Katarina and Paule: In the Family Way

In the Family Way
Summary: Baroness Katarina learns and tells Baron Paule she's expecting the first of their children.
Date: 13 June 2013
Related: None
Players:
Paule Katarina 

Westmark Resistance Camp — 1309


Finally, after five months of trying to mesh their tactics, finally, finally Paule and Katarina are finding their sync. The ambush outside of one of the smaller towns had gone off with only a couple of deaths and a couple of injuries. The bodies of the Corsairs were left to burn in a pile of hay, and the group that was led by Katarina arrived earlier with the wounded, while Paule's detachment buried the dead and are just now making it back home. There are reunions going on around them as Paule looks around for his wife to greet her and let her know he made it back home safe.

Kat and the detachment that she had led had arrived some marks earlier, not many to be fair, but earlier enough that her wounded had been sorted and the dead and dying had been given what ease was theirs to be had for the asking. Kat's second, her cousin Duncan, is seeing to the sorting of the spoils that can be used to augment their own supplies - coin pooled in a communal pot for further use, gear to replace gear, weapons to replace damaged, etc etc. Kat, herself, normally sees to this but for what ever reason Duncan is seeing to it and when the Baron arrives he sets aside the last of the blades and makes his way over to Paule. "Sir," says he in that quiet voice that holds the edge of overly-formal-education in his enunciation, careful not to bow or do anything to draw more attention to the Baron other than that single word and the obvious respect by which he speaks.

"Duncan." At least Paule got over quickly the idea of suggesting that Katarina was more interested in her cousin than him. As he has his group add to their communal supplies and war trophies, he looks around, and doesn't see her and his eyes turn back to Duncan. "Where is she?" he asks, concern showing for a moment in his voice.

"In the healer tent," Duncan replies, keeping his voice low. "She isn't wounded," he adds, speaking hastily to ensure that the Baron doesn't take the words wrong. "But she was ill after the battle and our healer is tending to her," is explained in that same quiet voice, pitched just-so to keep his words from carrying. Though word that Kat had been ill, literally, on the edge of the field of battle (such as it was, as this was not a pitched engagement of lines of armed men standing-to and doing war upon each other) had not been a quiet thing.

Paule frowns a little and pats Duncan's shoulder. "Good job." he offers finally. "Make sure the rest of the items are gathered up and prepare for any surplus to be distributed as proper payment to our informants and spies." he says as he steps away and starts with a purpose towards the healer's tent, concern pulling at his features as he walks and pulls back the flap. "Healer. M'lady?" he makes sure to announce himself before he enters.

Katarina is seated on a three legged stool near the tent flap, a cup of tea held in one hand that she is carefully nursing, the other hand pressed to her stomach. The healer, the one currently on task that is, is stitching up a shallow wound that cuts along her right arm - the sort of cut that's earned when her shield was lowered to deflect another blow and wasn't moved fast enough to avoid this one. "Your grace," is said in a rather brusque tone of voice by the healer who is finishing the last of the stitches that Kat is sitting quiet stoically through. Despite the green pallor to her skin, she is rather calm about the stitches.

"Paule," Katarina says, looking up, her tone of voice oddly uneven, uneven to match the expression in her eyes as she searches his face for a silent and rather intent moment before turning to the healer. "Nearly finished then?" is asked in a lower voice, keeping very very still as the needle is moving through her skin.

<FS3> Paule rolls Healer: Good Success.

"Katarina." Paule responds easily as he moves in and looks towards the healer. "How is she?" he asks as he moves to press a kiss to his wife's temple and takes a closer look at the wound. "Shouldn't leave a scar, I don't think." comes the comment before he notices Katarina's expression. "As much as you've seen your blood before, certainetly seeing it now doesn't make you ill." he points out as he moves to take a seat. "Do you think you are coming down with white fever?" he asks in concern.

Katarina's temper rises to the surface but she carefully hammers it back down, probably using a hammer in both hands and maybe stomping on it with both boot-shod feet, "I wasn't ill at the sight of my own blood," she starts to say only to have her words cut off as another of the wounded is carried into the tent. It isn't even that bad of a wound that the soldier is sporting, but for what ever reason she turns a sickly shade of green again and shoves to her feet, bolting from the tent toward the tree line and braces one hand against a rather healthy looking sapling as she bends forward and is sick - quite thoroughly.

