Princesses’ Wash

Astrid Lodbrok's POV

Princesses' Wash

When we finished selecting the dress, my sons began to show signs that they were ready to leave. "The maids will come soon to get you ready," said Leif, and I muttered under my breath.

"Do you want me to behave at this dinner?" I asked, looking at my sons, who clearly wanted everything to go smoothly. "Then make sure those maids don't come to prepare me. I'll get ready by myself," I said, and they quickly left the room to fulfill my request.

I really do not like to be washed or prepared by the maid. Don't get it wrong, it's not like I don't like to be pampered. It's just that it's not the same when an Alpha or other werewolves are been prepared with when an omega wolf is been prepared, the Viking wolf in me just won't take the disregard.

I love my sons so much, and their love for me is undeniable. I don't doubt that they care for me as much as I care for them. A few minutes later, the door opened again, and I saw Solveig and Thyra enter, and I sighed.

"Whose idea was this?" I asked, and they smiled.

"It wasn't Dad," said Thyra, smiling. I won't lie, hearing her say it wasn't her father made me think he was the one behind it. Ragnar often keeps his good deeds a secret, but I know him too well. "Actually, it was Ser Harrold," Thyra added, and I sighed again.

"Alright, I'm sure you came to bathe with me, so, let's go to the baths," I said, and they burst into laughter.

We all walked into the bathroom and undressed, beginning to enjoy our baths together—just the three of us, without any interruptions. Hmm...

You see, enjoying an afternoon in the baths, alone and without those ever-busy maids, was a luxury that Omegas like us could rarely afford. Our nature made us appreciate the steam baths and warm waters in the palace much more than a normal person. No, it's not a usual thing for us; it's something special. Though I tried to downplay how good it felt to sink into the water and let the warmth surround me, I couldn't deny that I enjoyed it.

We took turns washing each other's hair. I washed the princesses' hair, feeling a sense of warmth in my heart. I had always wanted a daughter, and now they felt like my daughters. I think they are my daughters already—I am their stepmother.

Even though I've always dreamed of having a daughter, I still pushed the thought away every time my mind entertained the idea of having more children since I'm already married to Ragnar. I didn't want more children, not if it put Bjorn, Leif, and Styrbjorn at risk.

After washing the princesses' hair, they took turns washing mine, gently working through the long strands of platinum hair.

"Can we braid your hair, princess?" they asked, and I nodded in agreement.

We left the showers in good time to get dressed. The maids had already arranged our clothes and left them in the room, respecting our privacy. I have to admit—we spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom. While we were there, the maids quietly brought in our clothes and placed them on the bed.

Solveig and Thyra wore the colors of House Eiriksdottir in honor of their late mother, and I styled their hair the way Freydis used to. They styled my hair in long, half-up braids and smoothed the rest of the hair that fell over my shoulders.

They placed a silver diadem in my hair and smiled at how nice I looked. I couldn't help but agree when I looked in the mirror. As much as I might resist it, everything about me showed that I was an omega. My narrow waist, my fuller figure, my shorter height, and my softer facial features compared to those of a delta or beta.

"It's not bad being an omega," said Thyra, and I smiled.

"Did you know that Freydis always believed you would be a Delta?" I asked, and Thyra smiled. Actually, her mom had always thought she was a beta when she was still in the womb. I don't know how, but she just felt that way.

"Well, Dad always tells me there's nothing wrong with being a little rebellious," said Thyra, and I chuckled softly. What a husband I have, encouraging his omega daughters to be independent while keeping me under control for being the same.

I tried not to dwell on it and not make Solveig and Thyra uncomfortable. I invited them to use the perfumes I'd intentionally avoided. These were perfumes that enhanced the scent of omegas, a gift left by my mother when she learned I would be an omega. I loved my mother but didn't care much for those perfumes. I didn't like the idea of wearing something that made others pay too much attention to me, but maybe if I used them this time, it would make things interesting, and my husband might find himself a bit jealous.

Yes, it seemed like a good idea to use those perfumes that night.

"This one smells very good," said Solveig, picking a spice-scented perfume.

"I love this one," said Thyra, choosing one with a jasmine scent.

"I'll use this one," I said, applying the strongest perfume of all—a vanilla-scented one. Harwin's favorite, if I remember correctly. It was under the influence of this perfume that I first grew close to Harwin and eventually conceived Bjorn.

My relationship with Harwin was never the most romantic; it was more about fulfilling my omega needs. Still, I remember him fondly. In fact, that perfume was so effective that even Eirik had noticed it once. Though nothing more came of it, I still recall the attention it garnered.

No one seemed immune to this perfume, as it stirred something deep within them, catching their attention in a way that was hard to ignore.