HERA
I am unsure what to feel.
One part of my brain is absolutely mortified and yet the other…the other wishes I had been conscious while he did it.
I turn to Henette. “Where you there…when he…oh relax Henette there is no need to look so mortified, I am just curious as to how it happened.”
She bows her head. “In that case you would have to ask the king himself your grace.”
Well that is one thing I most definitely will not be doing.
“He sent me to have a bath drawn for you and when I returned your old clothes were in a pile at the foot of the bed.”
“I beg your pardon?” The shrill pitch of my voice surprises even me but I cannot seem to help it.
“I said your old clothes were already removed upon my return.”
I shake my head furiously because surely I must have misheard her. “Not that. He asked you to go do what?”
“Oh, he asked for a bath to be drawn for her highness.”
So not only did he change me, he may have given me a bath as well?
I sit with a plop on the soft bed, my hands in my hand in my laps.
By the gods, this just keeps getting worse and worse.
Henette inches closer. “Are you okay my queen…I mean Hera?”
“Hmmm hmmm” I say, nodding rapidly, my lips pressed together because at the moment, I do not even trust myself to speak.
Unbidden, I think about those dark brilliant eyes fixed on my body as he slowly, but carefully takes off my clothes.
My mind filling in the blanks with fantasies of his hands, warm from the steaming water running over the sensitive parts of my skin.
Gods of my mother I hope I had been unconscious enough not to make any embarrassing sounds but even as I think about it I do not trust myself.
Unconscious or not, I probably did.
Oh dear Zeus.
“Your highness, are you sure you are fine, your face is absolutely red.”
My hands fly to my crimson cheeks. They feel warm.
I do not even try to deny it.
I get up hurriedly with the lame excuse that my bath water is getting cold and disappear behind the room screen and out of reach for her probing, attentive eyes.
I take off the clothes I have on.
It is a simple night gown, although much different in appearance and texture from that which I have seen Averia’s royalty dressed in.
While the night gowns of Averia’s queen and princess are drab, long and cumbersome attires with lengthy, voluminous sleeves and so many buttons, they required assistance to remove; the gown I am dressed in is flimsy at best.
Stopping mid thigh and bearing a close resemblance to a chemise with its soft creamy material and thin almost non-existent sleeves.
Just the thought of him seeing me, dressing me, in this, has my cheeks burning again.
I take it off in one move and step cautiously into the bathtub filled with warm water and floating rose flower petals.
The water is almost scalding at first but after a few minutes I begin to enjoy the heat.
Henette dutifully washes my long hair into a bucket behind me as I recline fully immersed in the tub, pining it into a bun when I tell her I do not like it sticking limp and cold on my neck.
She finishes quickly and leaves me to my bath.
She says she is setting out my clothes but seconds later, I hear the chamber doors open and close quietly.
Absent mindedly, I cup the water in my hand and splash it over my skin, letting the warmth and steaminess of it drip down my shoulders.
The lard based soap, a luxury I could only dream of in the past few years as a slave, lathers and foams in my hand, smelling pleasantly of lavender and sandalwood.
I slather my body generously with the sweet smelling foam and my eyes, initially half lidded, drift shut.
My hands, slippery with soap and warm from the water have a mind of their own.
Except in my head, they are no longer my hands.
These are much bigger, much rougher and they belong to a dark, dangerous king with eyes of molten gold.
These hands, his hands, slip and slid over my body, the curve of my stomach… the slopes of my breasts.
Fingers gently circling my nipples until they harden and stand to become erect sore peaks and I have to bite my lips to stifle a small wordless sound.
And as my toes begin to curl beneath the water, my breathing gets faster and faster and the faint, unusual throbbing between my legs isn’t so faint anymore.
I do not even hear when the doors open and shut again.
His hands slide lower and lower and lower….
“Would her majesty prefer silk or cotton….”
My eyes fly open in a panic and I practically leap out of the bathtub, splashing water everywhere.
My legs are shaky and my knees are weak.
Sweet mother of Zeus what was that?
When I don’t reply, Henette continues, taking my silence to mean she can pick whatever. “I shall set out the cotton. I fear the weather is rather hot today and a slip of cotton would be much preferable”
But I can barely hear her over my racing heart, the heart of a girl who had been caught doing something she most definitely should not have been doing
I need no mirror to know my cheeks are flaming red like I have been caught doing something wrong.
