roman lifestyle was too exciting for my papa's health.
We passed some slaves that were working the fields in the heat of this summer of 79, harvesting crops, sweating and moving, following the rhythm of lashes. Some of them looked at my carriage, curious about the McCullers armorial bearings that they recognised from afar but were quickly reprimanded. The only thing I was excited about was seeing my old friend Alison. We grew up together, raised by the same slaves, but my parents moved to Rome when I was ten for my papa's business. I remembered her as being kind, a bit impudent sometimes, always used to getting what she wanted. But she had a way of making you feel like you were the queen of Gods. Yes, you felt like Juno when she graced you with all her attention. She claimed to be a descendant of Venus herself and you know what, I sometimes believed it.

I finally arrived at the house. It was a beautiful villa, on the outskirts of the city, with a magnificent atrium, blessed by Pheobus on this glorious day.
The sun reflected the sky in the impluvium, and for a few minutes I had totally forgotten that I didn't want to be here. My mama greeted me with warmth after those few months when we were separated and she told me that my papa was in town to discuss business with the prefect. I hid my disappointment. Papa was a cold man, often absent, and I had hoped that our relocation to Pompeii would have changed him.
Ezra, our Briton slave, started to unpack my things from the carriage right away. He had been my confidante for years now, and as the true philosophy enthusiast he was, he had initiated me in the work of Plaute and Aristotle. It was pure joy for me to see him again. He headed towards my quarters but I didn't even have the time to meet him there before I heard a familiar voice behind me.

Alison had come to greet me, accompanied by three young women, all dressed in the latest fashion, and by Lorenzo, her Moorish slave. She ran towards me and hugged me tight with many frills and noises. I returned the hug, a bit confused, and took a step back to look at her. She had become a magnificent young woman: blonde as wheat, alabaster skin and a slightly plump waist, proof of her feisty diet (and of her family's wealth). She looked like a statue, like the ones you see in the most beautiful palaces of Rome. If a sculptor needed a model of perfection to represent Venus, he would have found it in the person of Alison DiLaurentis.
The three young women stood a few feet from us, and I could see in their eyes something that looked like apprehension. They were busy with their outfits, straightening their stolas, the long and colourful dresses that were tailored just for them, trying to arrange their hair but I didn't pay more attention to it. Alison was standing right there next to me and we had a lot to talk about.
She was strolling through my new home like she owned it, and ordered Ezra to bring her wine. I suggested the girls entertain themselves around the impluvium while I spent some one-on-one time with my friend but their gaze was only turned towards Alison. She nodded slightly and then turned heel, cursing Ezra to lead the way to my bedroom.

How she had changed. Or was I the one romanticising the sublime girl who was once my closest friend? Had she always been this direct and supercilious? Or was it simply because she was thrilled to see me again and wanted to give a good impression?
I followed her into my room, a room I hadn't been able to visit before her. It was wonderful, adorned with beautiful vases and fabrics from all over the world. The walls were light blue, emphasising the magnificent fresco representing Diana the Huntress.
The bed was huge and seeing the way Alison was basking there, it seemed very comfortable. She tilted her head a little, inviting me with this sign to lay next to her, and I ran without begrudging. I was tired by the long journey and the excitement caused by our reunion was beginning to fade away. I laid weakly by her side and she fussed almost right away to undo my plaits and run her fingers through my hair. I recoiled a little at first. Nobody except our old slave Ella had lavished on me such a care since I had left for Rome.
I started to relax. It felt really good to be groomed like that after a long journey, and her expert hands were really good at their job. I had so many questions to ask her, questions like who were the three girls she came with, did she have a fiancé... but I didn't want to break that very welcomed silence. I was really happy that she wanted to reconnect with me right away. I had left all my friends in Rome, I was eager to start over in Pompeii and not succumb to melancholia. I was grateful for the sudden attention which was free of manipulation (unlike my papa who was only nice when he wanted me to do something I abhorred).

I closed my eyes and Alison whispered into my ear.

"Do you remember? I spent hours combing your hair when we were little. You adored it."

"Hmmm" I answered softly. "I have to admit that it was so long ago, I totally forgot."

Alison made a sulky face, quickly erased by a malicious smile.

"You're in Pompeii now, if you bear a sophisticated look you are going to frighten the plebs."

I answered with a smile. I did not know what to think. I was not used to receiving so much attention from someone other than one of our slaves, other than somebody that my family owned, and a little voice in my head started to ask if she wasn't simply jealous. Jealous that I spent so much time in the glorious city of Rome, bathed in arts, philosophy, mathematics, being introduced to very important people. No. Impossible. Not Alison, member of one of the oldest and most respected families in Pompeii.
She kept on working on my hair, undoing braids, redoing others, softly pinning locks here and there. She moved back on the bed a little to admire her efforts and gazed at me, satisfied. I got up to admire her handiwork in the enormous mirror that rested in the corner of the room and was enthralled by my own reflection. Alison had lost nothing of her power. I felt beautiful, fulfilled. She approached slowly behind me, looking at her own reflection beside my shoulder and whispered: "So…do you like my work?"

