Marie II of Acadia: Story One

Chapter Two

One particularly terrible day, after I had thrown my breakfast tray at my maid, I was seen by our family physician, Dr. Nomi Jabami. I was forced to endure an endless session of questions and an examination that I knew was pointless. I was fine and just wanted to be left alone, which no one seemed to understand.

After finally completing her interrogation of me, the doctor left my rooms, and I rolled over to allow the darkness to again pass over my mind and drift me into a welcoming sleep. Sometime after, I was awakened by my maid, who spoke with a slight quiver in her voice, clearly afraid to anger me, telling me that I had been asked for by my father. No matter how tired or down I felt, if a King asked for an audience with you, you must oblige. So, I got up, dressed, and headed to my father's study.

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My father's study sat on the north side of the main floor of the Château de Montcalm. The King's study had remained in the same location with the same style since my home had been built. Although when it was first used my family had not yet ascended the throne as Acadia had not yet legally become a country and was still a land without government, though our family was chosen a few years after.

Inside the large room, behind an antique desk that had a dark blue case on top, sat my father in a pinstripe suit. King Henri the Second had black hair, half of which was missing on top his head, and baby blue eyes. I had always had an honest open relationship with my father, somewhat more than my mother, and knew I could not hide my feelings that were written on my face. I curtsied to him shortly as his secretary closed the study door.

"Marie, your maid has said that you will not attend your classes." My father began. "Why?"

I sighed as I tried to come up with an excuse. It took one look from him to know, excuses would not be tolerated. "I cannot." I said quietly. "I do not understand why, but I cannot."

My father placed the papers that he had been perusing in the blue case, got up, and walked towards me, ushering me to sit in one of the two seats in front of his desk. I was absolutely sure I was about to be scolded and sent straight to my classes, but what he said next surprised me beyond compare. "I understand." Education had been tremendously important to both my parents. My siblings and I had known from a young age what was required of us, one of those requirements was education. To hear my father say he understood why I did not attend was baffling. I was too shocked to reply and so he went on. "When I was seventeen, I went through something similar. I, however, hid it and refused to allow anyone to aid me; my family never understood. That is why I have always kept a close eye on you and your siblings. I never wanted you to go through that alone."

"Go through what? I still do not understand."

With a deep sigh, my father began. "Marie, I am Bipolar. It is a mental illness; one I believe you may also have." The more my father told me the less I understood. I had heard of mental illness. My last maid was anxious all of the time and my mother had described it as a mental illness. But I was nothing like Barbe. "I want you to be evaluated—checked by my Psychiatrist. He will be able to tell us more and he will be able to help." My father sensed my fear. I could not go to class how was I to go see a physician? He continued. "My Psychiatrist is here, Marie. He's waiting to see you, in your library."

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My library; it had been dubbed so for many reasons, the most important was that I was the only one who seemed to use it. When I was five it became my haven. The entirety of our staff were hopeless one afternoon when I was no where to be found. Eventually my parents were informed, causing a government wide scare. The whole while I had been in my library reading to my hearts content. Father found me and went on to gift me the library.

Haven; it did not feel so safe today. If anything it felt like I was walking to my doom.

I entered the familiar room, which despite the circumstances, still eased my anxiety some. I chose my favourite chair, the blue of France and Acadia, and waited.

My father's Psychiatrist, Dr. Nazif, was already sitting there, waiting. He had stood when I entered. "Good afternoon, Your Highness." He bowed, then took the seat opposite me. "I understand you have been having a hard time lately." The doctor opened a book to take notes in then continued. "Could you try to explain things to me?"

I cleared my throat, after taking a few moments to compose my thoughts. "Some days, I cannot stop. I cannot sleep. It is almost as if my mind cannot rest." I took a breath. "Then, there are days, where I simply cannot do anything. I lay in bed and feel as though an ocean is pulling me deep. And, recently, I have cared little if I drowned. If it were not for my responsibilities, I would have no reason to remain alive."

"I see." He answered. "I know you are quite young, but could you explain to me how you feel sexually?"

I jumped up from my seat, outraged. "You cross a line, Sir!"

"Mademoiselle." Dr. Nazif tried to be gentle. "I must ask this question. I believe you have Bipolar Disorder, or at the very least Borderline Personality Disorder. Your answer can help determine your diagnosis."

It took me a few minutes to calm down before I took a seat and finally answered the doctor's question. "I am young, and because of that I worry about the thoughts and urges I feel."

"Have you ever impulsively made a bad sexual decision?"

"Almost." I tried to find the right way to explain. "I stopped because I was sure I was too young. As though, as a Princess, it was the wrong thing to do. Now, I ignore the urges, though it is not easy."

"Yes." He mumbled to himself. "I see. And do you have random outburst of anger? Or was what just occurred a rarity?"

"Well, some days I can be irritated far easier then other. But do we not all have those days?"

"No." The doctor explained. "We don't." He closed his book. "I want to medicate you, but first I must observe you for a short time. When the ocean is done pulling you under, have someone contact me. I'm sure you'll reach a manic or hypomanic state soon. Once I see for myself a 'high', as it is mostly known, then I can accurately diagnose you."