Chapter 9: Morning Sickness and a Visit

A few minutes later-- three, to be exact, although I cannot be altogether sure, as time can be quite irrelevant during such matters of life, we stopped whirling through the air, and gently landed right on our respective feet upon the white marbled floor of the Queen's palace; a place I had not seen since my reincarnation years before. My stomach unclenched; how I despised the odd means of travel so closely associated with magical beings, but there seemed to be no way around it, and if I bothered to ask such a question, I would probably be told to focus my attention upon other, more urgent matters.

"Welcome," she whispered to me, "As long as I reign over my people, my palace is your home as well, and when my daughter inherits it, I trust that she will feel the same way."

"Thanks," I mumbled, deciding not to voice the fact that I did not know she had any children, and promptly looked about the sprawling room, "Where is everyone?" I turned to face her again.

"Fighting," she replied swiftly.

I nodded, knowing that by "fighting" she meant that they were in the midst of the great battle my husband had been fighting in, before his disappearance; she continued, "Shall I show you to your room?" she asked.

"No… I remember the way," I whispered, not caring if I was sounding rude; the truth was, I needed to be alone again. I needed to sit down and think for a while and make sense of everything. My forehead was perspiring hot and heavy beads of sweat… I felt changed for some odd reason. I bit my tongue, overwhelmed with anxiety, and wondered if I would possibly faint from it all. I opened my eyes, closed them, opened them again. The room seemed to be spinning around wildly-- I felt vomit in the back of my throat…

"If you need anything, simply call my name," she whispered, clearly unperturbed by my lack of gratefulness, "I will," I lied, and with that, I left her all alone in the Grand Ballroom-- for that's what the place was, and I was on my way once again, pausing once, then twice, to wipe sweat from my brow.

My head was swimming, and my heart was pounding. For some strange reason, during our journey to the land of the faerie, I had somehow been reminded by the fact that I had not received my monthly visitor…

I shook the notion out of my head. It was simply preposterous. The mere thought! I chuckled to myself, but it wasn't sincere… The perspiration grew heavier, and I saw white spots dancing around in front of my eyes.

I rounded the corner, and soon found the door that led to the room I had stayed in upon my last visit; I wrenched the doorknob open, and stepped inside. It was just as I remembered; lush flowers covered nearly every surface, and when I poked my head into the wardrobe, in order to clear my head-- which did not end up working, I found it stocked full of many gowns, blouses and skirts for me to wear during my stay there.

I looked around me at the room mournfully; wondering where Matthew was, and if he was wondering about me as well. I flopped down on my back onto the bed, and fingered the stone around my neck which glowed warmly in response. Everything was being sped up once again; it always seemed this way whenever I was thrown back into the worlds of turmoil that supposedly needed me so.

So much was going on, and there seemed to be not enough time to get things done, and the thought that maybe-- just maybe, another HUGE problem might be coming along the way was enough to make my stomach turn…

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I woke the following morning with the feeling of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach having had steadily risen-- I then remembered that I had actually been tormented by dreams of the possibility in the night; without thinking, I rushed over to a chamber pot in the other room and promptly vomited. The thought rose in my mind once again, Morning sickness-- that most likely means that I'm-- the thought was unbearable. I couldn't deal with it. Without hesitation, I vomited a second time, and then began to cry bitter tears of regret, longing, and most of all, that awful term known as self-pity.

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The following day, the notion of pregnancy seemed a bit less gargantuan. I came to terms-- well, not so much; after all, I was only about two months along, and if I made the decision to, I could simply have an--

My thoughts were interrupted by a steady knock at the door, "Who is it?" I called, and it promptly opened to reveal Elaine, smiling, with arms full of what appeared laundry. She was obvious oblivious to my great depression, "Oh," I whispered, "it's you."

"Yes. I'm surprised you're not shocked I didn't come sooner, but things have been happening, and--" her face suddenly fell as she caught sight of the expression on mine, and her stony gray eyes stared deeply into my own, almost penetrating me, "Why, my Beatrice!" she exclaimed, taking a seat beside me on the bed, and feeling my forehead with her cold hands, "Your face is atrociously pale-- you look as if you've seen a ghost! What's happened to you…?"

I failed to remind her that she was basically a ghost, and then hesitated to answer, "Come now. You can tell me. I'm best at keeping secrets, after all," she laughed joyously, and I, somewhat grudgingly joined in.

After a few seconds of the false laughter on my part, I opened my mouth to answer, and then, overcome with a sudden wave of nausea; I rushed into the adjourning room, and vomited into the chamber pot for the third time that day. I walked quietly back to the bed, took my seat beside Elaine once again. I opened my mouth to speak again; determined to get the ghastly news out in the open, "Well, ignoring the fact that my husband was somehow taken away from me, I have high suspicions that I might be pregnant."

I stared at Elaine, and to my surprise-- and horror, her face once again lit up in excitement and happiness, "Is that all? Beatrice, it's only natural now that you and Matthew are married."

I gasped in astonishment, "Are you kidding me, Elaine? This simply can't be happening to me now-- I mean, I'm twenty-three, for God's sake, and neither Matthew nor I wanted to have children this early. I'm not ready to do this. Not yet."

Elaine's face switched back to being grave, "Beatrice, you can't be thinking like that. You obviously became pregnant for a reason."

"Well, Elaine… What do you propose I do, because I'm pretty sure I know the solution to this whole mess, and frankly, I don't care if you don't like it…"

"I propose that you carry this child for the next seven months, and give birth to it, and raise it as lovingly as your mother raised you."

"My mother died when I was eleven," I whispered, bitterly, "and it's not like I doubt I could be a mother," I snorted, "but I don't care, Elaine. I can't do this. I'm not having this baby, and if worse comes to worse, then I'm going to abort it."

"No," she was now scandalized; it actually surprised me how quickly she was able to bounce around from emotion to emotion with such utter ease-- maybe it was something only apt to their kind, "You simply can't do that, Beatrice… You can't have an abortion."

"And why's that?" I asked, angrily.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe that would be the solution they want you to make?"

And with that, she was gone.