The castle on the hill

7

One particularly quiet afternoon, as you presented Lady Dimitrescu with her cup of tea, a strange stillness settled upon the room. She didn't dismiss you immediately as she usually did. Instead, she took a sip of the tea, her gaze fixed on a point beyond the window.

"They say the past is a foreign land," she began, her voice low and pensive. "A place where things were different, often better."

You stood still, surprised by this unexpected turn of events. Lady Dimitrescu rarely spoke of anything beyond the immediate needs of the castle.

"I wasn't always Lady Dimitrescu," she continued, her voice a mere whisper. "I had another name, another life, a world far removed from these cold stone walls."

A sense of anticipation filled the room. This was the first time you had ever witnessed a glimpse of vulnerability from the powerful woman who ruled the castle.

Lady Dimitrescu began to tell you a story, a fragmented tale of her childhood, of a family steeped in power and privilege, of a love that was both passionate and forbidden. The details were vague, shrouded in a layer of time and unspoken pain.  But you listened intently, captivated by the woman who was slowly revealing a hidden part of herself.

As she spoke, her voice grew distant, her gaze lost in memories that seemed both beautiful and agonizing.  A worried silence filled the room when she fell silent, a heavy weight settling in the air.

Unable to bear the unspoken pain you sensed in her, you reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "My Lady, are you alright?" you asked, your voice soft and filled with concern.

Lady Dimitrescu remained frozen, her expression unreadable.  The silence stretched on, becoming increasingly tense.  Against your better judgement, driven by an inexplicable urge to offer comfort, you impulsively wrapped your arms around her.

For a moment, she stood rigid, her body stiff with surprise.  Then, slowly, ever so slowly, she seemed to relax.  A sigh escaped her lips, a sound that spoke volumes of the tension she had been holding within.

"Perhaps you should leave," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper.  It wasn't an order, but a plea, a request that held a hint of desperation.

Shame washed over you. You had overstepped your bounds, shown a physical familiarity that was completely inappropriate.  "I apologize, my Lady," you stammered, pulling away quickly.  "I didn't mean to..."

Lady Dimitrescu turned away from you, her back ramrod straight.  "Go," she whispered, her voice laced with a weariness that sent shivers down your spine.

You scurried out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest.  You had violated a boundary, shown a level of intimacy that could have dangerous consequences.

The next day, as you went about your duties, a heavy sense of unease settled in your stomach.  You half expected Lady Dimitrescu's wrath, some form of punishment for your audacity.

But to your surprise, there was no punishment.  Lady Dimitrescu never mentioned the incident, her demeanor towards you remaining aloof but not overtly hostile.  However, she no longer seemed interested in your tea.  Elena, the head maid, resumed the duties of preparing her afternoon beverage.

Weeks turned into months, and the memory of that strange encounter with Lady Dimitrescu faded into the background.  You continued your duties, the routine of the castle providing a semblance of normalcy.

One afternoon, while you were cleaning the library, Elena approached you, a curious look on her face. "Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence," she announced.  "She wants you to prepare her tea."