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Kiera had always tired more easily than others, always had some indefinable weakness to her body. She had worried that it was that which caused her difficulties in pregnancy. She still wasn’t sure if it was that, or something of Valarr’s, or both. It was too late to be worrying about it, anyway. She, twice widowed with no intent towards remarrying, would never have to worry about if she could bear children again. She didn’t think her tendency towards tiredness was all that remarkable really. It was just how it was.
Only, one day, she was out with Daenora, and every time she had to stop to rest Daenora’s expression grew more and more concerned. At last, when Kiera near collapsed to the ground at the top of a hill, Daenora spoke.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“Just tired. How are you not?”
“It wasn’t such a long walk. How are you so tired?”
“You’re just stronger than me, dear,” Kiera responded, playful, but Daenora’s worries weren’t so easily dismissed.
“Kiera. Is something wrong?”
In a strange way, she was proud. Though in that moment she had no desire to answer, she saw the courage it had taken for Daenora to push her on it.
“I just tire easily. I always have.”
“Have you ever spoken to a Maester about it?”
“There’s no need, really. It’s nothing.”
“I’m not so sure. Promise me you’ll at least consider it?”
“I promise.” It was not difficult to agree to a promise desired out of pure concern and care.