Work Text:
A crowned princess,
her hair pinned with gold and jewels,
the delight of the kingdom,
a sight to behold,
as the doors close,
and she tosses the tiara,
ripping the finery from her skin.
Jewels,
beads,
pearls,
scatter across the floor
as she slips from the room,
slips into the shadows,
following the hallway,
down the stairs,
the scent of fresh baking bread filling the air,
the scent of tarts for dessert,
of a hearty roast dripping in juice.
Pushing open the door,
Helga throws her arms around her,
kissing her lips,
her cheeks,
as Rowena settles herself onto a cushion in the
corner,
eager to learn anything the court
feels is completely improper
for a princess to know.