Summary: Movieverse, post twitches II, Aron/Miranda, angst, continuation.
Disclaimer: I do not own this. If I did, it would not be a kid's movie. This is not a kid's story. I have not read the books and do not intend to because I like messing with the movie characters. The books may well be better than the movies, but since it is the movies' faults and inaccuracies that inspire my subplots… being too correct would destroy my material.
The healer who arrives does not look overmuch concerned. At least, her slow gait betrays no hurry. As she saunters over to them, she twists her hair, black streaked with gray, into a tight braid, pulling it back out of the way. Then, she crosses her arms in front of her.
Ignoring Aron completely, she addresses Miranda "You're early with the overdraw complaint. I was expecting you to call me aside during breakfast, or, more to the point, I was expecting to have to accost you in the halls when you did not. Shall I assume that this alarm means you are dying, or did your esteemed husband overreact?"
Miranda lifts her head a little and recites, "Classic overdraw: lightheaded, fever, chills. I don't think I've overextended quite this badly before."
The Healer steps forward and places a testing hand on Miranda's forehead. "Well, your husband may be naïve but he's not daft. Fever is far too bloody high. Don't think you're walking through this one."
"As always, Este, I don't have a choice." Miranda replies firmly.
"Look around, Honey. For once you actually do. This may be the first time in two and a half decades that Coventry will genuinely survive you taking a sick day." The Healer, Este, answers, tapping her fingers impatiently against her hip. Then, sharply glancing over her shoulder, she snapped "What?"
The young woman in red and gray takes a hesitant step back. "I'm sorry, Senior Healer Este; I was told there was trouble here." Aron recalls that junior healers wear those colors.
"I have everything well in hand, girl." Este snaps, "But since you're already here, have some cool cloths sent up to her" she jabs a finger in Miranda's direction, "room."
As the younger woman scampered off, Este turns her attention to Aron, "Well, make up your mind." She told him. "Are you carrying her, or had she better get walking?"
Aron gently lifts Miranda, trying to ignore the fresh pain it ignites in his arms and back.
"How romantic" Observes Este sardonically.
Only when Miranda is safely in their rooms, lying on the bed, and presumably sleeping does Aron turn his attention to the two healers. Drawing them with him to the corner of the room, he makes the inquiry that has been plaguing him since he first noticed her fevered state. "Will she be alright?"
"I'm not sure." Este replies flatly, "Her fever's a few degrees above normal overdraw, even for her. There is nothing I can do except pray it breaks. She has a good chance."
"A good chance" he repeats, feeling his hands shaking at his sides.
"Either way she's in for a miserable few days" Este's tone was completely clinical. "She'll probably be delirious for some of it, which might be some small mercy depending on what she imagines, or a great deal worse."
The other healer looked at her feet and avoided his eyes all together, fidgeting with her red and gray uniform.
"Either way keep the cool clothes on her forehead, that'll maybe feel a little better. Do not let her injure herself if she thrashes around."
"You…" he stammers "You must know something… some way to help her."
"I don't. But when you find this miraculous thing do let me know."
"Why do you hate her so much?" He is not sure where the question comes from, and he wishes he had not said it, but somehow it seems appropriate.
"I don't hate her. I respect her." Este appraised him, face tight, "You on the other hand I could do without right now."
He tries not to tower over her, but being about a foot taller, that is difficult, "Why?" He asks calmly, rather relieved that it is him and not Miranda whom Este is angry at.
"I think it's easy to take some arrogant, self-righteous position when you come back to find your kingdom whole, your heirs grown, and your wife hopelessly and blindly in love with you. What did you ever do to get through this so easy?"
"Easy" He answers, indigent, "You think this has been…."
"Oh, spare us. Your wife has been through some truly terrible things, and she complains a good deal less than you do. If you had been with us the past 21 years, you would know how to do what you need to survive. Like we did. So do not judge us. Grow up, Sir."
With that parting shot, Este strode boldly from the room.
To his surprise, the junior healer does not immediately exit. She carefully spells a basin of water to remain cold and dips a cloth into the icy liquid, drawing it a few times around sleeping Miranda's forehead.
