The next time, Regis visited the mausoleum of his own volition.
The snows were gone from Insomnia, but there were a few Chionodoxa lingering in the shade under the big trees in the gardens. He spent thirty minutes seeking them out until he couldn't find a single one more. By that time he had a suitable fistful of flowers and he went to replace the ones that were fading in the vase at Aulea's tomb.
He couldn't think of anything to say to her, this time, so he just stood and stared at the flowers, feeling the empty space inside him that should have had Aulea inside, like picking at a half-healed sore. How was this supposed to help?
Spero said he should talk to her but, then again, Spero was mad. Maybe Regis was, too.
In the end he pulled himself away and returned to the castle, feeling worse for his efforts, just like he had the time before. He passed by dozens of crownsguards and servants on his way, and each one greeted him with the same faithful confidence that they always did. Had they really no idea? He could hold the kingdom, fulfill every expectation placed on him, but inside he was nothing. He didn't even know where he was walking until he reached it.
Though, in hindsight, it was the same place he always walked when left to his own devices. He ought to have known.
The door to the nursery lay open. Inside, Crea stood and discussed bedtimes with one of the nursemaids, but Regis' gaze was drawn to the child in her arms. He stood in the doorway for a moment. Noctis looked over Crea's shoulder at Regis and stuck his fist in his own mouth. Regis smiled, bittersweet. They were Aulea's eyes.
"Mistress—" The nursemaid drew Crea's attention to the door and Regis.
"Your Majesty," Crea said. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Indeed. I had not expected to find you here, so late." Similarly, he hadn't expected to find either of his children awake.
"Oh, we're being difficult where sleep is concerned, these days." Crea patted Noctis' back. "Even nursemaids need reinforcements."
"Is anything amiss?" Regis asked.
"Nothing unusual. They're transitioning between naps, again, and going through a lot of development. Hopefully the sleep trouble will go away in a few weeks."
Regis nodded, but continued to linger in the doorway. She considered him for a moment, before turning back to the other nursemaid.
"Why don't you take a break?" She suggested to the older woman. "Since Reina finally fell asleep—I'm sure His Majesty and I can convince Noctis to do the same before I leave you with them for the night. You can come back in a couple hours."
"Thank you, Mistress, I will." The nursemaid bobbed, stepped toward the door, stopped to curtsy to Regis, and then slipped out.
Regis stepped inside fully, dropping into the armchair by the door. Crea handed him Noctis without asking; she knew, by then, that the answer was he always wanted to hold his son. He held Noct up in his lap, letting him support his own weight on his legs.
It was hard to believe how much Noctis had grown in the past five months. He crawled, now—or, at least, he dragged himself around on his stomach, but managed to reach his destination just as well as Reina did. Now he bounced, letting his knees bend before straightening back up again as Regis supported his weight. They were both getting so big. But every day they grew was another that Aulea had missed.
Across the room, Crea resettled the blankets in Reina's crib and took a seat in the armchair nearby. He was used to seeing her sit there, reading her book and giving him instructions while he struggled to learn how to calm a fussy baby, but tonight she did neither of those things. She folded her hands in her lap and considered him in silence, like she was waiting for something.
She was going to ask him about Aulea, now. That was why she had sent the other nursemaid away, so she wouldn't be seen questioning the king and stepping out of her position as nanny to the prince and princess. Though it didn't bother him if she acted less his servant and more his friend, something else did trouble him. Everyone else wanted to talk to him about Aulea, so why not Crea as well? That, now that he thought about it, was precisely the point. In the last five months, she had never pried into his mourning. Not when he fell asleep in the nursery, nor when he appeared in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. The nursery had always been a place of peace, where he didn't have to think about Aulea or worry about everyone fussing over him. The only people fussing, here, were Reina and Noctis.
In spite of his surety that she had noted something about his demeanor that would push her to ask, all she said was: "You'll want to hold him laying down or against your shoulder. Otherwise he'll never fall asleep."
Regis, surprised but not objectionate, shifted Noctis so he rest against his shoulder. For a few minutes there were no sounds but Noctis' occasional babble. Crea never asked the question.
He shifted in his chair, suddenly restless. She should have asked. She should have asked because, for the first time in five months, he wanted to tell someone and Crea, at least, might understand. Perhaps not in the same way that Spero understood, but she also wasn't crazy. She was probably just waiting for him to ask, instead.
"How did you do it?" Regis asked, at length. "You lost your mother and your daughter in short succession. How did you handle it?"
Crea raised her eyebrows at him. Perhaps she hadn't been waiting, at all.
"Truth?" She asked. He nodded. "Very badly. Looking back, I'm amazed I got through at all. I was close to the edge for a long time. But I had started working… and I took on too many jobs just so I would never be at home. I think the only reason I made it was because one of the families I worked for had this old governess… she was like a mentor and a mother when I had neither."
"And you talked to her?"
"Of course."
Was that what it all came down to? Clarus, Weskham, Spero—even Cor—they all wanted him to talk, but it seemed pointless. They already knew. They knew what had happened and if they didn't know what he was feeling then he couldn't explain it to them. It wasn't as if they hadn't known her, as well.
But Crea didn't know. Perhaps she had met Aulea in passing, in those last few months. Shamed as he was to admit it, Regis had no idea when Crea had been hired.
Regis shifted in his chair, still holding Noctis against his shoulder. He fixed his eyes on a spot of tile—a white fleck in the black stone—and he spoke. It didn't really matter if she had been hired before or after, if she had heard half the story from the other staff. He was tired to poking and prodding at the sore spot. He wanted to stab it and bleed out the pain.
