A/N: Hi, this is Elly3981. I am editing this chapter for my co-writer Falchion1984 and our new beta reader Bluefelt of Deviantart and noticed it turned out longer than I thought so I've decided to split it into two chapters. On another note, we do have art to go with our fic which is on DeviantArt under my pen-name and drawn by member Arisa777o-w-o as well as on Archive of Our Own where this fic is also posted in addition to :)
Chapter 16: Old Friends Reunite, part II
"Did you enjoy the ball, Charlotte?" Alma asked, as much to take her mind off how much she herself hadn't enjoyed it as out of the hope Charlotte and Manon had fared better.
As honored guests of the king and queen, she, Ramza, and Agrias, as well as Rad, Alicia, Lavian, Beowulf, and Reis, were given accommodations inside Lesalia Castle while the other guests had to stay in the city. Manon and Charlotte were also allowed to stay with the disguised Beoulve siblings as their attendants as well.
Alma and Charlotte were about to start removing her ball gown so she could change into her sleeping gown, but, after having felt so many eyes boring into her all night, including Ramza's disapproving stare as one suitor after another inevitably fell short of filling the void left by Izlude, the disguised duchess hoped to stave off a lonely night for at least a bit longer.
"Yes, Milady," Charlotte answered and, though Alma was facing away from the young girl, the duchess could swear she heard Charlotte's mouth creaking as she grinned broadly. "It was all so pretty. The ballroom, the dresses, the music. And especially the food. Manon and I even tried to follow along with the dances."
"Did that go well?" Alma asked, recalling how she'd had to bat her eyes quite energetically to get the two children admitted to the ball, but now thinking that it had been worth it.
"We only fell down three or four times."
That brought some badly needed laughter to Alma's evening, though it didn't stop her from giving Charlotte what she approximated to be a knowing, motherly look.
"And, did he behave himself?" she asked.
"Yes, Milady," Charlotte answered, blushing slightly. "He's always been very nice to me, even back when we were at the workhouse. Sir Beowulf seems like he really thinks Manon could be a great knight someday. Manon practices all the time, and he's getting better really fast!"
In truth, Alma already knew much of this and suspected the rest. Though she'd seen that Manon had his better angels under his skirt-chasing exterior, she was not pleased that he'd made her acquaintance by reaching up her skirts, even if it was only to distract her while the half-starved Charlotte made off with her breakfast.
And, when she'd overheard Manon describing just how much he'd enjoyed that particular "diversionary tactic", Alma had been quick to put her foot down.
Still, she had been paying close attention to Beowulf's efforts to help Manon grow into something better than a skirt chaser. Rad was quite enough on that count, especially since Alicia and Lavian were so...appreciative of his rude attentions.
And, as Charlotte had pointed out, Manon's progress had been impressive. Though he still had a roguish streak, he was much more the little gentleman and his diligence in his training showed in how he'd filled out with lean muscle.
Judging by Charlotte's blush, she was aware of this as well.
This brought a smile to Alma's face, though it quickly turned melancholic when she recalled that, even if she was right that Charlotte and Manon saw each other as more than just friends and chose to act upon these feelings someday, the disguised duchess would not be nearly as fortunate.
Izlude was gone, and only a horde of poor substitutes remained to her.
"And, what about you?" the duchess asked, eager to forget her suitors for just a bit longer. "Have you been behaving yourself?"
Charlotte's blush deepened a bit and her eyes drifted away from Alma's in an all too telling fashion.
"Yes, Milady," she said, though she sounded far from convincing.
Alma's expression became one of gentle remonstration.
"Just how much dessert did you have?" she asked, painfully aware of just how much the deceptively small girl could put away.
That too was showing. However, whereas Manon had filled out with the lean muscle of an unlikely squire, Charlotte's post as an equally unlikely mistress of the kitchen had added noticeable pudginess to her frame. Apart from the curve of her burgeoning potbelly, which looked tellingly tight, her once hallow cheeks had thickened to the point where more than a few of the older ladies in attendance had had a merry time pinching them...
...and to the point where Alma could discern how they quivered noticeably when Charlotte was pondering how to answer awkward questions.
"Milady, it was just a plate," Charlotte squeaked, looking for all the world like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar...in every sense of the phrase.
Alma was skeptical. And, when an almost casual glance at Charlotte's belly caused the girl to make a vain attempt to suck it in, the Beoulve girl gave Charlotte what she hoped would was a stern, motherly look.
Dealing with Manon and Charlotte's shenanigans had given her plenty of practice, which Alma suspected she'd need when her own baby was having a willful moment. And, sure enough, only a few heartbeats were needed before Charlotte blew out a guilty sigh, allowing her belly free rein to push out against the fabric of her dress.
"Or...three," she squeaked as the notion of having disappointed the Duchess of Lionel caused her to quiver, figuratively and literally, with dread.
"Three...Charlotte, do you have any idea how much sugar must've been in all that?!" With an effort, Alma calmed herself down and spoke more calmly. "Yes, I know it all looked good, and probably tasted even better, but eating that much could make you sick. And, even if it doesn't, all that sugar might keep you awake when you need your sleep."
Charlotte looked stricken, which promptly caused Alma to feel guilty for expecting a girl who'd crossed her doorstep half-starved to be aware of how too much food might affect her previously malnourished frame. Still, though Charlotte was past the point of stuffing herself until it made her ill, Alma's studies of the healing arts were more than enough to tell her that going from skin-and-bones to obese was no improvement.
Conversely, Alma reminded herself that, in addition to hunger, Charlotte's life in the workhouse had also been characterized by those elders she'd had, both the adults who'd so badly failed their charges and the older children who'd become thugs once they'd been abandoned, who would react violently to her infractions, be they large or small. Alma could not bear to resurrect those lingering ghosts and make those old wounds throb anew, but she also knew that too much leniency would do Charlotte no service if the girl did not learn that her penchant for overeating would have consequences which were best avoided.
So, for now, she needed to strike the delicate balance between making sure Charlotte learned the lesson and taking care not to revive her fears of abuse or abandonment from her time in the defunct workhouse.
"Listen, I'm not angry," she assured, which caused Charlotte to sag with relief. "But, I do need you to listen to me. Yes, those desserts are good, but too much can be bad for you. Do you remember those first few nights, and how sick you felt?"
"I remember, Milady," Charlotte said, chastened, but no longer seeming as stricken as she did before. "You rubbed my tummy to help settle it, and I..."
"Belched in my face? Yes, I remember. Still, my point stands. Eating too much sugar can be bad for you. Apart from making your stomach hurt, it can keep you awake when you'd best be sleeping. And, Manon and I need you to be rested and on your feet tomorrow. So does Drake, Agrias, little Rachel, and my baby. I'm not saying no dessert, but I will need you to watch how much you eat. Can you do that?"
"I'll do my best, Milady."
"That's more than enough. Now, come here."
