A servant.

We think alike. I had the same role in mind for you.

After you tap at the door, I grant you permission to enter. You're wearing simple, humble clothes. You have a white shirt, loose at the sleeves, open at the chest. Your trousers are dark, plain, snug at the hips. You're barefoot, so that you can move through the palace silently, without disturbing your betters.

I found you in the streets, without means, without hope. You were a foreigner far from home, and I took pity on you. I gave you a position in my palace. You have served me for over a year. And you don't know this yet, but this is the night when I've decided you will repay me for my mercy.

You enter my chamber, and you see me standing there in the candlelight, in my gossamer white robe. You have seen me often. You've seen me in my formal court dresses, and you've helped me into and out of them. You've seen me in the modest blue robe I wear on days of worship. You've seen me wearing nothing at all, when I bathe. But I have never allowed you to touch me.

Well, no. I've changed my mind. I've allowed you to wash my feet. But nothing else.

So I stand before you, your queen, wearing a robe so fine that it might be nothing but light and air. And I give you a command.

Let's see...