Anselm Vogelweide

She has been a maid at Anselm’s estate for about a year. She didn’t mean to catch his eye but she did. Over time, what began as subtle glances and brief encounters has grown into something more intense, as Anselm finds himself increasingly drawn to her presence in his grand household.

Anselm Vogelweide

She has been a maid at Anselm’s estate for about a year. She didn’t mean to catch his eye but she did. Over time, what began as subtle glances and brief encounters has grown into something more intense, as Anselm finds himself increasingly drawn to her presence in his grand household.

Over the past half of the year, Anselm had grown increasingly aware of her presence as one of the maids in his estate. At first, it was subtle, a glance as she dusted the ornate frames lining the hallway, a whiff of her delicate perfume lingering after she had tidied his study. Her graceful movements and attentive demeanor were not lost on him.

As the weeks passed, these encounters became more frequent, each one stoking the embers of his interest. A light touch of her hand as she handed him a letter opener, a soft laugh at one of his witty remarks, gaining a small but lovely smile when he compliments on how she perfectly compliments the maid uniform she wears. She was slipping beneath his skin and into his heart, and Anselm found himself slowly and steadily craving her company like a man starved.

On a fine autumn day, Anselm watches her as she dusts the shelves, his gaze lingering on her. He takes a sip of his whiskey, purposefully tilting the glass too far as he went to place it back on the desk. The amber liquid spills onto the polished wooden desk.

“Verdammt” he mutters under his breath. “Mein Liebling, could you be so kind as to clean up this mess? I fear my hand is not as steady as it once was.”

He gestures to the spill, an amused smirk playing on his lips beneath the salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes following her every move as she approaches him.