The Plight of Princess Matilda

You and Matilda sit predominantly in silence as the party continues to buzz around you, the shy princess apparently more than content to just spectate with the taciturn giant of a prince. She does seem to find the fact that you continuously refuse an appropriately-sized glass funny, lightly giggling behind her gloved hand every time one of the bemused servants fills the essentially child-sized cup of milk you took from her. She continues to take little sips of her bubbling wine, a faint rosy glow starting to build up in her cheeks. She hasn't noticed yet that every so often Roan does a drive by of your table, seemingly both to spy on how it's going and to display the string of increasingly busty party guests she's scoping out.

The princess also seems to cough an awful amount. She always takes care to hide it behind a hand or when she believes you aren't looking, but it's sort of hard to miss. "Are you feeling alright, Matilda?"

She turns her eyes down at that, her first response muffled by another cough that seemed to sneak up on her. She looks rather embarrassed when she tries again. "Um, I -" She flinches, gritting her teeth in annoyance. "Rather we - "

You frown a bit. "Whoever told you do that is stupid. Speak however you want."

She coughs again, looking embarrassed but a touch grateful. "...it's, ah, just have a cold. It's nothing, I..." She sighs, staring down into her merry bubbling glass. "...well, I get them rather often. The apothecary says I have a delicate constitution, like my..."

She trails off glumly, taking another sip of her wine. It strikes you that of everyone you've met so far in this place, Princess Matilda is the first one who seems rather unhappy with her lot in life. Even Beardy and the Dick Squad seem to derive a lot of pleasure out of being total ponces. This fact seems to be clear even from a distance, as Roan gives you a look of puppy-dog sadness when she strolls through accompanied by an elaborately coiffed young countess all but exploding out of her amply-cut gown. "I see."

The combination of your reticent demeanor and the increasing influence of wine seem to be having a loosening effect on Matilda, because she continues on without prompting. "But I have to do my duty. I've no cousins, no aunts or uncles...if I don't, um..." She trails off, trying not to look at you or the nearby gaggle of suitors as she takes another sheepish sip of wine, "...it's just a lot of pressure."

You nod, getting a feeling for the intense weight of expectations that this girl must be laboring under. "I can't even imagine. Princes have it lucky, I have to admit."

Matilda seems to appreciate that, smiling a touch. "I don't resent it...or well, um, I try not to. It wouldn't be so bad, honestly, if only I wasn't sick so often...I get so worried I'll..."

She trails off, clearing growing a bit despondent. Part of you thinks you should drop the subject, but another voice is telling you to push on. Is that Horsedick's voice, or yours? Honestly it's getting harder and harder to tell. "Your doctors have tried everything, then?"

Roan seems to approve of your decision as she slips her wine glass into the deep cleavage of the serving girl accompanying her, giving you a thumbs up as the girl giggles bashfully.

Matilda sighs, pouting a little. God, she's cute. "Everything short of cutting me open. They say they'd have to the far reaches of the kingdom for more experimental options, but Lord Prandish says we can't waste time and gold chasing wisps."

Huh. That presents an opportunity. "But there are options out there."

The princess looks over at you, a bit confused. "Well, um, maybe...I suppose I should say, we don't know? You always hear stories of mystical cures from the deep forests, or ancient rituals to restore a knight who's wasting away, or...." She cuts herself off, a mixture of embarrassment and anger playing over her pretty features. "Oh, it's all just a childish fantasy! I apologize, sir; I'm quite certain you've no patience for a little girl's daydreams."

"Well, first, you're no little girl; you're a proper woman, grown. And second, the day I lack the patience for daydreams is the day I've stopped drawing breath."

Matilda laughs a little at that, still looking deeply embarrassed but a bit mollified none the less.

"Is that the problem, then? Your dumb court will think you're just playing fantasy if you pursue less standard options?"

She nods at length, not certain where this is going.

"Then I'll pursue them. I'm quite certain I don't care if your court thinks I am being a child."

Matilda gapes at you for a moment. "I, you, but.......you'd do that?"

You nod, giving the girl a bit of a smile. "Call it your birthday present. I did forget to bring you one. Unless you'd rather have one of Roan's hats?"

Roan's emphatic arm swipes, so frantic they send her companion's bosom quaking everywhere, seem to nix that option. Probably just as well, as Matilda gives a cry of delight. "Oh! Oh, I just...I can't believe it! I always hoped, I mean, I never dreamed I..." She trails off, looking a bit sheepish as some of the joy fades from her face. "Um...though, you know I can't, ah...promise this means that I'll choose you...it's just, um, that -"

You interrupt her with a wave of your hand, rising up from the table. "It's not a gift if it comes wrapped in demands. I'll see what I can find because you seem like a very good person who's had very bad luck, and that's all." You start to refasten your cloak. "Goodnight, Matilda."

She gives you the first full smile you've seen from her, and she looks every inch the perfect princess. "Goodnight, sir."

You turn to leave, but are struck by a thought. You twist back around, Matilda raising her eyebrows as she pauses mid sip of wine. "Not to spoil the surprise, but Prince Beardy is giving you an emerald. The Eye of....Something."

Matilda rolls her eyes. "Oh wonderful. I shall add it to the pile." She indicates back to the table of gifts behind her which, true enough, is stacked to the rafters with assorted gems.

You share a grin at that, giving the princess a friendly nod as you finally turn to pick your way back through the party. It's not long before Roan joins you, grinning quite broadly herself. "That looked like it went so well!" She enthuses, lifting up to give you a kiss on the cheek.

"I think I agree? I think I signed us up for a quest, though?"

She all but squeals in delight. "Really?! Is it my birthday? I keep telling you we don't go on enough quests!"

You chuckle, starting to respond when you notice your valet's bashful looking companion. Despite possessing the clear, ageless skin that all the women in this world seem to possess she's a somewhat older woman, maybe in her late thirties. She toys with her long cinnamon braid nervously though, her big blue eyes and demeanor making her almost seem like a skittish young girl rather than the experienced woman she would seem at first glance. She's several inches shorter than Roan and pleasantly plump, the two woman an enticing display of contrasts. Her elegant gown is black, expensive, and very conservative, but you are pleased to note that despite its struggling efforts it does absolutely nothing to conceal the vast amount of frontage she posses. Breasts that strain almost halfway to her navel surge ponderously on her chest, huge and proud in defiance of the woman's otherwise retiring presence.

Roan's smile turns smokey as she sees that you've noticed the woman, leaning in to wrap an arm around her waist. The woman jumps a bit, but can't help melting into Roan just a touch. "Oh, have you met my friend? This is Prudence! Her husband wasn't paying her any attention at all, so I thought we might keep her company for a bit! Doesn't that sound nice, Prudy?

The woman gives Roan a pleased smile, though that smile falters a bit as she turns her glance up at you. Her cheeks start to flush a deep red, and nothing in this world would have been able to make you miss the way her dark blue eyes dart down to take a peek at your bulge.

All the best quests start the next morning, anyway.