1866-03-06: The Truth Comes Out
The Truth Comes Out
Summary: Alina can't hide the truth of her condition forever, even if she tries.
Date: 1866-03-06
Related: Several.
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Alina  James  

with references to

Tristan  Gabriel  

Alina rises to her feet, swollen and tender everywhere. She moves from her bed to the window, looking out as the sun rises.

Her stomach had quit waking her with feeling ill. Food stopped looking (and smelling) dangerous. She had spent literally the past couple of weeks in her bedchambers, feigning illness.

Well, not really feigning it. She felt miserable. But the previous two days had been blissful. She had eaten and drank her fill without it threatening to come back up. And though she still felt tired and sore, there was something less frustrating now that she wasn't feeling ill.

She knew she would need to speak with her father soon. She cannot hide this forever…

"Well." The voice of James al'Sylenthar intones calmly from the doorway. "It seems I should have come to see you earlier, Alina."

She winces, and turns from the window. Only clad in a chemise, her condition was entirely undeniable. "I am sorry, Father," she says swiftly. Best to not dwell. "I'm afraid I am not handling things well— I've spent the past few weeks quite ill."

The Duke glances his daughter over and scoffs lightly. "The Romante?" he queries. When his daughter nods, he shakes his head. "That could prove… interesting."

Interesting has so many definitions in this family.

"Does he know?" the Duke asks after a moment of consideration.

Alina shrugs. "I mentioned the possibility to him before he departed. But I did not know for sure, and did not trust the news to a moongazer." Or to anyone, it seems. And that doesn't go unmissed by the Hawk, who lifts a brow.

"You won't tell him," James says decisively. "Not until I figure out how this might affect the contract with Duke Cesare." He considers. "Any chance the man will choose not the recognize it?"

Alina considers. "I… I don't think so. I think…" Her brow furrows a bit. She had the time these past few weeks to think on it. "I think with his house weakened by their civil war, and another starting, even if he did not wish to recognize them, his cousin would force him to, in hopes they are sons and she can press her claim on them."

"Them?" Duke James's expression looks momentarily surprised. He lets out a slow breath. "We're sure?"

"Adelaide says she's felt two when she's been checking me," Alina replies quietly.

James grimaces. "Twins. And noble bastards. You must be my heir, because you never provide me with simple problems, daughter. Let's just hope you're wrong in your belief, and the man denies them." Alina looks angry for a moment. James lifts a hand to forestall it. "We'll recognize them. But think on this— if they are noble, then they will be contending with your future husband's children for heir." He pauses. "A husband you may not have wedded yet, but I am aware you've bedded."

Alina flinches. "It was only the once—"

"I don't truly care, and you were discreet enough," James grumbles. "You'll be married to him soon enough, anyway, unless this… causes problems with Duke Cesare. No. You're right to keep yourself hidden away, I'll have to think on how to approach this." The Hawk shakes his head slightly. "Next time you have information that changes the landscape," he advises sternly, "you will tell me at once, instead of hiding it."

Alina looks back out the window. "Yes, Father."

"Good." There's a few moments, then James smiles. "I'm not angry with you, Alina. Quite the opposite. You've provided me, and our house, with another set of pawns to use. We will just need to think on how they will be most helpful to us." He moves over to her and kisses the top of her head. "Rest as you need. Your mother was overtired during her pregnancies as well— whatever you need to be comfortable, just ask and it will be provided." And then he leaves her alone in the room.

She stands there silently for several minutes, watching as the sun crests.

To the south, the father of her children is, the man who holds her heart. It had been months since they'd last communicated, but she did not know what she could send him, if she should send him anything at all. Perhaps it is for the best that they not… What was he doing? she wonders. Was he fighting the rebellion that had risen again in his kingdom? Or was he soused with his face buried in the chest of some courtesan or eager noblewoman?

To the north, the man she would wed was probably… shining his armor or something equally dull. Fighting and slaying barbarians. She had not heard from him, either, and wouldn't know how to write to him. She respected him, yes, more than she thought she would initially. But was he happier there than he would be here at her side?

Were they both happier, hundreds of miles away from her, without her?

Tears well up, threatening to fall, though she steels herself and refuses to let them.

And then she feels the most curious sensation…

Movement within. A thud, inside her abdomen, and another. Her hand moves to her swollen stomach and she looks down in surprise. She feels them kick for the first time.

She half-smiles, and moves back to her bed to lay down again. No one ever told her carrying a child (or two) was so damned exhausting.

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