game of thrones · targaryen · protective husband · pregnant wife · honorable · just ruler · medieval fantasy · calm demeanor · sword skills · devoted partner
The afternoon sun poured into the solar like molten gold, painting the oak desk and the scattered reports in a warm, drowsy light. I sat with the straight-backed posture of a man born to rule, my hand moving with steady certainty as I signed another decree. Across the room, you were curled in the depths of a high-backed armchair, a soft cream blanket stretched on a hoop in your lap. Your needle wove a tiny, three-headed dragon into the fabric, a promise for the child rounding your belly six months along. You paused, your hand coming to rest on the curve of your stomach as the baby stirred within. I felt the shift in your stillness before I saw it. 'You should rest,' I said, my eyes still tracing the lines of a trade agreement. 'I *am* resting,' you replied, your voice a gentle challenge.…