I was warm and and comfortable when my eyes first flickered open. The sheets were soft, the mattress holding my weight as though I was suspended in the air, and the cold morning breeze did not reach me where I lay tucked into warm covers.

I reached out to my side, wanting to turn to look at Demosthenes who I had spent the night with, only to find it empty.

It took me a moment to realise that I was alone in the bed. I was alone.

I shifted, slowly sitting up against the cushions behind me, still keeping myself cloaked in the sheets, trying to preserve the warmth that was left over from the both of us, the kind of warmth that I could not gather on my own.

My body was sore, all of it, in places I could feel sore muscles, the most odd place being my neck. I stretched as much as I could under the covers and my lower end ached, a deep throb making me flinch.

My face was warm.

The place was quiet and without the heavy presence of the King it somehow seemed like the most unassuming place on earth. In the late morning it seemed to still have that air of frozen peacefulness about it.

And yet I didn't want it to be that way. Bleary eyed and only just awake I wanted to seek out the King, the room that was filled with artefacts, baubles and overcrowded with colourful tapestries and gaudy silks somehow still managed to seem so immensely empty without him there.

It was as though none of the strange beautiful things in these rooms held any weight to them naturally, and yet when Demosthenes entered the room everything regained its intimidating price, worth more in his presence.

There was some noise outside the door, and I wanted to approach it to know what exactly was going on. It was then that I realised a servant was in the room, and that it was not empty.

It was just one servant but the fact that I had so carelessly missed a human presence caused my heart to lurch in my chest. I was normally very aware of the servants, over my time in this place I had slowly accustomed myself to the usual spots where servants placed themselves in the rooms, usually beside or in front of servant entrances, near the corners of the rooms, or beside the door.

The servant was tall with brown hair, and he was waiting to the complete left of the room, still as anything beside a very large empty vase and below a raised bust of Ares.

I swallowed, focussing on the spot, wishing for the shadows to disappear so I could prove to myself there was in fact a servant there.

It was just about dark enough that the room was still a little colourless, and just light enough that there were shadows in the room.

I kept staring and eventually sat up fully, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, turning once more to stare at the figure.

I was naked, and even the upper half of my form was enough to show the litter of marks Demosthenes had left behind. My heart raced as I grabbed a white sheet and curled it around myself in an attempt for modesty, though I knew my neck was marked far too strongly to hide.

"Good morning." I said quietly to them, feeling shy.

That was when they slipped up, if they were attempting to hide in any case, because they looked at me in surprise. Looking at me didn't change the stillness of their form or even turn their head an inch but there is a feeling one gets when one is looked upon, and I felt it.

I got out of the bed and flinched as there was a throbbing pain when I moved my legs too quickly.

I took a step closer.

And then another step.

I was still a significant distance from the man but my new angle presented better details of the man.

He was not dressed properly.

It was such a strange thing for me to notice, I had been here not all that long and the clothes themselves were still much of a mystery to me and yet I could see by observing the shadowy man that his shirt was tied back incorrectly and it caused a long crease in the front of it that almost looked correct.

I stood a moment in thought, just looking at him.

He is not a servant. No. But were he an assassin he would be doing a far poorer job than I could reasonably expect. If he was, and this blatant confidence was a part of his plan it was not simple enough an explanation for me to accept without something more to persuade me.

The King had left the room, and although I did not know why I assumed it was important. Not out of some self-serving vanity that he would not want to leave me, but because he, while being fleshed out as the hero of novels with the intelligence of a narrator, occurred to me as a very tired individual. Not least tired of life but at least of the title attached to his name.

It made sense to me that the King perhaps enjoyed myself so much because I was an outsider, whether he knew it or not, and as an outsider I was not fully indoctrinated into the world of kings and men.

"You are here to keep an eye on me?" I asked the man finally.

I saw his lips twitch but otherwise he did not respond. A servant would not respond this way.

I nodded. "I will leave you to it then..." I told him.

He was quiet and still enough that I might just forget that he existed here, but there was still something dangerous about him, even if I was, inexplicably, not worried at all.

I looked around the room for my clothes.

They were replaced with a set of clean clothes, clearly pressed with an iron and neatly folded. I saw the ends of the new over shirt were embroidered.

I would head back early, and dress as best as I could before leaving. Perhaps it would have made sense to ask the fake servant for some help but he was probably uncomfortable with me being aware of him already.

It was as I was dressing in front of the full length mirror and its golden frame with the roaring fighting lions, that I realised the clothes were specifically designed so that they could be worn appropriately without needing another pair of hands to tie it from behind.

Buttons, a great many of them and slightly tricky but such a simple replacement, evidence that the clothes to date were preserved by wilful conservatism and nothing much else.

I smiled warmly as I did the buttons up, beaming into my reflection.

I did not know why he had provided me with specially designed clothes like these but I was happy about it.

Finally I put on the over shirt, and saw that the embroidered border just an inch above the hem line was a row of trees. They looked coniferous, dark green with dark brown wooden trunk that appeared to be wrapped in another colour of wood, a lighter shade, and up the tree it ran spreading out branches of purple flowers that hung like grapes.

I liked it a lot, and when I looked in the mirror I saw that it looked very good on me. I could well imagine it on me with my face perfectly clean, the colour would look even better on me when my skin browned naturally during the summer.

Below the new clothes were my old ones, the ripped undershirt still there for me to hide in my arm, with flushed cheeks.

I headed towards the doors and they opened.

I realised now, that when I stepped in front of the door there was a slight oddity in the carpet beneath my feat. It was soft as normal and looked the same as the rest of the carpet but my footsteps sounded just a little bit louder.

It was my assumption that they had installed two or three planks, by the door, of wood that was more resonant than the rest of the room, so that the servants on the other side of the door would not be able to hear anything inside but would be able to hear footsteps approaching the door, or at least feel the vibrations somehow.

I saw the salt pot as I was about to leave. I was lucky I didn't try to hide it in the morning when the King had so cleverly had someone watching over the room when he left.

I turned back to face the corner and coughed in the thick silence.

"Ah- You... You have tied your shirt wrong, Sir..." I informed him, politely. "So you are aware and may alter it if you wish." I saw a fraction of movement where he was standing and said nothing more, bowed halfway and felt his eyes on me as I turned to leave.

Slowly, I headed off, my gait less natural than normal. Brushing the nicely fitted fabric as I headed down the roofed path.

I needed a wash. I would head straight for the bathhouse.

I brushed my neck as I walked and my neck tingled, and I remembered his lips on my neck biting and sucking at the sensitive skin. My hand trembled as I pulled it away, my heart racing.

My face was warm. So many marks, it would be difficult to hide them. I would have to wait for the bathhouse to empty...

[A/N] For those saying Elpis is dumb, he's not really dumb. He's intelligent, and while known to be calm and quiet is actually quite impulsive by nature even if this gets him in trouble.

♆ eatsyounu