Sans the Candlesticks

Meliara is pregnant. Vidanric is in the line of fire. Conversation ensues, naturally. A note: if you're looking for quality SS fanfiction, with in-depth description and good character development, leave now. This is merely for my amusement, and hopefully, for some of your guys'. May be considered an unofficial companion fic to Yes, Dear. Review if you want more like this.


"Vidanric?"

"Hm?"

"Why aren't there any candlesticks in the room?"

"Um..."

"Did you have them removed?"

"Well—"

"You did, didn't you? How could you! Why would you—I can't believe you!"

"Because purple does not go well with blond."

"It wasn't that big of a bruise."

"People commented."

"Sure, when in doubt, point out the pregnant woman's problems!"

"They're not problems, simply unresolved grudges stemming from childhood—"

"Don't try and analyze me, you court decoration. And stop with the big words. You don't use them when we—"

"Court decoration? Mel, really. I thought we'd gotten past that."

"No, we haven't."

"Clearly."

"Vidanric, I'm seven months pregnant. Stubborn. Moody. AND a queen. Watch your tongue, or lose something dear."

"Dearer than my beautifully breath-taking wife and love?"

"That's…really…nice…but—no, I was yelling at you."

"I prefer the term love-scold."

"I don't care what you prefer. I'm the one dealing with all the morning sickness—which really isn't even morning sickness, since it lasts all day. Those healers don't even know what they're doing—they probably didn't even give me the right teas to drink to help with it. They're all conspiring against me just because I'm a Tlanthi rustic!"

"The scoundrels."

"Speaking of which, do you remember the conversation we had when we found out I was pregnant?"

"When you threw your book of spells at me because I asked if you wanted to have dinner brought up?"

"Yes, that one."

"Just checking."

"You're mocking me, aren't you? Say you're mocking me—because you are! I see right through your little court-decorated façade! Life! It's bad enough that your own husband asks to have all the candlesticks confiscated within reach—"

"For his own well being—"

"I'm not finished!"

"My apologies."

"Now you're mocking me!"

"You just said that."

"Ugh! You're impossible!"

"Much like what Russav described my courtship by letter with you."

"That was different. I hated your guts then."

"But you loved the Unknown."

"But you were the—ugh. I hate you."

"No you don't, you love me."

"Don't remind me."

"I don't think I'll ever have to."

"Quiet."

"Always."