The Book of Twyla

Arthas continued to order Twyla to his rooms each night, never giving her even one night of respite. She swiftly learned that while it might seem as if he wished to please “his Jaina”, he was a very demanding lover, and it was his pleasure, and only his pleasure, that truly mattered. She returned to her cabin each morning filled with self loathing and disgust for going along with his madness, for finding pleasure in his arms when she loved another.



She began to view the nightly visits to Arthas’ cabin as her penance for Stratholme, a personal hell and the Light’s punishment for her following him. As if having killed her own family in cold blood and reliving it in her nightmares was not enough.



Then came the day when she knew the light was truly punishing her for her sins.



She had begun to suspect when he courses (which were usually as regular as clockwork and due on the third week of the voyage) did not come. As they neared Northrend and the water began to grow icy and rain turned to snow, she began to grow ill, her stomach disagreeing with her quite violently at times, leaving her in a state similar to the one she had started the voyage in. Exhaustion was her constant companion, wrapping around her like heavy blanket, leaving her reluctant to leave her hard bed, let alone her cabin, but she continued to do so as ordered.



She tried to hide her condition, but doing so on a crowded vessel was difficult. Still, somehow, she was able to keep her secret, until one evening when she was terribly ill, able to do nothing more than make it from her bed to the chamber pot and back. In truth, she was barely able to do that.



It was in the undignified position of kneeling over her chamber pot, vomiting, that Arthas found her in when he stormed angrily into her small cabin without knocking.



The rage remained on his face only a moment, before it faded to surprise, and by the time surprise had given way to concern, he was kneeling by her side, helping to hold her hair back.



“I thought your seasickness had passed.” He scolded rather gently as her retching seemed to come to an end.



“It is not seasickness, my lord.” She managed to say hoarsely as she closed her eyes, relieved that the bout had passed, but terrified that another would take hold of her at any moment. Her fear on that score was well founded, for it was only a moment before her retching began again.



“Nothing is coming up.” Arthas remarked, a faint tone of concern in his voice.



He is only concerned because I am the only woman aboard this ship, and if something were to happen to me he would have no one else to rut with. She thought bitterly, managing to keep the thought to herself before speaking, though her ill humor leaked through into her words. “There is nothing left in me to come up.” She finally managed to say. “I do not have the relief of even being able to drink water without growing ill from it.”



“I will summon one of the mage-priests here to-”



“I doubt that there is a healer anywhere in all the world who would be able to help my suffering, my lord.” She murmured wearily, “I have been told the sickness affects all women differently, and I merely… Seem to feel it more severely than most. Though why they call it morning sickness when it strikes at any given time I do not-”



“Morning sickness?” He demanded sharply, causing her to let out a sigh.



“Yes, my lord. Morning sickness. Surely you realized that my playing Jaina in your bed might have such consequences.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. She was exhausted, and did not feel well in the least, leaving her in no mood to be pleasant.



“Just as you realized and did nothing to prevent it?” He demanded sharply, releasing her hair and crossing his arms over his chest, glowering down at her.



“I scoured this ship for an herb chest containing anything that would prevent this from happening, finding nothing, while you ordered me to your bed, ordered me to be someone I was not for your fantasy.” She spat, closing her eyes a moment, before opening them and glaring up at him, “But forgive me for having no more of it, direct order or no!” She started to stand, “I-”



Arthas saw her go pale and sway on her feet a moment before she started to collapse. He reached out and caught her with ease, a determined look on his face, before he strode from her cabin with her in his arms, making his way to his own cabin.



“The lady Twyla is ill. Have a healer report to my cabin immediately to see to her.” He ordered a soldier he passed in the narrow hall. The soldier took one look at Twyla’s pale, limp form, before hurrying off to do as he was ordered.



Arthas had just placed Twyla carefully on his bed when there came a knock at his cabin door. “Enter!” He barked, before reaching down to tenderly brush back her hair, noticing for the first time the toll that the stress and exhaustion of the past few weeks had taken on her. There were dark circles under here eyes, and she was far paler than normal, not to mention thinner.



She was wasting away and I never noticed… He thought mournfully, looking up as a high elf mage-priest and Captain Valonforth entered his cabin.



“I heard she was ill and came to see if there was aught I could do.” Captain Valonforth said in response to Arthas’ slight frown at seeing him accompany the healer, who had already moved to inspect Twyla, shooing Arthas from her side with a gesture. Arthas scowled slightly, moving to stand at the foot of the bed.



“I found her in her cabin. She was… Quite ill. She admitted to me that she was not even able to drink water without losing it.” Arthas said, watching as the healer took her pulse, “She also advised me she believed she was with child before she fainted.”



“That would explain why she is in such a state.” The healer muttered, “I have heard that pregnancy can be hard on some women, yet I had never seen such a case myself. Until now, that is.” He did not question the parentage of the child. It was well known among the men that Twyla was to wed. Like as not he merely assumed Twyla and her betrothed had taken liberties before their wedding, Arthas thought with a pang of bitterness.



