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GrandChildren |
Ce'Leste D'Riel
Va'Lan D'Riel
An'Lin D'Riel
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The sunlight struck her straight in the eyes as it seemed to so many mornings. Silverthorn groaned in protest, rolling over to huddle close to her husband. Why was it so warm in here? Still not really awake she pushed at the half-elf's massive figure. It was bound to be his fault. He was the resident hot water bottle in this bed, not her. Her head pounded as if little imps were beating her skull with hammers. "Didn't drink enough to get a hangover," she mumbled, throwing the covers off.
“Not now Thorn,” Ro murmured, “I need five more minutes… ok?” He was just drifting off again when one of the sheets dragged across his front at warp speed, setting his skin on fire with the force of it. “Skrun! Thorn! Gods!” Sitting bolt upright he rubbed at his chest, mourning the loss of a swath of chest hair. “Thorn?”
A glance in his wife’s direction had him reaching for her, pushing sweat damp locks away from her exotically beautiful features. “Oh my Gods… you’re burning up. Thorn? Wake up.” A hand slid beneath her back, hoisting her up into the crook of his arm as he brushed back her hair, “Thorn!”
Raven lashes lifted to reveal a bleary, unfocussed jade gaze. "Ro? What's wrong?" she muttered dazedly. "Who turned up the heating?" Tired. She was so tired. "Want to sleep. Make them turn the heating down." Closing her eyes, she tried to roll over.
“Ja’Kel!” Ro’s howl brought the guard outside the door flying in, sword drawn in some sort of automatic response. “Put that away, bring Lady W’Cren to me, now.” He was already gathering Thorn up in his arms, lifting her from the bed as he shifted to the edge and stood up, just in time to see the door slam shut as the Ranger ran to do his bidding.
Several strides across the room brought him to the archway of the bathing room were he turned down the heat in the water and waded in as it cooled. Settling on the stairs he propped Thorn between his thighs, fumbling for a sponge and dipping it into the water before wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Hang on love… you are going to be alright.” It was hard to tell whether he was trying to convince her, or himself.
His only response was an indistinct mumble of protest. A shiver rippled up the S'Hean Queen's spine as the cool water trickled over her skin. Almost irritably she pushed at her husband, but her usual strength was missing from the gesture. "Just want to sleep. Please, Ro... Head hurts..." The mumbled words were distinctly grouchy. A throbbing pain had set up residence inside her skull, crushing steel bands seeming to wrap around it. Every limb felt heavy and an odd lethargy weighed her down. Sensing the anxiety trickling through their bond, Silverthorn managed an awkward pat on the half-elf's arm. "I'm fine. Just tired."
“Your Majesty?” Lady W’Cren paused in the doorway, waiting for Y’Roden’s acknowledgement before entering the room. Receiving a brief nod she hurried forwards, gathering up her skirts and tying them to the side as she waded into the water. “How long has she been like this?”
“I’m not sure, I only just woke up before I called for you and found her this way. Am’Elle, she is not S’Hean… what the hells could be making her ill?”
The chestnut haired female elf pushed the Queen’s head up with gentle hands, then pushed one of her eyes open with delicate fingers. “She may not be S’Hean Your Majesty, but you are bound by blood and soul. If this illness if affecting you, it could be migrating to her as well through your bond.”
“What?” Supporting his wife’s head Y’Roden gave the Healer a horrified look, “It hasn’t done this to me, if I’m not this sick, why is she?”
“You are this sick,” pale green eyes flickered up to meet emerald, “when has any illness affected you as much as anyone else? I’ve seen you survive wounds that would have killed the average S’Hean. Excuse me for saying so, but you are different Y’Roden D’Riel. There is something about your physical makeup, even beyond your human blood, that makes you so. Now hold her still, do you think you can get her to drink something? We need to try and bring the fever down.”
“I can try,” he muttered through clenched teeth. Trying to get Silverthorn to do something she didn’t want to was like trying to wake up a drunken Im’holtz… an exercise in futility.
Annoyed at yet further disturbance that only served to make her headache worse, the raven-haired elf batted irritably at the Healer's hands. The mumbled comments were indistinct, and for those not fluent in the Tauremornan language unintelligible, but they were still clearly rude. "Leave me alone. Tired."
“Arianne,” Ro’s voice was low, “you have to stay awake love.” His attention shifted to focus entirely on his wife, ignoring the healer as she left the pool, only to return ten minutes later with a glass of clear liquid.
