thesunandthesea | Temper, temper.

The months since her announcement of her pregnancy had been blissful, wonderful. Her heart wildly happy, and he with her, beside her, in it. He was so attentive, glad, touching her slowly growing bump, and even putting up with the tearful moments or when she craved some strange food or another with eagerness.

But as she began to grow, so came with it the disease, the frustration. It became harder to stand most things as she got rounder. With how often she needed to sleep, or eat, or found herself irritated by the smallest things. She missed her family, even though they had all sent gifts, all the things she would do to keep her mind off it strained as well. Even the intimacy that came so easily with him became difficult. Too often she was too tired for more than a few touches before she fell asleep on him, despite all her best attempts.

Perhaps it was inevitable, when the servant came with her rumour that struck straight to where she felt weakest. So utterly undesirable, exhausted, her ankles hurt, her chest heavy - and it seemed that her husband lost interest in her too. Or so said the rumour. With the up coming birth, she had taken on new maids in preparation - and it was perfectly natural that her husband would want to sate his desire with one of them, whispered the servant, who heard it no less from her brother-in-law in his chambers.

It shattered something cold in her gut, furious and ugly, it reared like a great wave that choked her throat, her sense, burning in her gut, like bile in the back of her throat. Her head pounded as she fought for the composer she knew she must keep. Her fingers tightened on her chair, rapidly trying to go through every moment she'd seen, in that new light.

Until she could not, lurching to her feet and her ladies-in-waiting lept up in surprise. But the suspicion surged in her heart. "Out!" Came the snap, and when they did not move quickly enough, she smacked the nearest cup clean off the table with a clang as it banged off the floor. "Out! All of you!"

And the minute the door was shut, she made a horrible, wracked sob, smothered into her hand. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. He wouldn't do this to her. He wouldn't. Not with her own maids.

Though the voice whispered, low and familiar like it always did: did she really thing she could keep him content? That she could be enough? He was the brilliant, fierce Prince of Eiru, like a lion bedecked in golden flame - and he had wed a mouse. A timid, unsightly, miserable little creature. What else did she expect? She had left him to his own, not dug into his business - he'd said his brother had matters for him, urgent and long. But maybe... it maybe...

It hurt - even if it made no sense, they had been arranged for politics, not love, it was common for their rank to take lovers once duty was done. But yet it hurt and hurt to think of. Ripped and gnawed in her heart as she snatched for the next nearest thing - the drink pitcher - and knocked it over, and when it was not enough, the chair went with it.

Angry and furious, she shattered whatever she could get her hands on, until the exhaustion once again won out and stumbling, she found the bed to sit on, yelling as squarely at the next servant that tentatively poked her head in. She wanted to see no one, was her order. Especially not her husband.

Of course, the minute he did return, it is him they seek. Hurriedly explaining that she was well, no harm had come to her - but he had best see to her immediately. They didn't dare, not if they wanted to leave the room unscathed.

no subject