He had a moment of clarity then, where he wondered what had happened, when he had become so bitter, or so selfish. Until he had ordered Twyla to his cabin, to his bed, he had been a good man, putting his people, his kingdom first. Even in Stratholme, he had ordered the citizens killed so they would not suffer undeath. He had granted them swift, merciful deaths.



He tried to tell himself that he had been merciful where Twyla was concerned, but found he could not. He thought back, remembering the night he had first ordered her to his cabin, and for the first time, his mind allowed him to truly see her protests, her reluctance. And then he realized how she had never fully given herself to the fantasy he had built up. She had never initiated anything between them, would barely even touch him unless told to. And the only times she had, the only times when she would beg for anything, was when he had pushed her so far into passion it was likely she didn’t even recall her own name.



The high elf interrupted his thoughts, straightening and looking to Arthas. “She cannot go to battle when we reach Northrend.” He warned, “She is compliant enough to try to do so if she was ordered, but I doubt she would be able to even heft a blade at this point.”



“Understood.” Arthas said quietly. Not that he would allow her to risk their child so anyway.



He was surprised, really, at how easily he accepted the thought of the child Twyla carried as his. Theirs. He knew that he could not change the past, nor could he ever apologize to Twyla enough for his actions, but he could begin to make them up to her.



“She must eat and drink,” The mage-priest continued, “Even if she feels she cannon, she must try. She should have water or juice as well as bread always readily available, which should pose no difficulty with all the mages about.”



Arthas gave a nod. “Thank you.” He looked to Twyla once more, “She will remain here for now, and I will watch over her.”



“Yes, my lord.” The mage-priest paused, “I recommend trying to spoon a bit of water or juice into her mouth before she wakes, to give her some sort of hydration and nourishment. Her body is crying out for it.”



Arthas gave a single nod, his eyes still on Twyla as the mage-priest left the cabin. He then frowned slightly, fixing Valonforth with a stern gaze. “Yes, Captain?”



“I know, my lord.”



Arthas’ gaze darkened. He thought they had been discrete. “Do you?” He demanded, “And how many others ‘know’, as you put it?”



“I believe I am the only one.” Valonforth’s gaze was inscrutable, neither accusatory or understanding. “I came across her on her way to her cabin one morning. I have assisted her in keeping the knowledge from others.”



“Then thanks are in order.” Arthas moved to the table, where dinner for two was still laid out. He poured a goblet of water, before moving to sit beside Twyla, sliding an arm under her shoulders, lifting her slightly and holding the goblet to her lips, feeling relieved when she drank reflexively. He pulled the goblet away after only a moment; waiting to be certain her body would not reject the small amount of fluid, before administering a bit more. As he did so, he noticed that Captain Valonforth had not moved from his position. “Is there something I can assist you with, Captain?”



“I am merely awaiting orders in regards to the lady Twyla, sir. That, and simple concern for her. She is a friend, after all, and… She reminds me of my sister.” That was a blatant lie, but not one Valonforth expected to be caught in. He was one of the men who had often looked on Twyla with secret, well concealed longing. He had never let it show to anyone by look or action, knowing that it would be futile for him to hold out any sort of hope that she would notice him, when her heart had already been given to another.



As many before him did, he had placed the unattainable object of his affection on a pedestal, expecting her love to be pure and true to her betrothed, with affections that were reserved only for him. Seeing her come from Arthas’ cabin that first morning, looking so disheveled after what had obviously been a night of love play had been like having a bucket of cold water thrown over him, accompanied by a knife in the gut. But then she had explained, and he had felt his burgeoning disgust and disappointment at her being as loose as a common lady of the night fade, only to be replaced by anger and disappointment. Not directed at her, Light no, she was a victim in all this, but directed at their commanding officer. The man who had used her so cruelly, but now sat so concerned, carefully forcing water down her throat.



“I wish news of her pregnancy to be kept secret for now.” Arthas started after several long moments of silence, “And I wish her belongings to be brought here. The bed is far more comfortable than that plank she was sleeping on, and she will need someone to care for her. I can serve as her nursemaid easily enough.” Especially after all I have done to her to put her in such a state. Arthas silently added.



“Very well, sir.” Captain Valonforth gave a nod of his head, before moving from the room.



Later, when soldiers carried in Twyla’s armor chest and other belongings, they saw the care with which Arthas tended her, and were hardly surprised. It was just like their prince, they later said to each other, to be so concerned for a comrade.









~~~*~~~





Ladybird: Thank you for the kind review! That was actually the reaction I was going for with that chapter. Well... Not really. It was more like I was just writing out what the characters told me had happened. But I was nearly crying by the time I finished it myself. I swear, I come up with a name and an appearance and then they develop lives of their own! It's quite worrisome, you know.







In other news. BWA HA! I figured out how to actually make the words what mean thoughts all italicized and purdy like. Now that I've jumped that hurdle, all that I have left is to figure out how I want to divvy up the rest of these chapters...