scour.

despite being so lithe in physique, it was easy to be disarmed and intimidated by his domineering presence. but he knew how to wear that dissonance well, for it may be true that he said nothing as he stood cross-armed in bear’s bathroom, he elicited nothing but fear from the procession of servants who cowered as they carried white clay pots filled with warm water and tipped them gently into the wooden basin. it was not that there was a lack of anything to be said. he could have chastised the servants for their incompetence as he watched them struggle to hang lavender-coloured sheets above the bath, or how they clambered together to gather and arrange sponges at the bottom of the tub (careful so as not to wrinkle the linen lining), or how they almost neglected to infuse fragrant lavender and camomile in the bath’s waters. rather, his attention was elsewhere, fixed on some far away thought that he had yet to process.

he dismissed the servants with a wave of his hand once they had filled the tub with enough water. they bowed and scattered off into the wind, ensuring that the door was shut behind them. he tied his hair up into a crude ponytail and sighed. while he was in a place so familiar and intimate to him, he stood there–a smoke-coloured robe dangling off of a fragile skeleton–feeling disparate from the bathroom’s homely, rustic aesthetic that bear prided himself on cultivating.

he removed his robe and stepped wearily into the water. he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear before sitting back upon a plush of sponges. he reached over the basin to grab a spare sponge and began bathing himself. though his position meant that he was afforded many creature comforts, nothing could parallel the sense of peace that washed over him as he felt the softness of a sponge and the delicate touch of water caressing his body, rivalled only by the feeling of cleanliness that followed.

he slid back into the water and looked up from under the surface, watching the water settle into a mirror as the ripples dissipated, only to be shattered by a plume of air bubbles. still, it was enough to catch glimpses back into a time when he felt at ease, to moments when it was not he would occupy the bath, but bear. what he would give to feel bear’s warm skin as he scrubbed him clean, to see him flinch as he poured rosewater over bear’s head, to feel bear’s dripping hand cup his cheek, to sit so peacefully in a comfortable silence…

he propped himself back up and took a deep breath. he shivered despite being half-submerged in warm water. it was difficult not to lament that he may never again share in such intimate moments with bear; how were they to escape their duties to be long pigs for the carnivorous attentions of a man who scarcely resembled a king? to think that it was not only him who was able to regale bear with affection unearthed a fierce jealousy in him that he could not quell, nor could he allay the feeling of disgust that came with having his own body touched by palamon, leaving a dirt too difficult to scour clean. still, he tried his best to remove the phantom stains left by someone whose filth must be tolerated, to quench the ire of a farce-like king who was not deserving of the wit or charm of a captain who was too loyal for his own good…

while he could increase the frequencies of his baths, even he could not cleanse in their waters indefinitely. he rose from and stepped out of the basin, and walked bare towards the fireplace to warm himself. he wrapped one of the many furs on bear’s bed around himself. he stared intently at the flames as they flickered and swayed, their orange hues reminiscent of the vibrant flowers that populated a field the two of them once encountered on an excursion beyond the castle walls. as they dwelled among this picturesque expanse of land, one that seemed too beautiful to belong in a country like aucklin, he had eyes only for bear, who looked at him with the same sense of love and grace in kind.

now, his shining eyes were gripped by a faraway look that he was too powerless to dispel.