To put it lightly, Marianne was exhausted with all of the pressure currently resting on her shoulders, from being the bridge of positive relations between Fódlan and Almyra all the way to what had her sitting in an empty room by herself, a thin blanket draped across her shoulders and her nightgown stretched so that she could tuck her legs inside of it. If this had been several years before, she would have crumbled under the stress that she'd been put through, but she was thankful that she'd been given the guidance needed to at least make the diplomatic portion of what she was enduring easier. That was not to say that she was handling the rest of what was on her plate very well at all, hence why she'd isolated herself from everyone in her new home to sit and try to keep herself from cracking.
Being the public face of Fódlan's side of the trade agreement between the two countries should have been a self-contained deal, but she'd been careless and in offering her hand in assisting with arranging the deal, she'd eventually also given up her hand in marriage to the same man she was working with. The Margrave had been beyond overjoyed when he'd realized she was being courted by the Almyran king, not just for diplomacy but for a serious romantic attraction, and in the short time between courtship and the marriage proposal, he'd worked hard to prepare her for what she'd need to do when she'd become the queen. But nothing that he'd done had really mentally prepared her for what she came into the moment they were legally wed, although to be fair, a lot of her problems stemmed from things that would have caused issue regardless of if she was marrying royalty or a commoner.
She was tired of having to answer questions for the whole of Fódlan, because the populace of Almyra wanted their explanations right away and reaching out to Fódlan leadership would take too long. She was stressed from the warm and welcoming persona she had to put on whenever dragged out into regal duties alongside her husband, who was a natural at being the friendly people-pleaser the people wanted. And most of all, she was suffering from the calls that there be an heir to the throne sooner rather than later, cries for this made every time she so much as left the castle for a minute.
Never once had Marianne actually thought she'd live long enough to be expected to become a mother, so the first time she'd heard someone make that demand she'd almost fainted on the spot. When she'd fallen in love with Claude, she hadn't realized that doing so would lead her down such a harrowing path, because she'd honestly thought that someone as aloof and fun-loving as him would want to go through life child-free; it had only dawned on her too late that as a king, he would rightfully need an heir to secure his bloodline's legacy for at least another generation. Clearly he'd had that on his mind when he'd started courting her during their trade negotiations, and he obviously thought that she'd make for a perfect mother to a young royal, but they'd never talked about it until after that first person yelling on the matter.
It hadn't been an easy conversation to have, her baring her heart on the matter while he, trying his best to understand her side of things, pointed out that there wasn't much of a choice on the matter in the end. "Doesn't mean we won't make sure that you think you're ready for it before we start trying," he'd said with a laugh, nuzzling his forehead against hers while he brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones, picking up the soft tears she'd shed while they were talking. "I'd never do anything that you're not comfortable with, regardless of what the expectations for us might be. That's love, after all."
Sure, it was love, but it was draining to be unable to go out without people yelling at her about what they thought she should be doing with her body. It would have been going against herself to just give in to that pressure, but she knew she'd have to do it someday, and it was that war between wanting to please her people and wanting to be true to herself that was weighing heaviest on her shoulders and her soul. Being the queen of Almyra was easy, but being the future bearer of the next ruler of the country was a lot harder, and she knew it wasn't going to be getting easier anytime soon.
"That's where you got off to," she heard Claude saying as he opened the door to the room, spotting her on the floor and shutting them both inside to give them the privacy they needed. "Couldn't you have found a room that's being used for something for this self-isolation? Would've made it easier to find you."
"Sorry," she apologized, her eyes fixating themselves on his legs and feet, rather than anywhere that would remind her of his warm personality. "I wasn't really thinking about comfort or ease of access, I was thinking only about being alone."
He crouched down to get more on her level, but when he saw her continuing to not look at his face he sighed and sat fully down on the floor, scooting to right next to her so that he could carefully take the blanket off of one shoulder and drape it over his as well. "No need to be alone any longer, I'm here for you and since I've got nothing else going on today, barring any last-second political emergencies, we can spend all the time you need in here. Together, but in here. Sound good to you?"
