Gale of Cambia was never meant to be queen. She was never meant to be married and never meant to have children, but the day her father and younger brother decided to survey the country after a series of torrential rains they unwittingly set off a chain of events that would change her life forever. Gale would never forget the moment she was told of the rockslide that claimed the lives of her only remaining family, or the realization that as the king's only surviving child that she would have be become everything she was never meant to be.
Less than two years into her reign, Gale was still learning what it meant to rule. What she lacked in experience she made up for in diligence and iron will. Not even her sick bed was enough to keep her from staying up to date on the multitudes of reports that came in from all across the country on a daily basis.
It was there her husband found her. After knocking quietly, the king consort stepped into the doorway of the royal suite. He took one look at the stacks of paper scattered over Gale's bed and shook his head. "You should be resting," he said ruefully. "May I come in?"
Gale nodded, but didn't take her eyes off of the missive that lay in front of her. "Did you see this, Cole? The Celestial Dragons are demanding that we raise our tribute. We can't possibly afford to pay any more this close to winter. Not without starving our people."
"What a Dragon wants, a Dragon takes," Cole replied as he sat at the edge of the bed. "We will have to find a way of giving them what they want."
It wasn't the answer Gale wanted to hear, but she knew it was true. Her stomach churned, though there was nothing left for her to vomit. With a shaking hand she set the Dragon's demand aside and looked up at her husband. "We must push the modernization agenda with the council. Cambia cannot survive on coal and goats much longer. We need factories, modern manufacturing…anything to expand our sources of revenue."
"I know," Cole said. "Convincing the traditionalists has always been the problem."
"They're all fools," Gale said. "We're running out of time, and if they can't see that then they're blind as well as stupid."
Cole did not respond immediately. He took in his wife's mounting distress and placed the back of his head on her forehead. "You're burning up," he said quietly. "When was the last time you drank anything?"
"You know very well that I wouldn't be able to keep it down," Gale said, shying away from his touch. "I can't afford to spend the day throwing up when there's so much that needs to be done."
"The kingdom will not fall apart if you take a day to attend to your needs. Your health is more important than the council or even the poxy Dragons. For once, just let me help—"
"I felt it move," Gale said harshly, cutting him off. "I felt…I felt the baby move."
Cole froze, his eyes widening in shock. "I…what?"
Gale balled her hands up in her sheets, blinking back tears. "We are running out of time. I must do everything to put our plans into motion before you become regent. Otherwise your hands will be tied by the council and the law both, and it will be nearly impossible to initiate any new programs until our child comes of age. And I think we both can agree that by then it will be too late for Cambia. If pirates don't whittle us away to nothing then our enemies will eat us alive. There are whispers that the Germa are warmongering again, and…and…"
Tears spilled down Gale's face, momentarily cooling cheeks inflamed with fever. She flinched as Cole reached to wipe them away, and the look of heartbreak that flickered across his features shamed her. He was a good man and the father of her child, but she did not love him, and on her worst days resented the part he played in her current situation.
"You talk like your death is inevitable," Cole said. "You're young, and three months ago were as healthy as possible given your…your unique condition." He leaned forward and gently lifted her chin up. He gazed deeply into Gale's amethyst-colored eyes. "Your Highness, forgive my boldness, but my mother spent the first six hours of labor investigating a mine collapse, and you're still the strongest woman I know. Don't underestimate yourself."
Gale chuckled humorlessly and wiped her face, thinking about her few interactions with the formidable Duchess of the High Hills. "I never knew that's how you got your name."
"Hmn. And I never heard the story behind yours."
"I was born in the middle of a terrible storm. My father swore he could hear the wind over my mother's screams in the birthing chamber," Gale said, surprising herself even as she shared the story. Names were deeply personal things in Cambia, considered an essential part of a person's identity. To talk about it was to share a hitherto hidden part of herself with her husband, an intimacy that made her uncomfortable. Gale cleared her throat, eager to change the subject. "All that aside, we must plan for the worst."
"And hope for the best." Cole's gaze drifted to Gale's midriff, where the sheets hid the burgeoning evidence of her pregnancy. "May I?"
"I only felt it quicken this morning. You'll not be able to feel anything yet," Gale said. Cole's disappointment was impossible to miss, and she sighed before pulling she sheet away. Her thin nightgown was damp with perspiration, but Cole gave no indication of disgust as he placed one of his large hands over the swell of her belly.
