In the side hall, lit by the wavering glow of fluorite lamps, Helen had just finished tidying the room and was smoothing out the rumpled bedding on the inner side of the bed when she heard the faint sound of a weight settling down.
The clearly weary and drowsy Holy King had already leaned against the neatly made outer side and closed his eyes.
Helen froze for a moment. Recalling her earlier overbold behavior, she felt uneasy, and her expression turned slightly awkward.
"Your Majesty, if I would only disturb your rest, then perhaps I should spend the night in Gorgo's room..."
"You're not disturbing me. I slept quite well earlier..."
Samael pressed a hand over Helen's and shook his head slightly in refusal, answering casually.
Earlier...
The most beautiful woman in Greece halted halfway through getting off the bed. Her gaze drifted over the Holy King's sharply cut profile, her eyes shifting as she slowly bent her knees and settled them flat again.
"We just went through an assassination attempt. The whole city is hunting down those divine-blood nobles who colluded with foreign powers. There's no guarantee that, cornered in the latter half of the night, they won't lash out in desperation. Gorgo is busy delivering the report right now, and after what happened, I don't trust the Areopagus's defenses either. For your safety, until the Great Offering begins, it would be best if we stayed together."
The solemn, righteous declaration flowed from Samael's mouth, thick with seriousness and concern.
He did have his own moral boundaries when it came to temptation. Otherwise, he would have been overwhelmed countless times already. If he gave in to everything, he would probably end up needing a wall to lean on just to walk.
Helen blanked for a moment. Heat rushed to her face, her cheeks flushing red as she grew visibly flustered and embarrassed.
She had actually misunderstood the noble sentiments and immaculate morality of this Holy King.
But just as the ashamed first beauty of Greece was preparing to correct her attitude, a sudden weight settled across her knees, followed by the familiar sensation of something pillowed on her thighs.
Helen lowered her gaze quietly and looked down at the great "moral exemplar" lying there in all his righteous dignity.
"Your Majesty..."
"It's late. Sleep..."
"Mhm..."
A clear voice and a drowsy murmur blended together in reply.
Helen smiled in understanding. Raising her hand, she extinguished the spell maintaining the fluorite lamp, then, in the moonlight, admired that marble-like head for a long while. Without doing anything more, the corner of her lips curved in quiet delight. Satisfied, she leaned back against the headboard, closed her eyes, and drifted into a sweet dream.
In the darkness, the faint glimmer within those half-open slit pupils went out as well. The slightly tensed body relaxed, and consciousness sank into gentle slumber.
He certainly had moral boundaries.
They were just rather flexible.
The next morning.
Pale golden sunlight streamed through the window lattice and fell across the bed. Curled on her side, the blonde beauty's graceful curves and languid air made her look like an exquisite Persian cat, radiating a captivating charm.
As the shifting light woke the room, the first beauty of Greece gradually stirred. Coming back to herself and glancing around, she saw the empty bed, then noticed Gorgo, who had sensed movement and pushed the door open. For a moment, she looked slightly dazed.
"Where is His Majesty?"
"There's a mountain of affairs on the Areopagus, and a lot of them need his personal decision. So I came to tell you, he left before dawn..."
Gorgo shrugged helplessly as she answered. Hearing that, Helen could not help feeling a little disappointed.
But when the Queen of Sparta noticed the look on her elder relative's face, she leaned against the doorway, tapped her head as if recalling something, and casually added,
"Oh, right. King Theseus didn't wake you. He said he wanted you to sleep a little longer."
Helen paused, then looked at the silk quilt that had slipped from her shoulder, and her face brightened.
But the instant she caught the teasing glint on Gorgo's face, she understood at once and rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"Really now, all you ever do is tease me."
"This is clearly your business. Who told your King Theseus to leave after all, while I had to stand watch outside the door half the night and do all this favor-currying for you?"
