RP:What Ails the Queen
Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc
This is all icly a secret and private drama between the King and Queen.
Summary: Macon confronts Josleen on her recent change in behavior and symptoms. Josleen breaks down as she confesses her fear of infertility and the lengths she’s gone to fix it. Macon is angered by the ways in which Josleen has hurt herself and tells her to end these remedies. Josleen tests him, to see if he’ll stick by her even if she can’t produce an heir. Macon passes the test, but doesn’t seem to believe they won’t have an heir. He is confident there is a solution, and so the question is a moot point.
Royal Carriage, Larket
Macon sneers at both the spoken and unspoken words from Pilar. She is delusional if she thinks Frostmaw is exerting itself with its full effort to assist The Hard City rebuild. The Furious King confirms what he thought previously, he had no need to argue with the vampire, and probably shouldn’t have in the first place. There would be no convincing her. He is bad. Hildegarde is good. In Frostmaw these are undeniable facts of the universe. Besides his unwillingness to shout at the exiting woman, The Rage Knight has a more pressing concern, the weakened Queen on his arm. He shoots her a questioning, somewhat concerned look. ‘What’s wrong?’ Is the unspoken question. Has she been ‘poisoned’ again?
Josleen is unable to answer Macon's question. She's afraid to open her mouth. The pain will pinch her voice and give her away to the public, and she's too proud for that. In the privacy of the carriage, she's finally able to let down her guard. Hunched forward over her knees, she sits and waits for the pain and nausea to pass. Her fair skin has gone palid, and her eyes are shut tight in a grimace. After a minute of this, she unfolds from that animalistic, hunched pose to something more dignified. She leans back on the seat and breathes. A hand holds her belly. She glances at Macon to read his expression. "I'll be alright." But will she? The King may have noticed the Queen's increasingly frequent nausea, her long disappearances into the bathroom, and tardiness at dinner, or her new habit to sometimes leave the dinner table slightly early in a rush. In the mornings, she waits for him to leave first, then takes an unusual amount of time to join him for breakfast. Furthermore, she has recently shirked meetings and elbow-rubbing with society ladies, which while that may be no skin off anyone's back, it's still unlike her. Or is it?
Macon is as patient and gentle with Josleen as a Rage Knight can be while he leads her to the carriage and waits for the spell of nausea to pass. However, his expression of concern fades and is replaced with one of frustration, the transformation completing rapidly when she assures him that she will be alright. Of course he has noticed all of these little changes in The Queen’s behavior that add up to one big concern, but what irks him as he sits in the carriage with her now and what has irked him in the days and weeks prior, finally bringing this thing to a head now, is that she does not seem even half as concerned as him. This is more than putting on a brave face against this medical mystery, he believes. She must know. He removes the heavy Larketian Crown and sets it down on the plush bench beside him, not taking his slate stare off of his wife, waiting for her to be ready for him to growl out, “Wha’ is goin’ on?” He has been outed as a death knight and has shunned the Deity he believes guided him to his seat of power for Josleen’s sake already. It is now her turn to be confronted on something by him.
Josleen has been coping with her fertility 'issues' (to put it mildly) all on her own, and by her choice. She has not told a soul about her concerns or her attempts to remedy the problem. The entire ordeal has become her greatest stressor, and one she's been shouldering alone. When Macon asks what is going on, while he may be asking because he is frustrated, he unwittingly extends a helping hand that she could accept, but at the cost of confessing. Overwhelmed, she begins to weep. She quickly wipes away tear after tear and sniffs loudly, but doesn't quite break down completely--no sobbing or grimace, just the mysterious flow of tears she can't quite wipe away fast enough. The more she thinks about it, the heavier the tears fall and the tighter her frown becomes until she manages to just squeak out his name and nothing else.
Macon is placed in an awkward position when his question prompts Josleen to nearly break down. Initially her reaction sees his expression hardening further so that he is looking to her completely without compassion, believing she may be trying to avoid telling him what is wrong at all. When she calls out to him though, he gives in and abandons the crown of Larket on his bench, crossing the carriage to sit beside her, one hand moving to her back reassuringly. Where someone not known in some circles as The Fury Knight would have said something sweeter like ‘You can tell me.,’ he only says the latter two words as somewhat of a demand.