"Hello, little prince," he whispered. "You ought not cause your mother so much trouble. It makes her irritable."
"It does not," Gale said, managing to smile. "And for all you know, that's a little princess you're addressing."
"Duly noted. I'll remember that next time…Gale?" Cole glanced up as the queen froze. "Gale, is something wrong?"
"No," Gale said reverently, placing her hand over her husband's as she felt her stomach twitch for a second time. "No, keep talking."
She would never say so out loud, but now that she had felt her baby move she was afraid of it going still—that her sick, frail body would be unable to cope with the stress of carrying a child and it would die, to join the countless other princes and princesses of her family line that never lived to take their first breath.
But in this moment, amidst the countless problems that surrounded her and her country, Gale's child was alive. And as long as this baby found the strength to survive, Gale was determined to do the same.
~x~
There was a legend going back to the dawn of Cambian history that told of the man who would later unite the country under one banner. The stories said that in a moment of weakness he made a deal with the Devil ensuring that as long as Cambia continued as a nation one of his descendants would be seated on the throne. Leolin the Great was the first of an unbroken royal line that centuries later would produce Gale, but such a deal came with a price: No ruler of Cambia would live to see old age.
Gale never put much stock in the old stories, but portraits did show that Leolin was the first of her ancestors to have purple eyes, the hallmark of all those who developed the Sickness. The unique disease existed only in her family line, spread from parent to child, generation after generation, with no known cure or prevention. Those with purple eyes bore the brunt of the curse, the mark that showed Death who He was allowed to embrace before their time.
Gale's brother had only been a carrier, hearty and hale as an ordinary man. Though she was the oldest child, her eyes disqualified her as queen. Any physical or mental distress was known to accelerate the condition, and pregnancy was as good as a death sentence. Gale's maiden great-aunt had been fifty-five before succumbing; at one time Gale had been determined to make it to sixty.
After the death of her father and brother, her priority shifted to finding a suitable husband and producing and heir as quickly as possible. Nearly thirty years old, Cole was more than a decade her elder, but he was the only qualified candidate who shared her desire for modernization. Most days they were more allies working toward a common goal than husband and wife, but over time Gale's confidence that he would do what was best for the kingdom in her absence solidified into something more.
On good days he visited her, coaxing her to eat and drink while giving news of the kingdom. As the weeks passed even sitting up to read reports began to drain stamina that Gale didn't have, and Cole quickly became the one person she could trust not to sugarcoat the truth for fear of upsetting her delicate constitution.
"There are reports of influenza as near as Ferndale," Cole said during one such visit, naming the township closest to the capital. It was now the eighth month of Gale's pregnancy, and she was for all intents and purposes confined to her bed. "There are twelve deaths we know of, which means there are probably dozens more that remain unreported. The council and I are setting up plans for an investigation after the baby is born."
"Waiting will only make things worse," Gale said. She hated how weak her voice had become, how sometimes the act of speaking left her feeling as if she had run laps around the castle moat. "The baby isn't due for nearly a month. Go, do what you can. An epidemic is the last thing the country needs."
"But…"
"Our first duty is to our people," Gale said, echoing a line often said by her father. "It isn't as if you'll be of any use here when the baby comes."
The room fell silent, and Gale was grateful that her back was turned to her husband so she couldn't see his face. She let her eyes flutter closed. "I'm sorry. You've done more than enough already for your useless invalid of a wife. I just feel so…out of sorts."
"Do I need to fetch the doctor?" Cole asked.
"No, no more doctors. It's not that sort of pain."
"You're in pain?" Cole said, an edge of concern in his voice. "Where? For how long?"
"I've had an ache in my back for weeks now. It's simply more persistent today." She craned back her head to look at him properly, noting he remained unconvinced. "I mean it. No more doctors. The last one stuck me with leeches."
Cole managed a weary smile and brushed a tendril of hair out of her face. "That sounds miserable."
"It was." There was another beat of heavy silence. "Cole, no matter what else happens, this baby must be born alive. I…I don't think I can do this again."
"Hush now. By all accounts it's doing well. You are the one who's been suffering through this."