With a mischievous snort, Gorgo flipped back the silk quilt, slipped a hand beneath the bedding, and groped around for a bit. Feeling only dryness and smooth sheets beneath, she pulled her hand back in disappointment and muttered under her breath,
"Tch. After all that fuss last night, you really didn't do anything at all. So I stood guard for nothing."
The moment Helen realized what exactly this younger woman had been checking, her pretty face flushed hot with embarrassment, and she smacked Gorgo lightly on the forehead.
"You talk far too much!"
"What's the point of scolding me now? You had your chance and didn't take it. And honestly, you look happier having not slept with him than if you had."
The Queen of Sparta grumbled, sounding rather like someone lamenting that iron had failed to become steel.
Helen only smiled unconcernedly. She cupped a handful of warm sunlight in her palms, a faintly satisfied look on her face, and murmured softly, her tone rich with meaning.
"That's because if I slept with him now, it might only happen once. But if I sleep with him later, it might be for a lifetime."
Gorgo scratched her head in confusion. She felt like her brain was not quite enough for this conversation.
In truth, the human longing for beauty was innate, and never easily satisfied.
Compared to physical distance, which could be monitored and controlled, emotional infidelity was the thing that could never truly be prevented or stamped out.
And as it happened, that king's moral boundaries were indeed very flexible, and he was especially skilled at turning close friends, teacher-student relationships, rivals, and adopted daughters into entirely different functions.
Then perhaps... it should begin with friendship.
At that moment, Helen stood at the window beneath the sunlight, laurel wreath upon her head, as though wrapped in a veil of pale gold.
She had the innocence of a maiden, the brilliance of a noblewoman, the dignity of a virgin priestess, and the beauty and desire blessed by the goddess of love...
Though every movement of hers naturally stirred male desire, drawing closer to her did not make her seem vulgar or invite disrespect.
In short, that attraction seemed even stronger than before. After watching her long enough, even Gorgo, as a woman herself, could not help growing a little dazed.
At the same time, seated at his desk, Samael suddenly felt a chill run up his spine and let out a heavy sneeze.
In an instant, the scratching of pen tips across the desks in the great hall abruptly stopped. One ambiguous gaze after another fixed on him, and the eerie stillness in the air made Samael's heart jolt. His calves cramped, and he felt a powerful urge to bolt for the door.
"Caught a chill? Want to try my special ginger tea for driving out the cold and making you sweat?"
At some point, Tamamo-no-Mae had slipped in from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl of dark yellow liquid. Setting it down on the Ancient Serpent's desk, she curled her lips in a smile and was the first to break the tense silence.
"Samael, in the earlier research at the Academy of Athens, someone in the medical department named Hippocrates suggested that boiling willow bark in water seems to work quite well. Would you like to try that?"
"As far as I'm concerned, you should just spar with me. Once your blood and breath are moving properly, no sickness or evil influence will be able to invade a warrior's trained body!"
Ana, standing nearby, and Scáthach, leaning against the doorway, one proposing Greek medicine and the other advocating combat training, each gave their own answer.
"Lord Samael, I learned a little local Druid herbalism in the Celtic lands. Why not let me try?"
"I know, I know! Mead! If you're cold, just drink more and you'll get all warm and comfortable. Why don't we just hold a banquet?"
And then Brynhildr's British folk remedy and Hildr's enthusiastic proposal of alcohol as a warming method also joined the fray.
"Ahem, don't worry. I'm perfectly fine!"
Samael forced a warm smile onto his face, pounded his chest, and made the declaration with righteous seriousness.
With the dispute settled, silence returned to the hall, and the rhythmic scratching of pens soon resumed.
Only then did a certain gaze, cold as frozen snow, withdraw in satisfaction and lower itself back to the documents on the desk before its owner, who continued reading with a slight frown.
Meanwhile, Samael, once the center of attention, now sat alone again at his desk. Staring at the empty desktop, he wiped away a bead of cold sweat, then stole a glance around him, rubbed his chin, and sank into thought.
Something is off with them...
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