Ahh, first fic in a loong time—like, a year-and-a-half. The Goose Girl is one of my favourite books in the whole world and it makes me sad that there are so few fics in this section. ):

Anyway, Geric's POV during Enna Burning (the first sequel). Will be a threeshot, maybe a twoshot, depending on how the next bit plays out. Reviews inspire me to write more! ;)

Geric looked out at the stony faces before him and begged himself to concentrate on the words coming from their moving mouths.

It was not the first time of late he had made this plea.

He was sitting in a meeting discussing, yet again, the aftermath of the Tiran war on Bayern soil. Today's topic was the subject of repairs to the land and towns that had been destroyed—repairs that would have to be both mental and physical. Geric knew that the citizens who had been taken as prisoners of war within their own homes were shaken, that some would expect—or at least feel comforted by—the Capital's aid and recognition of their struggles.

Geric knew this, and his heart went out to his people and their ruined farms and states of mind, yet he could not bring himself to join the conversation. He was too antsy, too frightened, too worried to his core. How could he be expected to partake when the love of his life had disappeared?

He thought back to six months ago, when Isi had first taken leave. She said she had wanted to bring Enna to her house in the Forest, where she might heal better. She had assured him that she would not be long, and though his heart hurt to be away from her, he would never be such a fool as to put himself between her and Enna; it truly amazed him, the bond of friendship between them. And besides, who was he to give his wife orders? He had let her go.

When the escort he had ordered accompany her returned alone just days after their departure, he gave himself two weeks before sending them out again to check that his wife and her friend were alright. It was a long fortnight, but he lasted by letting images of Isi—lips laughing, hair flying in the wind—dance behind his eyelids and relishing the thought of their reunion. Soon.

After the two weeks, the second round of soldiers came back to the palace shaking their heads. Geric's stomach tightened as they explained to him that a neighbour of Enna's had refused to let them even near the Forest cabin, but he pushed the feeling away and gave himself a week. In a week, had Isi not returned, he would ride out himself to see her, kingly duties be damned. He knew Isi could take care of herself and would roll her eyes if she knew how he was worrying, but there was no harm in just checking in on her, right?

He was so restless, though, that by the sixth day he had abandoned his wait-time of a week, mounted his horse, and ridden alone to the Forest. Upon arriving in the clearing he and Isi had visited together once before, he had known immediately that something was amiss; Enna's little house was dark and lifeless. Slowly, he had slid off his horse and walked up to the front door, where he knocked even though he already knew there would be no answer.

He was not sure how long he had stood there, just staring at the shut door while his insides seemed to clench and unclench horribly, when he heard a sound behind him. He spun around, but it was neither Enna nor Isi but a small woman with her hair wrapped in a blue scarf. "Majesty," she had mumbled, bowing her head.

She had introduced herself as Doda, a neighbour of Enna's, and then gave him the news: Isi was gone.

Isi was gone.

Doda explained that Isi had taken Enna south, to the faraway lands where she had heard of fire-speakers like Enna, hoping to find a cure for her friend. From her pocket she drew a piece of parchment that she handed to Geric; he unfolded it and read the words with glazed eyes.

Geric,

You know I have to do this, for Enna. Don't come after me and don't worry. I'll be back as soon as I can. I love you.

Isi

Bringing himself back to the meeting room, Geric touched the front of his tunic, where Isi's note was tucked away. He had looked at it so often in the months she had been gone that it was so worn and creased he worried it might soon tear in two. Doda had told him his wife had promised to return "before the harvest"; but out in the fields the wheat heads were already heavy with plump golden seeds, and the crows were getting fat on their stolen kernels of corn, and there had been no sign of Isi yet.

He moved his hand away from his tunic to his side (resisting the temptation to reread the note right there in the assembly chamber) and looked out across the room again. Some officials were still going at their discussion with full force, although he noted that others were looking a little bored. They were talking about the reconstruction of ruined buildings in one of the border towns that had been hit particularly hard. Geric was staring hard at the speaking minister's face and nodding as if in agreement when he heard some commotion outside the room.

A few of the assembled dignitaries, Geric included, turned with interest toward the noise (he took this to mean he was not the only one wanting reason to disperse and was relieved). They could make out no words, but from the haughty tones that leaked through the door, there was no doubt an argument at hand.

Geric strained to listen and recognized the particularly deep voice of Arbon, an upper-ranked soldier he knew was positioned in the hall. By now conversation in the meeting room had hushed, and in the new quiet they could pick out several urgent words: "important…meeting…just wait…the queen…"

The chair Geric had been sitting in was made of a dark, heavy wood, but despite its weight, it was nearly knocked over thanks to the speed with which the young king stood up. He only hesitated a moment, still but for his twitching fingers, before he jolted forward. In several long strides he had reached the door.

When he pulled it open, the five men standing in the corridor stared at him, taken aback by his sudden appearance. Four of them were palace guards, and they were quick to regain their composition and dip their heads to their monarch. The fifth man Geric did not know; he was young and gangly and wild-eyed. From the style of his tunic, Geric placed him as middle class.

There was a few seconds' awkward silence before Geric exclaimed, "The queen! What about the queen? Is there news?"

The unknown man opened his mouth to speak, but Arbon was faster.

"Majesty, as Brant and I were guarding your chamber here, these two soldiers from the main gates brought this fellow up to see you. Said they'd let him in because he's got some important message for you, but I said he'd have to wait for—"

"What is it?" Geric blurted out, staring at the lad in desperation. Please. The boy met his eyes nervously.

"M-my family—my parents—they own an inn, my Lord. In a village to the south. We had three visitors that stayed for the night; before they left, one girl gave me this and bid me bring it to the king…that's you, my Lord."

He held out a folded sheet of parchment. Geric accepted it with trembling hands. Was it from Isi? Was she in trouble?

When he opened it, the message was brief and scrawled in an unfamiliar handwriting:

Geric: Fourteen days south, Oily Parchment Inn, your wife is expecting.

—Enna

Geric stared at the words, read them again and again. He couldn't make sense of that last bit: "his wife was expecting"? Part of him was heaving a sigh of relief that at least neither his wife nor her best friend seemed to be in mortal peril. But "expecting"…expecting what?

He felt dumb, like a child. Perhaps Enna had not bothered to be clearer because she thought the meaning was obvious, but he could not fathom… "Fourteen days south": then they were returning! His heart thumped with joy. Maybe Isi was expecting him to be ready to welcome her back (of course he would! Was she crazy?)…aha, perhaps Enna was hinting that he should plan a banquet for her arrival! But Isi was not really one for big spectacles and being the centre of attention….

When realization came it was like receiving a sword to the gut. Like he had in that fateful battle that seemed so long ago. When he'd defended his kingdom and his love. Suddenly, he wished he had not left the big wooden chair in the hall, because he so wanted to sit. He so needed to sit. To compensate, he stumbled back against the doorframe and leaned there. His breathing seemed very loud in his ears. He was somewhat aware that the gaze of everyone both in and out of the assembly room was locked on him, but when he moved his own eyes from the parchment it was to stare at the innkeepers' son once again.

"How long ago were you given this?" he whispered.

"Um...eight days ago, my Lord."

Geric nodded, throat thick. He looked back at Enna's note.

His wife was expecting.