Poppy turned sideways in the mirror, her hands resting on her belly, on the little bump that had started to form, happiness coursing through her, she'd never thought her heart could grow any further, but from the first moment they had known, she had loved their child so much. Each time she thought about them, she could see the tears in Casteel's eyes as he'd frozen in place for a moment before sweeping her into his arms to kiss her. Poppy smiled again at the memory, and giggled when a second pair of hands covered her own. Casteel was convinced that it was going to be a girl, but Poppy still wasn't sure, she wasn't even sure if she minded, so long as they could be happy at long last. She leaned back into her husband, closing her eyes as she rested her head on his chest, only the solid feel of him behind her convincing her that this wasn't a dream, that they were really here, safe, happy, peaceful.

It could only last a moment, and as Poppy opened her eyes she heaved a sigh, earning a raised eyebrow from Casteel,

"I'm fine, just tired, I'm not sure I'll last a whole day of meetings," she admitted,

"Feel free to fall asleep on me, you know I love having you in my arms,"

"I don't think anyone would appreciate their Queen falling asleep in a meeting, Cas,"

"You don't have to be there if you need to rest," he reminded her gently, the joking tone fading into concern as she spun round,

"No, I'm fine, really, I just need a break soon," Casteel hummed, but didn't insist, if she absolutely had to rest, she would, but it was unfair to leave everything to him just because she was tired, she'd be fine.

She was not fine. The morning went slowly, with the requests from their people boring and unvaried, but they had to be heard. Still, Poppy caught herself almost falling asleep a few times, and mentally kicked herself, she'd never hear the end of it if she actually fell asleep on Casteel's shoulder. Twice Kieran shot her concerned glances that she had to wave away, and Casteel kept rubbing circles on the back on her hand where they rested together on the joined arms of the thrones. She'd found herself gazing out of the window once too many times, her attention falling on the newly renamed Ian Balfour Garden, on the russet roses climbing up to the sky, the color almost matching Ian's hair, the leaves his mortal eyes. It may have been almost a year since his death, but it still hit hard. She closed her eyes, and Casteel squeezed her hand, signaling to the guard at the door to wait before letting the next person in to make their request.

"Poppy," he murmured,

"One thousand and seventy eight," she whispered, "You've called me Poppy one thousand and seventy eight times," She blinked furiously, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall, "I wish he could see this, this world we've built, I wish he could meet our child,"

"I know, Poppy, I know," she leaned into him again, and he kissed the top of her head, "Do you want a moment?"

"No, I just, I miss him, that's all, he would have loved you, you would have loved him, I wish you'd met properly,"

"He would be so proud of you," Casteel murmured, "So would your parents," Poppy lifted her head in confusion, "Your real parents, Coralena, Leo, they were your parents, they always will be," Poppy nodded, he was right, but she had never quite managed to shake the feeling that her childhood had been fake, her memories wrong,

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me,"

"Don't be sorry, it's okay, I would be surprised if you were completely okay with everything,"

"I know, but I've never been on the verge of tears in meeting before," she muttered, half laughing at the situation,

"Remember what the healers said? It's not your fault, we can take breaks when you need them, okay?"

"Okay," Poppy held Casteel's hand tight until the line finally ended, freeing them to go and eat, walking through the garden to get back to their chambers, but this time, this time Poppy forced herself to remember Ian's stories, their escapades before his ascension, and found herself smiling.

She was still tired even after eating, but carefully schooled her features to avoid alerting Casteel to the fact, this afternoon was more important, meetings with those in charge of various aspects of rebuilding and the new development of abandoned areas. She had to be fully present in this meeting.

Every moment Poppy sat around the table, answering questions, asking them, her mind racing to find solutions to problems, to understand everything, was one moment closer to passing out, just another hour, just another fifty minutes, just another half hour, just another twenty minutes. She was almost there, so close, so close, and her eyelids began to droop, she vaguely registered being asked a question, and blinked to regain her focus, but failed. Casteel answered for her, saving her from embarrassment, but after he'd spoken, the room fell silent, and she shook her head, managing to focus on Casteel's next words,

"The Queen is unwell, we will retire for the evening, details of a further meeting with be arranged shortly," she tried to get Casteel's attention, to claim that she was fine, but the others had already started filing out, wishing her a speedy recovery. Poppy reached to prod her husband on the arm, not quite managing the strength she'd aimed for, and merely stared him down as he lifted her from her chair, refusing to put her down as he walked, following Kieran to their chambers,

"Do you want me to get some food sent up for you?" Kieran asked as soon as Poppy was settled on the bed,

"No, it's alright, I want to look after her," Casteel kept glancing across to Poppy,

"Alright, just shout if you want something, I'll have someone on standby down the corridor," Casteel nodded his thanks as Kieran slipped out, and sank onto the bed beside where Poppy was curled on her side. He pulled the blankets over her, and kissed her brow,

"Shhhhh," he murmured when she stirred, "Sleep, sweetheart, I'm right here."

When Poppy woke what must have been at least an hour later, maybe more, there was a new scent wafting through the air towards her, and her stomach growled in appreciation. Casteel's head snapped sideways at the sound of her movement, and as he moved, Poppy noticed the pan boiling away in their little kitchen,

"About time we used that," she chuckled, "What did you cook?"

"Soup, nothing fancy, but hopefully what you need, stay there," he added as she made to get up, "I'll come to you," he spooned out two bowlfuls, and the scent grew ever stronger until she was certain it was some sort of magic designed to make her hungry,

"What soup is this, it smells amazing,"

"Old family secret, my father used to make for my mother when she was pregnant and tired, I thought it might be able to help you as well,"

"Was that before or after trying to get her to take a sleeping tonic?" She joked, referencing Casteel's recent attempts to help her rest better during the day when it was light,

"I was worried, okay," he laughed, then dropped his gaze to the untouched bowl of soup in her lap, "Are you going to eat, or do I need to feed you?"

"Don't you dare!" Poppy moved the bowl sideways away from him, but did allow him to set up a couple of pillow for her lean against the headboard next to him, but true to her demand, he didn't touch her bowl or spoon.

Eating the soup further convinced her that it was imbued with magic, and she made a mental note to interrogate Casteel later about what it was, but right now, she didn't care, she just wanted more of it, and more, enough that when it finally ran out after four bowls, she almost begged Casteel to make more. He laughed to himself at her disappointment,

"What's your second favorite book?" Poppy looked across at Casteel, looking through bookshelves, "Well I know a certain diary would be your favorite, and that's not really the mood I'm going for, so what's your next favorite?"

"One, that diary is not my favorite book, and two, I don't know, there's so many more here that I've never even heard of, let alone read,"

"My favorite then," Casteel plucked a book of the shelf, its leather cover old and worn, so much that Poppy couldn't even make out the title, "This was the book my mother used to read to me whenever I had nightmares as a child," Casteel explained, "It's just a silly little story, but I like it," He flopped onto the bed beside Poppy, and she curled into his arms, her eyes closing as his voice washed over her, her full stomach inviting her to sleep much quicker than normal. When her breathing had slowed, her movements stilled, Casteel closed the book, pressing a kiss atop her head, blew out the candle, and wrapped both arms around his wife. "Good night, my love," he murmured, easily drifting to sleep himself with Poppy safe in his arms, finally resting properly. It was definitely time for a day off.