You gently take off her crown, set it on the small table. You unbraid her hair, scratching her scalp to provide relief, careful to not make eye contact through the mirror. Then you unclasp her cloak. She’d come in looking even more exhausted than usual, even through her stoic face, and your heart aches for her as you step back. She never allowed anyone to undress her fully, or help her take a bath. Normally now she’d dismiss you and do the rest herself.