As she shoves by him, Paule looks confused, ever as the healer shoots him a dirty look. "Go talk to your wife, my lord." she says to the Baron as she turns to tend to the new wounded. Stepping out of the tent, he follows the sounds of his wife's wretching and he approaches. As he gets close enough, his hands reach to pull back the young Baroness' hair and holds it away from her face. "What's going on?" he asks worriedly. "White fever? Bog flu? Something you ate?"

Kat ends up kneeling in the grass, her forearm braced against the tree, shaky again and feeling as though her insides have been turned outside and even the memory of food is making her queasy.

"Bog flu, he asks," she replies in a uneven and terribly breathy voice. "Something i ate, he wonders," she mutters next before unhooking the water skin from her side, taking a mouthful and rinsing her mouth out before spitting into the grass again. "You take note of everything, every move, the change of the weather patterns, which way the leaves are furled on a tree to know if it's going to rain, and you don't notice the little things."

"I notice that my wife is ill and she is angry at me about it. I am not the one who made you sick." Paule says in mild irritation and confusion as he caresses her back, trying to help her as he can at the moment. "I have some ginger root and chamomile leaves if you want me to make you a tea?" he suggests finally.

Kat waves her free hand in a abrupt gesture, "No, just…" she swallows with obvious care and difficulty, "just no. Nothing." She finally leans back, feeling the world swim unevenly before she pulls herself to her feet, one hand resting on her stomach again. "Are you really that oblivious?" she wonders, her tone of voice edged as she narrows her eyes at Paule and pokes one fingertip against the center of his chest.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Kat." Paule says as he gets poked in the center of his chest, and he only takes a half-step back. He's only nineteen, after all, he hasn't gotten all that wondderful wisdom yet that comes with age. His hands do reach to take her shoulders to keep her steady. "And you tell me I notice everything in one moment and then oblivious the next."

"Of COURSE you don't, you're.. you're.." Kat mutters in return, shrugging off Paule's hands as she glares up at him, "a man. I'd have to hit you over the head with a shoe to get you to take notice," she snaps these words at him and stomps rather abruptly on the toes of his boots - both of them - before stomping a few feet away. "Next you're going to tell me to calm down," she says in a tone of voice that promises absolutely NOTHING good if he makes the mistake of uttering those words. "I swear to all the gods that if those words come from you I will sew your lips shut with the largest needle I can find!"

"Sonuvabitch!" Paule snaps in irritation as Katarina stomps on his feet and winces as she stomps off. "If you are having your monthly, you said you would warn me in advance before you lost your Stilltha-loving mind and became a complete pain in my ass." he snaps in irritation as he doesn't follow after her, instead he folds his arms over his chest and watches her.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Katarina=Marksmanship Vs Paule=Melee
< Katarina: Failure Paule: Great Success
< Net Result: Paule wins - Crushing Victory

Katarina stoops with remarkable speed for one who'd just recently tossed her cookies into the grass, drags one boot off and literally FLINGS IT at Paule's head with a snarl of sound. "You are BLIND as WELL as being OBLIVIOUS!" is very nearly shouted at Paule. "If I was having my MONTHLY I wouldn't be THROWING UP every damned time some new and amazing smell hits my nose, now WOULD I?"

"I don't know!" Paule says as he catches the boot flung at him and looks even more confused. "I've known girls that have had flu during menstration, or ate something that didn't agree with their stomach!" he snaps in irritation as he tosses the boot back down at Katarina's feet. "Now what the name of the four hells is wrong with you?"

"You idiot," Katarina snaps out as she catches the boot and rather abruptly sits down in the grass, hands curling on the boot - white knuckled with the effort - "I'm pregnant, you great blithering idiot. Knocked up. With child. No longer a single entity." Then.. because it seems the thing to do, she bursts into tears, something she has NEVER done.

Paule stands there for a moment, completely gobsmacked over the idea that he and she.. we.. made a.. him or her. "Oh." he finally manages to say brilliantly. And then she breaks into tears. He stands there, not sure if he should apologize or cheer, or.. what. Instead, he steps forward, coming behind Katarina and kneels down and sets his hands on her shoulders, unsure of what to say.

