Chapter Text
He summons her again for the third time today before the sun has reached its peak. She goes because she must, and because she expects it.
It has been several weeks since the new arrival, the new face and scent and sounds she can hear past the thick doors. He had shown interest in trying himself, despite her and the others affirming that his mother welcomed her fair share of help.
It is very difficult the first time.
She comes into their room with cloth.
“I’m sorry,” he says tiredly. He is sitting up on the bench outlooking a window, sleeping babe in hand, dark circles under his eyes.
“Please, my prince, do not apologize,” she mumbles, bowing.
She nods at Maeryn, who stands by the door unnerved. She wants to smack her.
Maeryn comes and opens her arms to take the babe from him. He hesitates for a brief moment, eyes darting back and forth. They can all see it but say nothing.
“Thank you,” he says weakly, once Maeryn has her secured in her arms.
“My prince,” Ellya says, nodding back to the chair.
He sits, back stiff and straight and proper, and lets her work.
What he wears is meant for this work, ribbons shorter and softer, easy to unlace and lace again at a moment’s notice. She wore one once, too, albeit significantly less ornate, less golden thread embroidered with that special craftsmanship. And it is a bit funny, that with her people the need can and will arise anywhere and it is all right and common, but with his it must be secreted, all that opulent thread put to waste and hidden away.
But it is all functional all the same. It is accessible and necessary.
It is very taxing to undress him every time, so they use cloth.
She goes as slow as she is able, not wanting to cause discomfort. When the two laces are loosened—not undone—she gently tugs the collar down.
He hisses when he is revealed.
She suppresses the urge to raise her brows in surprise. Such a small body but so hard at work. One would think he had done all he could after pushing her out, but he doesn’t seem to be done.
The bandages from earlier are now soaked through, and she makes quick work at removing them and replacing them with the clean ones. First she must wipe the area around them dry. She does not favour this part because his face is very still, like his mind is not in the room. Perhaps the perfunctoriness of it is off putting to him, for he is light in nature and she is not used to making jests.
She is used to work.
It has reached his upper chest, the slight curve. They are small, very soft-looking, fragile, very pink. She allows herself to think that they are sweet. She has aged, so her reflection no longer carries that same sweetness she used to see, having become more grounded, a little weary and persevering nevertheless.
She wipes a dry cloth over the curves, around the pink, the white fabric unchanging in colour, white on white. He breathes in controlled inhales and exhales, hitching only once when she does not give as wide a breadth around one as the other, closer to the centre than the outer petal.
He is a newly plowed field, seed planted months before and now the flowers are blooming, bearing fruit, too. Her job is to tend to them. She waters, feeds, keeps the animals away, tames the storms if she can manage it, cleans up the mess afterwards if she can’t.
A silent gardener, though none of it is hers.
“Are you all right, my prince?” she says softly.
He gulps and nods. Her heart feels for him. He is so young.
“If I may,” she says, placing new bandages on the bodice first, then slowly fastening the laces again.
“You need only ask.”
Prince Lucerys nods. He is uncertain. But that is what life is, after. Those few months when it leaves you like a haze, like an illusion you cannot wake from, or a conspiracy everyone else is part of except you. It is very isolating and very painful in the heart and mind, and she knows that even though she only knew it the once.
“Perhaps I may take you up on it,” he says, ducking his head. His hair is very long now and very beautiful.
She gives him a smile though he cannot see it. And when she stands to go, he stops her with a hand around her wrist and invites her and the other to come later for tea.