Laranthel awoke before his new bride and hovered over her as she slept quietly, peacefully. He felt his resentment rise and he nearly took his hands and wrapped them around the little vixen’s neck. Damned Nyxean bitch! He thought as the pampered little princess snored away. He let his anger pass and sighed, defeated. At least she rides well, he thought. It was a small bit of solace in this dire situation he found himself in. Deciding Mythiara had rested enough, Laranthel reached down and began to shake her awake.
“Myth—,” he paused. “My Lady!” Laranthel reached down and gently shook Mythiara awake.
“Hmm, what? Stop shaking me, what?” She swatted at Laranthel’s hand, but he continued to shake her. “STOP SHAKING ME I’M AWAKE!” She sat up and focused her attention on Laranthel, looking more sleepy than annoyed.
“I need a bath, how would I go about getting one,” asked Laranthel, trying his best not to smile. He didn’t expect Mythiara to react the way she did, it was surprisingly hilarious.
She stared at him, the cogs in her head slowly beginning to turn. “I have a private one that we’ll use in a moment,” replied Mythiara with a yawn. “I’m surprised, I thought you’d be a bit more anxious right now.”
Mythiara pushed the covers off herself and crawled over to the window. She moved the curtains covering the window aside, allowing the blue light emanating from somewhere in the sky to fully illuminate the room. She then folded up, pulling her knees to her chest, and clasping her hands together around them. She sat like that for a while, examining Laranthel with her head tilted and a look of curiosity on her face. He returned her gaze, looking deeply into her red eyes while trying to predict what she was thinking. He couldn’t of course, he had just met her yesterday and spent most of their time together beneath her. There wasn’t much he could glean about her personality from such a position.
“Would you consider yourself a smart person, Laranthel,” asked Mythiara cutting through the silence.
Laranthel considered her question, then responded: “Yes, I would.”
“I think you’re smart as well, smart enough to do what you’re told, to follow the rules. I also think you’re strong, strong enough to endure the road here at least.” She moved closer to Laranthel, leaning in so close their noses nearly touched. “Haha, look at that face! You hate me, don’t you?”
Laranthel turned his gaze away, “Not necessarily.” Vexingly, the hate he bore Mythiara was laced with some appreciation. Despite his misgivings, the night they shared together helped him clear the fear and anxiety from his mind. The hatred and sadness remained however, but these emotions didn’t cloud his thoughts and actions as much.
“That’s good,” she said seriously. “Because you and I are linked now. My safety is your safety, and your ability to do well here is what will ensure we continue to live comfortably in this place, in Nxyea. Oh, don’t look so sad.” Mythiara took Laranthel’s chin and turned his gaze toward her.
“Oh please,” said Laranthel moving to brush her hand away. She giggled and the two went back to silently staring at each other.
“Come, let’s go get cleaned up. We’ll talk some more in the bath.”
Mythiara turned and stood up from the bed, walked over to a wardrobe standing directly across from the foot of the bed and began to pick through it. Most of the clothing inside looked like casual attire, a princess probably had a whole room dedicated to expensive dresses, thought Laranthel.
“My lady, it occurs to me that I have no other clothes besides the outfit given to me by your sisters when they brought me into the compound.” Laranthel’s belongings were confiscated when he was abducted, and he wore two different pairs of clothes for two months on his way to Nokros. He really did not want to slip into the same outfit he wore yesterday, even if it was cleaner than anything he had worn in a while.
“Don’t worry about that, someone will dress you when we get out of the bath,” responded Mythiara. She pulled a loose-fitting yellow dress from the wardrobe and tossed it over her head, pushing her arms through its short sleeves. “Just throw on your pants or something from yesterday, Nokros isn’t a city of modesty. I can guarantee you you’ll be seeing naked bodies all the time in the years to come.”
“Ah yes, years.” Laranthel shook his head and rose from the bed. He found the cuffed pants he had worn yesterday and pulled them on, then decided against belting the pants around his hips in favor of holding them up with his left hand. He had lost a good amount of weight since he left home. Maybe even twenty pounds.
“Oh, don’t go losing your nerve now,” teased Mythiara from the front of her wardrobe. She shut the wardrobe’s wooden doors and moved over to the counter beside it.
There, an assortment of brushes, small boxes, and drawers sat above and beneath a stone slab that was placed into the wall. She pulled a hand mirror out of one of the drawers below and began to examine herself. It looked like she wanted to make sure there weren’t any hickeys or bruises on her face. Such blemishes on a princess would certainly be unseemly. Laranthel got u and stood behind her, an impatient look on his face. Mythiara caught it in her mirror as she was looking over herself and smiled.
