Callida woke up to the first light of morning like she always did, nervous to open her eyes for fear that it had all been nothing more than a dream. Instead, she took a deep breath, probing the air for the smells that could prepare her for either eventuality, her entire being suddenly giddy to catch the subtle scents of pine and medicinal herbs that could only mean one thing. And her eyes snapped open, lips parting in a broad smile to see Rogue still very much asleep on the pillow next to her. She indulged for just a moment, watching him sleep until habit compelled her to get up and start her day. A gentle brush of the tip of his nose with her lips, and Callida rolled out of bed, careful not to take the blankets with her. She washed quickly in an adjoining bathroom and pulled on one of the untouched uniforms from her wardrobe long ago abandoned for deployment. Porro’s been busy, Callida mused as her wardrobe was now crammed full with cleverly-designed, unique uniforms she’d never seen before prepared for her by her personal stylist. I’ll have to thank him.

She was loath to leave, but meetings with the king’s council started early and she had an entire wrap-up presentation to prepare about the end of the war and the terms she’d negotiated with King Skiasmenos Thisavros, not to mention a formal report of recommendation for how to proceed with military matters now that the war against the Griffin Tribe was over. She sighed, quietly circled the bed to leave a last kiss on Rogue’s endearingly wild bedhead, and left.

The morning air was cool despite the promise of June heat beating down later that day. Callida actually shivered a little when a gentle breeze rolled lazily over her body, the goosebumps giving her senses a reason to rouse themselves more fully, and it was energizing. The walk through the still mostly quiet base was weirdly nostalgic, as was unlocking and entering the Lion General’s office, her office, found exactly how she’d left it over fourteen months ago. Primordials! Has it really been that long?!

Callida settled into the seat at her desk, rifling through drawers, kicking up decades worth of ink and parchment smells along with a settled layer of dust. She coughed. First things first: dusting! While she wiped down the cases of books, the decorative weaponry on the walls, the desk, furniture, and a small mantle clean of buildup, Callida organized her thoughts, thinking through the main points she needed to address in her presentation to the king, deciding which points weren’t worth the council’s time, and mentally preparing to return to the routine of daily public presentations that still made her squirm after three years as the Lion General. To be fair, nearly half of that time had been spent on the front lines of one war or another.

Oh, it was going to be so weird not being at war! Callida had been a soldier her entire life — at war her entire life. Yes, literally. This was all she knew, and she was the type of person that needed to stay busy. She’d always hoped to see the world at peace; she’d worked tirelessly to make that a reality. But now that the world was at peace…. What do I do?

***

Presentation and all related materials in hand, Callida walked to the palace. The base was still eerily quiet, and then she remembered that she’d given her soldiers permission to go home, connect with loved ones, only to return sometime in the next month to declare intentions to either stay in the military or accept an honorable discharge and return home. The only soldiers left on the base were those directly responsible for the security of the palace — the palace guards, and they rotated through around the clock duty shifts, alternating sleeping and training schedules with other units. An irrational anxiety was building in Callida’s chest. Things were changing. For the better!! But things were changing, and Callida, a creature of well-trained habit, a career soldier who always woke up at the crack of dawn, started her day promptly, followed the routine of meetings and trainings and the comfortable teasing of her comrades and the camaraderie of literal armies of people and meals in mess halls and…. And some of that would stay the same. Right?

She went up the great sandstone staircase, through the massive double doors into the palace, straight down a hallway lined with carved pillars to another pair of doors symbolically gilded with gold, and into the throne room — domed glass above, the council seating to the right, her preferred place to stand to the left against a tapestry-ornamented stone wall, the thrones, three of them in a panel of distinguished seating, directly ahead. This room held many memories, most of them uncomfortable, many of them painful. It was a room in which she’d grown both professionally and personally, and for that, it held significance and a place of importance in her heart.

“Callida! Good morning!” Verum greeted her warmly.

“Your Majesty,” she reciprocated, dropping to one knee in the formal bow of a Lion Tribe soldier to her king, her arms forming a great circle in front of her.

“Did you sleep well?” Verum asked, and the tease was subtle enough that only Callida caught it.

“Yes,” she sassed and rolled her eyes. “How have you been, Verum?”

“I’ve been impressed by your reports,” he deflected casually, and Callida’s eyes narrowed, making a mental note to return to the question of his welfare in a more private setting. “Would you like to start us off today, General?”

“I… could,” Callida agreed, and Verum chuckled knowing full well that “like” was too strong of a word for her preferences.

