“Tor, do you happen to know the date?”
It was mid-morning, and Nerys was confused. She was fairly certain she knew what day it was, but perhaps she’d forgotten. Perhaps she’d gotten her dates mixed up and it was actually a week earlier than she thought it was. But Tor’s answer did nothing to assuage her anxieties.
“It is the twenty-fourth, my lady.”
His voice was as calm as it ever was. Of course, he had no inkling to the war of emotions swirling in her chest, so he had no reason to not be. Still, she couldn’t hide the way she pursed her lips, dissatisfied with the answer.
“...thank you, Tor.”
“Pardon my boldness, but is everything alright, Lady Nerys? You don’t seem like yourself.”
“No pardon needed,” she said, letting out a soft sigh. “And...nothing’s the matter. I think I just lost track of time, that's all.”
Tor could probably tell it was a lie, but he didn’t press the issue—and she was thankful for that. It angered her how she could already feel tears pricking at the corner of her eyes, but she did her best to hide it. She’d never been one to cry this much in her life, but as of late the tears came easier and easier.
“In that case, I’m happy to help,” he said with a polite bow of his head. “I must be off, though. The alliance’s anniversary celebration is coming up and Lord Aglovale has me quite busy with the preparations.”
How could she forget? It was all anyone in the castle talked about these days, most of all her husband. And Nerys was as excited as everyone else, of course—celebrations were always a fun time, and alliance business meant she’d get to see Maeve and Fifi too—but it only reminded her of Aglovale’s duty and how selfish she felt for what she was feeling.
But she couldn’t help it. Nerys was getting older, and with each passing month she knew the window in which she could have a child was getting smaller and smaller. And though it was embarrassing to admit it, it was affecting her more than she thought it would.
Before she married Aglovale, he told her that children were a possibility but not a guarantee—and the possibility was only slight.
She understood this. She accepted at that moment that she may never have a child. The way she was feeling now, then, was just...selfish. Truly, there was no other way to describe it. After Aglovale had told her about his fears and reservations, the reasons he was hesitant...to go back on her word now would be shameful.
Tor cleared his throat and Nerys was pulled from her thoughts. She realized she’d never replied to him, and she sheepishly bowed her head to him.
“My apologies, Tor, I’ve got...a lot on my mind. I’m going to retire to my chambers, but if you need anything from me while you work on preparations don’t hesitate to call for me.”
“You’re much too kind, my lady. Likewise, if you require anything from me, please let me know.” With a final bow he ended up taking his leave, and it was not a moment too soon.
Not able to hold back any longer, tears spilled from her eyes with such ferocity it almost startled her. Lifting one hand to furiously wipe the tears from her face, she gathered her skirts in the other and all but ran up the stairs to the bedroom.
Once she made it to her destination and shut the door, Nerys buried her face in her hands and cried. Her tears were hot against her cheeks and her cheeks were hot with embarrassment, her mood swinging rapidly between anger and sadness.
What place did she have to be sad? Through bleary eyes she looked around the room she sat in—the floors were marble, the bed was covered in silks, the windows overlooked the gardens and the castle town. She was born a commoner and was now the Queen of Wales. She was married to the man she’d loved for years. She had a plethora of friends all around this skydom and those beyond that cared for her.
Truly, what place did she have to be sad?
And yet there was still a lingering ache in her chest, the feeling of a void that only one thing could fill. She hated that holding baby Louie was the closest she felt to feeling whole—and she didn’t hate it because of him or because of Maeve or because of Percival, but because of herself.
A soft knock on the door brought her mind tumbling back to reality.
“O-one moment,” she called out, sitting upon the bed and pulling out her bedside drawer to search for something, anything that could dry her tears.
“Nerys.”
She had a feeling it was Aglovale behind the door. Tor must’ve said something when he reached the throne room; there was no way anyone had heard her outburst through the stone walls, right? Maybe if she could clean up enough she could feign her red eyes as allergies—
The door creaked softly as it opened, and all she could do was hang her head in shame. Eyes trained on a spot on the floor between her feet, she could hear the sounds of him approaching before she felt his weight as he sat on the bed next to her.