With that, Alma scooped Charlotte up and, with a joking comment or two about the latter's weight, pulled her in for a hug. Charlotte, apparently mollified and relieved, returned it gratefully and, for a moment, Alma found her melancholy over the balls, and what they portended, ebbing away...
...but, it surged right back in when a knock was heard at the door and a familiar, and less-than-welcome, voice was heard.
"Catherine, are you still up? It's me, Drake. Can I talk to you for a moment?"
Alma sighed, already sensing what her brother had to say, and turning to her young ward.
"I'm sorry, Charlotte, but can you get the door?" Alma asked. "It's probably my brother. I think he wants to talk, so can you go and join Manon until I send for you again?"
The young girl was puzzled at her mistress' request but obeyed nonetheless. "Yes, Milady."
As Alma predicted, Charlotte opened the door and promptly found Ramza standing upon the threshold, a frown marring his normally pristine features. As soon as he saw his sister's young ward staring up at him, the young noble sighed and bent over before placing a gil coin, of a significant denomination, in her hand.
"I'm sorry for troubling you, Charlotte, but can you give my sister and I a moment to talk privately?"
"Yes, Milord," And, with a curtsey, the young girl departed without another word.
As soon as they were alone and Ramza made sure the door was closed, he and Alma stared at each other for a long moment steeped in tense silence. Even before the young duke spoke, his displeasure was obvious, for his brow sported an array of deep furrows and, after holding the stare for what felt like hours, he heaved a sigh and massaged his temples as if trying to soothe away a headache. And, a pounding one by the look of it. Although he had said nothing yet, his sister already knew exactly what was on his mind.
Agrias wasn't the only one to whom the emotive face of Ramza Beoulve was an open book.
"Brother, please don't start" she very nearly pleaded.
"I'm sorry, Alma, but you and I both know this can't go on," he said, his words equal parts frustration and weariness. "Would it be too much to ask for you to at least give one of your suitors a chance? Maybe get to know one of them? I know you still have two more nights, but at the rate you're going, you won't be able to find anyone you like even if you had all the time in the world."
Perhaps it was the strain of the day. Maybe it was the effects Reis told her that carrying a child would have on her temperament. Whatever the reason, Alma vaulted to her feet, more than a bit unsteadily, and fixed her brother with a glare that could've blistered paint.
"Excuse me, Ramza, but would you have liked it if father gave you only three nights to find and marry the woman you'd likely be spending the rest of your life with?" she challenged, almost reveling in how the question made Ramza wince. "Were marriage and having a family the first thing on your mind when you first met Agrias? From what she told me, she barely tolerated you when you two first met."
"Yes, that's true, but I'm not the one on the clock and running out of time right now," Ramza countered as he pointed to Alma's belly, which he swore was growing bigger by the day. "Don't you think it's a bit irresponsible of you to turn away from your best chance to give your child a father, not to mention save your own reputation as a noblewoman?"
Alma felt blood on her palm, and only belatedly realized that she'd clenched her fist so tightly that her nails had pierced the skin. Yet, she paid it little heed, her vision turning red at Ramza's barb.
"You should talk, brother! You and I both know it takes two to make one. Did you ever think about how 'irresponsible' it was to get one of your best soldiers pregnant? And, in the middle of a war, no less?!"
Ramza had faced down a veritable pantheon of Lucavi demons, as well as a legion of their mortal followers, and the worst of church and state alike. And yet, he nonetheless found himself drawing back a pace at Alma's rising temper, his breath catching in his throat when he realized that his words had come back to bite him in the ass. Nevertheless, he refused to give up. After all, this wasn't about him, but Alma herself.
It was also about the child she carried, who might very well be condemned to a life of ignominy before he or she was even born if Alma didn't get her head mortared on straight.
"But, this isn't about me, is it?" he shot back. "Yes, it was unwise for me and Agrias to have…relations during the war. Was it unplanned? Very. Was it stupid? Monumentally. But, what's done is done. I love Agrias and Rachel, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. We had to make some hard choices, but we made them, and we now have a daughter we're both responsible for and I am going to give both of them a good home."
The fire in Alma's gaze had begun to sputter during her brother's speech, and not just because of the strength of conviction behind Ramza's words. Vormav had described Ramza as having the devil's own luck, and Alma frankly agreed. For only Ramza could have found happiness - or, rather, made happiness - out of getting a woman he'd known for only a few months pregnant while both were on the run and waging war against disguised demons all the while.
The heat of anger might've been gone from her eyes, but many a coal of envy now simmered deep in her gut at the knowledge that fate hadn't dealt her nearly as fortuitous a hand.
"But, what about you?" he asked, advancing nearer to tower over her as though his scant inches of greater height might lend weight to his words. "Are you willing to raise your child alone while being scorned by the rest of society? If you were a commoner, none of these swaggering peacocks would care. But, whether you like it or not, you are a noblewoman and must live up to the standards of one. Delita and I have taken great pains to narrow down the suitor pool for you so that you would have the chance to find a husband who's to your liking, so what more do you want? It's more of a choice than Dycedarg would have ever given you, and we both know it."
Alma was silent for a moment as she considered her brother's words, those coals of envy cooling in the face of bleak realization. She knew Ramza was right; with their father gone, the leadership of House Beoulve had fallen to Balbanes' eldest son and, as Alma had reminded herself earlier, Dycedarg had held no love for Balbanes' second wife and even less for the children she'd birthed. Undoubtedly, Dycedarg would have been quite eager to marry Alma off to anyone he chose in exchange for some future political favors. Indeed, had she not decided to run away to assist Ramza on his journey, there was nothing which would have stopped him from doing so. And even Zalbag, who had doted on Alma a great deal, would have been powerless to prevent it. Though he was an accomplished commander, he'd fallen tragically short of his father's legacy. And, he was further disadvantaged since he was neither head of House Beoulve, nor had his political acumen been nearly the equal of Dycedarg's. In all likelihood, he would have also abided by their eldest brother's decision.
"I know that you and Delita are doing this for me," she admitted, her brother's face becoming distorted as moisture gathered in her eyes. "But, you must understand that this is not an easy choice for me to make, and not only because the suitor I marry will likely be my husband for life. Do I need to tell you why?"
Alma's words faded to a strangled sob as she turned from Ramza, refusing to meet his gaze.
Ramza stared at his sister in silence for a moment before understanding slowly dawned on him and a sigh of frustration parted his lips.
"Dear God, Alma, I know Izlude was a good man and that you loved him. But he is dead and gone!" he blurted out, too aggravated to consider just how ill-advised his words were. "Treasure your memories with him, but accept that fact!" Ramza, his exasperation seeming to grow with each word, punctuated his argument with a swiping gesture with his hand.
Perhaps Ramza was, as usual, well-meaning but dreadfully clumsy with his words. Agrias had told a story or two along those lines. Maybe after such a long and frustrating day, his tact had deserted him along with his infamously limited patience. There was no shortage of people who could attest that it happened often enough.