"I'm well aware," Gale said. She swallowed hard, trying to beat back the fears that ate at her day and night, giving her no reprieve. "I don't know if I have the strength to get through labor. When the time comes, if I can't…" Gale took a deep, shuddering breath. "Cambia needs an heir, it needs stability. The midwives and doctors must be willing to do everything in their power to bring this child into the world, even if they have to cut it out of me."
"Gale!"
"You must tell them!" she insisted. "They won't listen to me because they think I'm too young and too sick to understand. Well, I may be young, but I know that there's a chance that this child will be born completely healthy, and that's something I will never be. Promise me, Cole."
"I…Gale…"
"I'm not asking as your wife," Gale said, something dark and terrible flashing in her eyes. "I am ordering you as your Queen. This baby must live, even if I do not."
Cole stiffened as if she had slapped him, all color leaving his face. The stunned silence hung heavily through the room, a wall springing up between husband and wife. When he spoke again each word was steady and measured, with a formality in his tone that had not been present since their wedding night.
"I…I will do as you command, Your Highness. On one condition."
Gale wanted to scream in frustration. "You are in no position to be making conditions!"
"And neither are you," Cole said coolly. "You may not see it, Your Highness, but when my mother was on her deathbed she made me vow to always do what was best for this country, no matter the personal cost to myself. A year ago that meant marrying you, but now…" Cole squeezed his eyes closed and clasped his hand around hers. The lines on his face deepened, aging him fifteen years in an instant. "I've learned you're not a spoilt girl only good for producing an heir to fill your father's throne. You're intelligent, dedicated…God, you're even beautiful. I…I know I'm being selfish, but Your Highness…Gale…"
"Please don't say it," Gale whispered as tears streaked down his cheeks. "It will only make things more difficult."
"I love you, and I don't want to lose you."
Gale's heart tore to shreds as her husband broke down into tears, hanging his head as he wept. Her father always told her that she was never meant to fall in love, and she had believed him. Courtly ballads and the tales of forbidden romance that circulated around the castle had always left her strangely unmoved. Love was a dangerous thing that hurt more than it healed, and she had no time to waste on matters of the heart.
"I'm sorry," Gale said. She cupped his face tenderly and opened her mouth to say more, to offer him some reassurance, only to find she had none. "I…I truly am."
"I want to be there when the baby is born," Cole said, still refusing to look her in the eye. "That is my ultimatum."
"You want to what?" Gale said, alarmed. She'd never heard of something as ridiculous as a man being let into the birthing chamber. It simply wasn't done, especially not in a land as steeped in tradition and superstition as Cambia.
On the other hand, without Cole's presence there was no guarantee that the midwives and doctors would obey his instruction. Instinctively Gale covered her belly with her arms, unsure of what to do. She did not particularly want Cole's presence while she gave birth, but there was a chance it would be necessary.
"Let me think about it," Gale said, her tone dangerously close to begging. "We have over three weeks before any decision has to be made, and you might not be back from Ferndale, rendering this whole discussion moot."
"You can't possibly expect me to be in Ferndale while you're having our child."
"I expect you to do your duty, as I must do mine," Gale said. "Now, please, can we talk about something more pleasant?"
Cole looked like he wanted to argue, but thankfully only pursed his lips into a thin line. "Don't think you can get out of this that easily," he warned, "but I think I've caused enough distress for today. What would you like to discuss?"
"I don't know, anything," Gale said wearily, a hint of teenage petulance in her voice. She was so tired of her own state of perpetual exhaustion. "I've not been further than the privy for nearly a week." She gestured to her expansive bedroom. "I don't even have a decent window to stare out of to pass the time. Apparently the slightest draft will send me to my death."
"And you'll send me to mine," Cole muttered. He scratched the back of his head. "I did hear one of the servants say that the hyacinths are starting to bloom."
"So soon?" Gale said. "What if there's a hard frost?"
Cole shrugged. "Who knows? With a little effort even the most delicate things can overcome difficult circumstances."
His meaning wasn't lost on Gale, and she narrowed her eyes. "This isn't helping you should go."
The words were hardly out of her mouth when a pain, worse than any she'd experienced through the day, settled deep in her back. Gale was unable to stifle a moan, completely destroying the front she'd been upholding up to that point.