"Y-yeah, that sounds good to me." Such kindness didn't feel deserved when Marianne had intentionally hidden herself to get away from everything bothering her, but with Claude and his physical and emotional warmth there to keep her company, for a moment some of that weight on her shoulders felt like it was being lifted. She still didn't want to talk about the things that were bothering her, even though she knew he was very much aware of them, but knowing that she could talk about them made it a little easier to move on.
Someday she'd find the strength to not let these things eat away at her like they did, but until then, she'd let Claude help ease her burdens however he could.
In some regards, things got easier over the following years, particularly in the political figure aspects of Marianne's life as queen. She became less bothered by having to speak for Fódlan, as she knew that whatever she said would be a decent representation of the general public's opinion on something, and whenever she expected questions to be thrown her way she would be writing home to the Margrave to ask him for his opinion. The persona she put on while talking to her people slowly became less of an act and more of who she really was outside of the castle walls, even if when she was safely in the confines of the castle she was still less outgoing and more meek, especially when compared to Claude.
In other regards, though, things had only gotten harder to handle and accept that she needed to be an active participant in the decisions seemingly already made for her. After they'd been married for five years, it had become less of a question of when they would have a child and more of an expectation that it happen as soon as possible, with it getting to the point that most people she spoke to for non-political reasons would be asking her when she planned on bringing a prince or princess into the world, and her answer would be a small gasp and an apology that she didn't know.
On one hand, that routine response became the start for a rumor that there were infertility issues running through the Almyran royal couple, and while that would have been an easy rumor for Marianne to lean into, she didn't want to cause problems by prolonging a complete lie. The truth was that she'd remained hesitant to even try, not wanting to become a mother even when the people around her were expecting her to become one, but admitting to that would be a political nightmare. On the other hand, her genuine answering of the question of when had made people believe that they were trying and that it would happen whenever it happened, and to keep questioning it would only lead to disappointment.
The overeager people of Almyra ultimately would have no say or impact on Marianne's mindset on motherhood; a letter from the Margrave himself would, however. He wrote her asking for her to return home for a visit, by herself or with Claude, it didn't matter, and to make it quick. That trip ended up being the last time she saw him in good spirits and decent health, as he'd requested her to come back after sustaining a nasty fall off the back of a horse, and in the healing process his doctor had found signs of illness deep inside his body. "I know you have made mention of this in correspondence before," he said, holding his adopted daughter's hand as tightly as he could while she sat across from him, her face pale and tear-stained from what she'd heard before this, "but if I could ask for one thing from you, sweet Marianne, it would be—"'
"Let me guess, a grandchild?" Claude cut in, him sitting right next to Marianne with his arm wrapped around her back to give her the comfort she needed in the moment. "Go on, tell me if I'm right or not."
She'd gasped when she'd heard the suggestion, but to see the Margrave give a slow nod in response made Marianne realize that her having a war with herself on the topic of motherhood had denied the man who'd taken her in and raised her, the man who'd taught her enough to let her be a politically-successful queen, the chance to be able-bodied while getting to spend time with his grandchildren. "It's a large request and I know how unlikely it is to happen anytime soon, but it would mean the world to me if you could bring a child into this world before I leave it."
"I-I can try," she replied, her breathing picking up speed as she started to panic over the idea of something else adding to that burden still resting on her shoulders. "Just…try to make enough time to get to meet them, please. We can't rush something like this."
"We also can't fight death when it comes calling, Marianne. Pray to the goddess for guidance and assistance, she must understand how time-sensitive of a matter this is." Playfully letting out a chuckle, the Margrave reached over with his other hand and placed it on top of his already-laced one, giving Marianne a bit more assurance that he was still there, at least right then. "I look forward to meeting this grandchild as soon as time allows."
