She is becoming more and more of a hazard, Goethe thought angrily as he kicked one of the fingers that was enclosed around him. That same finger, as if to make him regret the action, jabbed him painfully in his side. This punishment certainly has gone on long enough, he wiped his now dampened hair out of his eyes. The inside of her hand was becoming a furnace, and beads of sweat began to collect in small pools. He coughed every once in a while from the lingering stench of her morning breath, that he was sure had permeated into his clothes.

“What is she doing?” he thought aloud, wondering what could keep her occupied without using both hands. As if sensing his thoughts, a slight, affectionate squeeze assured him that he wasn’t forgotten.

Nothing to do but to wait, he sighed and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the dampness and smell. He was not exactly a stranger to Helen’s punishments, though they seemed to be more like petty pranks than anything else. Besides, he thought, you have to be guilty of wrongdoing to deserve a punishment, I am just a victim of circumstance. The thought sounded weak even to him as he recalled his gallant escapades (or so he viewed them) against her tyrannical rule.

He was rather proud of the time he managed to put a tack on her seat cushion. He had nearly broken his neck climbing up one of the legs of the chair, and getting down from the table in the first place was no small feat. Helen, on the other hand, wasn’t pleased at all with his acrobatic prowess. After almost jumping to the ceiling and crying in pain, with one hand rubbing her sore bottom she used the other to grab him and drop him into one of her silk slippers. He didn’t have much time to react as a bare foot forced him to the front of the slipper. Her toes adeptly dragged him away from the edge and forced him underneath them. He had lost track of time as the foot’s odor seemed to stifle any thought he could possibly form. Anytime he was close to nodding off she instinctively brought her foot down hard to the ground to jolt him, or she would curl her toes around him, like so many snakes squeezing the life out of their prey. Finally, she dropped him on her bed as she took her slipper off for the night. As way of apology, she dunked him in a glass of cool water that she had on her bed stand, and left him there to let him get out by himself.

Another time he had managed to draw slightly obscene images in her papers before she had handed them into her tutor. He judged by the way she had burst into her room with a face contorted with rage, that she didn’t notice his artwork in time. He also noticed that she was walking in an odd way, and refused to take at seat. When he suggested that she should take a seat and try to relax, she grabbed him before he could even think of running. She held him tightly in her hand, her scowl gave way to a mischievous grin. “I think I will take you up on your offer,” she said with foreboding weight attached to her words. With exaggerated care, she placed him on the cushion of her seat. His mouth gaped open as he saw her royal rear envelope his world and then become his world. The weight was just enough not to break him, but he wasn’t too sure that he wasn’t already grounded into dust. As she lifted herself off of him, she turned and laughed at him lying bewildered in the heart shaped impression left by her.  “A princess must be generous and repay in tenfold,” she regally stated as she grabbed him again and flicked his bottom so hard that he winced for a week when he even saw a chair.

He broke away from the fond memories – remembering Helen’s howl as she sat on the tack always brought a smile to his face – when he heard Helen beginning to hum a gentle melody Rena had taught her when she was a girl. Though the melody was innocent enough, the princess humming it was by no means the same, and Goethe was reminded that she also had her fair share of fun at his expense.

More than once, as Helen was eating her meal with Goethe close by, he accidently – she always claimed it was always by accident – ended up on her plate. The first time it happened, he was at first surprised and then more than annoyed that his favorite clothes were soaked in her favorite pudding. But as he started to yell threats and insults at her, he quieted down when he saw her spoon hover above his head before upending a pile of cream on him. Another time he found himself on her plate, he was wise enough to endure it in silence, but wasn’t quick enough to dodge that damn spoon. Panic got the better of him, and he began to shout franticly as he was being taken closer and closer to her gaping mouth. For a brief moment, he thought Helen was really going to eat him before a fit of laughter made her drop him back onto her plate.

Yet, despite all the petty tricks the two played on each, there was never any hard feelings between them, or if they did exist, never lasted for very long. Partly, this was because their pranks and jests were a form of entertainment for both the perpetrator and victim alike. But mainly, it was because each one knew that the tricks never came from a place of malice but always from a deep bond each had for the other, which, admittedly, was expressed in not always the pleasantest of ways. Already, Goethe was devising some sort of payback for his current situation. If I could climb up her bed while she’s sleeping, then maybe I can…

As he was thinking about their battle of wills and his diminutive retribution, the hand opened abruptly, pouring in light as it did so. The morning air was a welcome change to the dinginess that had been Helen’s grip. Goethe muttered under his breath, rubbing his eyes to help them adjust to the light. He looked up to see Helen wearing a pleasant smile.

“The mornings just don’t agree with some people.” She quipped, looking at his sodden clothes and slick hair.

Goethe couldn’t help but smile back. She truly does look beautiful with that smi...enough! He forced a frown upon his face and folded his arms while rising to his feet, almost slipping on the now wet palm. “What exactly were you doing?” He demanded, trying his best to intimidate her, as much chance as that as Helen intimidating Rena.

Instead of giving a reply, Helen pursed her lips and let out a warm breath of air. Goethe was ready to wince but stopped himself when he noticed the sweet smells of mint and peppermint weaving themselves all around him.

“Oh,” he muttered, breaking into a smile.

“Oh,” she said in agreement, still holding her own smile.