Gale had been telling the truth when she said she'd been experiencing back pain for weeks. The royal physician assured her it was normal and prescribed hot water bottles and rest, both of which helped alleviate her symptoms. What Gale had been experiencing that day, however, was something quite different. It were almost as if she were having menstrual cramps, only much greater in intensity than she had ever felt in her life. The pains were irregular and short—distracting but not debilitating when compared to how overwhelmingly uncomfortable she was already. Through the entirety of Cole's visit she'd scarcely noticed that the rounds of discomfort were occurring in shorter and shorter intervals, gaining in both strength and frequency.
A warm feeling of wetness trickled down her leg, and Gale's cheeks burned with embarrassment. Thinking that she'd soiled herself, she bunched the sheets up over her lap, trying to hide her shame from Cole.
"I…I think you need to go," Gale said, suddenly unsure and afraid and vulnerable.
"Gale, what's wrong?" Cole said. "Talk to me, please."
"I said go away!"
Another pain came, catching her by surprise and taking her breath away. Gale doubled over and clutched her abdomen, silently counting the seconds as it rose in intensity, eventually peaking like a wave before retreating once more.
"Gale?" Cole asked tentatively. He tugged the sheet out of her hands and exposed the dark stain of fluid. "Dear God. Gale, your waters…"
"It's too soon," Gale gasped as panic rose in her throat. "I-I have four weeks yet. I'm not ready."
"I think your body disagrees," Gale said. "I'll fetch the midwife."
Gale grabbed his arm before he could stand. There was hardly any strength left in her grip, but he froze. "Promise me," she begged. "Promise me you'll do what needs to be done."
His face crumpled, a pain that was worse than anything Gale had ever seen on another person flashing in his eyes. "I…I promise."
~x~
Gale's labor was long and difficult. The midwives were not pleased with Cole's presence, and while they could not override their queen's command they could and did regulate him to a corner on the opposite side of the room. At first Gale bore each pain stoically, but as time passed her composure cracked, and then shattered. His wife's cries faded into low moans as progress stalled, and Cole could tell that Gale's strength was flagging.
"She's too small," Cole heard one of the midwives whisper to another. "I'm not sure her hips are wide enough."
"Nonsense. First delivery always goes long," another said. She turned her attention to Gale. "Now I know you'll feel the urge to push, but you're not ready yet."
It was uncertain how much she truly understood, and Gale sobbed as another contraction tore through her. "Where's Cole? I want Cole!"
"I'm here," he said, jumping to his feet. "I'm here, just like I promised."
"Sit back down!" the senior midwife said. "You may rule the kingdom, but in this room my rule is final!"
Anger roared with in the king, fueled by a powerful instinct to protect his wife and the mother of his child. He strode past the hapless woman, and glared at her with barely suppressed fury. "No. The queen as called, and it is my duty to answer." Bending over his wife, he pressed his lips against Gale's sweat-stained brow. "I'm here."
Violet eyes glazed with torment pierced into his very soul. Lips, cracked and bleeding from where she had bitten, contorted in agony. "Please, make it stop. I…I can't."
Tears fell down Cole's cheeks. He had spent nearly twenty hours in this godforsaken room listening as his wife attempted to deliver the child she was never meant to have. He had put the love of his life in a situation she now found unbearable, and though he had had little choice in the matter he could not deny that he was the cause of Gale's current suffering.
"You can," Cole murmured, placing his hand on his wife's belly, feeling the muscles tighten and contract. An inhuman scream tore from Gale's throat and her back arched.
"This kingdom needs you," Cole continued. "This baby will need you, and, damn it all, I need you. You can't give up now, not when you're so close."
"I hate you," Gale sobbed. "I hate you so much."
"I know."
Cole placed Gale's hand in his own and continued to talk about anything and nothing, doing his best to keep his wife's mind away from the despair and hopelessness he knew she battled every day. Whether is words had any affect or if the natural process of labor had simply continued, Gale soon began to dilate at a rapid pace, as if her body were trying to make up for the wasted time.
Cole continued to hold her hand as the midwives turned her in a more optimal position to push, and continued to whisper a steady stream of encouragement when Gale squeezed it in a death-grip as she bore down.
"Head is born," one of the midwives said approvingly. "Now just give me one more big push with the next contraction."
"I can't," Gale said hoarsely. "There's nothing left."
"You can," Cole contradicted.
