Daily sketch #189 // Pandora's box: Royal bath (Patreon)

Hey guys,

Today's sketch was a little delayed, because Aksan wrote a little lovely addition to it <3
Featuring the thane enjoying a hot bath and some nice views...

I hope you also enjoy the short story Aksan wrote to expand on this scene.
I love it!

_________________________

She tipped another large jug of water into the bath. It was full now, but needed regular topping off as the steam filled the room. She realised the bath’s occupant was watching her, those glowing purple eyes glancing between her eyes and her bust as she leant over. The attention had her blushing and she glanced down to her pouring. Across the steaming water her lord chuckled and rose, propping himself on the side by his elbows.

“What’s your name?” he asked in his deep rumbling voice.

“Vik-Viktoria,” she answered demurely.

“Viktoria,” he repeated, enjoying the name. “Stay a little longer, I doubt the water will disappear too quickly?”

“Of course, my lord.” She stood still now holding the huge empty jug of water, unsure what to do with herself as those eyes flicked over her.  “I should really congratulate you on your victory today, my lord.”

“Must you?” he chuckled, “Everyone seems to insist on it.”

She looked flustered and his huge head tipped gently to one side.

“Have we not properly met before?”

“I don’t believe we have, my lord.”

“My sincere apologies then, my dear Viktoria,” he said and she trembled at the kind address, “I always try to give all my staff a chance to get to know me if they wish.”

“Very, very kind of you, my lord,” Viktoria said nervously, relaxing and able to meet his gaze again.

“Did you, perchance, see the duel?” he said and rolled out his huge shoulders.

“I did not, my lord,” she said softly, “Only heard the highlights from the other girls, but I think they’re having me on, claiming you cut . . . a . . . horse in--”

He smiled a little self-consciously.

“You didn’t!?” she exclaimed and gasped. Catching herself she added, “My lord.”

He chuckled. “I did, I’m afraid.”

“Oh no, so the bit with the spit and the fire?” she asked nervously. Her knuckles white as they held the jug.

He nodded softly and returned to that awkward smile.

“Those images are going to haunt my sleep tonight,” she said, her pretty blue eyes wide.

“I am very sorry, my dear.” His tail swished and the water swirled. Smoke slowly poured from his nostrils and floated out over the water. As it reached her side of the bath it rolled around her ankles, a soothing, grounding warmth. The scent of him and his smoke reached her as his gaze drifted back out over the bath. She picked out a sharp note at first, something not unlike lightning or perhaps the sea. Cherry wood smoke, sweetness over rich oak. Her hands relaxed and the invasive images were dismissed by the scene before her.

It took her a moment to fully return to her senses. But he remained there, as calm as a statue. When he finally turned back to her she shivered again. Unnervingly in so many ways.

“M-my lord,” she began nervously, “This can’t be how you celebrate a victory? A long bath talking to the staff.”

“Whyever not, my dear Viktoria?”

“Surely we aren’t worth your time, my lord?” she asked with a mix of fact and hope making for an intriguing hook. By the flicker of his bright, glowing eyes towards her she knew he’d caught it well.

“I’ve met lords and ladies not worth the time of day, kings not worth the air they breathe, and commoners with whom I have spent time as beautiful and memorable as the Caerulean Mountains themselves. Worth and station are vaguely connected at best.”

“So this is how you intend to celebrate, my lord?” she asked eventually, smiling warmly.

“Perhaps it is this time.”

“What would you usually do then, my lord?” she asked softly. Realising she still held the large jug she felt a little awkward and looked for somewhere to place it. “All the usual fare, food, wine, women?”

“I guess so, well . . .” he began, turning to her, “The feast is later so that will cover food, wine I’ve never seen the appeal of, women however . . . Yes, women are very much my traditional celebration.”

Intense heat flooded her cheeks as she began to catch his drift and looked up from her search. The brooding energy that had welcomed her into the room had given way to something else entirely and it encouraged her as she reciprocated what he’d been up to all evening. Slowly her blue eyes tracked over his huge muscled form, the beautiful glistening scales.

Her eyes tracked down to his loins. Her whole body seemed to tremble for a moment. The jug shattered into pieces on the stone floor. Neither of them cared.