“Here, try to get her to drink this,” holding the glass out to Y’Roden the Healer kept a respectful distance. Her husband was Lord W’Cren, and as a result, the Lady W’Cren was not quite sure what to think of her King’s choice of Queen.
“Try being the operative word.” There was tension and worry in the half-elf’s voice as he readjusted his hold on Silverthorn, forcing her head up. “Elleska… are you thirsty?” Gods he hoped so, “Here… open up…”
There was a gurgle as the liquid began to be poured down her throat, and then the raven-haired elf gagged, coughing and spluttering. Almost retching as she gasped for air, she unintentionally managed to cover the large half-elf with most of the potion. A low groan of pain escaped her, a hand rising to her forehead in an oddly vulnerable gesture. Her jade eyes were glazed, but held an distinctly accusatory expression as they fixed on her husband. "Do that again and die" she mumbled.
“Oh, yes,” Ro muttered, “because you are just so scary right now. What are you going to do? Sweat me to death? Drink, now.” Worry was bringing out his aggressive side, though her vehement words made him think that maybe she wasn’t so bad off after all. He looked up at the Healer, and had his hopes dashed by the look on her face.
For an instant his wife almost gave in to the childish impulse to say 'make me', but she knew her husband well enough to suspect that was precisely what he would do and she didn't seem to have the energy for the battle right now. Besides, beneath the aggression she could feel the concern pulsing through their bond in waves. Jade eyes dropped to what liquid remained in the glass, and her stomach rebelled. Deliberately she tried to push the nausea down, to stay awake as Ro had asked, but all the time the fatigue pulled at her, trying to drag her down into the darkness of unconsciousness.
Black spots danced in front of her eyes and her instinctive shake of the head only sent needles of agony jabbing into her. The hand that reached out for the glass shook so hard she could barely control it and a sob that was pure frustrated pain spilled from her lips. "I... I can't. Oh Gods, Ro..."
Ro had a very strange, horrified moment when he was sure Thorn was going to throw up. He had seen many things in his life, done many things during his life, blood, skinned bodies, infected wounds, rotting corpses… but nothing… ever, made him run for the hills like the prospect of vomit.
Taking a deep, slow breath the S’Hean steadied his nerves, “Ok… you don’t have to.” Pleading emerald eyes flickered up to Lady W’Cren, asking the question… what now?
A raven-haired head sagged limply against his shoulder, clarity of thought lost beneath the insistent pounding in her head and the buzzing in her ears. If she was so hot why couldn't she stop shivering? Silverthorn wondered vaguely as fine tremors racked her body. "Need sleep..." she mumbled, barely aware of what she was saying but with an instinctive need to soothe the anxiety she felt from her husband, "okay then... just sleep."
Waves of sick dizziness washed over her and jade eyes closed with a faint groan. The water seemed so cold, too cold. How could they expect her to sleep in an ice bath? It would be warmer outside, a little voice whispered at the back of her mind, the sunlight would feel so good. "No," the S'Hean Queen murmured, "hot outside... light hurts eyes..." But the compulsion to move, to drag herself outside somehow, to just lie on the balcony and let the sunlight wash over her skin was strong. A soft sound of distress left her chapped lips.
That Silverthorn was seriously ill even she could not deny by the time the heat of Zenith drove everyone indoors. A combination of tenderness and bullying had managed to get some fluids into her body, but even those she was able to retain rather than choking or vomiting back up was being sweated out faster than any liquid could be poured down her throat. Constant tremors racked her slim frame, her mind wandering as the pounding headache crushed rational thought.
A soft moan spilled from her lips. She could feel the sunlight outside as if it were a weight upon her skin, sense it in a way she could not explain, and like an addict craving a drug she needed to be out there, needed to feel it. Yet her limbs felt uncoordinated and heavy, and every moment sent shards of agony through her. A sob caught in her throat. "Please..."
Y’Roden and Lady W’Cren had resorted to Rune Magic, the Healer gently instructing the King. He knew how to relieve pain with runes, he had done it often enough assisting in childbirth, but the process of adjusting someone’s body temperature with them was a delicate process. Mingled with muttered Prayers to Jaran, God of Light and Lord of Ice, the patterns were drawn across Thorn’s skin with cool water, the magic softly glowing wherever her husband’s fingers came into contact with her flesh.
It wasn’t working. Lady W’Cren assured him he had done everything properly, by rights it should have worked. Perhaps it was the difference between Tauremornan physiology and S’Hean, but Ro didn’t think so. The Runes to relieve her pain whilst giving birth to his children had worked… why not these?
