The Stolen Crown

Chapter 8: A History and Legend

A black pot grew hot, the water within beginning to bubble, as it lay suspended over an open flame. The timber beneath crackled and slowly gave way to ash, steam rising from within. Though, no soup or stew boiled within its darkened black curves, but rather a plain body of warm water; one that would soon become larger, as a hand came upon its handle.

With a great deal of strength that pulled against her whole body, Helene carried it to the center of the room and poured it out into a nearly filled bath.

"It's ready," she said, wiping her brow from the labor. "Sorry it took so long."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Elizabeth replied, putting to rest the page of parchment she read. "Water takes the time it needs to get warm. Besides, it has been an eventful day..." for a moment she drifted off into her mind, staring blankly at what she had been reading.

"While you get ready, I should tell you," Helene explained, contending with the many tasks that demanded attention. "Your children have been taken care of and are already asleep."

"That's good to hear," Elizabeth replied. "I hope they can sleep. It will be busy in the coming days. It will be busy. It always is..."

Helene was silent, gazing out blankly against the wall in patience and deep thought.

"I forgot to thank you, Helene," Elizabeth said, as the soft cloth that draped her skin fell to the floor and she was left with only her undergarments. The lump of her belly called the eye, and had any been there to peak, they would have stared. "I know you would have liked to stay for the funeral, but I needed you to do those tasks. So, thank you, Helene."

"No need to thank me," Helene quickly replied, turning further to avert her eyes. "I was just doing what was needed of me. That's all."

"You were doing much more," Elizabeth said, stripping the last of her vestment and letting the mix of warmth and cold touch her skin. She pressed against the sensation of the air and dipped into the warm bath, letting out a sigh of relief. "Ahh, that is what I needed... My bones were aching... I think I could sit here all day, or until the water gets cold. Almost makes you wish you could do this every day."

Helene grew the faintest of smiles, turning back to the Queen, though as she stood there, it was relatively quick to vanish. "My Queen," she finally said as she lowered her head. "My Queen I—"

"My Queen?" Elizabeth interrupted with her eyebrows raised. "Helene we are not in anyone's company. There is no need for such things. I told you this when we became friends, you don't have to act that way." She fell silent as she stared at her, "what's wrong, Helene? You can tell me anything."

"I am sorry," Helene began. "I am sorry for your loss. I am sorry I have not been more involved with your grief. I am sorry I was not there to take better care of you when you needed it. And I am sorry for not saying it sooner... but... but... I will do what you need of me. I will do anything you ask, my Queen. I will gladly serve you for your future."

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, before pulling her arm out of the warmth of the water. With a wave and a reach, she called to her friend and quickly held her hand in her own.

"Helene, my friend. You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should say that I am sorry. I did not mean to put so much weight on your shoulders. And I should not have asked, I should have—"

"No," Helene interrupted. "I'm sorry, but no. You do not have to apologize. I have to apologize. I should be the one who—"

With a laugh and a warm smile, Elizabeth broke the tension that gripped the room and brought about a levity that calmed the very soul.