And she did. Moments later both parents were turning their heads toward a high-pitched, keening cry that filled the room. A wide grin threatened to split Cole's face in two as Gale let out a cry of relief. The babe was small, almost too small to produce such a loud noise. The midwives hurried in to cut the cord and swaddle the infant before placing Cambia's heir at its mother's breast.
"Congratulations, Your Highness, it's a baby girl."
"Told…you…" Gale said, something that was almost a smile gracing her lips. She set her head back on the pillow, her limbs going lax.
"That you did," Cole said reverently.
Mother and baby were asleep in moments, and Cole let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. Fingers shaking with relief, he brushed the hair out of her eyes. She looked so peaceful now, the flame of fever finally out of her cheeks, leaving them with their natural ivory coloring.
No, ivory implied health and vitality. Cole realized with a shock that all the color had left his wife's face, making her look like a ghost. Or a corpse.
"Something's wrong," he stammered, standing suddenly to his feet. "Something's wrong with Gale!"
And that was when she began to bleed, and would not stop.
~x~
In later years, Gale would be able to remember little of the labor and delivery of her daughter. Based on what she did recall, she knew that was probably for the best. She would always regret missing the first contact with her only child, but simply being alive was consolation enough.
Only the combined talents of the midwives had saved her from bleeding out, and for that reason Gale would pretend that she did not remember their disgusting show of insubordination in the makeshift birthing room. She spent weeks recovering from the ordeal, slipping in and out of consciousness while her body struggled with the aftermath of her pregnancy.
Recovery was slow. Getting from the bed to the chairs on the other side of the room was an arduous journey that took days to complete. It was a week before Gale felt well enough to see her daughter, but when she requested assistance leaving the bedroom she was told that she wasn't allowed.
"What do you mean not allowed?" Gale demanded. The servant cringed at her tone and took a half-step back.
"By order of the king and ratified by the council, Your Highness. You're not to leave this room."
Gale did not have an explosive temper. She did not scream and she did not shout, but the servant gulped loudly as the Queen of Cambia drew herself up to her full height, looking down her nose like the girl was a thing to be squashed beneath her feet.
"You've ten seconds to explain yourself before there are consequences," Gale said, her voice stony hard. "Dire consequences. Do you understand me?"
"I-It's the sickness!" the servant stammered. "It's made it to the capital, and the whole castle is being kept in isolation to prevent its spread. The king came in to tell you, but you were kind of asleep and wouldn't wake up."
It was like someone had snatched the breath out of Gale's chest, icy cold fear quenching the anger just as quickly as it had come. "Where is the king now?"
"I don't know, I swear! No one does. He went out to oversee the effort in the city and commanded us to lock the gates behind him. Anyone coming or going is to be shot with extreme prejudice until we receive word that the sickness has passed through, and you're not to leave this room in case the influenza somehow got in anyway."
Gale was forced to sit down, her head swimming with new information. "A-and the baby? Is the baby safe?"
The servant nodded emphatically. "Last I heard, yes. She's a little 'un, but once she figured out how to latch has been nursing well."
"Thank God," Gale said, faint with relief. She stared blankly at the four walls of her bedroom, which had just become her prison. While she didn't necessarily disagree with Cole's decision and would not attempt to overturn it, it killed her that once again her health was dictating her ability to rule, and she longed to see her child.
"Fetch me paper and a bottle of ink," Gale said.
"What?"
"If the king is out organizing the people that means there is no one to run the day to day affairs of State. I refuse to sit here and twiddle my thumbs. If Cole is out there attending to the needs of the capital, then I will address the needs of the nation. Now go and fetch me paper and a bottle of ink. There's work to be done."
~x~
The quarantine lasted for thirty days, and in that time Gale recovered from her pregnancy as much as she ever would. She could already tell that she was weaker than before, more fragile. Foods that she had once eaten without difficulty were now almost impossible to stomach, and she was perpetually fatigued. Her hair and nails lost their luster, and when Gale looked in the mirror she couldn't help but notice that she looked…ill. Sickly. Unwell.
She would have no more children. Even if Gale thought her body could handle the stress, the midwives and doctors agreed that the difficulties of her labor would likely leave her womb barren. When they had explained it to her Gale had felt the smallest pang of regret. The only thing she remembered of her daughter was her shrill cries at being so rudely entered to the world, but at that moment all the hardship, all the pain, had been worth it.
Against all odds, Gale was a mother.
