In the room, I was seated on the bed. The room is quiet and elegant, filled with soft light from tall windows draped in pale gold curtains. The walls are made of smooth stone, with gentle floral patterns and royal colors. In the center stands a large canopy bed, it's frame carved from dark wood, with light silk curtains that fall softly around it. The bed is layered with fine linens, soft furs and embroidered pillows. Near the window, a writing desk, simple but finely made with a silver ink set and a parchment placed on the top. A vase of fresh flowers adds a touch of life to the room, placed beside a lit candle that gives off a gentle scent of rose or lavender. at the other corner of the room, is a dressing table, a mirror right above it and a frame carved to hold jewelries and hairbrushes. A cushion bench rests at the foot of the bed, and a soft rug covering the stone cold floor. The room, twice the size compared to mine at Athens, is very warm and welcoming. Dorothy helped me pick out a night gown and robe from my wardrobe which was already fully packed with different kinds of dresses, while Cathy helped me get things ready for my bath.
The bathroom, calm and inviting is filled with soft natural lights that comes in through the window. It has a smooth marble floor design, at the center is a deep soaking tub, freestanding and white, a folded towel rests neatly at the edge, along with a small tray holding a candle, a bar of soap and a glass jar of bath salts.
"The water is just right, my lady," Cathy chirped, testing the temperature with a delicate hand. "Warm and fragrant, perfect for washing away the day's travels."
Dorothy nodded, a gentle smile on her face. "Indeed. Take your time, my lady. There's no rush here."
I offered them a grateful smile as I stepped into the warm water, feeling the tension in my shoulders begin to melt away. The bath salts released a subtle, floral aroma that filled the air, and the candlelight flickered softly, creating a tranquil ambiance. Cathy, with practiced ease, began to gently wash my hair, her fingers a soothing rhythm against my scalp. Dorothy, meanwhile, laid out a fresh, fluffy towel on a nearby stool.
After a long, relaxing soak, I emerged from the tub, feeling refreshed and surprisingly lighter. Cathy was there instantly, wrapping me in the soft towel. She gently helped me dry my hair, careful not to pull or tug.
"There you go, my lady," she murmured, a few minutes later, as my hair was no longer dripping wet. "Now for your gown."
Dorothy held out the nightgown and robe she had selected. It was a vision in pale, shimmering silk, the fabric so fine it seemed to float in the air. As I slipped it on, the material cascaded over my skin, cool and incredibly soft. The gown was cut to perfection, subtly clinging to my curves without being revealing, a graceful embrace that highlighted my silhouette. It was understated yet undeniably elegant, a testament to the skill of the court's seamstresses. The matching robe, equally light and silken, flowed around me like a whisper when I moved.
"It fits you splendidly, my lady," Dorothy said, her eyes admiring. "Truly, it was made for you."
"Your hair, my lady," Cathy offered, her hands already reaching for a brush. She began to gently comb through my damp strands, untangling them with care. Once free of knots, she skillfully gathered my hair, twisting it into a loose, comfortable braid that rested over my shoulder, perfect for sleeping.
Just as Cathy finished, a soft knock came at the door. Dorothy opened it, revealing a servant bearing a magnificent silver tray. The aroma of freshly prepared food wafted into the room.
"Your dinner, my lady," Dorothy announced, taking the tray. She set it on the small writing desk, moving the ink set aside.
On the tray sat a small, roasted quail, its skin glistening, alongside a mound of fluffy, seasoned grains and a small bowl of steamed green beans. A goblet of what looked like clear, pale wine stood beside a delicate, freshly baked roll. It was a simple yet wholesome meal, perfect for a quiet evening.
"We hope it's to your liking, my lady," Dorothy said, her voice soft.
"It looks wonderful, thank you both," I replied, feeling a pang of gratitude for their thoughtful care. As I began to eat, the warm, comforting food settled in my stomach.
Cathy lingered for a moment, then, with a shy smile, began, "My lady, there is something… we must inform you of."
I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth, a prickle of unease starting to form.
Dorothy stepped closer, her expression a little more serious. "It is customary, my lady, for the King to… to summon new wives to his chambers. My heart gave a sudden lurch. "Summon me? Tonight?"
Cathy nodded, her gaze empathetic. "It is a great honor, my lady. The King is most discerning in his choice of companions."
"He usually sends a messenger around this time," Dorothy added, glancing towards the door. "To let you know if he desires your company."
A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. So this was it. The reason for my presence here. I had known of course that my arrival as a wife was for sexual pleasures and all but i didn't expect it to be this sudden and soon. "Do not worry, my lady," Cathy said, as if sensing my growing discomfort. "We will make sure you are prepared, should he send for you."
"And we are here for anything you need," Dorothy added, her voice reassuring. "Now, we should leave you to your dinner. We will return in the morning."
With soft curtsies, they both exited the room, leaving me alone with my half-eaten dinner and a swirling maelstrom of thoughts. The quiet elegance of the room suddenly felt less comforting and more like a gilded cage. I pushed the food around on my plate, my appetite gone.
Please, I prayed silently, looking up at the high ceiling, please don't let him summon me tonight.
The thought of what lay ahead, of what could be a possible nightmare sent shivers down my spine. Would he be kind? Cruel? Would I be able to keep my composure, my dignity? Or would I crumble under the weight of this new reality? I pictured the King, the powerful man I had only seen from afar, his reputation preceding him. The possibilities, both terrifying and uncertain, played out in my mind, each scenario more daunting than the last. The gentle scent of rose and lavender from the candle, once calming, now seemed to mock my growing unease. I lay back on the bed, the soft furs and fine linens offering little comfort against the turmoil within. I must have drifted off at some point, the exhaustion of the day, combined with the emotional drain, finally pulling me into a restless sleep.