Josleen leans in slightly towards Macon, but doesn't quite lean on him. Her posture is tense and his demand makes it tenser. "I can't." She pauses as if considering the truth of that. Should she tell him? Will he understand and be supportive? While she finds his gruffness attractive, it also makes her feel expendable. If he knew she was sterile, would he find another Queen, or failing that, lover? Has she any value to him aside from her looks and Frostmawian title? Is she only as good as she is perfect, and as soon as she fades or breaks, she'll be put in storage and traded in for a newer model? The most heart-rending part is that she loves him, and to believe she is expendable hurts her. To stay relevant, she performs again--better to look perfect now. She sits up straight, takes a sharp breath, and puts on a brave face. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Perhaps there's an illness sweeping through the fort. I'll be fi--ine." Her voice squeaks again and she turns quickly towards the curtained window to hide her frown from his stare.
Macon growls lightly when she refuses to let him in on what is going on again. Those words ‘I can’t’ at least inform him that his suspicions are correct and that she does know what is causing her pain. However, this only makes her apology and lie a few moments later all the more infuriating. His eye twitches and a weak pulse of the rage aura boils over from the Fury Knight. The effect is mild, thanks to Muzo’s machine, and the only visible effect appears to be seen at the head of the coach where the kingsguard riding in the front tells the driver next to him to “Shut up,” to which the man at the reins replies, “I didn’t say anything.” Back inside the carriage Macon cannot imagine anything being worse than not knowing what is wrong with Josleen. He can tell she is frowning without seeing it, and he is still annoyed that she feels the need to keep something from him. Him! The guy that told her Kelovath created the Fermin Plagues. How can you lie to him? He tells her to “Unburden yourself.” And wonders aloud, “Why are you facing this alone?” Having no idea what she is facing and ignoring the line about an illness sweeping through the fort. Come on.
King and Queen’s Chambers, Fort Freedom
When Macon's rage aura spikes, Josleen jerks a glance at him over her shoulder to see if he felt it too. Whether he did or not, that little fury spike isn't enough to distract from the tears on her cheeks and Macon's need to know why they're there in the first place. When he asks why she is facing this alone, her body thaws a little and turns back towards him. The carriage arrives at the fort and she quickly tidies her face and hair. The guards knock (you never know with these two), then open the door. In the courtyard, Josleen says, "Leave us." If the Royal Guard have done their job, the King and Queen should be able to walk the halls of their own fort without an escort. At first Josleen walks beside Macon without touching him. Wordlessly they know their destination is their room where they can continue their conversation in privacy. Halfway through the walk, Josleen takes Macon's hand and laces her fingers through his. Gigi finds them and greets them excitedly (whole body wagging, excited whimpering, air licking), but his enthusiasm is quickly subdued by their mood. Something is wrong, he can feel it. In their chambers, Josleen paces along the wrap-around floor-to-ceiling windows that give them an inspiring view of Larket and Northern Sage. The setting sun's fiery rays sets their room ablaze. Josleen stops at the western end of the room and stares past the Eternal Forest to the Xalious Mountains, where her parents live. Their transgression against their races (or their love for each other, if you take a generous view, which Josleen does in her better moments) is at fault for what afflicts her now. Gigi curls up in his gold-threaded dog bed at watches Josleen, waiting for a sign she is ready for the full Gigi treatment. She turns around, and it is clear she is not. She's looking at Macon and steeling herself for the conversation he won't let her avoid. "I'm worried about how you will react. I'm handling it. I can fix this." Her voice wavers on the words, unsure of their meaning or truth.