A small part of Alma told her that, as much as Ramza deserved to leave with a very red and exceptionally smarting handprint across his cheek, that he was acting in the best interest of Alma and her child. Well, trying to, anyway.
But, at that moment, the cooling coals of anger and envy in the very core of Alma's being were suddenly stoked back to life and she glared at her brother with a credible imitation of Altima's maleficent glower.
"How dare you say such a thing to me!" she shrieked, so loudly that she was dimly aware of doors creaking open from somewhere nearby. "You still have Agrias! Rachel still has her mother! And knowing this, you have the gall to tell me I that should forget the father of my child!? Pretend that he never existed?! Because I can't! And, I never will!"
Ramza's breath caught in his throat once more as he found himself taken aback by his sister's torrent of ire. Exhausted and out of sorts though he was, he tried to gather enough of his scattered wits to make an attempt to mollify her. Simply put, tonight was definitely not his night. Between the matter of finding an appropriate, and unwitting, proxy to act as the father to Alma's child, which became vastly more complicated by what Delita was going through, not to mention the issue of telling Meliadoul about her late brother's baby, it seemed as if Ramza's infamous luck had finally deserted him and everything was blowing up in his face.
"Alma, please, I didn't mean it like that," he implored, desperately gesturing for his sister to lower her voice lest she wake the castle's other inhabitants. "I never told you to forget Izlude, but you must at least try to move on. I'm sure he would've told you the same if he knew what was going to happen."
Alma had been about to make a decidedly unladylike suggestion about what Ramza should do with his so-called divinations of Izlude's thoughts when, suddenly, her head lightened and the room began to spin. Fighting the urge to cry out in pain or sadness, or both, she gasped out as she felt her abdomen seemingly convulse and her legs began to buckle beneath her. The strain of the argument she'd just had with her brother had apparently taken a toll on her body and Alma suddenly found the floor seeming to tilt beneath her while the ceiling whirled overhead. Ramza also noticed and ran to catch her before she could collapse to the hard marble. Thinking quickly, he shouted for the nearest servant, hoping that one or two had already drawn near upon hearing the siblings' raised voices. Sure enough, a maid soon answered his shouts and, apparently sensing the urgency, flung open the door. Spying Alma's collapsed form in Ramza's arms, she let out a quiet gasp and, not even bothering with a perfunctory curtsey, spoke.
"Yes, my lord? What happened?"
"Please send for Lady Reis Kadmus immediately! My sister is unwell and is in need of her help."
"Yes, my lord. I shall send for her at once."
SSSSSS
Alma's dreams had become much more vivid following her pregnancy, and many of them had been unpleasant.
The latest proved no exception.
There had been the bittersweet dreams where she was reunited with Izlude, either fully aware that he was dead and yet unable to resist a few wonderful hours of having him back or where he'd escaped death. In either case, Alma would awaken alone and in tears, very nearly wishing Vormav had gleaned that Altima's would-be vessel would not serve his fell purposes and killed her. A few of her dreams had been of her brief possession by Altima, and a few where her possession had not been so brief just prior to her rescue by Ramza. And, sometimes, she dreamed about the battle in the Graveyard of Airships ending...differently.
In this latest nightmare, she was still Altima's vessel during the battle of the Graveyard of Airships. And, she was winning.
One by one Ramza's companions were killed, either hacked to pieces by the High Seraph's blades or hurled overboard to vanish into the bottomless gloom below the ruined vessel. Ultimately, Ramza found himself alone, and he had been overwhelmed by the Angel of Blood. His sword arm was hewn off at the elbow, his knees were shattered, and his eyes were torn out, followed by his tongue.
After that, he'd been mutilated and brutalized further, ravaged, and then left to slowly die in a pool of his own blood.
But, the worst part was that Alma, who had watched it all through the eyes she now shared with the foremost of the Lucavi, had, on some basest of levels, enjoyed it.
She'd recoiled in horror at the notion, but that horror dulled and dimmed as Altima whispered into Ramza's ear, as much for the benefit of Alma's lasting conversion as to further torture the dying Beoulve.
After all, hadn't Ramza failed to rescue Teta from the Corpse Brigade, blindly assuming Dycedarg would save her when Ramza should've known better?
Hadn't Ramza chosen to run away from home, not even bothering to return to Alma so she might not be alone as she mourned Teta's death, and Delita seemingly dying with her?
Hadn't Ramza been foolish enough to be duped, twice, by Cardinal Draclau, and thus leading to Ovelia having become Goltana's figurehead and captive?
Hadn't Ramza abandoned Ovelia to her fate after learning of the Lucavi scheming behind the curtain of the war?
Hadn't Ramza been foolish enough to leave Alma unguarded as he'd searched Orbonne Monastery for the Virgo stone?
Hadn't Ramza, apparently, been too busy rolling in the hay with Agrias to rescue Alma in a timely fashion, leaving his sister to fall in love with Izlude Tingel only to lose him?
Hadn't Ramza decided that derailing the High Confessor's plans for the mutual annihilation of the White and Black Lions was more important than rescuing Alma following her abduction from Riovanes?
And, hadn't Ramza pushed her into this ridiculous scheme to marry a man she could never truly love to stand in for the father for her baby when Izlude might still be alive had Ramza done better by his sole remaining kin, and then had the gall to lecture her about responsibility when he'd done worse?
With each accusation, the coals of anger in Alma's gut, long cooled but never truly gone, blazed anew and all was blood and screamed condemnations. By the time Alma returned to herself, Ramza was dead and, with none left to save her, she was alone upon a throne of brimstone at the head of the legions of Lucavi. Forever.
She whimpered and thrashed in horror at this dread realization, until a hand, warm and wonderfully human, gently shook her awake.
"Catherine, are you awake? How are you feeling?"
The Beoulve girl slowly opened her eyes to find herself, to her great relief, well away from the Graveyard of Airships and Altima. As her sleep blurred eyes darted about, she saw that she'd been dressed in her nightgown sometime after she'd passed out and had been tucked in bed with the blankets up to her chin. Hearing the sound of marching feet and sloshing liquid, Alma craned her head forward and spotted Reis sitting on a chair by her bedside, concern in her cerulean eyes. Off to one side, Charlotte was standing near the night table, pouring Alma a cup of steaming, frothy water, likely an herbal tea brewed at Reis's request. Near the door, Manon, who'd apparently been pacing up and down the area between the bed and the door, whirled in her direction and, abandoning his newfound knightly poise, charged over to her bedside and began peppering her with questions about her wellbeing.
"Reis? Charlotte? Manon? What are you all doing here?" Alma asked curiously, her voice slurred from weariness. "Where's...Drake? How long have I been out?"
"Easy, dear, one thing at a time," Reis said gently as she made a gesture for Charlotte to come over with the cup, gently helping the Beoulve girl to sit up and then to firmly take the cup in both hands.
