#nbrpevent09

Peter was slightly nervous about what he was about to do, but he was quite certain that he could pull this off. He and the Queen had had a good rapport going, and she seemed to like him -- about as well as she seemed capable of liking most people, anyway. He’d asked for a bit of privacy with her, preferring to get this underway when he was away from the other prying eyes of the castle. He waited in the library for her, and was glad to be alone with his thoughts until Lucretia got there.

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing slightly when she arrived.

Unable to stand the scent and stench of death for long, Peter decided to brave the cold and take a walk around the grounds. Snow was falling, covering the ground for miles, his breath showing in the air whenever he exhaled. What little skin he had left exposed was stinging from the harsh, crisp air of the winter’s morning, but he remained outside, not wanting to be surrounded by reminders of the plague. Besides, if you ignored the cold, the grounds in winter were actually quite lovely.

         IT HAD STARTED THE NIGHT PRIOR, a general fatigue which had washed over almost suddenly, yet no amount of respite seemed to appease, if anything she felt worse. Her entire body ached now, as though she had been thrown from her horse, battered and bruised and with the throbbing temple to accompany. Constance did not fall victim to illness, she was hardy and healthy and even when her humours were occasionally out of balance her mere stubbornness soon saw her back to her regular health. To her the best cure was a positive attitude and fresh air, but now, the cool air soothed her burning flesh but it caused her to chill and placing a gloved hand upon the stone wall to balance herself, the blonde closed her eyes for a moment or two. 

                   Something was terribly wrong.