In Which Rona Cannot Quell

January 12, 1201

"Morgan, what's the matter here?"

There clearly was a matter here. Rona and Morgan got along well enough, but not to the point where it wasn't odd if just Morgan--not Lonriad or Yvanette or Sevvie--invited just Rona--not Ashe or any of the children--to come over. Certainly not to the point where the messenger delivering said invitation had to leave his exhausted horse at the trough in the stables and was panting and sweating by the time he himself had scaled the front stairs, or to the point where the message included the words 'at once'. Not 'at your convenience', not even 'as soon as possible'...

At once.

"Thank God you're here." Morgan sighed. She was otherwise as composed as ever, but there was an air of helplessness about her that Rona hadn't seen before--and that, clearly, Morgan herself didn't have to cope with often. "It's Yvanette."

"She's not still sick, is she?" Rona bit her lip as she pulled off her hat and let her hair fall from its hasty side buns. Yvanette had been ill the past few weeks, but it had been the creeping and wanting fatigue-and-nausea sort of ill, more of a nuisance than an actual concern. Besides... if it were that, surely Ashe would have been summoned too?

"No--well, yes, but that's not it. She won't come out of her room. Not for me, not for Lonriad, not for any of the children. She might have come out for Sevvie, but he left at the crack of dawn on some mission for Lord Severin and he's not back yet. But I figured that if there was anyone else she'd be willing to see, it would surely be her own mother..."

"I hope you're right." Rona untied her cloak, only to have Morgan take hold of the back and help her slip out of it. "Do you have a key to her room?"

"Yes, on the desk." Morgan jerked her head toward the steward's table as she folded Rona's cloak. "Neither Lonriad nor I thought it right to intrude if she didn't want to see us; I hope that was the right call."

"It probably was." Knowing Yvanette, at least. Rona made for the desk and took the key, then shot Morgan a last look. The other woman remained collected, yet alert; Rona doubted her own capacity to keep herself to the former quality. "I'll let you know how it goes."

As best I can, anyway, she added to herself in afterthought as she hurried down the halls to Yvanette and Sevvie's room. Morgan would have been told about Yvanette's transformations by now, but it was uncomfortable enough for the girl to know that even her own parents talked about them amongst themselves.

She reached the door, a chorus of sniffles sounding from the other side. In inept mimicry of her mother's gentle touch, Rona knocked. "Yvanette? Yvanette, sweetheart?"

A choke. "M-mother?"

It was the closest to permission she would get. She unlocked the door to the sight of her daughter--still in her nightgown, face in her hands, tears streaming from behind them. Her baby. She's been melancholy most of her life, but a scene like this was another thing entirely.

"Yvanette, what's wrong?" She pulled her daughter into her arms, rubbing her shoulder with what aimed for a soothing motion but probably just made it worse. "Everyone's worried about you."

"Mother, I don't--" Yvanette gasped back another sob and dragged one sleeve across her eyes. "I think I--I can't--"

"Yvanette." Rona laced a hand through her daughter's soft curls and brushed them from her face. "Take your time."

"I... I..." She haltered, fighting a sob--and losing. "...I'm late..."

Rona froze mid-stroke. That... had not been a thing Yvanette had planned on. And not without reasonable concerns--concerns that weren't likely to be quelled. How could she comfort her? Was comfort even possible? "That... doesn't always mean anything."

"But it could! And with my luck--" Yvanette's shoulders pulled together, boxing her body to a shaking, shrinking mass. "I mean, I don't even know how long... What if I've already hurt it? I can't go nine months without--"

"I know. Just... remember that you don't know for sure yet, all right?" Was there no other comfort to be found? Not in her mind, anyway. Not in her heart. People were too optimistic when they said that everything always turned out in the end. "We could send for Arydath, if you like. She'll know right away whether or not you need to be concerned--and if something's amiss, she'll probably notice that too."

"M-maybe..." Yvanette bowed her head in resignation, no doubt in shambles at the thought of yet another person having to learn her secret. "I guess there's not much ch-choice, is there?"

Not much choice. A dismal thought at the best of times, and downright agony in the worst of them. "Let's just... see what she says."

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