GOLDHEART: "Wash me."
From Create Your Own Story
You nod and strip off your uniform coat and shirt, revealing your bare chest. Your body is lean and hard from training, but your skin is pale and unblemished by scars. You try to hide your blush as you gather up supplies to wash your lord, not from propriety, he owns that from you, but from how small and inferior you feel you look before such a man. Your still so young and green, insignificant in the face of this warrior of a hundred battles.
With soap and cloth in hand you kneel on a footstool beside the tub and begin to wash his skin. The soap slides slickly over his swelling chest muscles, his dark skin wet and glistening as you work it over with a cloth. He groans appreciatively, and you feel something hot and prickly tingle inside of you briefly. You cover your shame by continuing to work diligently.
"Tommorow we lead the charge. The Seige has gone on far too long and it is called upon us to end it quickly." You continue to work but your heart constricts, all of this waiting and the battle finally comes to it's head in a days time; you can't help but feel nerves take over. "I wish there was more time but the longer we wait the longer the people suffer under this conflict, and such is inexcusable. Tommorrow we shall see who the fates favor."
Suddenly one of his big rough hands clasps over yours, the one holding the soap. His other hand reaches up and grasps your chin, leaning in close, his voice quiet.
"I would trust no other soul more to accompany me into the heat of war. You are a fine lad Hero Goldheart and no finer Page serves in the King's army..."
Your breath catches as you look into his serious blue eyes, close enough to feel his hot breath on your face. His fingers, slick with soap suds, touch your face with such gentleness...
He breaks the gaze and releases you, standing, revealing the whole of his body. Water rains from his muscles and rivulets run down his chest in hot rivers. He almost seems to be made of bronze in the torch light, gleaming brightly.
"I will retire now..." he says in a deep voice. "I will see you in the morning. Prepare for an early rally." With that he dons his robe and exits the bath tent into the main sleeping quarter.
You sit there, skin moist with steam, feeling a strange tingling nervousness, watching him leave.
