A Gift Unto the King

Curses and Burdens

"Curious." Angelique whispered to herself, not entirely sure what to make of it off hand.

Carmilla frustratedly tossed the stunted bud aside with a huff.

"It doesn't matter what I do, or how many different plants I try, it's always the same." She shook her head, curls lightly bouncing against her cheeks. "What kind of elf can't do simple plant magic?"

"Well," Angelique thoughtfully tapped her lips with her finger, "there have been quite a few substantial changes in your life recently. It may be nothing more than that."

Carmilla frowned, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. As much as she wanted to accept the optimism, the assessment felt less than satisfactory if she was being honest.

Sensing her unease, Angelique placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Pregnancy can be very draining on the body, your majesty. Even at such an early stage, babies require quite a lot of energy to grow." Her thumb gently stroked the queen's arm. "It may very well be nothing to worry about. And, after a while, your magic may even return, just as it was before." She spoke softly, a warm smile gracing her lips.

"I've never met an elf that lost their magic, even when carrying a child." Carmilla's voice was low, and laden with worry.

Angelique's smile faded, her brows upturning slightly—though the elf did not see it as her eyes had fallen to her lap.

Elves are defined by their magic, it's what makes them whole. Their connection to it runs so deep that it is firmly embedded in their souls. That kind of bond is nearly impossible to break, and Angelique knew that. Having lived amongst the Elvijah, she had met a few pregnant elves, and learned a great deal of magic from them. Their abilities had never diminished with the presence of a child, even if they needed more rest than they would have otherwise. Carmilla's situation was highly unusual, and the fact that Carmilla was aware of it forced the healer into being much more cautious regarding her display of concern.

"The child is a half-blood, your highness. A curse-born." Angelique spoke calmly. "The elves you knew were carrying full-blooded, elvish children. It's quite possible that it's nothing more than that."

Carmilla did not reply right away, instead continuing to fiddle with her fingers. She supposed, there was a chance that everything was fine—completely normal for a rather unusual situation, as it were. After all, it's not exactly like she had any real experience with growing a child herself, much less a cursed one.

"I'm sure you're right." Carmilla sighed with resignation. "It's probably nothing."

Pushing herself up from the ground, she brushed the dirt from her knees, and extended a hand towards the healer. Graciously, Angelique accepted it, and allowed the queen to guide her to her feet.

As Angelique clung to the queen's hand, she felt two, very distinct energy signatures glowing deep within her. The brightest of them was Carmilla's, brilliant and warm. The other was her child's, a tiny, dimly-lit spark. It was an underwhelming little thing, that tiny glimmer, but with a pregnancy so new that it would otherwise have yet to be found if she hadn't been expressly looking for it, Angelique supposed it was just as it should be.

"Are you alright?"

Carmilla's voice snapped the young healer out of her daze, and she quickly released her hold on her hand.

"My apologies, your highness. I fear I may have lost myself for a moment." Angelique collected herself, readjusting the basket of flowers hanging from her arm.

Carmilla nodded, kindly smiling to hide her own concern about the brief shift of expression she had noticed on the healer's face.

"I think I'll take my leave. It appears my failed magic trick may have drained a bit more out of me than I had to give." The queen let out a light, somewhat unspirited, giggle.