“Alright follow me,” Mythiara set the mirror down and left her room, Laranthel in tow. The two crossed through her little reading room and out into the red carpeted stone hallways of the Helana’s citadel compound.
They passed through vaulted hallways adorned with statues of the dark goddess Nyxa as well as some figures Laranthel didn’t recognize, although by the looks of them they were probably Mythiara’s ancestors. They each had an uncanny resemblance to her mother. Finally, they came upon a large red wooden door set in between the grey stone bricks that made up the Helana compound.
“Strange, there are usually servants around at this time...” Mythiara pushed open the red door and the two newlyweds stepped into the princess’s personal bathroom. Inside the floor was made of white marble. Four large mirrors covered each of the room’s walls, and a bath the size of a small pool lay buried in the center of the room, empty. “Well, get to work husband. I trust you know how to fill and heat a bath? I’ll do you a favor just this once and go get towels since you don’t yet know where those are, but in the future that too will be your responsibility when the servants aren’t around.”
Before Laranthel could question her, Mythiara had disappeared through the door they had entered from, leaving Laranthel alone in the spacious bathroom. He walked over to one of the massive round mirrors covering the bathroom walls. He was skinny, much of his muscle had gone, but he seemed to be slightly taller than he remembered.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“At least it isn’t all bad,” he muttered to himself. He walked over to the pool like tub and searched for a lever to start pumping in order to get the water running. He couldn’t find one, nor any crystals to use to heat the water. Great, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to find me here just standing around or having filled the tub improperly. Laranthel shrugged, willing to take whatever punishment Mythiara would dish him, hoping it wasn’t any worse then getting whipped or struck by her sisters. Meganira was especially gracious with her whip during the journey from Elysimyra to The Land of Night, the thought made Laranthel shudder.
After a few more moments of searching Laranthel found two fancy shaped valves near the tub’s spout. He had assumed it was just a place to hook the tubs cork, since it hung dangling from the valve. Upon fiddling with one of the valves, water began to spring forth from the spout.
“Interesting.” Laranthel ran his hands under the water, it was warm. “Amazing!”
He took the bath cork and placed it into the drain then watched as the tub began to fill with hot, steamy water. Near the end of this process, Mythiara appeared behind Laranthel with two servants in tow. They looked to be around the same age as Laranthel, but it was hard for him to really tell. Night Children, or Nxyean’s as they called themselves, stopped aging physically around their twenties and remained youthful in appearance until their death came. There, all the years caught up at once, putting a ruthless end to their long lives. Both were the same height as Mythiara, but daintier in frame. Laranthel had to stop himself from squirming under their gaze, the two women wore crimson tunics and shorts that ended high at the thigh. Laranthel felt like he was about to be tested. Mythiara stepped forward and allowed her dress to fall from her shoulders, then walked over to the tub and dipped the toes of her right foot inside.
“Tsk, its too hot,” She walked over to where Laranthel was crouched and grabbed him by his hair.
“Here we go,” he muttered under his breath. Mythiara forced Laranthel into the tub by his hair, kicking him in completely when he started to resist.
The water was hot, being forced into it burned for a moment, but Laranthel found it was no warmer than his usual baths as he floundered around for a brief second. He righted himself, spitting out some of the water that had gotten into his mouth.
“I for one, think the water is fine Princess!” Laranthel smiled up at Mythiara whose face was impassive.
“Get me my soaps and shampoo, the Vanilla too,” said Mythiara to her two attendants. They nodded and walked over to the mirrors, pulling them open and revealing the shower products within. Mythiara dipped another toe in and let out an exasperated sigh. “It really is too hot you dog!”
She used that same foot to kick water up at Laranthel. He sat in the tub unfazed, doing his best to disassociate himself from the ridiculous situation.
“I’m truly sorry my Lady,” Laranthel cooed apologetically. “I’ve never heard of a bath that makes hot water on its own. Usually, we’d use a heating crystal to warm the water, and pump it ourselves.” Mythiara glowered at Laranthel unsatisfied with his answer.
“One of you, get down there and teach my nascent husband how to work a bath!” Mythiara crossed her arms and continued to glower at Laranthel. He couldn’t tell if she was truly angry or if she was just putting on a show. The motivations behind such an action were lost on him, but if she wasn’t going to beat or whip him, he wasn’t going to prostrate himself.
