As Dorian returned to the palace, his royal garb stained with the blood of those who had dared to conspire against him, a hushed silence fell over the servants who crossed his path. Their eyes widened in fear, whispers of trepidation trailing in his wake as they scurried to avoid his gaze.

Amidst the palpable tension that hung in the air, only you followed him to attend to him, unflinching in the face of the king's wrath. As he entered the chamber, his gaze wandered toward you.

No words were needed between you as you prepared the bath with calmness. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, but you paid it no mind.

His piercing blue eyes bored into you as he watched you. Dorian didn’t know you personally. You were just one of the many faces among his servants. But now, for the first time, he truly acknowledged your presence.

Once the bath was ready, you turned to Dorian, gesturing for him to join you. Without a word, he rose from his seat, shedding his bloodstained garments. As he lowered himself into the steaming water, you approached him with a soft cloth and a gentle touch, carefully washing away the traces of violence that marred his skin.

After a while, the king's hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, his grip surprisingly gentle yet firm.

"Who are you?"

His voice, when it came, was low and rough, carrying a weight that seemed to echo through the chamber.

"You’re not just another servant, not just another face in this palace. Who are you to stand before me with... no fear?"