Sera shuts the door behind her with a sigh. It was an all-to-familiar room, containing the dark mahogany desk, chairs backed with heavy embroidery, the bed with its silky curtains that looked fit for a princess-. Actually, fit for a queen, since this was the Queen's room.

This would be her 2nd night spent here. Her heart beat a pitter-patter against her ribcage. Lucien would be right next door, their physical distance so close to each other, when she felt like their hearts were far apart.

After leaving Lucien behind in the bath, she'd gone to the servant's quarters, not sure where to go next. Most servants were there, preparing for bed. The main halls of the castle were mainly silent, save for the creaking leather and clanking of metal of the occasional soldier that patrolled the halls.

At first, her first thought was to look for Bea. That idea was nixed as quickly as it came. It wasn't an option, since she would have already gone home to her family in the city by this time.

"Miss Sera?"

They were in the room where all the servants gathered each morning. It was also the room containing the giant board listing the jobs for the day, messy chalk writing behind Portia and a few other girls, who curtsey to her in their nightwear. Their wet hair fresh from the baths, each one has a look of surprise on their face.

"Hello, Portia" Sera gives a small smile.

"Would you know where I could spend the night?"

"I was told you would be staying in the castle."

Portia shifts awkwardly from one foot to another.

She draws closer to Sera, one arm around her shoulder and smiling like they're sharing a secret. Portia didn't want the other maids to know what they were talking about.

"Miss Hilda said you were to stay in the Queen's room." She whispers.

Confused, Sera asks her in a low voice.

"Is that really alright? Aren't I just a maid?"

The other maids titter behind Portia, their body language, bodies faced away from Portia and Sera, giving away their restlessness to leave.

"All the rooms here are full with the new servants for the wedding..and since you've become the King's Maid, methinks it's better for you to stay there.." 

"Portia! The wine will get warm-"

One of the maids holds up a basket, containing a wine bottle and wedges of cheese. Looks like Sera was interrupting girls' night. She was still new here, and she didn't want to cause any trouble for Portia with her presence here.

"Sorry for interrupting you all. Thank you Portia, for letting me know. Have a nice evening!" Waving to the girls, she gives a awkward smile and leaves.

She was the King's Maid. Just take it like she was a live in maid, taking care of this room for the next Queen, was the conclusion she came to. No need to think deeply on it. It would only confuse her.

Her dress was still wet from bathing Lucien, soaked with bath water and her sweat. The light fabric weighed heavily on her body, pulling her shoulders down. It was another eventful day. It would be nice to go in a hot, steaming bath, but alas, she didn't know where the baths were, or if they were still open. Sera made do with wiping herself down with a a basin of water someone kindly left behind, and pushes down her dress, off her shoulders glistening with moisture. Finding one of her old nightgowns in a dresser, she slips it over her head, dives into the duvet, and falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

_________________________________________________________________

Sera wakes to a sense of deja-vu as light knocking draws her from sleep, and Hilda's outside the door with another marvelous dress. Today it was a light blue dress, silky and form-fitting, but functional with the long sleeves, that didn't trail everywhere like it did for the noblewomen.

They don't speak after exchanging pleasantries, and Sera is left alone after dressing to go to next door to Lucien's room to wake him up. There was no way she would enter the room through the connecting door between their rooms. She was a maid. She would do things properly. Going out the door of the room and heading down the hall to the next door over, she lightly knocks, copying the way Hilda's done it.

No response. Adjusting the basin of warm water on her hip, given to her by Hilda, Sera gives a firmer rap on the door. Still no response.

Gathering her courage, she tries the knob. It opens, and she enters the room, filled with sunlight, and Lucien. He's topless again, fitted pants molding to his tight thighs, sword in hand as he moves from one stance to another. Setting the basin on the small table against the wall, Sera watches him, enthralled.

This used to be one of the things she loved to do most, to watch Lucien train. His face was completely blank, smoothed of expression like a doll as his muscles flexed and rippled. The sword made whooshing sounds as it danced around, light glancing off the well-maintained blade.

It was like she was back on that hill behind the laundry tents, where she'd found Lucien training by himself in the wee hours of the morning. He was still a young prince then, arms and legs long and awkward. His movements not as refined, nor experienced.

It was before they'd fallen in love, when they still fought each other, but Sera was drawn to him even then as she watched him in secret. She saw Lucien's desperation to prove himself to his fellow soldiers, to become powerful enough to protect his men. He would stay at it even as the skin on his hands broke, even when injured from the latest battle. Practicing the moves over and over, adjusting his grip and throwing his shoulders back. He knew that just being talented with a sword wasn't enough. So that none of his men would die before him, he had to become the strongest.

To see Lucien like this now, 5 years later, Sera was one of the few that knew how much Lucien grew over the course of the Great Battle. His talent with the sword, in combination with tenacious practice and grit, had turned him into one of the greatest fighters. The Azark forces grew to fear him, ending the battle quickly as soon as he appeared in battle.

In his room now, Sera could see he never gave up perfecting his sword. Before she left, he'd grown to become an accomplished fighter, skill and experience turning him into a force to be reckoned with. His movements were even sharper now, his sword becoming like a living extension of himself. He was deserving of the name, the Red King. Lucien had transformed from being a amazingly skilled fighter into a bringer of death. There was no one who could survive when faced with his blade.