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@xkennafleming

“--do you remember that man from the market?” Amphelice-- clothed in sheer silks and with curls unbound-- begins conversationally, as her hands start the intricate process of braiding portions of her dark hair (for she longs to make herself beautiful for when Nicholas comes home to her), her babe fast asleep in her cradle by the fireplace. “the handsome warrior from Italy...” there’s a pause. “I am told he fancies you.”

#kenna;#hi bb!!

Amphelice came over to the palace one frosty October night, when moonlit mists were hanging over the harbor and curling like silver ribbons along the seaward glens; for her lord and husband had long now been away to war and battle, and she, heavy with child and stricken with fear, had wearied of sitting home all alone save for her ladies, not knowing what to do with herself for how faint she often grew thinking of the commander, away from her, not knowing where he was or when next she shall have him back home, to her; was she, then, she often thought, to bear their child alone and in fear and homesickness for her lover? Would Mother not leave her homestead and come to her? Weeks had it been now since last she had written to her, and Amphelice worried that her letter had not been received, or worse, that Mother had fallen ill and would not at all be able to travel to be with her. She was near enough to her confinement now, belly swelling smooth and round with her babe, that such thoughts made her half-sick with worry; and although she did what she could to soothe her worries, she had but little appetite, and often had to force herself to eat, for fear of her child growing sick in her womb. Sighing wearily, sat she now before the fire with her sewing, firelight curling about her fair face and sweet, blue eyes like little sparkling rings of gold, her dark curls shining like silk atop the lace of her dress as she dipped her neck forward, bidding her lady bring her her shawl, lest she caught cold for how little warmth her body always seemed to keep. "My back aches with sitting," she said, peering over the swell of her belly at Kenna who sat near her, a pretty little grimace forming over her delicate brow, "--and that soup my old nurse would have me eat has given me a bellyache after all... " she sighed, pouting miserably as once more she took to her stitching, hating how stiff her body felt; how cold and restless. No longer had she uttered the words, than her nurse came to her with her shawl and a cup of tea, bidding her drink it as she draped the shawl about her slender shoulders, “I have made you some tea with the hips of roses; it is sour and will taste good to you. I remember how I craved sour things when I was with child-- babes in the womb know what is good for them, and they demand it of us. Drink it, child." commanded she, and, not wanting to quarrel, Amphelice drank obediently, her body demanding the nourishment even as her mind revolted, making a face at the sourness of the drink, but drank it down thirstily nonetheless. "oh, I do not like it," she said, "but how strange, I cannot stop drinking it... Want you some, Kenna?" she offered, forcing herself to smile a little now, not at all liking how she had sat there half the day, sighing and snapping at everyone around her; Amphelice had been so edgy lately that there was no speaking to her at all. It was natural enough, so near her time, constantly longing for the father of her babe and knowing not when next she’ll see him, but nevertheless, she wanted not to sour their mood any further, and thus, swallowed her bitter thoughts and sipped at her tea, bidding her maid bring the lady Kenna and herself something sweet to nibble on whilst they occupied themselves with needlework, hoping to feel a little better for having the company of such dear a friend as Kenna; for she felt, if left alone amongst strange ladies another second, she should go mad and strangle somebody for how dreadfully fretful and overwhelmed with worry she had been; oh, if only Nicholas would come home!