Chapter Ten Cheater?

The opulent chambers of Prince Harry's royal suite were bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the luxurious furnishings. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and rose, a testament to the meticulous care taken by the palace staff. But tonight, the usual tranquility of the prince's private quarters was overshadowed by the tension brewing beneath the surface.

"Yeah, I'm not sure, maybe it's been a fortnight," I laughed, the jesting tone barely masking the anticipation as I shed my garments, preparing for an indulgent bath. It was to be my second of the day, a luxury spurred by the playful promise of intimacy with Harry. As I entered the vast marble bathroom, steam rose from the water, mingling with the fragrances of the bath oils.

There, in the center, sat Prince Harry, his mischievous grin welcoming me into the warm embrace of the tub. His legs parted, creating a space for me between them, an invitation into his world of playful decadence. "Do you want to give me a special bath today?" he inquired, his voice laced with a teasing lilt, his smirk suggesting more than just cleanliness.

"Oh, I would love to be a royal maid, but only for handsome princes and kings," I replied, matching his playful tone. "Oh wait, I need to tell the maid that today she won't be able to bath the prince." The thought of her walking in on us was both thrilling and terrifying. I imagined her face, the potential for scandal or worse, blackmail.

Wrapping myself in Harry's plush robe, I ventured out to ensure our privacy. The weight of the robe felt like a cloak of authority, yet I was unprepared for what I found in Harry's bedroom. There, caught in an utterly compromising position, was the maid, her face buried in the prince's underwear, sniffing them with a look of perverse delight.

"Oh, my fucking God! What are you… What do you think you are doing? Aren't those my undies? Oh no, they are Harry's!" I exclaimed, my voice a mix of shock and revulsion as she dropped the garment like it was hot coal. "I... I... I... Um... Cleaning..." she stammered, her excuses falling flat on the ground along with the underwear. The situation was beyond mere suspicion now.

"Are you sleeping with the prince, or do you have a crush on him? Can you tell me what's going on?" My demand was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Her response was not what I expected. "I would ask the same, nasty prince. Are you gay? What have you done to my handsome prince. You are a curse to this kingdom! Who are you to ask me such a question? Besides, I bath the prince naked; I offer him more than the bath, like more, and what were you doing in the prince's bed naked?" Her words were venomous, suggesting she knew more than she let on, perhaps even about my own secret rendezvous with Harry.

"How dare you question my identity, little miss? You shall bathe the prince no more. You are banned from the prince's tower!" My voice echoed with the authority of my lineage, but she was undeterred.

"You don't have the right to order me around, fancy pants. This is not Port Lavender!" Her retort was bold, challenging my authority in this very castle.

"Watch it, bitch. Do you know who I am?" My patience was fraying at the edges, the fabric of my control unraveling. "Just a gay prince, not even the crown prince, show me respect if you want me not to say a word about this." Her threat was clear, her blackmailing tone unmistakable.

"Oh, my fucking Goddd!!! Are you being real? In fact, you are fired!" My anger surged.

"Do not mess with me; I won't use any of my magic spell on you; I will hand you over to Lord Vladimir myself and make sure you are beheaded! I am the descendant of Queen Martha, one of the strongest rulers, and guess what? I inherited all her genes. Now try me and see what I'm capable of; you haven't heard the rumors about me? Tonight itself you will have your own version of my story, and the stars shall be your witnesses. You will be the testimony to prove the rumors about me to be facts. Go ahead with your gay allegations and see who the world will believe—the prince or just a commoner maid? You might be murdered for falling in love and disgracing the prince!"

My declaration was fierce, an echo of the power and defiance that ran through my royal blood. She stood there, stunned into silence, her previous bravado evaporated. The confrontation had escalated far beyond personal grievances; it was now a matter of power, reputation, and survival in the cutthroat world of royal politics. As she left, her steps heavy with defeat, I pondered the implications of this encounter. The palace was a labyrinth of secrets, each corner holding its shadows.

That night, I had not only defended my honor but also claimed the narrative, ensuring that my story, my truth, would be the one told in the dark halls of the castle. Returning to Harry, I found him still in the bath, unaware of the storm I had just weathered. With a deep breath, I shed the robe, stepping back into the water, the warmth welcoming me like an embrace after battle. But the water could not wash away the knowledge that in this castle, every bath, every touch, was a play in the grand theater of power and desire.