Moon Drunk: Origins

Yuletide News

Julien takes her hand gently. "There are still enemies, Princess. Not only Fleming enemies, but Agincourt enemies, as well. We must pray to the Ancestors that this child is a boy. A girl is no good to me. All of this will have been for nothing."

Felicite feels sick again with the pressure and the thought that she endured all these nights of torment at his hands for naught, and she presses her hand protectively against her belly.

"At least we know that you are fertile. If this child is a girl...we can still try for a boy. But it will be a far more difficult path for us without a male heir to my throne. You understand that, don't you?"

"Better than anyone else."

He nods.

"And if I could not conceive? What would you have done?"

Julien raises an eyebrow, as though this is a foolish question. 

"I would have married Claude, of course."

"And would you have forced my sister into this position, like you have me?"

Julien looks away, for the first time showing regret for his actions. "Yes," he admits. "I have no choice. I must know that the woman I marry can give me a son. You must understand that I did not take the throne from Jolis for myself. It is time for a new ruling family for the Three Kingdoms, Princess. I am not taking a wife because I am lonely and desire one. I am taking one to make the new royal family the Three Kingdoms need. The Agincourts lost at Beaufort, Princess. You lost at Beaufort. And you are the spoils of war." 

"I carry your child," she replies. "There is no longer reason to delay our marriage. I have done as you wished - as you commanded. I have given you your heir. You will shame me publicly no longer."

Julien falters at this, but nods in agreement.

"Shall I stay?"

"You are the king," she replies.

"I am," he says, his words heavy with weariness, and for the first time, Felicite sees him as he truly is - a young man, who should still be hunting in the forest with his friends, feasting and tournamenting and laughing merrily, but instead, his face bears the exhaustion of an old man.

Yule arrives, and Felicite and her family are invited to visit her betrothed husband in the palace at Corunna, two days' ride north from Ravaenna. This is to be the palace of Lady Saoirse, Julien's mother, and where she will hold her court. It was once the winter home of her beloved Jolis, and the corridors and rooms are haunted with memories for Felicite.

She is surprised when she arrives in the great hall of Corunna, sandwiched between her mother and Lady Margrithe, with her sisters trailing behind her, that Saoirse greets her warmly, ignoring the curtsies and instead enveloping Felicite in her arms, as though she were her long-lost daughter, come home from a far away court. 

"You are most welcome here, Princess Felicite. Lady Anjolique, and Lady Margrithe," Saoirse greets them. 

"Thank you," Felicite says softly, unsure what to make of her betrothed's mother. She is a stunningly beautiful woman with sharp features and long, auburn hair that spills in ringlets and curls down to nearly her waist. Her smile is genuine and her green eyes sparkle. 

"I know you are here to enjoy the Yule feasts, Princess, but I had hoped we may discuss arrangements for your wedding."

"If it pleases you," Felicite replies simply.

"You will come to be fitted for your gown in the royal wardrobe in the coming weeks," Saoirse says, then gestures to Anjolique and the princesses. "Your family, as well."