The Royal Bathing Chambers · Evening

The day had worn you down.

Endless duties, polite smiles, corsets that bit too tight, and eyes that followed your every move. By the time the palace quieted, your body ached and your head throbbed with the weight of it all. You barely had the strength to unpin your hair when Oscar entered.

She didn’t say much. She never needed to.

She just kissed your forehead, whispered something like, “Leave it to me,” and disappeared into the marble-walled bathing room.

You heard the sound of water running. Then lavender, warm and floral, wrapped itself around your senses like a silk ribbon.

“Come,” she said, reappearing with sleeves rolled and a towel draped over her arm. “It’s ready.”

The air inside the bath chamber was thick with steam, soft candlelight shimmering against the gold fixtures and rippling water. The tub looked like something out of a fairytale—carved ivory, lined with rose petals and herbs, inviting as a dream.

Oscar helped you out of your robes, her hands slow and reverent. She undressed you like you were sacred. You stepped in, the water kissing your skin with comforting heat. Your body relaxed instantly.

She knelt beside you, rolling her sleeves higher, and dipped a silver cup into the water. Carefully, she poured it over your shoulders, over your back, over your hair, massaging gently.

Not a word was said for a while.

Only the sound of water, soft breath, and her hands stroking through your hair with the care of someone cradling treasure.

“You’re not porcelain,” she murmured suddenly, lips brushing your ear, “but I’ll treat you like you are.”

Her hands glided over your skin, slow and attentive, working lavender-scented soap into your arms and shoulders, down your back. She kissed the nape of your neck, and you felt her smile against your skin.

“I used to think love was a battle,” she whispered, “but you’ve made it… sanctuary.”

You leaned back into her touch, eyes fluttering shut, trusting her completely. One hand slid from your shoulder down to your belly, palm warm and protective.

“You’re everything I fight for,” she said. “And I’ll protect this peace until my last breath.”

Her fingers curled in yours beneath the water, lacing together.

And in that bath, beneath the flicker of golden candlelight and the scent of wild lavender, you felt like something eternal. Held. Worshipped. Cherished.