Tatianna woke with a start; something was wrong. The candles in her family's quarters had burned low, but there should still be more light than that. There was a darkness at the foot of her bed, blocking the candlelight from reaching all the way into the alcove where she slept. The darkness moved slowly toward her.
Summoning nerve, Tatianna called out, "Who's there?" Her voice sounded steadier than she felt. Sounds of the late night revelry at which her parents were serving dribbled downward faintly.
Stepping closer, the shadowy mass at the foot of her bed revealed itself to be a cloaked and hooded person, someone who had somehow gained access to her family's billet without making a sound.
"Don't come any closer," Tatianna mustered, her voice unsteady. She sat up, hugging her thick furs and sheets around her. "I'll scream!"
The approaching figure slid back the cloak's hood slowly. "Are you sure?"
Tatianna's breath caught. This was impossible! "P ... Princess, what are you --?"
It was indeed Princess Maria. Tatianna could have recreated every detail of this extraordinarily beautiful girl's features: her high cheekbones; full, pouty lips beneath eyes the color of mountain ice; gleaming black hair that fell past her shoulders uncurled, the way royalty's should. As Tatianna had matured into her twenty years here at the palace, she had ever more frequently woken up with images of Maria's intense, glacial eyes boring into her.
Yet this was no dream.
The Princess stepped closer, her eyes glinting where a stray beam of candlelight caught them. "I know why I came here," she admitted. "But now I'm not so sure." She blinked uncertainly. Tatianna could have drowned in her intense gaze.
"I thought I was dreaming!" Tatianna said, not sure about what was going on.
The Princess looked up. "I've been ... dreaming ... about you for years," she admitted slowly, her voice almost breaking. "In my ... dreams ... your almond eyes never leave me. Your luscious red hair always smells of lavender ... in my dreams."
Tatianna's world began to narrow as her pulse raced. The Princess was dreaming about her mousy red curls? Did she just call her narrow, squinting eyes almond shaped? Tatianna's heart threatened to pound out through her chest. She fumbled for a reply, but it was as if someone had scooped out her brains and replaced them with chicken poop.
"May I join you?" the Princess asked, her eyes locked on Tatianna's. As she spoke she undid the tie that held her cloak shut. In a swift, smooth motion, Maria let the cloak slide to the cold, stone floor. Tatianna gasped.
The Princess stood on the stone floor, naked. Soft candlelight threw gentle shadows upon her smooth, pale skin shivering in the cold. Her shoulders were narrower than she would have thought, but beneath them ... beneath them two firm, pear shaped breasts swung. At their tips large, pale nipples began slowly firming in the cold air. The Princess's flat belly and tiny waist flared gently into small hips and long legs; between them lay a thick bush of black pubic hair. Her gorgeous navel was adorned with a golden chain that held a multitude of tiny, colorful gems.
Tatianna was suddenly conscious of her own inadequate nakedness under the sheets: broad shoulders that supported tiny, shapeless breasts; belly and waist that appeared to be one; angular, jutting hips that flared suddenly over thick, stumpy legs. She was an ugly duckling compared to the perfection that was Princess Maria. Tatianna was awestruck, utterly incapable of completing a coherent thought.
"I'll take that as a yes," said the Princess, suddenly moving swiftly to get herself under the covers. "It's cold out here!" she added. As she climbed in, a hint of jasmine fell about Tatianna. The scent, combined with the sudden, welcome heat of Maria's body, ignited something deep inside her.
"It's me that's been dreaming about you, Princess," Tatianna admitted, still shocked to her core that this was no dream. "I've been watching you for years, believing you thought me just an invisible servant."
"I've caught you staring at me many times," said the Princess, her voice full of mirth and wonder. "But I've stared back all the harder, I think, when you weren't looking. I've had a burning desire to ... to be ... close to you, to smell your hair, get the scent of your clothes, since I was a little girl. You're so wild, and beautiful."
Tatianna's ears burned. "I've had dreams where you are running through a meadow, and I am ... I am the wind that is all around you, as you laugh and play in the tall grasses. As the wind I can caress you ... wherever ... in ways that no one else can ... " She was glad the darkness of her sleeping alcove hid her furious blushing. "You think I'm beautiful, Princess?"
"I don't even know how to describe my feelings," the Princess continued, her voice husky. "You're so beautiful something inside me aches when I contemplate you. I knew that if I didn't feel your hot skin near me soon, I would burst like a seed withering under too much sunlight."
They lay facing each other on Tatianna's pillows, the rest of their bodies covered by thick furs and sheets. As she spoke the Princess slowly ran her fingers through Tatianna's hair. Maria's shadowed head, silhouetted by the faint candlelight behind her, smelled of jasmine and rose and other things Tatianna had never known.
Suddenly the Princess rolled over. As her warm, naked back snuggled into her, strange jolts of heat began waking within Tatianna. She had never felt anything remotely like them, but that didn't make them unwelcome. She breathed deep the scent of the Princess's black hair, and allowed herself to relax. "Tatianna," said the Princess, "Hold me. And don't call me Princess."
"All right ... Maria," Tatianna agreed, feeling odd that the forbidden familiarity with the royal title should evoke such a strong feeling of guilt, when their naked snuggling didn't. She laid her arm over Maria, pressed her close. Maria moaned softly.
They lay there, listening to the sounds of the feast ebb and flood above them. After what seemed an eternity of bliss and warmth and all things good, Maria said, quietly, as though she were ashamed, "I ... I want to kiss you." She rolled over to face her. Her black hair hid her face.