"Thank you so much, both of you," Alma said as she accepted the glass and, at Reis's insistence, delicately sipped the water before handing it back to Charlotte.
"You're welcome, dear," Reis answered kindly, showing not even a hint of remonstration over another night spent beside Alma's sickbed. " And, to answer your question, you fainted after arguing with your brother yesterday. He sent for me and Charlotte to treat you and put you to bed. While Manon made sure we weren't disturbed, Charlotte and I mixed some herbal teas which I brought with me in case of situations like this. Once we'd steeped them for greater potency and let them cool, we were able to ladle them down your throat. It seemed to calm you, for your heartbeat and color returned to normal, but that thrashing and whimpering had us worried for a moment."
"Actually, that was a nightmare," Alma replied, mortified at her weakness. "They've gotten quite vivid since I became pregnant, and this one was truly awful."
Reis looked as though she wanted to ask more, but a quick flick of Alma's eyes in Charlotte's direction was enough to convince the dragonkin that now was not the right time.
After all, a dream about being possessed by a Lucavi demon would raise eyebrows in and of itself, to say nothing of that "dream" being an embellished memory.
"I see," Reis said simply, her relief not entirely feigned despite Alma's deflection. "Well, I'll need to examine you to be sure, but I doubt either you or the baby have suffered any harm. You will be expected at the ball tonight, but you won't need to be getting ready until near sundown. I want you to get as much rest as you can between now and then."
"Alright," Alma conceded, though she hardly relished the idea of spending most of the day in bed after her latest nightmare. "I'm just sorry to have troubled you like this again. And, I'm very grateful for your help."
"Over -praised, I'm afraid. These little ones have been a great help to me."
"Hey, I'm not little!" Manon objected, before belatedly recalling some lessons about how to properly address a lady. "I mean, I must respectfully contest that, Milady. A child would not have kept watch through the night, but I am a squire and I can keep watch from dusk to dawn if need be."
"All you did was pace back and forth all night," Charlotte pointed out cheekily.
"I did not! Besides, someone had to stay awake after you fell asleep, in case Lady Catherine needed us. And, I had to watch the door to make sure nobody slipped inside."
"In the middle of the night?"
"That's the best time. It's dark and there are fewer people to see. And, what if one of those men from the ball tried to sneak in? Milady's honor was at stake!"
Manon, caught up in his own exuberance, leapt atop the bed, causing it to jolt and pitch beneath Alma. Snatching a wooden training sword from his belt, he began slashing at the air and dancing back and forth on the mattress as though fending off some unseen rapscallion with designs upon his lady's maidenhead.
Alma might've reminded him that that particular ship had sailed quite a while ago, but she was too busy holding on for dear life.
Charlotte had been about to make another rejoinder, but Alma promptly cut her off.
"Stop, stop, stop!" she commanded, more shrilly than she would've liked but the two children had gone silent and stock-still before she'd even finished speaking. "Are you telling me that you've been up all night?"
Hearing this, both children suddenly found it difficult to meet her gaze. Sensing why, Alma took care to soften her remaining words.
Not by too much though. Manon and Charlotte might've been more fragile than they let on, but Alma also knew that coddling them would help no one.
"You really shouldn't have," Alma admonished, working to keep her tone firm but not unkind. "There's not a place better guarded than this castle in all the kingdom. Besides, Manon, you'll need to get your rest if you want to grow up to be big and strong like a knight. And, Charlotte, remember our little talk about taking better care of yourself? Well, that includes getting a proper night's sleep."
Though the two children managed to meet Alma's gaze this time, neither seemed too inclined to listen.
"Well, we were that worried," Manon pointed out, puffing out his chest in a show of adolescent defiance. "And, we would've done the same even if you'd asked us not to."
"Besides, who could sleep after all that sugar?" Charlotte asked, dovetailing her point by giving her stomach a slap.
Though Alma found herself wondering if she might regret it the next time Manon decided to maintain a "vigil-at-arms" or the next time Charlotte found this dessert or that too tantalizing, the Beoulve girl gave a mental shrug and gestured for the children to join her.
They were quick to oblige and, after another moment or two of the mattress pitching beneath her, Alma felt two pairs of arms coil about her in a tight, protective embrace.
The Beoulve girl felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips at the children's devotion, yet it soured when she glanced at them and noticed the dark circles under each of their eyes. This was the second time she'd fainted since discovering that she was pregnant with Izlude's child a few months prior, and the second time she'd gotten her unlikely family worried over it. What's worse, she'd kept Manon and Charlotte up through the night when, given that they were still growing and had considerable responsibilities for being so young, they surely needed all the rest they could get.
Not for the first time, Alma found herself wondering just how she could take care of a baby when she had a hard enough time taking care of herself.
Reis seemed to sense her thoughts, and Alma idly wondered if that might be yet another of her draconic traits. Still, though it made the Beoulve girl feel like more of a burden than ever, she regarded the dragonkin with an attentive, if somewhat desperate, expression.
Whether she liked it or not, and no matter how much it wounded what pride yet remained to her, she needed the strength Reis could lend her.
Without Izlude, Alma feared her own would not be enough.
"Catherine, I need you to listen to me," Reis began. "Drake seemed reluctant to tell me what happened, but after I pressed him, he admitted that you two had a... disagreement regarding your reluctance to choose from amongst your suitors."
Alma lowered her eyes. "Oh… was that all?"
Reis sighed sadly and gently stroked the younger woman's hair. Over the last few months, Alma had grown fond of the dragonkin who became like an older sister to her. Reis was also likely to be a better mother than Alma ever would. Again, the dragonkin seemed to catch her train of thought, for she laid a hand, cold as dragon scales and yet as welcome as sunlight after a storm, upon Alma's cheek.
"I don't know if there is any delicate way to say this, but your brother is right," Reis said gravely. "I hate to see you rushed into marriage, but I fear for the future of your child as well as your own should you remain unwed. I don't blame you for being angry; if I lost Beowulf, I would be devastated. But, I also know that he would want me to go on with my life and be happy. The man who fathered your baby would surely want that for you too. As for Drake, he only wants the best for you. He's just clumsy with his words, especially when he's talking to women. I'm sure Agrias could tell you a whole slew of stories which proves that."
The oblique reminder that Ramza and Agrias still had each other stung for a moment, but Alma forcibly redirected her thoughts to a memory that was more to her liking...
...namely, how she'd witnessed Ramza delicately - which, given Ramza's standards, wasn't saying much - asking Agrias if she might be carrying twins and how he'd come away with a black eye. That notion brought a smile, a smile tinged with envy but a smile nonetheless, to the Beoulve girl's face.
"That's better," Reis spoke up. "I know that Drake can be quite idiotic when he's worried. And, believe me, he got an earful after his display last night. Still, as mutton-headed as he can be, he's doing this because he cares for you and wants what's best for you and your baby. So do I, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart, Catherine."