One of the girls sent to retrieve Mythiara’s desired items walked over to the princess, deposited a glass of white cream beside her then moved to the side of the tub where the valves lay.
“Come here my l—,” she paused and looked over to Mythiara. She had no idea what to call Laranthel. A male, even a favored consort, was a rare thing to find in a high Lady’s quarters, even rarer to find him bathing with said Lady. Now Laranthel sat before her holding a title no male had held for centuries. She was at a complete loss.
“Just call him whatever you would call any other male noble,” said Mythiara looking over at the servant. She nodded.
“Sir Halana, this valve on the right releases hot water, the one on the left releases cold water.” She turned the cold-water valve to demonstrate her point, releasing cool water into the bath.
“Sir Halana?” Mythiara and the other servant cackled at the girl’s words. “Well husband? Is that what you would like to be called from now on? Sir Helana?”
Laranthel did not like the title at all. He didn’t mind them referring to him by his mother’s last name, but this felt like a slight to his parents. He knew if he protested Mythiara would continue to call him by this moniker, so he decided to accept the title for now.
“I think it suits me,” Laranthel replied coolly. “A fair name from a fair lady.”
Mythiara rolled her eyes. “Well, it isn’t your name, and I am not your lady. The sooner you understand that the better.” She dipped her toe in the tub as the cold water continued to run and nodded her head in satisfaction. “This is how I like it. Remember this feeling Laranthel, or I will have to dunk your head in and out of this water until you do,” declared Mythiara before stepping into the bath. “Turn the faucet, right opens it left closes it.”
Laranthel followed Mythiara’s instruction, turning the valve the servant had used leftward, causing the cold water pouring from the bath faucet to cease. He was still amazed at the marvel of technology, but kept his excitement hidden, lest Mythiara grow angry. Mythiara submerged herself in the bathwater than reemerged second later, flipping her wavy white hair over her head and running her hands through it. She then waded over to where the glass of white cream sat and took it into her hands, began beating globs of the substance into her hands.
“Hair cream, ever heard of it, anamvos?” Mythiara sneered as she spat the last word, it was the term used for Night Children captured from outside of Hollsar, the local name for the Land of Night.
“I have,” Laranthel replied, his tone as cool as it had been during this whole strange situation.
“Come here.”
Mythiara moved toward Laranthel, and he waded over to meet her. He realized he hadn’t stripped out of his pants yet and decided to slip them off when he got in front of Mythiara. She watched him pull each leg from the soaked garments impatiently then began to coat his curly blue-black hair in the gooey white cream she had put on her hands.
“Stop moving,” she breathed as Laranthel struggled under her ministrations.
“Why are you doing this? This is strange.” Laranthel stood crouched in the bathwater impassively as Mythiara applied the hair cream onto his head. He thought she was going to force him to comb and treat her hair, but apparently, he was mistaken.
“I like my belongings to be groomed in a certain way, now stop asking questions.” She continued to rub the cream into his head, roughly massaging the product into his scalp. “Listen to me, there is much I need to go over and I do not like to repeat myself.”
Laranthel nodded his head as Mythiara pulled her hands away, apparently satisfied with her work. “I’m listening, my Lady.”
“I quite like how quickly you’ve taken to calling me that, but anyways,” Mythiara cleared her throat in preparation for a long speech. “For the next three months you and I will be joined at the hip like scabbard and sword. I am to teach you what it means to be a prince and a slave, and you are to learn your place here in Nokros and in Nyxea. You will learn how you ought to dress, a male’s place in our rituals, how to make evening offerings, how to conduct yourself around other men, and paramount above all, how to act in the presence of a matriarch. Once that is finished you and I will separate for a time. You will be sent to the Kynotoro to be trained with your fellow anamvos and I will go to Nicesa to become a priestess.
Sadly, my poor husband, when that time comes, we shall only meet for two days every three weeks. This is of course to make a child to secure my spot as my mother’s heir.” Mythiara leaned into Laranthel’s ear when she finished the sentence and said: “But between you and me, I’d like to delay the responsibilities of being a mother for a while longer. I’m sure you probably agree.” She pulled away and placed her hands on Laranthel’s shoulders, then turned his body so that he was now facing her. “We’ll discuss this further as we go through your education.”
Having concluded her lecture, she ordered her servants to bring to her brushes, soaps, oils, and scents as she went through the grueling and meticulous process of cleaning and moisturizing herself and Laranthel. All in all, it seemed like they had spent hours in the tub before she completed her task, which ended with Laranthel being whisked away by another pair of servants to be dressed. It seemed he was in for an eventful day.
