A Deal Breaker

Camilla starts, "You have been so kind to me, Sire. I will not do wrong by you and spit at that kindness. But before I reveal to you a personal truth, I would like for you to answer me truthfully... if you would be so kind to."

Kindly you tell her, "I would not mind. Please ask what you want me to answer."

"Do you find my appearance unappealing? Do not hold back your words. Please do not coat your words in sugar or gold, Sire. Please show me more kindness and answer me truthfully." She pleads.

You swallow the spit in your mouth. Nobles typically flatter, say compliments they don't truly mean or even outright lie. But Camilla had heartfully request your honesty. "Unappealing, yes." You keep it short and plain.

Camilla looks down sadly and downtrodden, "I knew as much. I am indeed unpleasing to the eye. Ugly even." Her eyes begin to glisten with tears. "I have had plenty of suitors in the past. All drawn to my father's power. It did not matter if they were of a higher or lower station than my father. It did matter though. In the end, it was all the same. They wouldn't talk to me let alone even look at me. They would all leave, making up some kind of excuse. Some in particular who are of higher station than my father have outright told him of my..." She sobs, "of my ugliness."

"You're not ugly." You tell her and you tell her true. She isn't an ugly woman, just not beautiful. "You're not ugly, Lady Camilla." You repeat. You hold her shoulder to soothe her.

Through her sobs, she works up a weak smile at you. "That is the best thing anyone's ever said to me." Tears roll down her cheeks. You offer her a piece of clothe to wipe them but she doesn't accept. "You have been fair and you have been genuine. More than anyone who has come to meet ever has. It's only fair that I return that." She turns away from you, "I am not like most women." She pauses and breathes deep, "I do not bleed everyone like most women do."

"You don't bleed," You chortle. Back in the town at the monastery, you remember some of the girls complaining about their monthly flow. A few even got a little violent. "I don't see how that's a problem. I've known women who've grumbled because of it."

"Sire, you misunderstood. Aside from you now, the only other people who know of my condition is a dear friend of mine and my family's doctor. He said I shall never conceive children."

You narrow your eyes at the seriousness of the situation. "You're barren." You whisper. This is quite the distressing confession. Arranged marriages between nobles weren't meant to be ideal or even pleasant and happy. They only needed to be functional with heirs being born to carry one the family line and more importantly, seal the alliance. Infertility moots principle of why arranged marriages even exist. It is a deal breaker. You feel sympathy for the poor girl. She's been reject more than anyone ever should and even the prospect of motherhood has been denied from her.

Still, you can let sympathy move you. You are a king and you have to be rational about this. As kind, sweet and intellectual as she is, you needed children to carry on your family line and dynasty, to carry on the works done by you and your forefathers, to lead the people and protect the land on which they all live. Sure there were several women out there who are going to give birth to your bastards but you needed an heir. Even the child of Duchess Eliza will not be your heir.

Your thoughts keep you silent. So Camilla sees this as a chance to continue speaking, "Sooner or later, I will have to do my duty to my family. I will certainly be married off to some noble in the future. My father won't care who as long as it builds an alliance of sorts for my family. I've known this for a long time and by now, my father is frustrated with the lack of a match for me. But for the time since I became aware of romantic love, I felt I may find happiness in marriage. I've never met a man before who intrigued me, or made me laugh as you do." She breaks, stifling a sob with her hand, loose strands of hair stuck to the paths left by her tears.

You brush your hair back. Without children, there really is no point. A shame actually. She is such a nice girl. "Lady Camilla, we've been honest with each other so far. So I won't lead you on with any false hope. I'm sorry, my Lady. Truly I am but-"

She interrupts you, "I know you need an heir to succeed you one day and that is something I can never give you. I know that all too well. She grabs hold of your upper arms, "You might be the only man I can ever be happy with." She pants from her distress, "I'll let you take a mistress or as many as you want. I won't complain if you have bastards with them. I'll endure all that just as long as I have you!" Your heart aches for her but in the end, it changes nothing. Even though her offer sounds quite so tempting.

But before you can speak, she goes on, "Please don't say anything just yet. I... I have an idea. I think it would an adequate solution to both our problems." Camilla looks past you into the darkness for a moment. She waves a beckoning hand at a pillar shrouded in inky black.