The Beoulve girl was silent for a long moment as she pondered the dragonkin's words, however reluctantly. Yes, in some part of herself, well hidden by how her pregnancy had her emotions tied in knots, she did know that Ramza did care for her. He had been shocked to find her pregnant by a man who now numbered amongst the legions of dead from the War of the Lions, but he'd never once tried to get her to terminate the pregnancy or suggest that the baby be dumped on another's doorstep to save her reputation, as Manon and Charlotte very well might have been. Agrias had also been supportive as well, saying that little Rachel would enjoy having a cousin. Still, though this did make the wound over her heart ache a bit less, it would never be truly gone. Ramza's words from the night before had driven that point home, however unwittingly.
Treasure your memories with him, but accept that fact…
He is dead and gone…
Dead and gone…
Remembering her brother's words, and how the truth behind them pained her more than anything Altima had inflicted, Alma's grief finally proved overwhelming. She buried her face in her hands over and wept. Deep down, and as agonizing a truth as it was, she knew that Ramza and Reis were right. No matter how much she loved Izlude, she had to accept the fact that he was gone and move on with her life.
Her child, their child, needed his or her mother. And, even if no man could fill the void Izlude had left in her heart, Izlude's child needed a father.
Nothing could change that, not even the machinations of Lucavi demons or the unfathomable powers of the Zodiac Stones.
Much like when Reis had discovered that the Beoulve girl was with child, she drew Alma into a gentle embrace, with Manon and Charlotte promptly joining in. Though the two children were delightfully warm, the almost reptilian coldness of Reis's skin acted to drive home the cold, hard truth that she would have to choose a husband, and soon.
Before Alma could think on it at much length, the small unlikely family heard a knock at the door. Reluctant to let go of Alma just yet, the dragonkin turned to the two young attendants. Manon, exhausted from his impromptu vigil-at-arms after an already long evening at the ball, had nodded off moments before, much to Charlotte's incredulity. However, the two older women gently silenced her, saying Manon likely needed his sleep.
"After all, he owes you another dance or two tonight," Reis pointed out kindly, snickering a bit at the girl's blush. "Also, Charlotte, could you please get the door?"
The girl nodded. "Yes, Lady Reis, right away."
As soon as she got the door open, Charlotte gasped when she saw none other than Queen Ovelia herself standing upon the threshold. The queen was flanked by two maidservants, both of which regarded Charlotte's gawking expression - and, possibly, Charlotte herself - a bit coldly. But, the small girl was too busy gaping in amazement at the radiant queen, whom she hadn't even managed to spy at a distance during the ball, who now stood before her.
When she saw Charlotte, and saw that the girl was well and truly at a loss for words, Ovelia smiled at her in equal parts endearment and amusement before politely asking "May I come in?"
Belatedly realizing that she'd been staring at the queen, and her much her books emphasizing how rude it was to stare, the girl quickly spluttered an apology before stepping aside and hurriedly dipping into a curtsey. "Yes, of course, Your Highness! Forgive me!"
Ovelia, perhaps finding some gentle amusement in how flustered Charlotte was, seemed to glide into the room. She quickly turned to her maidservants and said: "Please leave us; I wish to speak privately with the Duchess of Lionel."
"Yes, Your Highness," they said, then curtsied and left. Obviously skeptical and unimpressed by Lady Catherine's "attendants", one of whom was on her bed and snoring piercingly, it took a stern glance from Ovelia for them to wipe any such hints from their faces. Once the servants were gone, Ovelia turned to Alma and Reis, inclining her head in greeting.
"Oh, Your Highness!" Alma exclaimed as she attempted to stand, but Ovelia held up one hand.
"It's alright, Catherine. Please be at ease."
Alma settled back against her pillows, more than a bit relieved. With everything that had happened of late, and with all that yet loomed ahead, she didn't trust herself to keep her feet had she chosen to rise.
Though Alma and Ovelia had been friends when they were both much younger, and Alma had missed the queen dearly, she also knew that Ovelia was well aware of her pregnancy and the Beoulve girl had not relished the prospect of speaking to the queen while her child's future rested in hands so reluctant.
Ovelia seemed to guess at Alma's thoughts, for she lowered herself onto the bed and grasped Alma's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze that caused Alma's lip to quiver. Glancing over at the snoring Manon, Ovelia giggled lightly.
"I take it I'll have to wait for a proper introduction?" she asked.
"I'd rather you did," Alma answered, speaking politely but broking no disagreement. "Our budding squire kept watch all through the night after I fainted, and I'd rather he got some rest."
"As you like it," Ovelia said, understanding and a hint of approval in her tone before she turned to Reis. "Thank you for taking care of the Duchess of Lionel, Lady Reis; you have my profound gratitude. If I may, I would like to speak with her alone."
Reis stood up and curtseyed. "Of course, Your Highness. Should I have the children moved? It might be best if you were to discuss matters that are...sensitive."
Even without recalling that Manon and Charlotte already knew about Alma's pregnancy, or at least as much as Alma dared reveal, it was more than obvious what Reis had been referring to. After all, the mystique of the Duchess of Lionel might reach an undesirable level if she were found to be a woman who was, at least officially, dead.
"Why don't you have Charlotte take a nap in your room? She'll likely need some rest before the ball," Alma suggested, noticing that Charlotte's protestations were cut off by a soft yawn. "I think Manon can remain here for the time being."
"Very well," Reis acknowledged. "It's an honor to serve both of you. Please do not hesitate to send for me if needed."
Turning to Alma, Reis gave her a sisterly kiss on the cheek and gently patted her hand before leaving the Beoulve girl in the company of her old friend.
After Reis had left with Charlotte, and with Manon showing no sign of rousing, Ovelia inched closer to Alma and, giving a smile of adoration tinged with desperate longing, she embraced her childhood friend whom she had not seen since before the War of the Lions broke out.
"I've missed you, Alma," she said sadly, the Beoulve girl's true name passing her lips as but a whisper.
"I've missed you too, Ovelia," Alma gushed, only just barely managing not to shout aloud her words. "I was so worried when I heard about your abduction. Drake...Ramza told me everything. I'm so glad you're alright!"
Did a wince cross Ovelia's face at that last remark? Maybe, but it came and went so quickly that Alma could not be certain. Still, Ovelia cupped the back of Alma's head with one hand drew her in to bury her face in the silk about her shoulder.
"You've always been a good friend, Alma," Ovelia said; if she had been distressed by Alma's words, she concealed it expertly. "And, it means a great deal that you care so much, especially with what you must've been through."
She dovetailed her point by placing a warm, finely boned hand on Alma's belly.
"We've been through a lot," Alma said morosely. "We all have. But, even though I've had my share of troubles, and more besides, I've never stopped thinking or worrying about you. I'm so glad you were able to take the throne as Queen in place of Ruvelia. And, I know it's late, but I also wanted to congratulate you on your marriage to Delita."
