Cordelia rose early and had Anna take care with her dress as her father was returning and she needed to make sure that he was not given more reason to be angry with her. He had been fighting the war for nearly five years, and despite his victory over Eribus, he was sure to be irate over the scandal of her nearly five-year-old child. All she could think to do was to cause the least offense before he exploded in rage over her fatherless child. As Anna wove her hair in an elaborate coif, Cordelia's mind raced as it had been since she had learned of her father's imminent return. She could not force her thoughts to settle, and her stomach had been afflicted perpetually by pains causing her to wither away as she had no desire for food. All she could seem to think on was what to do, but despite the frantic desire to find a solution, her thoughts simply returned again and again to that very question, bringing back nothing.
Anna caught her eye in the mirror and sighed. Doubtless she could feel the tension radiating from her mistress.
"Would that I could find you a solution, m'lady," she said finishing the elaborate hair construction. "I wish you would calm yourself enough to eat and sleep. It does you no good to ruin your health."
Cordelia nodded vaguely and stood. "I need to make sure John is dressed well. Maybe father will not be so displeased if…" she trailed off not believing her words even as they fell from her lips.
Anna simply shook her head, "Maker go with you, my lady."
Cordelia nodded again, dismissed Anna, and made her way to her son's room to make sure he was dressed as impeccably as she could arrange.
"John, my darling," Cordelia called out to him as she neared his bed, but he did not stir. "Sweet," she murmured, gently shaking his shoulder. He groaned and rolled away from her, desperately trying to continue sleeping. She shook him again, and his eyes opened slowly.
"Come now, darling, you must wake up. Your grandfather will be arriving today." Her voice was artificially light and pleasant.
John nearly jumped out of his bed in his excitement, jabbering to her about all of the things he wanted to ask his grandfather. Cordelia studied her excited son with troubled eyes, knowing that he would likely not get the chance to ask her father anything.
As the two enjoyed their breakfast, Cordelia's mind became more and more frantic. The tension in her body was growing alarmingly fast, and at times it seemed that she could barely catch her breath. The day seemed to crawl like a dying animal, slowly and painfully inching on at an unbearably slow pace, but at the same time raced more and more quickly to what Cordelia sensed was the end of her present existence. As her father's return edged closer, she was not only convinced that he would not allow them to remain in the castle, but that he may not allow them son to exist at all. Could he, in his indignation, sentence her to death? Would he kill her innocent son with her?
She shoved the horrifying thoughts away, but they refused to stay away long, and like irritating and entitled guests, they begged to be entertained continuously. Soon it would all end, and Cordelia would no longer need to wonder at the reaction her father would have, she would stand before his judgment and know his exact mind.
At about midafternoon, Cordelia, John, and the court of lords had arranged to meet the returning soldiers at the gates. Cordelia tried to keep her breathing steady as she had been taking very short, shallow breaths and was feeling a touch light-headed. Her hands trembled as she buried them in the folds of her dress, her heart was throbbing loudly in her head, and she just wanted this altercation to be over. All of this anticipation was almost literally killing her. John squirmed next to her which simply compounded her anxiety and tension, and she knew that he could feel the strangeness of his mother's behavior as if she was some other woman. He kept peaking up at her in confusion and concern, but Cordelia could not reassure him. She tried to smile, but whatever twisting that she had done with her lips could hardly be characterized as a smile.
When the trumpets and drums sounded from over the hill, her heart leaped into her throat and dark and white spots began to dance before her eyes. She shook her head to clear her vision. It would not do if she were to collapse at this moment. Her father would be much less inclined to forgiveness if she were to faint in fright at his return. Cordelia took a deep breath to steady her nerves, stiffened her spine, and waited for her father and his retinue to crest the hill. Very soon, she would know what would be done with her and with her child.
As King Wilhelm crested the final hill before finally arriving at his home to rest, he smiled, thinking that it would be very nice to see his daughter after having not seen her for so long. He was sure that in his absence, she had done well. His Cordelia had always been very keen and intelligent. He had very little concern in leaving the running of the country to her, and it would do his heart much good to see how well she had fared and how well she had done in his absence.
Friedrich marched by his side, once again holding the position that he had so many years before, but Wilhelm was not the same monarch he had been when he was young. Friedrich, while the chief magician once again, did not occupy the same position of trust that he had held when first he obtained that position. Wilhelm, having not had nor needed the magician for many years in his employ, had become somewhat suspicious of him, seeing through some of the schemes he had laid out in the early years of Wilhelm's reign. In fact, this war with Eribus may not have been necessary at all had it not been for the degrading of the relationship between the two kingdoms which had been encouraged by the magician so long ago. Unfortunately for Friedrich, Wilhelm's eyes were much clearer now.
Nearly upon the gates, Wilhelm casually scanned the crowed of nobles for his daughter and found her very near them. A pang of concern touched his heart as she looked quite unwell. Cordelia was a naturally willowy young woman, but her figure seems scrawny as though she had not eaten properly in some days. Her face was rather wan and paled, and her cheeks were sunken. Her eyes looked troubled, and she clenched tightly at her skirts. Something was certainly amiss, and Wilhelm straightening in the saddle, determined to figure out what ailed his daughter as soon as he could.