With the air of one who knows the room, the healer locates a linen closet and carries out a few heavy blankets. Most she simply folds at the foot of the bed, but one she tenderly tucks around Miranda, over the other, thinner, blankets she already wears. Without saying a word, she straightens the room.
When, after casting one last glance around, the healer turns to go, Aron stops her quietly. "What's your name?"
"Adelais, sir." She answers, not looking him in the face.
"Adelais," He says benevolently, "What should I do to keep Miranda comfortable?"
The younger woman bows, considering, and answers, "Keep that ice water on her forehead whenever you're awake. And when she is awake make sure she drinks a lot of water. More than you think she needs. Do not… do not frighten her. And make sure the government runs well in her absence or she may strangle you when she gets better."
The healer smiles at the last sentence, perhaps hoping he will take it as a joke. However, he can still read hesitation in her demeanor and in her continued interest in the floor.
"What aren't you telling me Adelais?" He asks doggedly.
The woman does not look up. "Senior Healer Este was telling the truth. There truly is nothing else to do. Overdraw fevers are nigh impossible to get down. Only… Forgive me Sir… How much do you love your wife?"
He takes a step towards her in anger "What kind of a question is that?"
She look up at him now and her gaze is stern, "Please, just tell me."
He spits the words out, "I wish with all my soul that I had been tortured in her place. I love her with everything I have and I would die in a heartbeat if I thought it would help her."
"And will you love her in a month… a year."
"I will love her until I am a rotting corpse." His teeth grind.
She bites her lip for a second and nods, "Remember that then. Because I suspect that if you ever abandon her after making her finally feel safe, you will kill her outright. So, if you're going to start this, caring for her I mean, you'd better never stop."
Slowly, he assents. "One more thing," he says as Adelais turns to leave. "I don't want to get you in trouble with Este, but could you… please… check on Miranda an occasionally?"
"I'll do better than that." She answers quickly, "I'll come every four hours with fresh food, water, and cloths. Including the night, and if her condition changes at all and it worries you, send a messenger and I'll come, no matter where I am."
"That seems like too much of a burden on you…" He says appreciating it but knowing the likely fallout from Este, not to mention the loss of time and sleep, he would be imposing on the novice healer.
"Nonsense" Adelais answers with conviction "I'd do quite a lot to aid Queen Miranda. And many in this castle feel the same."
"How did she earn your loyalty?" Aron asks, curious and a bit apprehensive, remembering that, during his particularly short tenure, neither of then had gained that degree of popularity.
"About ten years ago," Adelais answers, "The darkness overran the town. Before the attack, Lady Miranda moved all of the townsfolk inside the castle walls. I was just beginning my healer training at the time. She set up a hospital in the grand ballroom, for any that were hurt, and was down with us, helping to work out the setup when… when Lord Thantos joined her
Adelais' hands are tightly clasped in front of her, and she looks heartbroken. "Apparently he had forbid her let the townsfolk in on some particularity. They were arguing, at least he was shouting at her, for some time. Then she shouted back 'It's legal. It's done, and I'm not undoing it.'"
The healer's voice grows flinty, "So he just backhanded her across the face like it's nothing… Then pushed her up against a wall and then hit her a few more times for good measure. It was … horrible… to watch. He had a real strong arm and… None of us ever dared to do anything… I do not think he was anywhere near done, but he remembered that we were watching and stepped back."
Admiration permeated her voice "When he let her up, she just stared back at him until she got her breath back and steadily said. 'I will not rescind the orders.' Even after that. "
Aron can tell it is a battle for Adelais to tell the story and he only nods, although he feels torn between wonder at his wife's integrity and cold fury at his brother's cruelty.
"Then he left," she continues "But first he said to her, cold as ice 'I'll see you tonight your majesty,' smirking and leering, and bowed to her no less. And she just inclined her head like it was the most natural thing in the world."
"After that" Adelais finishes, "She got up and took a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her face. She starting talking about herbs and bandages, calmly, like nothing even happened. We all knew she would have all darkness to pay that night for displeasing him, and she never even faltered."
Adelais raises her eyes once more, "My father and my sister were living in the town. So you see, sir, it's no trouble for me to bring Lady Miranda some blankets and broth."
Aron, not sure of how to react, keeps his face still and waves his hand, "Dismissed for now then," as Adelais bowed out of the room.