Chapter Text
There was something captivating about the way he led his presence on the world. Maybe it was the soft sheen of his pearly complex under the sparkly moonlight or the way the tinted glass of the imposing windows served as the perfect brush to blend its colors on his figure; maybe the way the snakes that supported his being made him float across Anor Londo's Castle's marble floors on the secluded hallways he was allowed to traverse; maybe the way his voice elegantly, but fiercely, caressed each and every word that rolled off his tongue, escaping the pale lips that showed the slightest rose color.
She couldn't understand why, but his entire being, so formal and impeccably mannered, irradiated her with the most soothing of sensations, surpassing even that of his proud and magnificent Father now standing next to him.
During their very first meeting the servant felt herself immediately captivated, unable to understand the other servants' clear reluctance around him, only feigning regard due to the King's imposing presence in the hall they were gathered in.It almost seemed like they were in front of a monstrous contraption instead of the most gorgeous and delicate entity their eyes ever laid upon, his gentle aura contrasting the firmness of his character in a harmonious duality that only served to upheld him to his otherwordly features.
But it all was but a distant thought as she felt the way his sharp gaze scrutinized her bowed, reverent figure before him through his crown and brought shivers along her bent spine, expanding in the most electrifying sensation that erupted in the mid of her body as it engulfed it with such a singular euphoria that only accentuated when Gwyndolin, once back to his spot next to his Father after investigating each of the servants aligned in front of him, called her name and declared she'd be in charge of taking care of the everyday chores that correlated the closest to him.
And while relieved of not having to scrub huge sheets and complex fabrics that needed the upmost care like she did up until that day to the point of ruthlessly ruining the skin of her hands, the weight of such position nearly crushed that same spine she straightened back up after another bow of courtesy and reverence, a weight the wet, heavy fabrics and pottery she took care of could not nearly compare to.
In the beginning he felt so distant and unapproachable like always, even during the most invasive of tasks like helping him wear his garments, but with time, right in those same daily moments she slowly started discovering the person behind the precious attire.
Her gaze found him in the way he stretched as he woke up after the few hours he slept at night, in the way he would make himself as tiny as his tall height allowed him to be under the heavy duvet when the frisk morning's air filled his chambers as his now personal servant opened the windows to sink the room in the radiant sunrays of a new day that still oozed of the earthy scent of dew and the timid chirps of the first birds; in the way he would shiver as her cold fingertips accidentally grazed his soft skin during the clothing process with silent breaths and imperceptible gasps; in his little sighs when he finally lifted the imposing, heavy crown from his head after a long day to finally rest.
All little things, hints, that made her get an idea of the deity she was serving and how similar to a flesh carded human being he actually was, despite him being the embodiment of the moon that he so fiercefully rejected.
Another piece was added to the never ending puzzle that composed Gwyndonlin's person when one day, consumed by the way too few hours of sleep the deity needed to rest that inevitably led her to a long and uninterrupted streak of sleepless nights, not even the morning sun shining right on her face was enough to wake the young domestic from her deep slumber. The gratitude of not having to work back-breaking tasks in the castle was unquestionable and absolute, but it was impossible to not feel the effect of the rythm of such a tight sleep schedule building up exhaustion over her tenser and tenser shoulders everyday. It was the sudden realization of her delay that hit her like a cold shower as she bolted from the warmth of her bed's embrace and jumped in her clothes for the day, luckily prepared the night before, without sparing a care about braiding her hair in a practical and elegant hairdo like she usually did, instead stepping out of the room still tying her corset while running towards the deity's chambers approximately one hour late.
The lump in her throat stopped her breath as she tried to swallow it down, sweaty hands trembling as her knuckles gently hit the door in a couple of soft knocks and his voice immediately invited her in with his usual firm and solemn tone that carried with it the unforgiving harshness of what she felt was the inevitable fall back to wash those impossibly heavy blankets, if not worse and completely losing her job only leaving a dent in her working career that would have been beyond repair.
She swallowed nervously, teeth digging into her lower lip as she took her first strides into the bedroom, eyes fixated on her own still bare feet as his glacial gaze pierced through her form, the snakes at the end of his legs hissing at her before instantly stopping.
"Raiseth thy gaze, Servant of the Dark Moon."
His voice stern as it echoed in the room, rumbling in her whole tense body only fueling the feeling of deep desire to slap herself for messing up so gravely while working for the gods of Lordran since Gwyn was not exactly known for his mercy. The infinite implications playing over and over in her head in those mere short moments in front of his Son.
She hesitantly obeyed noticing his still bare skin in doing so, while slowly revealing her worn out features contorted in the upmost shame and frustration she couldn't really mark at that point.
And it had been only a few moons, she were pretty sure that move costed her position.
"Thou art very not restful, aren't thee?"
That sudden question caught her completely off-guard and all she could do was barely bow without losing balance at the intensity of the gesture. "I'm fine, mine own Lord, 'twill never happen again, I'm sorry for-"
"I hath asked thee a question. Reply. And raiseth thy chin."
She bit her lip once more to silence any protest, face red as a beet as she lifted her head to face him again, slowly nodding at the deity still bare between the soft folds of the duvet on his bed. "I... I can't deny it's starting to sore to respect this sleep schedule..." The woman admitted looking away, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
The young man seemed to attentively ponder his words before speaking again, gazing down at her smaller and now visibly fatigued build.
"Thee needeth to rest. From now on, after thou cameth helping with mine own morning grooming, wend and recovereth for however long thou needeth."
He shushed her before the words could even form on the tip of her tongue, noticing the way she opened her mouth in response to his directions.
"Questioneth not these words, thou art human and needeth it. Now, wend and cometh back find me at which hour thee recovered, I expecteth thee in thy best shape for lunch."
With that, he dismissed her without accepting another single word from his servant, stupor written all over the face of the young domestic as she slowly walked back to her room and got back into bed.
And the blessing she felt in having been graced by the chance of unveiling yet another little piece of her young lord lulled her back to a restful, restoring slumber.