This time, Alma was certain of it. Ovelia's expression had faulted; briefly, almost invisibly, but this time she had been on the alert and had caught it. Was that why Delita had seemed so distant and why Ovelia's smile had seemed so painted at the ball? Could something have gone wrong in the marriage between one of her best friends and the man who'd been nearly as much her brother as Ramza was?
The thought was disconcerting, and Alma was far from reassured when Ovelia laid a hand on her shoulder and gave a squeeze which carried more a warning to desist than reassurance.
"Thank you, Alma, but this isn't about me," the queen intoned, with no small amount of sternness. "Ramza and I saw how you struggled to even look any of your suitors in the eye, and we're both concerned for you. I've heard more than enough horror stories from Agrias to know that Ramza has all the diplomacy of a behemoth that's gotten into the wine cellar."
"Careful, the behemoths might take issue with that," Alma jibed in reply."
"But, we both know his heart is in the right place," Ovelia continued after a moment's laughter. "And, I know that Delita...certainly seems rough around the edges, but he does care. He did arrange all of this, along with your new identities, for you as well as your brother."
The Beoulve's girl's musings about Delita turned a shade darker at Ovelia's words trailing away, and Alma's brow furrowed in perplexity and concern. But, Ovelia's earnest expression and the slight but insistent pressure on her belly was enough to dissuade any probing questions.
"I'm sorry to trouble you so, Your Highness," Alma apologized. "It's just that I'm going through a rather difficult time right now."
"Please, Alma, you know you don't have to call me that when we're alone. Just Ovelia will do. If you are well enough, would you like to get dressed and take a walk with me around the royal gardens?"
To that, Alma finally smiled and for the first time in what felt like years. "I'd love to, Ovelia."
SSSSSS
When the pair finally arrived at the gardens of Lesalia Castle, Ovelia dismissed the staff for the day so she could spend some time alone with Alma.
As Reis had said, it was best to have few ears about in case they needed to discuss anything "sensitive".
Having seen the castle gardens when she'd accompanied Zalbag to Lesalia on a day that seemed half a lifetime ago, Alma remembered the gardens as being little more than a dry and withered shadow of what they'd once been.
Not unlike Ivalice over the past half century, she reflected broodingly.
During the war, with nearly every copper the already beggared kingdom could scrape together going towards the war effort, not to mention the incessant violence between Lesalian natives and the deluge of refugees, the castle gardens had been largely neglected, their onetime beauty yet another casualty of the war over the vacant throne. Following Goltana's sacking of Lesalia and his capture of Ruvelia for her role as a key player in Ovelia's abduction and near-assassination, the castle itself had been left in disarray, much of its staff having been killed, fled, or taken by Goltana's host as live booty, leaving far too few to maintain it. Those servants and guards who'd managed to escape had renounced their loyalty to the former queen in order to safeguard their own lives, and no one could blame them. It wasn't until after Delita took power and the war ended that the former servants and guards had been invited back to resume their original posts, as well as offered clemency for their prior allegiances, in exchange for swearing fealty and loyalty to King Delita. Unsurprisingly, nearly all had accepted. This also made it much easier to restore Lesalia Castle's former splendor, as the remainder of the original staff had worked there for years and knew how to maintain it, and also proved quite able at instructing the new faces amongst their number who were hired to fill up the ranks.
As soon as they found a stone bench near the edge of a small pond in the middle of the garden, Ovelia sat down and patted the smooth surface, inviting Alma to join her. After the Beoulve girl had made herself comfortable, or at least as much so as she might get while the dilemma of her uncertain future and the conundrum of Delita and Ovelia's possible estrangement weighing on her, she thanked her old friend for her hospitality. The two young women let their eyes roam over the vista of trees, flowers, and rippling grass before them, marveling at the masterful work the staff had done in restoring the garden to its former beauty over the last few months.
"It's beautiful," Alma said feelingly. "Thank you for inviting me out here."
Ovelia laughed. "Thank you. This garden is my favorite place to be when I need someplace to think or relax alone. I'm glad you've decided to come out today. So, how are you feeling now, Alma?"
"Better. I feel awful for having troubled Lady Reis again with my fainting spell, not to mention Manon and Charlotte. This is the second time Lady Reis stayed up all night for me. And, putting Manon and Charlotte through the same was even worse. You saw how they could barely keep their eyes open when you came in."
"I see, but it didn't look like any of them minded. I may not know your other friends well, aside from Agrias, but I do know that they care about you. When Agrias learned about Ramza's...missteps the night before, she nearly bit his head off."
Alma allowed a giggle to escape her, recalling all too well that Agrias had been no less ferocious after her pregnancy than the nigh-terrifying instances she'd witnessed before Rachel had been born.
That brief laughter trailed away, however, when Alma realized this also meant that Ramza and Agrias had gotten into a fight over her. And, the holy knight's temper was a thing nigh-demonic in and of itself.
"Please, don't blame yourself," Ovelia interjected, silencing any further unspoken self-recrimination. "Ramza was at fault for choosing his words so poorly. Still, he's just concerned about you. I'm very concerned too. It can't be easy trying to find a husband on such short notice, especially after..."
Ovelia didn't finish the sentence. She hardly needed to, and Alma was glad of it.
Whatever his intent, Ramza had done an admirable job of causing fresh blood to well from the wound of Izlude's death.
"It isn't. You're right about that, Ovelia. I just wish there was another way…"
The queen frowned as she gently cupped her friend's cheek. "So do I. But, you cannot live a life alone, Alma! Especially with a child on the way! You still have two nights left; promise me you'll give at least one of your suitors a chance."
Here, the queen paused and, seeming to make a difficult decision, heaved a sigh before continuing.
"I know it's hard, asking someone who's bereaved to give their heart again," she began gravely. "And, I'm not saying the pain you're feeling now will ever truly go away, but you might be able to find another man you care for. After all, your father married your niece's namesake after losing his first wife."
"You have a good memory," Alma remarked, but in a non-committal tone.
"I know it may sound harsh to say, but there are many other men out there. Most of them have come a long way, and I can tell they're very eager to impress. Maybe, just maybe, one of them is someone you can come to love. It's a gamble, but your father took the chance when he decided he wanted to marry your mother. It cannot have been an easy decision for Sir Balbanes, since he'd already lost his first wife, but look how it turned out for them. You told me yourself they were very happy together. Sir Balbanes chose to take that gamble, to find a second chance at happiness. I'm asking you, for your child's sake, to take the same chance he did."
"I…," Alma didn't know what to say. She didn't want to seem ungrateful for everything her friends had done for her, not anymore than she had already, at least. But, as Ovelia herself had admitted, Alma would be taking a gamble. The Beoulve girl knew her parents had adored each other, but she also knew that her mother's family had ranked so far beneath her father's that she'd been called a courtesan behind her back...sometimes by her stepsons. Yet, that gamble had led to a happy marriage, even if neither had lived nearly as long as they should have. And, taking that same gamble was her child's best chance to avoid the life of an outcast. Yet, it was so hard for Alma to even envision someone taking Izlude's place that such a promise seemed impossible, even with her best friend very nearly pleading with her to try.
