Not until his demons were exorcised, his hand blistered and bloody, breath coming hard in his chest and exhaustion in his eyes would Aica stop.  Vesta had seen this in him before, with the knife and with other things.  Aica was capable of a terrible focus, a focus that would have - would! - make him an exceptional ruler, provided he had a wife to gentle him away from it once the utility of the focus was stretched past being a tool and became the master instead.  Rolling away from the noise, from the sight of him, Vesta pressed her palms to her head to squeeze the sight and noise of him out, hoping beyond hope that there might be a bit more rest.<br/><br/>THUNK!<br/><br/>Willpower pushed back the scream she wanted to give, the same willpower that pushed back the gorge that suddenly threatened to rise in her throat.  No!  She would not, she could not!  If there was even a thimbleful of nourishment left in her stomach she would not let it be wasted by weak, foolish, useless retching.  Had Aica not been so busy throwing his knife he'd had seen his wife curl up like the baby in her belly, one hand on her tummy and the other on her mouth from which the grinding noise of her teeth could be heard as she fought back the urge to vomit.  Sweat, cold oily sweat, was her reward as it passed, sweat that coated her face and left her hair damp.<br/><br/>THUNK!<br/><br/>Gods, he was impossible and wonderful at the same time!  Shooting him an angry glance, a glance he didn't even notice, Vesta finished it with a very un-ladylike tongue stuck out at him. It didn't change anything, he kept moving like a man possessed, but it made Vesta feel a little better.  Maybe the dryad would sort him out for hurting her tree.  She wouldn't hurt him.<br/><br/>She wouldn't hurt him too much.<br/><br/>He'd probably be okay.<br/><br/>Probably.<br/><br/>Unlike a man, unlike her husband, Vesta knew better than to fight that which could not be won, could not be changed, and it was out of her power to stop Aica.  Her role was to be there when he finally stopped, to bandage his hands with love because love was all the bindings she had.  To be there with her arms on his back, head against it, drawing her own comfort and strength from his exhaustion, from Aica bending enough to allow her to touch him lovingly.  Until then...her hand came up and touched her cheek, remembering the only time she'd tried to dissuade him and how his hand had lifted her off her feet when he delivered the blow.  It was that and not malnutrition that made her gums bleed for the next week.<br/><br/>THUNK!<br/><br/>Brown eyes looked to the hidden heavens and both thanked the gods for making Aica so resolute and asked them at the same time if they were enjoying their little joke in making Aica so resolute.  "Have fun," she said to the boughs above.  "Remember I tried, dryad.  I tried."  Leaving him to his demons, leaving the sound of his desperate anger taking itself out on the tree, Vesta left the campsite and went back to the stream, taking the cloak with her.<br/><br/>After drinking her fill, she found an overhang and laid down on it, laid on her belly with the cloak wrapped around her, even her head, breaking up the outline of it against the sky above.  It was going to be cold, so cold, and the princess choked back a gasp when she thrust her arm in the water, fingers slightly cupped, just in a spot where the water flowed slightly, just enough to feel it moving.<br/><br/>Back in her father's palace, palaces she longingly recalled, there had been both diverted streams, lakes, and magnificent water gardens.  As a child she'd loved to feed them by hand and had learned that fish were wary but very, very stupid.  Often mistaking a wiggling finger for a worm, they would come in close enough that with patience you could scoop them out of the water to lie wriggling and surprised on the ground before scolding garden slaves put them back in and her minders put the Princess back to being more ladylike.<br/><br/>So far it hadn't worked with the streams or lakes they'd passed, but with Aica unwilling to move on for a few hours she didn't have anything to lose and a fish would be another day of living for them, especially if its belly like her own was fat with life not yet birthed.<br/><br/>Trying to ignore the cold, the Princess twiddled her fingers gently, urging a fish to come play.