Chapter 67: Violet in bloom

Chapter 67: Violet in bloom
Months swept across the Sun-Lands like the warm, restless winds of the plains.

With the turning of the season, the Queen underwent a transformation that the Askari would sing about for generations. The foreign, mysterious girl who had arrived draped in terror and heavy wools vanished, replaced by a beloved, radiant figure at the heart of the Old Village.

She was no longer the "Weeping Violet," a cruel moniker whispered by those who had only seen her trembling in the King's shadow.

Her days were spent in the dirt and the sun. She used her newfound authority not to hoard wealth or demand tribute, but to become a fierce protector of her subjects. She spent hours in the healing pavilions, tending to the sick, the elders, and the crippled. The children of the camp adored her. They trailed after her skirts, squealing with laughter as they played tag with her massive dire wolf, Azeth, who rolled in the dust and behaved like an overgrown, slobbery puppy for the little ones, despite being a wild, lethal predator.

As the trade caravans came and went, the merchants carried stories of the Dragon King’s Halendarian wife out into the vastness of the plains. They spoke of the Queen with lilac eyes who healed with the heat of her hands, and whose smile was as bright as the dawn.

But above all, the plains whispered of how deeply the Dragon King himself cherished her.

The Great Warlord of Askaris, a man known only for his lethal strength, had softened in a way no one thought possible. When he returned from leading a hunt or a scouting party, he always went straight to his Queen. The village grew accustomed to the sight of Ikarion catching her in his massive arms, swirling her around in the dusty square, and covering her face with kisses while she laughed, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. They were undeniably, radiantly happy together.

By mid-afternoon on a particularly warm day, Misarya was alone in the large cabin they now shared.

She sat at the heavy wooden table, humming a soft Halendarian folk song as she meticulously sorted through small clay jars of dried herbs and glass vials of fragrant oils. She was experimenting, carefully layering a base of warm, resinous amber with top notes of sweet fig and desert jasmine, determined to create a cohesive and elegant scent profile that felt both like the valleys she had left and the plains she now ruled.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden door flew open.

"My Queen!"

Misarya jumped, nearly knocking over a vial of jasmine oil. She spun around, her hand over her heart. "Rhea! By the gods, what is it? Has something happened?"

Rhea stood in the doorway, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her face was flushed, her dark eyes wide and shining with an emotion Misarya couldn't immediately place.

"Sorry for startling you," Rhea gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "I just... I couldn't wait to tell you!"

Misarya set down her mixing stick, her brow furrowing in concern. "Tell me what?"

Rhea took a deep, shuddering breath, a watery smile breaking across her face. "I'm pregnant."

For a split second, the cabin was dead silent. Then, Misarya let out a piercing, unladylike scream of pure excitement.

She shoved the table away and launched herself across the room, throwing her arms around Rhea’s neck and squeezing her tight. The two women held onto each other, laughing and crying all at once.

"My dear!" Misarya cried, pulling back to look at Rhea’s tear-streaked face. "Congratulations! Oh, I am so happy for you!"

"I just came back from the midwives," Rhea sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I already suspected, but I wanted them to confirm it before I said the words out loud... You're the first person I'm telling."

"You have no idea how happy I am for you," Misarya said, her own lilac eyes welling with joyful tears. She knew the depth of Rhea's past pain better than anyone.

Rhea grabbed Misarya’s hands, squeezing them tight. "This baby wouldn't be possible without you, my Queen," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You reached into the dragon and gave me a miracle. Honestly, I think you're at least a quarter his father."

Misarya threw her head back and laughed until tears spilled over her cheeks.

"Well," Misarya said, wiping her face and grinning, "back in the valleys, we have a custom of assigning godparents to a child. They are people close to the parents who swear an oath to take care of the child in their absence, to guide them and protect them."

Rhea tilted her head, a fond smile on her lips. "Well... We don't have that here. Maybe because we all take care of every child in the absence of their parents. Even the riven ones."

"Yes, I know, I know," Misarya waved a hand dismissively, her eyes sparkling. "But it is symbolic! And I would love to be godmother to a child of yours."

Rhea’s expression softened into profound gratitude. "It would be our greatest honor, my Queen."

Misarya pulled her toward the chairs by the hearth, forcing her to sit down. "When are you telling your husband?"

Rhea bit her lip, looking down at her hands. "I wanted to wait a little longer. Just to be safe... but Jarek made a comment about my tits feeling bigger one of these days, and I am sure I won't be able to keep my mouth shut the next time he touches me."

"Tell him tonight," Misarya urged, her voice filled with gentle encouragement.

"I'm scared, my Queen," Rhea admitted, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper. The ghosts of her past lingered in the shadows of the room. "What if... What if my baby doesn't survive?"

Misarya knelt beside Rhea’s chair. She took the older woman's hands in hers, offering a look of deep, unconditional sympathy.

"Then you will share the joy... And the pain with the one who actually made this baby with you," Misarya said softly, her voice steady. "He is your husband, Rhea. It is only fair that he carries the weight of this with you, whatever the outcome may be."

Rhea looked into Misarya’s eyes, finding a well of strength there. She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Alright. I'll tell him tonight."

Misarya smiled brilliantly, squeezing her hands.

But as Rhea looked at the Queen, the sharp instincts of a companion caught the slight, almost imperceptible falter in Misarya’s smile. A shadow of longing flitted across the younger woman's lilac eyes before she quickly hid it away.

"What is it, my Queen?" Rhea asked gently, leaning forward.

Misarya shook her head, forcing the brightness back into her expression as she stood up. "Nothing... I'm just... Anxious for my turn." She absentmindedly smoothed the front of her linen dress over her flat stomach. "It's not like we haven't been trying..."

Rhea let out a soft, knowing sigh. "I am the very last person who should preach about this, Misarya-lir, but you must be patient. You have only been truly married for a few months."

"I know, I know," Misarya conceded, waving off the melancholy before it could take root. She clapped her hands together, determined to keep the light in the room. "Anyway, I think we should be ready. Once you tell Jarek… I’m pretty sure we’ll have days and days of celebrations to come…"