King Asher lounged in his lavish bathing chamber, the warm water soothing his tired muscles. He needed a bath to contemplate all that had happened. Who was that woman, why had she been appearing to him and why did she look sad? What was worse was that he actually seemed to care. He gipped the edges of the tub. Why did she have so much sadness in her eyes? Almost as if she knew him. Whoever she was, Asher was determined to solve this mystery. He sunk to the bottom of the tub, allowing himself to sink into the stillness for a few minutes. He emerged from the tub dripping, water sliding down his muscled, toned skin and the candles illuminating his scars, leaving nothing to imagination. He rang the bell in the chamber and a knock was heard on the door. "Enter," he called, his voice a low growl. A young maid entered, her head bowed, a linen cloth in her hands. "Your bath, Your Majesty," she said, her voice soft and trembling.
The king eyed the young maid. She was fairly pretty though he had seen prettier women and he saw that she pretended to be scared. He knew girls like her, girls who acted coy to get closer to him. He let out a sigh, and stepped out of the chamber, the maid quickly moving to wrap him in the linen cloth.
The maid carefully dried the king's body, her movements quick and efficient. She said nothing, and she knew her place and dared not speak unless spoken to, her eyes downcast. As she worked, she noticed something odd about the king's skin. It was not the smooth, unblemished skin of a young man, but rather the weathered, wrinkled skin of a man many years his senior. The maid's curiosity was piqued, and she could not help but look more closely at the king's body. As she worked, she noticed that his skin was covered in tiny scars, some so faint that they were barely visible. Others were deep and jagged, as if he had been in a terrible battle. She wondered what could have caused such scars, but she did not dare to ask. She finished drying the king's body, then knelt down to dry his feet. As she did so, she noticed a strange marking on his ankle, a mark that resembled a crown. The mark was unmistakable, and the maid gasped because she knew what it meant. It was the mark of a sorcerer, one who had been branded by a powerful spell. The mark was proof that the king had been touched by magic, something that was both feared and revered in the kingdom. She quickly covered the mark with the linen cloth, not wanting to draw attention to it. She rose to her feet, and the king looked at her, his gaze intense. "Is there something you wish to say?" he asked, his tone cold. The maid stood, frozen in place, unable to look away from the strange mark on the king's ankle. She had heard the rumors, whispers of dark magic and power. And now, she was confronted with the proof. Suddenly, the king spoke. "What are you standing around for?" he asked, his tone cold. The maid looked up at him, her face pale. "Nothing, Your Majesty," she said, trying to compose herself. "I was just… startled." The king looked at her, unconvinced. "I shall take my leave now Your Majesty." She said quickly folding the towel. Asher held her wrist. "Did I ask you to leave?" He stared down at her. "since you decided to stay here perhaps you can make yourself more useful."
The maid licked her lips and smiled coyly. "Of course Your Majesty, it would be an honor to serve you." She hurried to the couch and lifted her skirts and Asher saw that she wire nothing underneath. He approached her and when he was done with her, he lit a cigarette and wrapped the towel around his waist.
Asher stood there, staring at the maid who obviously hesitated to leave. Finally, he spoke, his words clipped and to the point. "You are dismissed," he said. The maid made her dress proper, curtsied and quickly made her way out of the room. Asher walked to the balcony and took a long drag on his cigarette. He knew the maid had seen his mark, he hated his body, hated his scars and looking at it reminded him of his painful past. He continued to smoke when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He rubbed his chest and ignored the pain but it got worse. He couldn't breathe, it was spreading to the rest of his body. He gripped the railing till his knuckles turned white. After a while, the pain subsided and he went back into the chambers. He put on his regal attire and ordered one if the guards outside his room to prepare his carriage. It was time to end this once and for all.