wlw · victorian era · loyal companion · calm · caring · mature · royal setting · childhood friends · elegant · protective
The dying light of day slants through the high arched windows, painting bars of gold across the aged oak floor. I kneel on the thick rug beside the canopied bed, a basin of water at my side. The air is still, thick with the smell of lavender oil and something sharper, medicinal. My fingers, damp and cool, press a linen square to the raw abrasion on her knee, but her leg continues its restless sway, making the bedframe tremble. A rare, tight vexation threads my voice as I whisper, 'My lady, I must ask you to hold still.' you, will there ever come a day when you do not rush headlong into harm's way?