She was able to keep a mostly-calm expression for the rest of their time together, but the moment her and Claude were on their way back to Almyra (they couldn't stay long with how much of a sudden trip it had been, there was no one really in charge of any decisions being made for the country in their absence) she was sobbing and nearly inconsolable. The fact that she was going to be losing her father sooner rather than later was hard enough, but adding that he was joining the call for them to have a child was almost unreal. "Be positive about it, there's no one saying he's going to be dying anytime soon," Claude pointed out, trying to be supportive but knowing that it was a tricky conversation to be navigating in the first place. "I don't think he's insisting you rush yourself into anything you're not ready for. Just…let me know when you are ready, and we'll make it happen when we can, I guess."
Marianne knew that it would take a lot to get her to agree that she was ready for such a big change in her life, but she wasn't going to break the heart of the man who'd helped her get to where she was by being stubborn. "I…I think we can try whenever," she choked out, knowing that her emotions were betraying her as being unsure of what she was saying. "No use in waiting too much longer, all we're doing is delaying the inevitable."
"That's not something my Marianne would say," he quickly replied, having been quick to notice that she was speaking under the guise of her broken emotional state. "We're not going to discuss this right now, not any longer, and not again until you're not so upset about things. Last thing I want is to hurt you more than you're already hurting."
She didn't have the words to tell him how much that meant to her, because she was sobbing again, her face buried in his back as they rode together on his wyvern. If anything, this was proof that true love existed and that she had gotten beyond lucky when her friend, who just happened to be the king of the neighboring country, had come to her home to talk diplomacy all those years ago.
In the end, that burden of time ultimately became one that was too great to bear, as the illness that was coursing through the Margrave's body was too fast to be beaten. He was dead within six moons, his last words with his daughter being on his deathbed with her crying over him, assuring him that he had more time and that he'd get to meet his grandchild like he'd wanted, he just had to hang on a little while longer. There was no stopping his illness, though, and when he passed weeks later there was a great funeral held for him, put together by the royal family of Almyra who wanted to make sure he could be remembered and celebrated well.
Planning the funeral and who all should be invited had been quite the added pressure to Marianne, who felt guilty that she'd failed her adoptive father in his dying days, but she knew that he would be happy to know that when they'd had their last meeting, him laying feebly on his bed, nothing more than skin and bones, when she'd begged for him to stay alive, she'd had quite the reason to do so. When the funeral came around, it was impossible to tell with her bulky and drape-like mourning clothes on, but underneath the dark layers of clothing was the tiny, slowly-growing bump of her stomach, which was nurturing the future heir to the Almyran throne and the grandchild of the Margrave.
It was yet another burden for Marianne to bear on her own, but it was one that took some stresses away while adding much greater ones. She hated that she hadn't had the words to tell her father the good news while she could have, but when she was praying to the goddess over his body she made reference to the unborn child, touching her stomach as she did. "I tried my best to bring a grandchild into the world before you left it," she whispered, her voice hoarse from how much crying she'd done over the days since she'd heard of her father's passing. "There just wasn't enough time, I'm afraid."
She tilted her head back and looked up to the cloudless sky, the outdoor ceremony having been bright and beautiful with all of its attendees. "Please forgive me, Father, for failing you in such a way, but I promise that I'll love this child just as you loved me." After sighing and silently finishing off her prayer, she turned around to see that she'd collected quite the audience while she'd been focused on giving her last respects, everyone sans Claude surprised at what they'd heard (and him trying his hardest not to crack a smile at how she'd just told everyone their good news while she'd been mourning).
That was one less thing for her to have to carry on her shoulders during such a stressful time, she supposed, as she let her friends flank her and begin gushing over how excited they were that she was finally having a baby of her own.
A/N: happy mother's day! I'm not sure why this became a more introspective look into a post-GD Marianne's character, but it was a lot of fun to write! there's something about how you can write the same character different ways just based in their endings...