The report itself was concise; the question and answer session that followed was anything but. It was in these moments that Callida was infinitely grateful all over again to be a soldier and to not be the king. Sitting here, watching the council members compete for their opinions and ideas and questions and comments to be the most well received and praised, listening to them argue over inconsequential details, fielding interminably nit-picking, nuanced questions that held very little importance…. Callida would go insane in this environment for any period of time greater than the already mandated military council she was responsible to officiate. Oh, make it stop! Callida grumbled internally, her hands rubbing her forehead in agitation after the sixth question about the exact terms of the abdication of the former Griffin King (who was dead!!) and the rise of his only living heir. How was this so complicated?!

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Verum cut off the questions abruptly as Callida’s obvious glazed-over look seemed to be provoking the councilmen into vexation. “Gentlemen, let’s take an hour recess for lunch. General, welcome home. And thank you for a most thorough report.” Callida’s lips pursed, tightening to prevent an offensive smirk from forming. “Callida, would you like to catch up over lunch?”

“I’ve got some time,” Callida nodded, following Verum and his bodyguard, one Captain Pius, out the door and through a stretch of hallways to a small dining room.

“‘Care to join me?” Verum asked, quirking an eyebrow at her and nodding at an adjacent seat.

“I’m not ready to eat, but I’ll sit with you, sure. ‘Catch up,” she said significantly.

“Pius, would you mind standing outside the door? I’ll call you in when I need you.” While Pius nodded, Verum slouched back into his seat with a heavy sigh, the door thudding quietly shut the trigger for him to start speaking. “Alright. Let me have it.”

“You avoided my question earlier: how are you?”

Verum sighed again and leaned forward to set his elbows on the table and run his fingers through his hair. The action released the familiar scent of spices that Callida easily picked up and made her smile. “I don’t know… how to explain myself.”

“Oh, this will be good,” Callida snorted, leaning back in her seat to cross her arms. “What did you do this time?”

“Don’t be flippant with…. It’s not like that, Callida. This is serious.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she sobered immediately. “What did you mean then?”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been married for three and a half years and I have yet to become a father.”

“I had noticed,” Callida said slowly, “but I thought things between you and Flore were going well.”

“They are. That’s…. It’s nothing like that.”

“Ok. Then…?”

Verum growled, using frustration to cover other emotions. “I don’t know what to do. Flore is beside herself, the council is at my throat trying to convince me that I need to take a mistress, and I don’t want to do that to her. Not after…. She’s been through enough.”

“You mean… that first year?”

“No. I mean… ok, well that, yes, but, Callida, it’s not that Flore can’t get pregnant,” Verum said, staring at the floor. “This stays between us.” Callida nodded and Verum continued, “Flore just lost another pregnancy last month.”

“Another? How many has she lost?”

“That we know of, this one makes five.”

“Five?!” Callida’s shock was quickly replaced by sympathetic hurt.

His face pinched, his eyes avoiding the contact that would overflow his tears. “The thing is, they’re not normal miscarriages. Well…. The couple that she lost early, like two or even three months in, the doctors say is fairly common. The theory is that that happens when there is something wrong with the baby, but the other three…. Callida, Flore is losing pregnancies six, seven months in. And the babies come out… perfect,” he said through a shuddery breath.

“Does she go into labor too early?”

“No! That’s the thing. She just starts hemorrhaging! The doctors don’t know what to make of it, and… I don’t know what to do. It’s not the getting pregnant that’s the problem. It’s the staying pregnant, and Flore is healthy and young. It doesn’t make sense. And when it happens that late, it doesn’t feel like losing just a pregnancy, you know? Not that that doesn’t hurt, because it does. But when it happens that late, it feels like losing a child.”

“Oh, Verum. I’m… I’m so sorry,” Callida said quietly, setting a comforting hand against his arm and gnawing on her bottom lip while Verum fought a little harder to not break down. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but have you considered that maybe this isn’t… spontaneous?”

“You’re thinking foul play? Poison or something?” Callida nodded, and Verum seemed to deflate. “Yeah. That was one of the first things I looked into after Flore lost her first late term pregnancy. The thing is, I don’t know how anyone would get to her. We’ve been so, so careful — especially these last two pregnancies.”

“Do you want me to look into it?” Callida volunteered, and Verum appraised her — cautiously so his tears wouldn’t fall.

“If you’d be willing….”

“Consider it done.” She stood up with a gentle smile and nod to reassure him, only to take a knee again in a formal bow. "Your Majesty."

He snorted and waved her off with a roll of his eyes. "Dismissed, General." She stood up wearing a smirk and headed to the door. "Callida?" She paused with her hand on the knob, glancing over her shoulder to acknowledge him. "It's good to have you back." Another nod, and Callida walked out.