Every maid in the palace is half in love with princess Yoobin. She’s just too dashing, they all sigh, crowding over the windows of the rooms they have to clean when it’s training day for the princess, which seems like every day.

Gahyeon herself is of no exception to the rule. She’s just a maid, watching from the windows, and having bad luck on the daily draw of who’s going to be that training’s session assistant maid, responsible for fetching towels and a fresh, cool drink for the princess after she trains.

That’s what she wants them to think, anyway. Gahyeon had been raised within these palace walls, and knew every secret passage like the back of her hand. So does Yoobin; before, they had been playmates, running wildly around the cold corridors of the palace, unaware of social standings. Now, not so much. Yoobin was the princess, cold and distant, and Gahyeon was just one faceless maid in the crowd.

With a deep breath, she knocks on the fake wall. There’s a rapid knock on wood, and she opens the passage, revealing the princess reading something by candlelight. Her short hair was all mussed up, and she seemed tired.

“Yoobin?” Gahyeon called, and she rose her eyes, taking off the reading glasses she wore. Sliding inside and closing the passage, Gahyeon walked slowly to where Yoobin was, the princess wearing a smile as she set aside her reading material. “Long day, I’m guessing?”

Yoobin said nothing, simply watching, with a longing smile on her lips, for Gahyeon to approach, which she did; Yoobin had the grace to make some space for her to sit on the table, but Gahyeon ignores and sits on Yoobin’s lap. As long as the moon is in the sky, social conventions can go to hell.

Yoobin knows this as well, and does not react, except to put her hands on Gahyeon’s hips, letting her be more stable. Her clothes still smelled like the lavender soap the laundry maids used on her clothes, which was pleasant. Gahyeon sighed, hands on Yoobin’s shoulders.

“Too long. The councillors are ing about  all, as usual, and father is being his usual useless self, so I stepped in and got us a nice deal.” She laughed, cocky and self-assuring, and Gahyeon kissed her. When they separated, Yoobin nuzzled against the curve of Gaheyon’s fabric-covered neck. “Mmmh. I needed that. How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Cleaned the rooms, heard some nasty gossip, watched you train.” She paused, nesting her chin on top of Yoobin’s head. Just a little bit more, and it’d be hard to know where she began and where Yoobin ended. That’s how she liked it. “You looked fantastic today. Purple really is your color.”

Yoobin doesn’t answer. Gahyeon doesn’t mind. These moments are for them only, and words aren’t needed.