Her first order of business after being released from her room was to be escorted to the nursery. Her daughter had gone far too long without a proper name, and though she'd spent a great many hours pondering, nothing Gale thought of seemed right. She wanted to see the child for herself before consulting Cole, who was expected to return to the castle any day now that there was no more influenza in the capital.
Every report Gale received spoke of a healthy and vivacious newborn, but when Gale finally laid eyes on her daughter she was asleep. When she saw the queen, the wet nurse attending to the babe scrambled to her feet.
"She just finished feeding," the woman said. "It tires her."
Gale nodded, her whole attention on the girl. She seemed so impossibly small even for a newborn, lacking the fat of a baby that had been carried to term. A sweet, precious face was all that could be seen under the layers of swaddling, but even from a distance Gale could see a few strands of wispy black hair, the exact shade of her own.
"The old hands say she looks just like you when you was first born," the wet nurse said softly.
"May I…may I hold her?" Gale said, uncharacteristically unsure of herself.
"You're the queen and her mother. Ain't nothing in this world that could stop you."
Gale took the child, clutching her tightly for fear of dropping her. Gale had been scarcely more than a baby herself when her brother was born, and had no experience with infants. Patiently the wet nurse corrected her hold into a more natural position. The jostling caused the babe to wake, and she looked up at her mother, her dark purple eyes almost too large for her tiny face.
Gale's breath hitched. "N-no, this can't be. They said she was healthy. It must be a trick of the light, t-they said…" Gale pushed the baby into the wet nurse's arms and clasped a hand around her mouth as the bile rose in her throat.
The baby blinked, but when she opened her eyes they were the same color as before. Gale couldn't stand to look at those cursed eyes and stumbled back to the safety of her bedroom. This couldn't be happening—her daughter couldn't have inherited her weakness. Gale couldn't have doomed her child to sharing her fate.
Somehow Gale managed to make it to the royal suite. A courier was blocking the door, and Gale was fighting hysterics as he offered her the customary bow. "Your Highness," he said politely. "I've been waiting for your return. Urgent message from the city."
In his hands were a potted plant and an envelope. Gale took the envelope and tore it open without really being aware of what she was doing. There were only three words written on the parchment, but she recognized her husband's handwriting immediately.
Duty unto death.
"Wh-what?" Gale's eyes widened and she looked to the courier for answers. "What does this mean?"
"Dunno, Your Highness. I was just told to bring it to you right away, along with this."
He held up the plant for Gale's inspection. "Hyacinths?" she asked, utterly confused as to their meaning. The flower was in full bloom, each petal a rich purple. Dozens of small flowers grew on each stalk, only a few shades lighter than her daughter's eyes.
At that moment another messenger ran towards them at full speed. He skidded to a stop in front of Gale, a look of wild panic on his face. "Your Highness, terrible news! The king has fallen ill. We thought he'd avoided the worst of it, but it got him, just like it got all the rest."
~x~
Gale of Cambia was never meant to survive her daughter's birth. She chose Cole to be her husband because she knew—or at least hoped—that when she died that he would guide both their child and the country down the road of modernization. She planned for the worst, while her naiveté led her to severely underestimate what the worst could possibly be.
No, Gale of Cambia was never meant to find a husband who loved her enough to try to save her, nor one stubborn enough to succeed in doing so. She was never meant to outlive her spouse, nor to train up her daughter alone with the realization that she would be dead before she came of age.
She was never meant to, but she did, and that knowledge haunted Gale every day for the rest of her short life. Necessity forced her to take out a loan to pay the tribute the Celestial Dragons demanded, which in turn forced her to raise taxes on a population ravaged by an epidemic. The progress she had so long dreamed of ground to a screeching halt, and it was uncertain whether it would ever begin again.
Gale was well aware of each and every one of the many failings in those early years of her reign, and if there was any hope of her daughter inheriting a stable throne then there could be no more. Gale disciplined herself in the art of politics, closing herself off from any emotions that might cloud her judgement. That was, all emotions except for one.
"Mama, may I go outside?"
The queen did not look up from her report. "Have you finished your lessons?"
"Yes, Mama."
"Practiced your penmanship?"
"Yes, Mama."
"Watered your plants?"
"Yes, Mama," the young girl said, exasperated. "I'm completely finished with everything you set for me today, now may I please go outside?"
