My Dearest Lady Cotton

A Period of Pain

  Late morning light gathered through the wired windows, staining the old wooden floors in faded gold. Squirming under a heavy thick quilt, Cotton whimpers within the discomforting beams of day.

   I can't believe this. She glowers, pressing a hand to her abdomen. Groaning into her pillow, she curls into a tight ball, squeezing her pained eyes shut. Of all times, why now? The North had just begun it's summer rays. Days like those are short in the Kingdom of Icetonia.

   Alerted by quick paced footsteps, the lavender haired woman dazedly shifted her gaze towards a tall man hovering besides her distressed form. His brows were furrowed in concern, a deep frown etched onto his handsome features.

   "How are you faring?" He whispers, brushing away lavender strands from her sweaty forehead.

   Cotton closed her tired eyes, leaning into the affectionate touch of his comforting hold. She just shook her head, unable to respond in her anguish.

   From her lack of answer, he sighs, soothingly combing a hand through her tresses. "Do you need anything? I should be free of work today."

   Crushing her fingers into a determined tight fist, she bolted herself upright, grunting in displeasure. "No Louis! It's alright, you already know how the first days curse me like this."

   Louis pressed his lips to a thin line, observing how she sucked a breath as another pulsing wave pressed into her gut. He couldn't understand why she never wanted his help when this occurs. She constantly described it as if it were the most horrendous beast to ever exist, to ever set foot into her life.

   "I'll be fine." She reassures, gritting her teeth as she stood from the bed. "The discomfort will be gone by tomorrow."

   The silver haired man rubbed the back of his head, contemplating his next move. His Wife really liked to keep him away from these kinds of matters, and that was what perplexed him most. He was finally on break, which meant he could help her in any way he could.

   "Cotton." He starts, going to support her on the back, only to be stopped by the lavender woman's intense stare.

   Her sea blue eyes gazed at the Knight intently, filled with purpose and strong will. Opposed to his dark aqua sets that tremor with fear for her well being, unable to trust that she would be able to get through the day on her own.

   Shoulders sagging, lips pursing out a sigh of defeat, Louis chuckles under his breath as the young Wife forcefully pushed herself out of bed. "Are you really sure you do not need my help?"

   "Louis." Cotton asserts, rubbing her lower abdomen. "This happens every month for a week. I'm used to it by now." I think. She whines to herself, inwardly seething from the swift jabs poking into her muscles.

   "I know." He relents, standing from the bed and following her to the kitchen. "But if anything happens, don't try to resist my attention. Please."

  "Alright, I won't." The young Wife croaked with a faint smile, opening a corked bottle of golden brown liquid.  Scooping a teaspoon fill to her lips, she forced the bitter potion down her throat and sat beside the weak hearth, watching the red embers flicker into oblivion.

   Storing the concoction into the cabinets, Louis revived the fire, slouching alongside his cramped Wife as they admired the orange glows of warmth. The silence was peaceful. The soothing crackles of the wood in the fireplace presented a cozy atmosphere, bringing Cotton and her Husband into a drowsy mood.

   Yawning, she rubbed her tired eyes and plopped her head against the silver man's muscled shoulders, scooting closer to him. The affects of the potion had worked wonders to her nerves, allowing her to ease and relax. If it weren't for Chroma, then for sure she would have been curling in pain all day.

   Smiling softly, the tall man leaned his head against the wall, his fretful blue gaze softening to her dozing form. "We need to thank Miss Chroma for the potion."

   "I feel as if we thank her for almost everything."

   "'Tis not a bad thing, is it?"

   Cotton pulled the bun on her head free, shaking away lose tangled strands as another yawn waved between them. "I suppose not..."

   "When you feel better, then we can travel to their abode." The silver haired male whispers, weaving his scarred fingers through her lavender locks, admiring the golden sheen that glowed from the hearth.

   The young Wife hums in agreement, the pain in her abdomen no longer harboring a period of agony in her body. "I like the sound of that."

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