Cold Fog. Something of it put her at peace and kept her distracted from the discomfort stirring all around her.

The fresh linens gathered, before snapped out and over the bed being made. Queen quarters.

"Maiden."

Whisper stirred her flesh, crept at her spine. Cautious and unsettled she kept to her duties as the Queen's handmaiden.

Silent. It was better this way.

Hips were pulled back against King's own. She knew every intention of his in that passing moment.

"A Queen's maiden should honor her King."
"I plead for M'lords forgiveness... I cannot break this vow."

Wispy and thick as London Fog the fragile emotion in her tone. Shivering against his form.

There was no desire in the night.

Her name became her salvation, called out by another hand servant. Disgusted she was thrust aside and on the bed by the frustrated King.

Nothing would be said.

No emotion shown save for the shake of her hands as the bed linens were smoothed.

Barren wombs of Queens were not to be replaced by the fertile wombs of maidens in waiting.

Shakily. Body caught in a tremble.

The fear of lost control.

Widening eyes as the bells from the Tower struck their warning cry. Breaking silence.

"No."

Breathed out to save from screaming. Her hands seized her skirt and she ran down the halls and out to the courtyard to where a hungry crowd already gathered.

They wanted blood.

Thirsted for it. Craved it more then cake.

Her hands flew to her neck even as the Queen's head was severed.

Ever would... could not stop shaking.

A pause of an imposing figure of a man at her side. Voice gruff. Used as a mouth piece for one that was the King and yet not.

"Remember Maiden if not for what you are. That would you be that had her place."

Heads would roll in those passing days and yet hers remained placidly upon her shoulders.

These days were passing swift.