Queen Gale set her report down and raised her eyebrows. Her daughter copied the expression with a jester's air of mocking play, and the queen sighed. "Take that tone with me again and I'll see to it you never go outside again. Now go, you're making me tired just looking at you."
"Thank you, Mama!" The girl rushed to her mother and hugged her tightly around the waist. Queen Gale returned the gesture, combing her fingers through her long, dark hair.
"Now Hyacinth, what have I told you?" Queen Gale murmured.
"That hugs are improper and a breach of decorum and that I must never indulge lest our enemies take it as a sign of weakness." Young Princess Hyacinth beamed cheekily up at the queen as she parroted the words. "But there are no enemies here, so I'm not going to stop until I have to because they make you smile."
Queen Gale could only shake her head as her daughter bounded off, full of vim and vigor that would be cruelly snatched away from her before her time. She knew she shouldn't indulge her daughter in this way, but at that moment, amidst the countless problems that surrounded her and her country, Queen Gale's child was alive. And as long as Princess Hyacinth could find the strength to smile, Queen Gale was determined to do the same.
Gale of Cambia Biographical Summary
Physical Description: Slight in stature and build due to mild malnutrition caused by her illness. Long black hair kept impeccably coiffed as per her station with a skin tone that's either pale-to-pasty white depending on the day. Most striking feature are her dark purple eyes, which both mark her as a royal and as one who has inherited a terrible disease. She prefers a simpler style of dress than one might think considering her station, but as she spends the majority of her time feeling vaguely nauseated she doesn't like to make herself more uncomfortable by wearing fancy clothes. What she lacks in pomp is more than made up for in her regal bearing, and she is often described as having a gaze that can cut through a man's soul
Personality: Gale has known for as long as she can remember that she was destined to die young. She spent the first sixteen years of her life purposefully not forming attachments to anything or anybody because she was afraid that she would be hurt by them. She fully expected to die having her daughter but did so anyway out of a strong sense of duty to her country, and when she ended up surviving the ordeal when Cole did not she was absolutely terrified. Some might call her callous or unfeeling—especially to Hyacinth—but the reality is that she knows her country is in at a crossroads that will result in survival or ruin, and that the days until her daughter takes the throne are limited.
Hobbies: What little free time Gale has is coaching Hyacinth, hoping to shape her into a worthy leader
Affiliations: The World Government, North Blue
Devil Fruit/Fighting Style: lol, no. She is Commander-in-Chief to the royal army, though
Strengths: Gale's greatest strength is arguably her pragmatism. She rarely lets her emotions interfere with her decision making process, and has used every trick she knows to guide a stubborn and traditional country down the first steps of modernization and progress.
Weaknesses: Physical illness haunts almost every aspect of Gale's life. Even after consulting dozens of doctors from around the world and subjecting herself to treatments that range from well-meaning but useless to inhumane and sadistic, it's unlikely that she will reach forty. What's worse is that she knows Hyacinth is destined to share her fate. That, along with the loss of her father, brother, and husband in such a short period of time left her very cynical and bitter, almost to the point of nihilism. Gale does what she does because she feels obligated to do it, but finds no joy or happiness in ruling.
To Appear In: (7) Days
Inspiration: The name 'Cambia' is borrowed from 'Cambria', a lesser-used name for Wales, and geographically-speaking I imagine the two being very similar (coincidentally, it's also the name of a medicine used to treat arthritis). The idea of having a royal with a heredity disease comes from hemophilia being spread through the royal families of several countries via the children of Queen Victoria, although I left the nature of her illness intentionally vague. The tradition of giving babies significant and very personal names is just something I think is cool. Gale, though in-universe was named after a literal gust of wind, is a variant of Abigail or Gayle which ironically mean "father's joy" and "jovial" respectively while phonetically similar to "gaol" (fun fact: someone with Gale as a surname might have had an ancestor who worked in a prison).
Hyacinth, in addition to referencing her purple eyes and Cole's final gift to his wife, has significance in the language of flowers. The purple hyacinth represents sorrow and the asking of forgiveness, which Gale was well aware of when naming her daughter.
Purple is often called the color of royalty, which is why I chose it to represent the royal disease. Unusually colored eyes is also a hallmark of Mary Sue-type characters, and I thought it was funny to have a sick, emotionally stunted character to physically look like a Sue.
As always, thanks for reading. Please drop a review if you feel so inclined.