Ovelia, on the other hand, feared for Alma's future should it become known she was pregnant out of wedlock. For as long as she could remember, the Beoulve girl had always been a generous soul, eager to do what she could to help another, and a reasonable woman who was willing to heed another's council, especially when something important was at stake.
"Look, Alma, I know this isn't going to be easy. Our lives have never been, not even when we were younger. Do you remember when we first met, and how unhappy you were? I never forgot that. I'd never had much of a family, so I could barely imagine what it must have been like, losing so many you cared for in less than a year. But, I know what it is to be lonely. To feel alone, and to think you always will be. But, we still managed to endure some harsh times together. You remember, don't you?" Ovelia asked as she gently placed a hand on Alma's shoulder.
Alma sighed and nodded before placing her hand on top of Ovelia's. "Of course, Ovelia. How could I forget? You were the first real friend I had when I came to live at Orbonne."
SSSSSS
Alone in her austere room at Orbonne Monastery, Alma clapped a hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle the sound of her own weeping. Not even two days had passed since the tragedy at Fort Zeakden, and her brothers, her older half-brothers, had already sent her to Orbonne with neither an explanation nor an apology.
Not that she had expected either from Dycedarg, of course. He'd never liked her, and this latest tragedy had done nothing to soften his foreboding exterior nor his harsh demeanor. No, it had been Zalbag's actions which had surprised her. Prior to his return, rumors had begun to trickle in that Teta, who had been mistaken for a daughter of House Beoulve by the Corpse Brigade, had been used as a human shield in a desperate bid by her captors to stave off the encroaching Hokuten, only for a Limberry squire to shoot straight through her heart with a crossbow...
...on Zalbag's direct order.
Her heart had skipped a beat and her mind had roiled with denial. She'd told herself that Zalbag, her doting older half-brother, would never order the death of someone he considered family. Yet, when she'd run up to Zalbag and asked, his eyes had darted away from hers for a split-second before narrowing and regarding her harshly.
She could literally feel the blood run cold in her veins.
Unable to bear speaking with Zalbag further, barely able to tolerate being in the same room with him, she'd inquired elsewhere and her horror was compounded when she'd learned from one of the surviving soldiers who'd witnessed the events that Delita, who had been kneeling over Teta's body when the abandoned fortress had exploded, was also presumed dead even though his body had yet to be found. And, as if all that hadn't been enough, Dycedarg had subsequently called a family meeting, a term Alma found equal parts ironic and distasteful and announced that her favorite brother, Ramza, still lived but had chosen not to return home. According to the reports that had been given by returning members of Zalbag's host, the youngest son of House Beoulve, and his fellow Hokuten cadets had deserted the knighthood and left for parts unknown.
Dycedarg had been unimpressed by the act, calling Ramza naive and coddled overmuch, and saying that some time out in the world would help him learn and accept some harsh truths. Alma, despite her disbelief that her favorite brother would desert her now after they'd lost both Delita and Teta, had found a small measure of comfort in the news that he yet lived...
...but, it was very small indeed.
Unfortunately, the knowledge that Ramza still lived did little to ease the pain of losing her best friend and a man who was nearly as much her brother as Ramza himself. And, that pain was made all the worse, not only because Ramza had left her to mourn alone but because of the sheer senselessness of the tragedy. Teta could have been rescued, and Delita could've returned alive, and yet both had instead been callously sacrificed for no other reason than that of convenience. Too late did she realize that Dycedarg had never intended to rescue Teta in the first place and ordered Zalbag to do whatever it took to crush the Corpse Brigade. That he had done so only at the cost of Teta's and Delita's lives didn't even cause the eldest Beoulve to bat an eye, and his and Zalbag's describing the episode as a "necessary sacrifice", as though both lives had been little more than pawns on a chess board offered up to lure the enemy into a fatal blunder, had made her recoil in horror.
Alma even began to think that Dycedarg would not have hesitated to sacrifice her if she had been in Teta's place on that fateful day, especially with their father gone.
"Teta…," Alma sniffed as she whimpered her dead friend's name to the empty air about her, the pain of not only loss but of loneliness strangling her voice to a choked sob as she, now more alone than she'd ever been, felt the tide of grief engulf her anew.
"Umm… what's wrong? Are you all right?" an unfamiliar voice rang out.
Alma gasped as she raised her head and her still watery eyes darted about, seeking the owner of the voice. At first, she thought it was only her imagination playing tricks on her until she spotted the blonde head of another girl, very near her in age, gazing down at her in concerned perplexity from the bunk bed above her own. In her grief, Alma never realized that she was not alone in the room Father Simon has assigned her upon her arrival at Orbonne that morning.
Forgetting her grief, if only momentarily, Alma asked "Who are you? I didn't know there was anyone else here."
"Me? My name is Ovelia. Ovelia Atkascha. What's yours?"
Alma stared at her, jaw creaking open. "Atkascha? Are you a member of the royal family? What are you doing here? I thought all the royals lived at Lesalia Castle."
Ovelia shook her head. "Not all of them; I was sent here not long after I was born, and have been living here ever since. What about you?"
Alma hesitated for a moment before answering, old ghosts stirring at the question. "My name is Alma Beoulve. My older brothers sent me here just today. When I asked, they refused to tell me why. They only said that it was for the best."
The girl named Ovelia raised an eyebrow. "Beoulve? You're Balbanes Beoulve's daughter?"
"Yes. I'm sure you've heard my father passed away a year ago. Unless you never get news of the outside world here at the monastery? This place seems so far from...well, everything."
"I do hear some news from time to time. Every few days, messengers from the king arrive to check up on me. They often compensate the monks for my upkeep with supplies they cannot produce in their own gardens, and share news of the outside world."
"I see…"
"Cheer up, Alma. Living here isn't all that bad. Father Simon treats everyone here like family, including me. I'm sure he'll be good to you as well."
And with that, Ovelia climbed down from her bunk and, for the first time of what would prove to be many, drew Alma into a reassuring embrace.
"I know this might sound a little selfish, but I'm happy to have you here," Ovelia admitted. "In fact, you're the first girl my age I've seen in a long time."
Perhaps it was her desperation for a touch of human compassion. Maybe it was the earnest sincerity in Ovelia's young voice. It might also have been how this girl, secreted away in this rainy backwater when she should've been in the opulence of the royal castle, was as alone as Alma herself was and yet cared enough to offer what small comfort she could. Whatever the reason, hearing these words finally broke Alma out of her grief, if only for a moment. "Thank you, Your Highness."
Ovelia shook her head. "Please, you don't have to call me that. Just Ovelia will do."
"Okay then, Ovelia."
The princess smiled. "I think we're going to be good friends, Alma. Whatever you may be going through now, just know that it will get better. I promise you."