They sat in silence for a few moments. With slow, labored movements she grabbed the kerchief she’d been looking for and closed the drawer once more, dabbing the soft fabric against her eyes and cheeks to clean up the aftermath of her outburst. The crying had stopped, but the ache in her chest continued on, gnawing at her.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, breaking the quiet. His words were direct—they always were—but his voice was soft, his tone gentle.
“I’d really rather not,” she admitted, still not looking at him but now staring at her hands, fingertips fiddling with the fabric that was between them. “I’m just being...ridiculous and selfish.”
“Perhaps you’d like a second opinion on that,” he mused. “You know you can tell me anything.”
“I know,” she breathed, voice wavering as more tears threatened to come. He promised he’d be understanding, but once she said her feelings out loud they’d become real, irrefutable. Maybe she was still trying to fool herself.
She’d gotten used to the cold metal of his armor against her skin, but when she felt his gauntlet against her arm pulling her closer to him she was overcome not by chill but by guilt, and the words came spilling out of her before she could stop them.
“I want a child, Aglovale.”
Nerys could feel his body next to hers go rigid for just a moment, even through the plate mail that covered his body. For the first time since he stepped in the room she looked up at him and captured his gaze before she continued.
“I know I agreed to marry you on the condition that we may not ever have children...yet I still had hope because it wasn’t an absolute. And you have no idea how incredibly selfish I feel for wanting this, but I can’t help it. To want a child so badly amidst your duty to Wales and despite the fears you have...I truly feel horrible.
“But I’m getting older, Aglovale. Today I was supposed to hit the peak of my cycle but it came and went days ago with almost no pain at all. That might seem like a good thing, but all I can think about is how every month I inch closer and closer to that point of no return. And if you truly don’t want to have children I will accept that fact but please—give me the confirmation. I don’t know if I can continue on like this.”
Her throat felt raw as she spilled the last of her impassioned plea to him, either because of how much force was behind her words or how she was holding back another onslaught of tears.
“Then let’s have a child.”
Whatever Nerys thought he might say, she wasn’t expecting him to say that. Her eyes widened in shock, head wiping blank of anything she’d been wanting to say in response to him because she couldn’t have predicted that he’d actually agree to it.
“But...” she stammered, coming back to her senses, but Aglovale interjected.
“I have my duty, yes, and I have my fears. I will always have these things. But if anything, I should say I was the selfish one for imposing that upon you and your desires.”
“I don’t want you to agree just because it’s something I want, Aglovale.”
“I’m not,” he said, his voice firm. He offered her a beat of silence to say anything further, but when she didn’t take it he continued. “If this wasn’t something I wanted, I wouldn’t have said it.”
“Why are you telling me this now then?”
“I don’t think I realized it’s what I wanted until just now, at least consciously.” His voice softened, one hand still on her back while the other took one of the hands on her lap. “When you said you wanted to have a child, I thought about how I felt holding Llewelyn for the first time, and how different I’d feel if I were holding my own son or daughter.
“I believe Percival is blessed for not fully remembering the day our mother died. He has been able to go through life unburdened by the shadow of the past, and Llewelyn’s existence is proof of that. But…I am not the boy I was back then, nor am I the man who told you my fears all those years ago. Today I want to be a man that looks toward what the future might hold.”
She was speechless. Nerys could feel the tears welling in her eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy. With a soft sob she tucked her head against him, right hand placed against his chest while the left remained in his gauntlet, his thumb caressing (the best one could caress in metal armor) the red gem-encrusted ring upon her ring finger.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked, and he let out an incredulous, short laugh.
“What could you have to be sorry for?”
“Making a scene...not telling you how I felt immediately. Assuming how you felt. Just for everything.”
“Well, some of those things don’t require an apology, but I accept it nonetheless,” he said. “I should apologize for not telling you sooner about how I was feeling.”
“You truly want to have a child with me?”
Aglovale dropped his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and letting out a soft breath. When his eyes reopened, he smiled down at her—a real smile, not his cocky grin or telltale smirk.
“I do, Nerys. I promise you I truly do. In fact, why don’t I clear my schedule for the afternoon so we can get a head start on trying?” Ahh, there was that smirk.
She wasn’t sure if he meant to make her laugh or if he was serious (perhaps both), but regardless of his intent she pushed him into the bed anyways. Nerys wasn’t going to lose her chance now—not with the hope that was now blossoming in her chest, drowning out the anger and despair.