Illness

From TFC Galactopedia

"So there is nothing else you can do?"

The doctor looked down at the floor. "No, Milady. Even bacta treatments have had no further effect. It's all in the Lady's hands now. I'm sorry."

Candas nodded tiredly. She had known when Roxzannah took sick and did not recover soon after that it might come to this, even though she had hoped against it. "You've done your best. Thank you."

The doctor bobbed a short bow and left. Candas sat heavily behind her desk. Her firstborn child was dying, and there was nothing to be done. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling the elegant coif into disarray. A faint tap at her still open door drew her attention. She frowned, recognizing the black robed gray wolf as one of her children's many tutors.

"Master…?"

"Thorodin."

"As you will." The Queen Mother of Lemoria waved him away distractedly. "Master Thorodin, my eldest daughter is quite ill, and I cannot be bothered with trivialities at this time. I am certain you will be called when Roxzannah is well enough to return to her… studies with you." A faint frown creased her brow, as though she could not quite remember what it was this particular tutor taught.

"My Lady," the gray wolf's tones were heavy, but patient. "I understand that your child is not well. I believe I can be of assistance in this matter."

Candas eyed him sharply. "You are Roxzannah's… fencing master, was it?" Her voice took on an accomplished tone as she managed to recall his function.

He nodded in reply. "Fencing, sparring, tumbling, and self defense."

"And what," Candas returned acidly, "does a fencing instructor have to offer my sick child that my personal medical staff does not?"

Master Thorodin sighed. "Lady, I was a friend of your mate's."

"You were…Aerion's friend?" Confusion, suspicion, and tiredness filled her gaze.

"I was, Lady."

"Then you are…" Candas trailed off, her eyes traveling unconsciously to the silent holonet terminal inset to the side of her desk. Like much of the galaxy, she had followed the events of the Clone War with the intent of keeping her own world as far out of harm's way as possible. News of the Jedi betrayal and the response chosen had been a mild surprise, and the repercussions would likely take years to filter through the Republic's populated worlds.

"I am, Lady."

It was an admission that must have cost him a great deal. Jedi had become hunted, and were fair game to any with the ability to take them out –with the High Chancellor's blessing at that. That he would freely admit to being a part of that group meant he put his own life in her hands.

"I see." She frowned at him. "But why do you believe you can help Roxzannah?"

"Lady," Thorodin explained. "I believe the illness your daughter is experiencing is because she is sensing the deaths of Jedi across the galaxy. As you've seen, your doctors can do nothing for her. As Jedi are killed, their deaths reverberate through the Force. Roxzannah is young. She has no way to shield against the effect."

Candas pinned him with a stare. "And you can help her? Shield her?"

"I believe I can."

The Queen Mother was silent for a long moment. "And if I decline your help, what do you believe would be the outcome?"

"Lady, if left unshielded, she may survive the illness physically… but I do not believe her mind will survive."

She looked away, a spike of fear shooting down her spine for the welfare of her child. "Do it, then. I will order the attendants to leave. Master Thorodin…" Candas met his gaze again. "Save my child, if you can."

"You have my word, Lady."

Cold, so cold. Seeping into muscles, stiffening. World aflame with pain. Skin hurts, every pore, every follicle hurts. Head aching, muscles spazming. Body clenched against the pain. Soft whimpering in her ears.

"Are you awake then, child? Here, drink this if you can."

Hands on her head, steadying her, parting her jaw. Warm liquid like summer berries and honey, sweet and cloying. Coughing, choking, hands helping her roll onto her side, holding her while the spasms wracked her helpless body.

"Calm, child. Relax. It will pass."

Bitter bile in her mouth, whole body shuddering. Coughing, spitting foulness.

"Here, rinse your mouth. You're past the worst of it now, I think."

Shivering, curling around the ache in her empty belly, her strained muscles, moaning.

Zannah's eyes blinked open. Every muscle in her body still ached, and she felt hollow inside. Her mouth tasted as though something had died in it, but the incessant acid drip of pain in her head was gone. A hand smoothed her lank hair, and Zannah looked up, trying to focus. "Momma?" she murmured.

"I'm here, love." The unguarded expression on her mother's face startled her. Candas hesitated, and then explained gently, "We almost lost you, child. Don't you ever do that to me again."

Zannah frowned. "Didna mean to…"

Candas sighed. "I know… I know." She looked over to Master Thorodin, who was seated in a chair on the far side of the bed, and nodded her thanks. Candas leaned down to kiss her daughter's forehead. "Get some rest, child. Your fencing master says you should recover normally now." She slipped from the room.

The girl fought her way free of the coverlets until she could see the graying wolf in his chair. "Master?"

He smiled. "Hello Zannah."

"'Lo, Master Thorodin." She blinked owlishly at him. "I was pretty sick, huh?"

"Yes, child, you were." He leaned forward. "The worst of it is past now, but I believe it is time we tried a new exercise."

"A new one?" She pushed herself further up against the nest of pillows. "Master, I don't think…"

He chuckled softly. "Oh no, nothing like your fencing practice. We're going to practice shielding."