Chapter 8: Meeting
The meeting was, in a word, stressful.
The advisors fought over the subject of a heir, and while Elsa accepted she could never have one, the men and women in front of her did not. They suggested witches, potions, herbs (Vlademar, one of the advisors, shouted "Let's remove her powers!" only to have the old man next to him hit him upside the head). Elsa only regarded them with annoyance.
She rubbed her temples and squeezed her eyes shut; everything they offered was useless, she already asked the eldest troll and he said nothing could fix her.
The ruckus got louder and all Elsa could think was 'I wonder if they accept my apology if I freeze them?'
Finally stood up, which made the council settle as she directed her icy gaze upon them, "I would like to ask, would a foster child be the same?"
"A foster child?" One of them echoed, murmurs grew amongst them. The eldest, Ragne, said, "Perhaps . . . but he would have to be a very young child, so that he would not have his loyalties placed elsewhere."
"Would it be possible for it be in the line of succession?"
"That is an area of dispute amongst ourselves, but if we ever get to that, we shall see."
Another advisor asked, "You don't plan to adopt, your majesty?"
"Would there be a problem, Advisor Ralf, if I do?" Elsa spoke coolly.
"No, no, of course not! We just would like to advise, your majesty, that it shall be a tremendous task . . . seeking for the right child and going through the adoption process, perhaps you could—"
Vlademar scoffed, "Oh please! Don't you tell her, we've already decided no potions!"
The usually calm advisor flared, standing up from his place, "Well then, what do you suggest, Vlad? Hm? Do you suggest we just sit here and hope for the best? Didn't think so, Vlad. Or was it to remove the spell that is so clearly not going to? What? I didn't catch that, Vlademar, why don't you raise your voice—"
"Now, now, Ralf," Ragne attempted to placate, "No need to get your hair in a twist. But we have decided not to use spells as they might harm the Queen and her powers—"
"Oh, not you!" Ralf shouted, "Are you gonna suggest forcing sickly herbs down her throat? Or—or—"
"Gentlemen!" Elsa snapped yet again, "Will you please stop your bickering? I am not going to attempt to bring back the ability to conceive, the most powerful shaman has informed me I can never heal this. However, I shall have an heir, as I have already adopted a child."
The whole council froze, stunned at the news. The queen's face was the very picture of composure as the council exploded in questions, remarks, and warnings.
But inside, she was as stupefied as the council with her words . . . and their consequences.
I had to do MAJOR research on Norwegian monarchy and adoption, and turns out there have been some adoptions in Norway sometimes along the throne. I just decided to allow it, though with certain conditions.