And maybe I have.
But if that is true then by all the gods, why had it felt so damn good?
“My queen…” Henette calls out cautiously at my continued silence.
“Hera?”
I clear my throat and breathe in and out in an effort to force my heart to calm it erratic beating.
Yet when I finally find my voice, it still does not come out as firm and guilt free as I would have like it to be. “I am okay Henette…just…drying off.”
I wrap a clean cloth around myself and step out from behind the screen, hoping my face is no longer red and feeling like what I had been doing just moments ago is written on my forehead.
It is ridiculous to think this I know, yet I cannot bring myself to look directly at Henette for fear that she will somehow be able to tell.
And I am slightly relieved when she momentarily disappears behind the screen to clean up whatever mess I may have made during my bath.
I rub in the expensive oils of lavender and the creams mixed with crushed amethyst that she has laid out for me. Massaging them into my skin unto it gleams and glows.
She soon reappears and helps me into the dress she had set on the bed.
As expected, it is beyond stunning.
The dress itself is a sleeveless and nearly backless affair made of a white airy material with a sheer, virtually transparent front designed with intricate lacy flowers and inlaid silver crystals.
It hugs my upper body and chinches at the waist before falling gracefully to my feet in a weightless haze of white gossamer fabric managing to somehow be both elegant and scandalous at the same time.
The cape she gives me is a milky off shade of white lined with silver embroidery and consists of a single band of soft material clasped around my neck and from it drapes gentle flowing fabrics of the same color with cuts in them so that my arms and shoulders and even a bit of my back, lays bare.
I have come to the realization that the clothings of the dragon realm are more revealing than those worn by my people, especially when, as Henette had so graciously announced, ‘the weather is rather humid’.
Should the royal house of Averia and its myriad of servants set eyes upon me now, they would be horrified.
It is almost funny to imagine the look on their faces.
And yet, I have never felt more beautiful.
As she did last time, Henette styles my hair in a loose bun, reddish orange strands falling daintily down to brush the base of neck.
I catch her expression in the mirror as she does this.
“You wish to ask something.” It is a statement not a question and she does not deny it.
“My que….Hera, does all of Averia have hair like yours or is it a gift of the gods belonging only to the royal house?”
I avoid her eyes in the mirror’s reflection, once again reminded of the lie I now had to uphold for the rest of eternity. I answer without truly answering “It is a gift.”
She finishes quickly.
“The hour for lunch is long past but if her majesty wishes, I shall have something brought up for you.”
I want to deny it, tell her I will wait for dinner but my stomach betrays me.
“I shall be but a moment.” She turns away and leaves the room but not before I catch her hiding a laugh at my noisy stomach.
I glide towards the window.
Now that my head no longer hurts, I am anxious to see the sunlight, feel its heat on my skin and think about something…anything else than him and what I had done in that bathtub only moments ago.
It doesn’t work.
Gods above, what had I been thinking?
Oh you know exactly what you were thinking. Want me to show you again, because I can? My mind chirps happily in response. …I don’t mind and you know you don’t either.
I also don’t even realize what I am doing, leaning out the window and craning my neck from side to side, my eyes sweeping over the busy castle grounds.
I am looking for him. I catch myself at the last second.
“Oh stop it Hera.”
Luckily, Henette’s reappearance saves me and my wandering eyes.
I sit on the bed as she drags in a cart with covered trays.
She uncovers it with a curtsy and a flourish. “Lunch is served you grace.”
If I hadn’t spent so many years slaving away in Averia’s kitchens, perhaps I would have been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food arrayed in front of me.
The delicious smells assault my nose and my mouth waters, my stomach growls louder.
Thick slices of freshly baked brown bread sit beside a bowl brimming with hot venison stew. Fruits and cheese arrayed in a small dish besides a platter of dates and raisins and roasted brown nuts. A tankard of honey mead brewed with spices and grapes and a jar of spiced warm wine.
I want to ask Henette to join me but I know she would only blush and act horrified again, so I don’t and she busies herself with some mundane task regarding my clothes.
I must have been hungrier than I realized for I eat it all, every last bite.
Henette observant eyes watch me closely.
Only when the deed is done do I realize my mistake but it is much too late by then.
Her eyes narrow slightly.
“You are not the princess of Averia are you?”
My heart drops to the floor.