"Aulea was never in great health. When we were children she often took ill and would be confined to bed. Later she was diagnosed with an immunodeficiency disorder, but I always loved her, regardless. As a young teenager I used to sneak in through her window to bring her flowers and presents when she could not go out." Regis smiled at the thought. More than once, a rather young Prince of Lucis had been forced to drop out of the second-story window and into a bed of bushes to avoid detection from her parents. He had always returned home to the Citadel, a little scratched up with twigs and leaves stuck in his hair, where Clarus had given him that look that meant he knew exactly what had happened. Clarus never spoke a word.
Those days were long gone, now. His smile faded.
"Her doctors said that pregnancy should be safe… that the chances of passing it on to the children was slim, as well. Nevertheless, the strain had her laid up in bed for the months before birth, and after…" Regis swallowed hard. The edges of his vision blurred and he held a little more tightly to Noctis. This was what he had been avoiding for five months. Not just saying it but thinking about it in any shape or form. Somehow, putting words to it only made it more real.
"After, she never recovered." His voice came out a whisper. The first tear streaked down his face and disappeared into his beard, and the others followed soon after.
He could still see her lying in bed. For three months she had wasted away, growing thinner by the week. Her skin turned waxy, her hair brittle and weak. Toward the end, she had hardly been able to hold the children unless he was holding her.
"I watched her fade away. I held her hand while she took her last breath in that bed, and now I cannot bring myself to face it." He lifted his voice and it cracked. Undignified, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He bowed his head, held his son tight, and let the tears fall on the nursery floor.
He didn't hear Crea leave her chair, but he felt her hands on his arms and opened his eyes to find her kneeling on the floor before him. Why did everyone think talking about it would make something feel better? He felt worse now than he had in months. He should never have said those words, never have given form to his ghosts.
Crea leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, Noctis and all. It didn't fix anything, but now, at least, he knew that she knew. She knew exactly what he had meant for her to know. No more uncertainty. No more guessing. Just the words he had put between them.
She remained until the tears had stopped and Regis could nearly breathe again, then she sat back on her heels and looked at him. It wasn't sympathy on her face, like Clarus might have worn, but something more like regret and understanding.
"I'm glad you told me," she said.
Regis dropped his head again. "I have no yet decided whether I am."
"I know it hurts," she squeezed his shoulders. "Just like taking out a splinter that's been there too long. Maybe you can start to heal, now."
"How can I heal when my heart has been torn out?"
"It's not," Crea said.
He looked up at her. How could she make that claim, if she didn't feel what he felt? He had thought she understood—that she did feel what he felt. Perhaps he had been wrong.
He opened his mouth to tell her as much, but he stopped. She was smiling at him, in spite of look of annoyance working across his face.
"Your heart is in your arms." Crea released his shoulder and smoothed her hand over Noctis' hair. She turned and looked over her shoulder, directing his attention to where Reina lay asleep in her crib. "And over there."
Regis shut his mouth. Noctis had his head resting against Regis' shoulder and one little fist balled in the front of Regis' suit. He was fast asleep.
"And they're not the only thing, Your Majesty." Crea rose to her feet. "I know she's gone and nothing can ever change that… but that doesn't mean everything good that ever happened is now bad. You have all those memories of her. Even if you can never make new ones, the old ones are still sweet."
Regis shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "The only memories I have are dark ones."
"Then find someone who had bright ones."
He looked up at her with an unspoken question.
"Didn't you have friends who knew her?" She asked.
"Of course. Clarus and Weskham grew up with us. Cor less so, but he was there later on."
"Let them share their memories, then."
"Theirs are, doubtless, darkened just the same as mine."
"Have you asked?"
Regis shook his head.
She put her hands on her hips, considering him thoroughly. For all she was the nanny to his children, he had never registered just how well it fit her until then. Now she looked prepared to mother him.
"Have you spoken to them at all?"
Again he shook his head. "They mourn her and I mourn her. What good will combining out misery do?"
Crea huffed. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, you're far too clever to be so stupid."
Regis raised his eyebrows at her. The only person taken to calling him stupid was Clarus. It didn't help that she had prefaced it with a title and respect, but he was too surprised to be indignant, all the same.
"Haven't you ever heard anyone say 'misery loves company'? It's not just for fun. It's the truth. When two people share the same grief, it brings them together. There's a connection there. I'm not going to tell the king what to do, but if I were you, I would take advantage of it." Crea folded her arms over her chest. "I guarantee they want to share it, too."
"They just want to haul me out of this pit."
"I have little doubt that your friends are faithful and selfless, but that doesn't change the fact that they're people and people hurt when they lose someone. They'll want to share it. They want to feel better, too."
He gave her a doubtful look. Five months had passed. Clarus and Weskham had probably already dealt with this in their own way. They hardly needed him for that.
"If I'm wrong I'll resign."
"I would much prefer you did not."
"The point remains." Crea looked as if she was fighting not to smile. "That if I were the king, I would take advantage of my resources and talk to my friends."
It was the closest she would get to telling the king what to do. He suspected that, were he a child in her care, she would have sent him to his room to think about his poor choices.
So he went. And he sent word to those friends who had known Aulea.
A/N: Hi everyone! As you may (or may not) have noticed, I've changed the rating of this fic to M. After some consideration, I decided this was the safer bet for some themes and later events of the story. You can read the details at the top of chapter 1, but the long and short of it is that if you've been reading thus far and enjoying the fic (and have no triggers you're worried about), then nothing much is going to change. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions.
Thanks for reading, see you next week!