At least he didn't say 'How did that happen?'.

Rubbing one hand over her face, Kat's eyes narrow - dangerously - "Oh?" is echoed, just that ONE word.

"What do you bloody want me to say, Kat?" Paule asks. "I love you. You know that already." he states calmly, hands still on your shoulders. "How far along?" he finally asks.

"Just over a month or so, closer to six weeks I guess," Kat answers after a moment, her eyes still searching his. "I know .. I.." she exhales, her head angling slightly again, no longer trying to throw things at him at least. Trying being the operative word. "Are you.. the timing I mean.. She said that there's.." her shoulders move in a silent gesture to convey the gist of 'options'.

"We have no idea how long this siege is going to last, Katarina. Others of our ranks have started families. We are young, yes, but we have had our nights without befit of any type of protection, knowing we will eventually have this result." Paule says as he draws in a breath and squeezes her shoulders. "I do not believe we should consider taking any options except to keep you healthy and hale until you come to term and deliver the heir of Westmark." he says finally, firmly. "And then we will raise him or her as best we can."

Kat exhales slowly before she nods and wiggles her bare toes briefly then tugs her boot back on, securing it with a twist of braided leather before she takes his hands in hers and rises to her feet. "You should know there's a wager, and Duncan is holding book on it," she warns. "Odds are two to one against that I'm going to break your hand when I go into labor. better odds are that you're going to smother me in my sleep at some point."

"Huh. Well, I supposed I should see about getting a piece of that action." Paules says with a wry grin as he squeezes her hands. "Now come on, lets get you back to camp and get you something to soothe your stomach. You need to drink plenty of fluids." At least he learned a little about how to handle a pregnant person?

Katarina exhales a shallow breath, "Not yet," she says hastily, "and for the love of the gods, keep the smell of fish away from me," she adds. "I can't keep anything down, even the memory of food, around the smell of it," is admitted. "Gaytha said she has some tea that might help," speaking of their healer.

Paule smirks. "Do you not trust your husband and Baron?" he asks in mild amusement before he gives her hand a gentle tug to pull her into an embrace. "We'll figure this out as we have everything else. I love you, m'lady. And always shall."

Kat leans against Paule for a moment and gives a rueful smile, "Of course I do," she says in a voice that is almost but not quite a mutter of sound. "I love you to, you know," she reminds, that rueful smile turning to a warmer one before she says: "Did I mention that I have a twin brother?" in a light voice.

"What's the odds that you are carrying multiples?" Paule asks as his eyes widen just a little at that as he moves to press his wife into a hug, finally giving her just comfort for what will be a long eight months ahead.

It is just then that a messenger arrives on the edge of the woods. "My lord and lady.." he says quietly. "The Corsair queen has issued a challenge to the and I quote.. 'False Baroness of Westmark'." He looks between the two. "She has demanded that her daughter and Lady Katarina battle to the death for the proper title of Baroness." With that news delivered, he offers the parchment to the Baron as Paule's hand tightens on his wife's. "I can't let you do this." he says finally.

"It's quite possible," Katarina is saying as she hugs Paule back and turns, arms linked around Paule, as the messenger arrives, her expression hardening by the time the words are delivered. "Finally," she says in a low voice, her voice going quiet - fierce - expression intent. "Now we get this over with," before his words sink in enough to make her tilt her head back and look up at Paule. "Let?" is said in a mild tone of voice.

Paule pauses for a moment, studying his wife's expression, and draws in a breath. "I meant.. let you plan this alone, m'lady. It is time to bring this foolishness to a close." he says, drawing in a subtle and worried breath before he kisses her and lets out a breath.

Katarina makes a small sound, nodding at Paule, pleased to see that he came to the accurate conclusion that the word 'let' in tandem with her actions was a terribly bad idea. "We'll plan it out and you will be devious and I will be swift and we will get these bloody bitches in the ground where the belong. ON it, or under it," she promises in a low breath.

"Aye. And may Kharnas rape their holes." Paule mutters as he lets Katarina lead the way so they can start to plan.

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