Macon has traditionally had difficulty with perceiving when he himself is putting out The Rage Aura aside from the most extreme cases. He could usually tell when he had the stone, what it was doing, but when he is the source, he can hardly tell it is happening. The Rage Knight infers Josleen’s meaning from her look, and imagines it must have been a weak spike because the carriage is not coming to an abrupt halt and no one is coming to the door to murder them. Inside the fort, after they are left alone and The Queen takes his hand in her’s he gives it a squeeze of reassurance as he anticipates that once they reach their destination she will tell him, finally, what ails her. Gigi gets a token growl when she greets the royal couple. In their room Macon and Gigi both watch Josleen, waiting. When she speaks, the king raises a brow, “Why are you worried?” He hasn’t considered the idea that she is doing this to herself and is instead oblivious as to why he might react poorly to her being ill.
Josleen sits on her chaise and presses her fingertips to her temple. That headache is returning. Gigi sees this as a golden opportunity to sit on mom’s little bed (so soft!) and does so. He puts his head in Josleen’s lap and hams it up. She ignores him and instead looks to Macon. Her response forms slowly. “Because I should have told you sooner.” Her voice pinches guiltily on the final word and she frowns again and looks downwards. The distance between them feels wider when she feels this low. She looks up at him again, her eyes puffy and red and pleading him to come, hold her, make it alright. “I just want a baby.” Having said it out loud and coming so close to the full confession, she cannot keep herself composed. She sobs and buries her face in her hands. For most couples, not being pregnant after only just over three months of intercourse (and only actively trying for one of those months) is nothing to weep over. These things take time, and couples with no reason to suspect infertility can be cavalier about those early months, and enjoy them. But Josleen knows of the half-elf curse, and thus every week she is not pregnant confirms her worst fear, and delivers a fresh blow to her womanhood (of which she believes motherhood is a paramount part), while threatening her security as Macon’s wife and Queen.
Macon catches her silent plea and obliges. The Fury Knight closes the gap between them and seats himself beside her on the chaise, opposite Gigi. He drops a hand onto her lap, Gigi trying to force her head under his fingers to be scratched, which Macon ignores. When she speaks again of her desire for a child, things finally seem to click for the king and his lips turn down in a worried frown while his eyes widen slightly, perhaps startled. It makes sense now, her words now, coupled with the illness and the bruises he had found on her in the weeks following the earthquake, they all add up to the conclusion he draws now. “You are doin’ this t’yourself?” He questions, looking for her to say it herself. He shakes his head, some judgement in his voice when he doesn’t wait for her first response before adding, “Why?”
Josleen shakes her head and refuses to say it out loud. The looks she gives him says ‘You know why’. A provincial girl at heart, she’s superstitious about certain things and believes that saying it out loud gives it power and will jinx her to never having a child. Those hopeful testimonials of half elves who allegedly conceived have given her an opiate hope, a dragon to chase and blow absurd amounts of gold chasing it. She’ll buy whatever seems likely to give her that child, and withstand any side effects until she succeeds, or dies of them. All she can think about is the fact she is not pregnant, and likely never will be, and she cannot stop crying. She leans on Macon and his stiff, frustrating armor. The tears keep coming, and the grieving doesn’t seem likely to stop. His armor needs to go, and she tugs on it. She wants to feel her husband, not this cold, unyielding, indifferent facade.
Macon shakes his head and growls at whatever false remedy is causing Josleen this pain. “There ‘as t’be a better way.” He says this as if a king speaking that belief out loud would will one into existence. Obviously she has already been making use of their wealth as a resource to track down the cure to her sterility, but his words also carry the secondary meaning of an offer to help The Queen in her search. Again he growls, this time in frustration at the empty Fury Armor between them and at the somewhat arduous task ahead of removing it. At her silent demand that The Rage Armor be gone, Macon eventually stands and the platemail comes off, but only as quickly as possible.
Josleen tries to stop weeping as she helps Macon out of his armor as quickly as possible (she’s had plenty of practice). The fact he isn’t angry with her helps her calm down. His offer to join her in this fertility crusade visibly soothes her and endears her to him further. He does have a rough and calloused exterior, but beneath that is a man capable of kindness and love. As for what’s beneath his armor, well, the clothes are a little funky from his trip out under the sun, but she doesn’t care. He trains and sweats daily, and she’s grown accustomed to it. Normally she’d wait for him to bathe, but now she’s impatient to feel him. She folds into him on the chaise and buries her face in the crook of his neck. Gigi is gently shoved and, with a little huff, abandons the couch for his dog bed. His parents are rude. After a few minutes, the Queen has stopped sniffing and sobbing, but there’s still a sadness weighing on her and permeating throughout the room. Once she’s sure her voice won’t fail, she asks, “What happens if this isn’t fixed? And how long do I have to fix it?”
