The next day unfolded in a familiar pattern of comings and goings. First came Emma, whose gentle and bubbly demeanor filled the room with a lightness that Anagan found surprisingly tolerable. Today, he felt a bit calmer, the weight of the previous night's turmoil easing, if only slightly.
Emma, ever cheerful, approached with a smile that seemed to brighten even the dullest corners of his mind. "Good morning, sir," she chirped, setting down a tray of breakfast that Anagan barely glanced at.
"I'm not hungry," he muttered, pushing the tray away with a weak wave of his hand. But Emma, unbothered by his dismissal, merely grinned.
"Honestly, sir, it's probably for the best. This meal looks about as appetizing as the king's dirty boots." She winked, and Anagan couldn't help the small, reluctant smile that tugged at his lips. The image was absurd, and for a moment, it chased away the dark thoughts that had settled in his mind.
As they talked, Emma noticed the way Anagan fidgeted, tugging at the collar of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable in his attire. Without hesitation, she moved to his wardrobe, flipping through the clothes with a thoughtful hum.
"These won't do at all, will they?" she said, more to herself than to him. "Let me see what else we have." After a few moments, she returned with a selection of clothes that were softer, simpler—less reminiscent of the king's opulence. When Anagan saw them, his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
"Thank you," he murmured, surprised by the sincerity in his own voice.
Emma beamed, pleased with herself. "Anytime, sir. We'll have you feeling more like yourself in no time."
The afternoon brought Aubra, whose bold, no-nonsense attitude contrasted sharply with Emma's lightheartedness. As usual, Aubra insisted that Anagan eat, and this time, she wasn't taking no for an answer. She stood by his side, her arms crossed, watching him with a stern but caring gaze as he took each bite.
"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" she teased lightly, though her eyes remained serious. "You need your strength, sir."
There was something about Aubra's motherly aura that soothed Anagan in a way he couldn't quite explain. Her presence was grounding, a firm but gentle anchor in the storm that raged within him.
After he finished eating, Aubra began tidying up, her movements calm and deliberate. "How did you sleep last night?" she asked, her tone casual but with an underlying concern.
Anagan hesitated, his discomfort evident in the way he shifted in his seat. "I… I didn't sleep well," he finally admitted. The memory of the night before flashed in his mind, the anger, the fear, the sight of Emrys's confused and concerned face. "I don't feel comfortable with my night servant."
Aubra paused in her cleaning, turning to look at him with a thoughtful expression. "Emrys, right? He's a good lad, but I'd wager he's just as uncomfortable with you, sir."
Anagan's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it's not every day someone like him is tasked with looking after someone as… complicated as you, if you don't mind me saying so. He's likely just trying to do his job, same as the rest of us. He means no ill will, sir."
A pang of guilt settled in Anagan's chest. He hadn't considered that Emrys might be just as out of his depth as he was. The memory of his harsh words and the books he'd thrown flashed in his mind, and he felt a twinge of regret.
"I… I see," he said quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands. Aubra's words had given him a new perspective, one that made him feel ashamed of his outburst.
Aubra stepped closer, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "We're all here to help you, sir. That's all we want—to see you well."
Anagan nodded, though the guilt still lingered. "Thank you, Aubra."
"Anytime, sir," she replied, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before returning to her tasks.
As the day went on, Anagan couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. He was beginning to realize that the servants weren't his enemies, but people trying to do their best to help him, despite the impossible situation they were all in.
————
The approaching night made Anagan uneasy, as Aubra left one last time, he knew that he'd have to face Emery's uncanny face. The knock came steadily and Anagan breathed in sharp, he shut his eyes trying to brace himself, but he was taken a back by Emrys, who wore a plain copper mask.
"Hello sir, I've drawn the bath," his voice slightly muffled behind the metal.
"What…what's on your face?" Anagan couldn't help but be confused by the accessory.
"You seemed troubled by my appearance sir, I wanted to make you more comfortable. If this displeases you I can leave you be tonight as well,"
Anagan tried not to fidget as he shook his head.
"No, no, it's…tolerable…"
Anagan watched as Emrys moved about the room with a quiet grace, preparing everything with a meticulousness that spoke of his desire to serve well despite the tension between them. The copper mask, though strange, made it easier for Anagan to distance himself from the resemblance to the king. He still felt a tight knot of discomfort in his chest, but it was less suffocating than before.
Emrys approached cautiously, holding out a soft towel. "The bath is ready whenever you are, sir."
Anagan hesitated, his eyes flicking to the doorway, where he could easily escape. But something in Emrys's gentle demeanor, the careful way he kept his distance, convinced him to stay. He nodded, taking the towel without meeting the servant's eyes.
As he undressed and sank into the warm water, Anagan couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. The mask had taken away the most unnerving part of Emrys's presence, but it didn't change the fact that this man, this stranger, was tending to him in such an intimate way. He kept his gaze fixed on the water, trying to push away the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.
Emrys, for his part, remained silent, respectful of Anagan's obvious discomfort. He kept his movements slow and deliberate, ensuring that everything was within reach for the troubled man without intruding on his space. The silence between them was thick, but not as suffocating as before, more a careful truce than an outright battle.
When the bath was over, Anagan dried himself off and donned the simple clothes Emma had laid out earlier. Emrys had already tidied the room, his presence so unobtrusive that it was easy to forget he was even there.
"Do you need anything else before you rest, sir?" Emrys asked, his voice low and gentle, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace they had achieved.
Anagan shook his head, still avoiding the servant's gaze. "No… nothing else."
Emrys nodded once, then stepped back towards the door. "I'll leave you to your rest, then. If you need anything during the night, I'll be just outside."
As Emrys turned to leave, Anagan found himself speaking without really thinking. "Thank you."
The servant paused, his hand on the door. "Of course, sir. Sleep well."
With that, Emrys slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Anagan stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. The night wasn't over, but for the first time in a long while, it didn't seem quite so daunting.
He let out a long breath, then moved to the bed, sliding under the covers with a lingering sense of unease. But as he settled in, the warmth of the bath still clinging to his skin, he realized that the fear he had felt earlier was beginning to etch away, replaced by something… different.
It wasn't peace, not yet. But it was a start.