"You have nimble fingers Alison."

"I know," she said jokingly. "Come on, your mother asked me to do her a favor and I'd be thrilled to do it as quickly as possible."

I gave her an inquisitive look but I did not have the time to find out more. She had already taken off.

I arrived in the atrium a few seconds after her and everyone's glance settled upon me, appraising my appearance. Alison cleared her throat, inviting me to attribute to her the merits of this sudden attention.

"Alison is very gifted," I said with a smile.

Her three friends (most likely her followers) agreed at once, congratulating Alison for her "divine gift which had to be inspired by a muse".
My mother was looking at me, smiling with all of her teeth, happy to see that Alison and I were still getting along really well. Her family was very powerful and it was of the utmost importance for my papa's business that the DiLaurentis and the McCullers lived in harmony.
I took a step closer to my mama to ask her what task she entrusted Alison with.

"Well Ella isn't getting younger and I thought that we could send her to our property in Capua so that she could enjoy her last years."

My heart squeezed into my chest hearing those words. Of course, I knew my privileged relationship with her couldn't last, Ella was "just" a slave but I was really attached to her. I shared the vision of Plaute on slaves - "The Roman slave is considered a member of the family." Ella was more than a slave, she was a nursemaid, a friend. Always by my side to heal my little sorrows, always a kind word when my papa was mean.
I noticed that my mother was staring at me.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was telling you that Alison was going to take you to the slaves' market so that you can find yourself a new woman of company. Your papa and I agreed, you will soon be old enough to get married, you can thus buy your own slave.

"Oh. Thanks."

Alison interrupted us. "You'll see Paige, it's going to be amazing, you're going to be able to find yourself a magnificent Iberian stallion, or a small blond from Gallia…"

"Alison, I said a WOMAN of company," laughed my mother.

"Okay okay…" sulked the blonde.

I didn't have a say in the matter. Everything had been decided while I was gone.

"I need a minute," I said while walking fast towards my chamber.

"Oh no Paige," argued Alison, catching my arm. "Boats will arrive soon, we HAVE to be there in a few minutes to have the prime choice!"

"All right, all right, let's go," I declared, swallowing my tears.

Alison led the way, still holding my arm firmly, followed by her three friends as well as Ezra and Lorenzo.
We walked for a while, Alison definitely certain of her direction, chatting with her friends, bragging about the latest fashionable tragedy she went to see the other day.
We arrived by the docks which gave off a crazy effervescence. Nothing like the organised bustle of Rome: everybody was shouting, messing around. People were touching, smelling, tasting. Fishy smells were entangled with the scents of unknown spices, the sound of a cithara was hushed by the screams of a carpet vendor who was promising "the best rugs, directly from Persia".
We had arrived in a small and sordid street, Alison still leading the way with a determined step, heading to the storefront of a dessert shop. She had let go of my arm, and it's then that I saw her.

It seemed to me that I had spent my life in the most tawdry shadows until my eyes settled on the most luminescent being there was. All my doubts, all my fears, all my bothers disappeared as fast as she crossed the fine linen that separated the shop from the street.
From her honey-colored skin irradiated a soft light, as if her aura was too big to simply be contained in her body. Her hair was falling softly on her muscular body, allowing the glimpse of a blow on her face. Her lower lip was slightly split, proof of bad treatment that was probably caused by a previous master.
The man was squalling, announcing the pedigree of this heavenly creature in an imprecise Latin. And it was at this moment that Alison turned around and set her eyes on me. Mesmerised by the goddess that appeared before my eyes, I hadn't realised that I had stopped walking. I was just standing there, in the middle of the street. Alison looked at me, looked at the young woman, then put her eyes on me again with half a smile. A cold smile. Petty. Cruel. She went to the seller and showed her interest towards the young slave. I didn't have the time to stop her. I couldn't move, as if I had crossed eyes with the gorgon Medusa.
The man invited Alison to touch her. He quickly saw that she was rich, adorned as she was with her fine jewellery. She opened the mouth of the girl, looked at her teeth, lifted her hair. She put her hand on one of her breasts and looked at me, smirking. The goddess lowered her head, only to be reprimanded by her seller.
Alison argued with the man, feeling with her finger the wound of the young slave, who shivered with pain under her touch. She brought out her purse - her purse - and paid the 900 sesterces he was asking for.

The time of a loss of breath. That's the time it took her to seal the deal.

Alison barked some orders to Lorenzo, who seized the chains that were hindering the arms of the young woman.
Alison got closer to me, giving me a cruel look, and stopped near my ear to whisper these few words: "I own you now."

Then she left, chuckling, in the direction of the DiLaurentis villa, her three "friends" following her closely. I stood there in the middle of the street, frozen in the moment, astounded by what had happened. I felt Ezra come closer behind me, as to give me the tacit courage to move again.

She was hers, and I was now a slave myself.