Macon ’s armor is discarded on the floor of the room by the chaise, several pieces falling with clanks or thuds that startle Gigi momentarily. The king holds Josleen close and does what he can to expedite the end of the sad sounds of distress coming from The Queen. Kisses to the top of her head, back rubbing, those kind of things. To her first question he assures her that now that he is part of the search party for -their- solution “It will be fixed.” To her second one though, he lets out a gruff sigh from the back of his throat and looks at her incredulously for the idea of a time limit, “Wha’ the ‘ell are you talkin’ about?”
Josleen can feel the shift in Macon’s mood through his body and looks up to read his expression. Like most women in their insecure moments, she tested her man on exactly the thing which makes her insecure. Macon passed with flying colors, but, like all tested men, resents the question. A wiser Josleen in her better moments would sense his bubbling anger and backtrack, but at the moment she’s too emotionally raw to behave wisely. “You need an heir.”
Macon does resent the question that tested him and Josleen’s persistence in pursuing it frustrates him further. “-And-?” He snaps back, displacing some of that sadness populating the room with another pulse of Rage Aura, even weaker this time than what was experienced inside the carriage. “T’ave that I need a Queen tha’ ‘asn’t destroyed ‘erself in pursuit of one.” He meets her look with his stone stare. He is serious about putting an end to the false remedies that are causing her pain, and that is clear in his hard expression. Something else is clear too, he is not considering replacing her with someone more capable of bearing a child.
Josleen steels herself against Macon’s snap. She felt it coming, and all the same wasn’t ready for it. She's about to reply, but the rage aura's spike brings her up short. She sits up abruptly and looks over Macon's body as if believing that after Muzo's treatment, when they -saw- the aura, now she can perhaps -see- it. There's nothing. Gigi, a baser beast more susceptible to magic, growls at his own shadow in a rage. How dare this shadow! He moves, and the shadow -follows- him! He barks twice at it and scratches the floor. "Gigi!" Jos reprimands. The dog looks up at Josleen, confused, then down at his shadow, and, feeling no rage, trots over to his parents who are perhaps ready for him now. He starts by nuzzling Macon's side. Hello! Josleen licks her lips as she watches Macon and Gigi. She knows the King wants her to stop treating herself, and she knows he is right, but what if it works? What if just another day or more of taking this medicine is all it takes? Saying so will only enrage him further, and clearly Muzo's treatment has not cured him of the aura. She lies back down against the King. "Alright. I'm sorry." She smooths a hand over his chest. "I love you."
Macon adds onto Josleen’s scolding of Gigi with a long, slate glare that culminates when the animal walks over to The King of Larket and finally receives the attention he craves in the form of several scratches on the head at the hand of the Rage Knight. Thank goodness(!) The Queen does not provoke him further with those thoughts of one more treatment, or one more weird concoction. The smoothing and sincere seeming apology does the trick, perhaps even more so than the bard expects. It is enough for him to decide to do what she wants him to do. He tells her he loves her too in a low, growled out tone, and at a volume only she is meant to hear, because not even Gigi can know that The Fury Knight could say such a thing, and what if the room is bugged? Macon has a reputation to uphold.
Josleen smiles at his whispered love and nuzzles his cheek and nose. Slowly the sadness fades. It hasn’t been dispelled. She still wants this child, and still fears she’ll never be a mother. These tears won’t stop until his seed has taken root in her, which may be never. But his love reassures her that at least, for now, she need not fear losing him. She kisses him slowly and straddles his lap, poised to try again for a baby, come what disappointments may (not from Macon, of course). Sorry, Gigi, but Josleen wants that hand for herself.