“Please what, Elleska?” Ro murmured, “I don’t know what you want.” Seated on the bed with as little of his body in contact with her as he could manage, he was holding an ice filled cloth to her forehead, the drawing it down over her body, trying to ease the burning heat. The half-elf was well and truly frightened now, Thorn’s temperature was dangerously high and they seemed helpless to do anything about it. He was making her ill… and somewhere at the back of his mind, the only solution to the problem was beginning to whisper its dark message.
Jade eyes opened slowly, their expression glazed. "Out... outside," Her voice sounded weak and uneven. "I need... to go... outside..." She coughed harshly, gasping for breath, the words as much as she could manage.
“Arianne… it’s hot out there, it’ll only make it worse.” His wife was delirious, she had to be, and if the fever spiked much higher it was going to kill her.
Chestnut lashes fell, then flickered up again as Ro stared at the open doors leading to the balcony. He didn’t want to think about it… to admit to the thoughts that were starting to form some semblance of sense. To rid someone of a disease, you had to eliminate it, or cut him or her off from the cause. He had promised her on their wedding night that if one of them should die, so would the other.
It wasn’t one that he could keep, not now… for so many reasons. The first and foremost thought, he would rather Silverthorn be alive and hating him for breaking a promise, than dead when he could have prevented it. The second… he was King of S’Hea, if she died, he would soon follow, leaving the land without leadership. Fechine was far too young to take the throne, and he was the only legal heir. Y’Roce would never be King material, the boy just didn’t have it in him; Imoreki was too young… so were Rhagi and B’Roden, obviously.
Valin was already a King, he could not leave Corin, nor could he rule two Kingdoms at once. That left two more sons… and they were completely mad. B’Ryan and B’Ryen had been sequestered in the Crystal Keep since Y’Roden, Callan and Reece had managed to capture them. They had brutally raped their own cousin Melaina, though they hadn’t realized their familial relationship at the time, and she was just one in a long line of victims. Raised by Gareth Alcarin, the twins were perhaps… unredeemable.
For Thorn… and for S’Hea, there seemed only one answer… a move that he was terrified to make, because even in the process, one mistake and Ro himself could die.
“It’s hot out there,” he murmured again…
The dark-haired elf's fingers moved clumsily, catching hold of his hand as he moved the cloth over her. It was so hard to think, so hard to put what she needed into words that he would understand. She could feel his fear, if not think well enough to truly comprehend the cause, and even now part of her wanted to comfort him. Yet there was a compulsion within her that she did not understand, but neither did she have the energy to fight it. The sunburst emblazoned on her hip felt like a fiery brand against her skin. "Light..." she gasped, her jade eyes begging the large half-elf to understand, "need light... sun..."
“I can’t,” Ro said softly, “I know the sunlight makes you feel better sometimes, but adding more heat right now is going to kill you, Arianne. I can’t let that happen.” He couldn’t trust her instincts, not right now. Whenever she took her odd little sun sabbaticals her temperature rose, and it was a risk he just couldn’t take. The positive effects had always seemed to be mental rather than physical as far as he could tell, and right now it was the physical danger he was worried about.
“Just… sleep now, I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
"Nooooo!" A sound close to a scream left her lips at his denial, the dark-haired elf starting to struggle with what little strength she was able as reason disappeared beneath blind instinct. She had to get outside. She had to. Awkwardly the tall woman pushed at the restraining hands, trying to roll out of bed. If she could just... get... outside...
“Thorn… Gods, please don’t.” It ripped at Ro to see her this way, helpless as a child and obviously not thinking straight. He grappled with her, trying not to pin her down, knowing how much that terrified her, but maintaining a grip at the same time.
The door opened at that moment, admitting Lady W’Cren who had left several hours before to do more research. In her hand was a large purple blossom, one that Y’Roden recognized immediately. The last time he had used it… Shadow had been in hysterics after the death of her husband.
“The Kaima-Lokte?”
“Aye, Your Majesty,” the healer nodded, averting her gaze from the weakly struggling Queen. “All I can recommend now is rest, if she sleeps and stops fighting, perhaps her body will find the reserves it needs to fight this.”
And if she didn’t wake up? He didn’t say…
Taking the flower with a ginger touch the half-elf sat up and exchanged a look with the woman. Pale green eyes turned away, which was more of an answer than any number of words.
The half-elf’s expression hardened to a resolute expression and he turned to his wife, slipping a callused hand beneath her head and holding it immobile. I love you Arianne…
Hard fingers crushed the petals and pollen exploded from the heart of the flower.
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