Even though Alma had never laid eyes on the other blonde girl before today, she nevertheless found some comfort in Ovelia's words. She still grieved for Teta and Delita, still missed Ramza, and still felt profoundly betrayed by Dycedarg and Zalbag. But, at least she wasn't alone anymore.
And, somehow, that sliver of silver lining amidst a seeming world of storm clouds was enough to ease the weight of her mourning. Not entirely, nor even by much, but just enough that the days ahead looked less bleak than they did but hours before.
"You're right, Ovelia. Thank you."
Since that day, the two girls had become inseparable and were rarely seen outside the company of each other. Although they adored their guardian and mentor, Father Simon, the girls also loved playing affectionate pranks on him, such as over-sweetening his morning coffee and "misplacing" his quills and books. Though the pair would always make it up to him later, the way his aged face faulted at each and every prank, even those he'd surely come to expect, never failed to delight the two girls. They also loved sneaking out of the monastery at night, sometimes to look at the stars or to stay up late to read books together. For four years they lived like this until a few months before the outbreak of the War of the Lions when, to her astonishment and trepidation, news reached Alma that she was to return to Igros and live with her half-brothers...at Dycedarg's request.
Knowing her eldest brother, Alma was sure the only reason he wanted her to return was so that he could marry her off to a son of one of his allies. Dycedarg was an unscrupulous and calculating man, and it was a rare thing indeed for him to decide that any price was too high where his political ambitions were concerned. Alma knew that arguing with him would do no good, and quickly decided that appealing to Zalbag would be pointless. She had very nearly been resigned to her fate when, to her stupefaction, Ramza had reappeared in her life. He'd spun a wild story about Delita having survived, of the abduction of Ovelia, and shadowy forces manipulating the war from behind the curtain. Yet, as fanciful as it all sounded, Alma knew her brother well and knew that he had about as much a gift for deception as a rabbit. So, before her unwanted marriage could take place, the Beoulve girl took the opportunity to run away with Ramza and, in a series of events even more bizarre than he'd relayed, she'd found herself captured by a handsome dark-haired, green-eyed Templar who would eventually become the love of her life…
SSSSSS
"Yes, I remember," Alma answered, unable to keep either a hint of nostalgia or a longing for simpler times from her tone as she and Ovelia returned to the present. "So much has happened since I left Orbonne. It's ironic how much I regret having to leave you, considering how much I opposed my brothers' decision to send me there in the first place."
"I know. And, I was disappointed to see you leave as well. But I did not once regret having met you and I've always been very grateful to have known you. I still feel that way, even with...everything that's happened."
As the queen's words trailed away, her gaze alighted upon her wedding ring and a morose sigh parted her lips. This hint of disconsolation came and went seemingly in the blink of an eye, but Alma had kept her eyes wide open.
Now, she was certain of it. Something was troubling Ovelia, and it had something to do with Delita or the state of her marriage. Or both.
And, whatever it was, Alma feared it was serious.
Perhaps Ovelia sensed that she'd let something slip, for she promptly composed herself and said "You're probably one of the few friends I've had. And, more than anything, I wish for you to be happy; you and your child both."
"And I appreciate it, Ovelia. But, what about you? Are you happy? We both know that your life has been harsh. It is still like that?"
The queen was silent for a moment as she tried to think of how to answer her friend.
"I… am content," she said, but quickly noticed Alma's skeptical expression. "Delita and I may not agree on everything he's done. And...well, I think we both know that he's done a few things, too many things, that are reprehensible. I won't deny that I've lost a night or two of sleep over it. But, in spite of all that, I do feel that he has the country's best interest at heart. He's also taken such good care of me and protected me when my need was dire, I don't think I could really ask for anything more. His willingness to help you and your brother is also something I'm grateful for."
Reis had sometimes jokingly claimed that pregnant women were psychic creatures, but Alma had found herself wondering if the dragonkin might have struck on something. Maybe it was how carrying her baby had caused each sensation, be it the height of transcendent joy to the depths of anger and despair, to become more potent. Perhaps an offshoot of her burgeoning maternal instincts, which had spurred her to take in Manon and Charlotte, had also extended to Ovelia who was clearly under much strain and had always lacked for companionship. Whatever the reason, Alma found herself doubting Ovelia's words.
Granted, the Beoulve girl knew that her best friend would not deliberately lie to her. And yet, despite that, Alma felt that there was something Ovelia was not telling her. What's more, she could not help but suspect that the queen was downplaying the toll that Delita's deeds had taken on her, and rather energetically too. Still, it seemed doubtful that Ovelia would elaborate, given that Alma's pregnancy left her in such a delicate condition. And though Alma was loathed to admit it, it was not her place to press the queen into revealing anything she did not wish to.
Could Ramza have sensed something similar? It would explain why he'd seemed so worried and overwrought, well beyond what Alma's reluctance to be married off to a stranger could cause him. Perhaps, since Ramza and Delita had been brothers in all but blood - and, hopefully, the same yet held true today - he might have better luck discerning what was going on.
Ah, does the phrase "behemoth in the wine cellar" mean anything to you? her inner voice asked with biting sarcasm.
Alma chided herself. Granted, Ramza was impulsive, impatient, and could stand to learn such novel concepts as foresight and tact, but, for all his faults he was still a fine man who, like Delita, held the well-being of Ivalice and her people more dear to him than his own life.
Assuming he didn't somehow reignite the War of the Lions, perhaps Ramza's infamous luck would let him get to the bottom of this.
"I suppose you're right," she said, though she found herself less certain of that than she'd been a day prior. "With how Delita was able to resettle so many of the people displaced by the war, and how his commerce policies have allowed so many people to have better lives than their parents did, I truly have seen that things are getting better since he took power. I know it could take years, but I have faith that Ivalice will be a better place under his rule."
It took Ovelia a telling split-second before she nodded her agreement.
Telling, and more than a bit unsettling.
"Yes, I want to believe in my husband too," Ovelia affirmed, though Alma had a grim presentiment that, though Ovelia wanted to have that faith, it yet eluded her. "Anyway, are you hungry, Alma? Delita has hired a new Romandan chef and I heard he makes these truly amazing desserts from his country. I've heard that one of them, the Ptichie Moloko or Bird's Milk Cake, is a thick slice of marshmallow covered in a layer of chocolate. I hadn't tried it yet, but I caught sight of the batch he was making and, I swear, they had my mouth watering."
Alma could believe it...especially when Ovelia playfully pointed at her chin, said "Yes, just like that", and obligingly produced a handkerchief.
"Sorry," Alma spluttered, more amused than embarrassed as she wiped her chin. "Still, that sounds delectable."
"I thought you might say that," Ovelia replied knowingly. "I've yet to try out any of his dishes myself, but since you are here, I figured there would be no better time than now. I'd also like to hear about your little squire and his lady while we dine."
Alma smiled and laughed softly, her myriad predicaments forgotten for the moment as the thought of a sweet dessert made her mouth water anew.
"I'd love to, Ovelia."