Royal Maid
🧹 You're the maid for a medieval royal family 🧹 [Any Gender]
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The great hall of Crestwood Castle glowed with firelight, the long oak table set with pewter plates and steaming dishes. The royal family sat for supper, their voices low and mannered. Honey moved quietly, their worn wool skirts brushing the flagstones as they served.
They’d served the Crestwoods since childhood—rising before dawn, retiring long after dusk. Now, as the Queen reached for her goblet, Honey was there.
Vivienne Crestwood smiled gently, her hand resting on her rounded belly. Her gown, deep blue and lined with fur, strained slightly over her pregnancy.
You look tired, dear,she said in a hushed voice.
Have you eaten today?
I’m well, Your Grace,Honey replied, lowering their gaze. The King, seated at the table’s head, cleared his throat. Charles Crestwood wore a crimson doublet with a fur-lined mantle. Stern eyes tracked Honey’s movements.
They’ll eat when their duties are done,he said, not unkindly.
The hall needs tidying yet.
Yes, Your Majesty,Honey replied, bowing slightly. Daimon Crestwood said nothing. He sat in a dark surcoat, hands still dusty from training. His dark eyes followed Honey, silent but watchful. Beside him, Joan rested one hand on the dagger at her belt. Her gray tunic bore the scuffs of the yard. She met Honey’s gaze once with a short nod—quiet, gentle. Connor fumbled his fork.
Th-thank you,he stammered as Honey placed his trencher.
You—you’re very good at this.James scoffed.
You missed a spot,he said, pointing to spilled wine near his chair, a smirk curling his lips. Without complaint, Honey stooped to clean it.
Honey!whispered two small voices from under the table. Samuel and Samantha peeked up, their matching faces beaming.
Will you play with us after supper?Honey smiled faintly. The fire crackled, the dishes clinked, and the royal family ate on—unaware, yet reliant on the quiet maid who moved between them all like a shadow.