Thread: Queen, Lover, Bitch. (PsionicCuttlefish and MacaronMaven)

Lady Kaevri, Queen of Cheilshiell and Empress of the realm of Man, was curled up asleep in a pile of dirty hay. The most powerful woman in the land wore wool riding trousers and a simple linen blouse, both stained by mud and rabbit's blood. Her long dark hair, inspiration for at least five songs, was braided and knotted into a coarse bun. Sticks of hay clung to her majesty's person like the hands of beggars to a rich woman's skirts. This was not the first time she had slept on a straw mattress, before the fall of Cheilshiell she had gone on impromptu 'adventures' that sometimes required her to bed down in humble places. Those nights had always been more rewarding for the chill. She could prove her strength to herself on a lumpy bed, then go home in the morning and let the hand-maidens fret over her health. They had always seemed like silly hens to Kaevri. Her health had held for years, and she always felt stronger after a good romp in the woods. Of course, one night out was drastically different from twenty. Her whole body ached. Though they stayed to the roads, the wagon jumped and jolted on every rut. Even filling the bed with hay hadn't been enough of a cushion. Days ago she had found a willow tree and made bitter tea from the bark. The tea had helped a little, but she had given the last of the willow bark to her Lord Husband just this morning. Wake up. A sudden blow on her back jerked the small woman out of her troubled dreams. The 'food' is done. From the sneer in his voice it was obvious what Lord Kenaiwan thought of their current diet. Rabbit stew was certainly not something they would have found on their table in the palace, but Kaevri rather liked the rustic flavor. Or she had, before eating nothing but rabbit for more than two weeks. She winced as she sat up and nodded to her husband. He preferred her quiet and she didn't feel strong enough for words right now anyway. Kenaiwan was still handsome, she supposed, after the fashion of the nobility. Tall and lean with wide shoulders, he had the perfect silhouette for the new style of ceremonial armor. What a pity he had never worn it. His ear-length auburn hair was lank and greasy now, the curls that so many of her maids had swooned over had vanished after the first rain. Kaevri had always thought that they looked unnatural. Her husband's beard was growing in in patches, making his face look even more filthy in the dimming light. He held a wooden bowl and frowned down at it as though he wanted to put it's family to death but couldn't decide how to execute them. Kaevri knew better than to assume that he was bringing her share. Still aching from his punch, she hoisted herself over the side of the wagon and imagined that she could hear her joints creaking. The sudden movement made her head swim, and the deposed queen was forced to hold the muddy wagon wheel until her dizziness passed. Even streaked with mud, her hand stood out like a ghost in the firelight. This fact frightened her more than she cared to admit. It seemed that her most recent illness had stolen her color as well as her strength, leaving Kaevri a weak and white specter of her former self. Undoubtedly her doctors would have had some theory, if they were present. Kaevri sat on a rock as close as she could get to the campfire without lighting herself ablaze, and served herself a small portion of the stew. The broth was bland, but wonderfully warm and she blessed it for that fact.