Loss and Rebirth

No one knew what was worse; the deafening silence, or the pain filled cries that had ripped through the palace halls just hours before. The Knights, Ladies in Waiting, footmen, and servants only whispered among themselves, not daring to raise their voices even a little. The Queen Danele had lost another heir, and this miscarriage had seemed to be much worse than the others. Five months along, and so happy she was. Her joy had been infectious to one and all; her smile infinite. Even the King had seemed easier, not as gruff, as the excitement grew with each passing month. Then yesterday, as she was being fitted for new gowns to accommodate her swelling belly, she had doubled over in pain. Unfortunately, that had just been the beginning.

Mereavus, her personal Advisor, and proclaimed friend, had torn through the halls, shouting for the physician, even as the Queen was being carried to her quarters by a hovering Knight. Blood… Gods, there had been so much of it by the time the physician arrived. Even from behind closed doors, her wrenching screams had echoed to the floors below. The ladies had begun to pray earnestly, even the men joined, knowing how much this babe was desired. They prayed even harder when the King was informed, just returned from a hunt. His expression was frightening when the information was relayed. All who witnessed it assumed his ire was with the Queen, losing yet another heir. That was until he disappeared into the library and slammed the door shut behind him. There was silence for several, long minutes, causing a few in his most trusted circle to approach the wooden door and place their ears to it. Suddenly, a masculine cry of pure anguish tore from the room. Following it were the sounds of pottery breaking, splintering wood, and paper being torn. For a good twenty minutes, the hurricane within the library prevailed. Then, as suddenly as it started, it ended. Some swore they could hear the muffled sounds of weeping, deep and soul wrenching. However, most scoffed at the notion of the King shedding even a single tear. For the rest of the evening, he had remained within, with no one daring to disturb him.

The morning dawned, bright and warm. The birds sang their cheerful melodies, the flowers bloomed in a profusion of bright color, and the sky held not a single cloud. It seemed to be mocking the despairing pall that had fallen over the palace. The Queen had survived, but the heir had been lost. The King had finally emerged from his solitude, but the library lay in tatters. Every priceless vase had been smashed to splinters, books had been torn to shreds, furniture broken and destroyed. If possible, the King looked more frightening coming out than he had going in. His clothing and hair were askew, his hands cut and bearing dried blood, and his eyes were swollen and red rimmed. Without even a nod, he strode through the halls and up the stairs, no doubt headed for the Queen’s own quarters.

Danele, unaware of her husband’s reaction, was settled into her bed. The night had been hell, the morning even worse. Though the physical pain had passed, leaving her only with the occasional twinge, the mental pain was threatening to shatter her. She had been so hopeful this time. She had done everything that she was supposed to. She had stayed off of her feet, rested more than she was ever used to, abstained from even her beloved wine. She had actually been able to see the babe grow this time, felt him kick and shift in her belly. A son… the physician had told her that; a perfect, tiny baby boy. The tears had not stopped flowing since she had awoken. Deep, wrenching sobs had racked her frail body until even the physician feared for her. The typical condolences were given, along with promises that she could conceive again; but that was no comfort to the mourning Queen.

Hours passed. How long, even she was not sure. The heavy, velvet drapes had been drawn to keep out the sun. When sleep eluded her, the tears, the infinite ache, began anew. None dared approach her, for what could they truly do? How could they hope to relieve the sorrow seeping from every pore in her body? Yet, in her pain filled thoughts, she could not help but to think of Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen. He had been elated when she had given him the news. Despite their distance, emotionally, he had still come to their bed to conceive a babe. Danele had not denied him, knowing she could not. Besides, she longed to give him another son as much as he desired one. A miscarriage before Nefertise, and another after. Now, this, and when she had been so far along. Her heart literally broke, for herself, for him, and for the babe that would never know their arms.

“I’m sorry,” she wept softly, hugging her pillow to her breast. What did she do wrong? Did she cause him to be born too soon? Had she not rested enough? Had she gotten too excited? Or, perhaps it was God’s punishment for denying her husband. So many thoughts swirled around her head, all of them consisting of blame, and all of them directed toward herself. “I’m so sorry. I did not mean to do it.” Even the stalwart knights stationed on either side of her door grew misty eyed, hearing the heartfelt apology to no one. She chanted those words like a zealot at prayer, tears streaming from her puffy eyes, and soaking the pillow she still clutched.

Then, as if in a dream, she felt the bed dip behind her. A pair of strong arms were surrounding her and pulling her into an unbreakable embrace against a broad chest. Instinctively, she knew it was him, and like a lost, broken child, she curled up against him, wrapping trembling arms about his waist. He was warmth, he was comfort, and he was strength. “I’m so sorry. He was a son, and I’m sorry. It was my fault somehow..” Her words were jumbled, rambling, and as raw as any could be. His large rose to cover the back of her head and pressed to his shoulder.

"Shhh…..” Barely a breath passed his lips, but it was enough to calm her to a certain degree, and cease her mental self flagellation. “You did nothing wrong, Danele.” How could he not blame her? How could he hold her so tenderly in his arms when she had just lost his heir? She shook her head in denial, wetting his rumpled doublet with endless tears. “It is not your fault. It was not..” His voice broke. “It was not meant to be, yet. You will give me a son when the time allows it.” His damp cheek touched her forehead, and it was then she realized that he was just as devastated as she. “There will be others, my lady love…..”

Slowly, she lifted her head, and for the first time, actually saw the real Wyldrigrenkledrysllthen. He looked haggard, worn, and so deeply hurt that it clenched her very soul. He had been weeping, and weeping hard, for his eyes were as swelled and red as her own. In forgotten wonderment, she lifted a pale, shaking hand to his whiskered cheek, and felt her world tilt on it’s axis. The walls she had so painstakingly erected around her heart for years, shattered in just a few seconds.
“Y-You… you love me.” It was not a question. It was a firm statement, for she -knew-. How could she have been so blind for all of these years? Yes, they had developed a friendship and trust that was undeniable, but it had never occurred to her that he just may feel the one thing she had always thought him incapable of. She had always loved him, though it had been impetuous, foolish, and jealous. Yet, what she was feeling flowing through her now was beyond compare. A sad smile touched his beautiful, full lips, and he nodded.
“I have loved you since the first night I took you, Danele. You have always held my heart when none other could.”

Suddenly, the past ceased to exist. The mistresses and lovers no longer mattered. The bastard children were forgiven the circumstances of their births. Her husband, her lover, her best friend, loved her like none other. She could see it in his eyes, his expression, feel it flowing from him. The sorrow and pain melted away. Oh, it would return, but it would be tempered by her newfound knowledge.
“I love you with all my of heart,” she whispered achingly. For the first time, she truly knew the meaning of that phrase as she uttered it. As if it were confirming what the Fates already had deemed, the scar on her breast tingled to life. He smiled, then, and it had to be the most brilliant smile she had ever beheld. Never before had he looked so damned…beautiful. It was in that moment she knew that everything would be alright. That the future, looking so bleak only an hour ago, held untold promise, and they would face it… together.