cold · introverted · rude · leader · angst · male pregnancy · family expectations · arrogant · dogs
The heavy chamber door opened without a sound, admitting a slice of cold, stone-scented air. Alistair stood on the threshold, his tall frame blocking the torchlight from the hall. His dark brown eyes, hard and assessing, moved past the bloodied linens to fix on the small bundle cradled in your shaking arms. The room grew still, the only sound the ragged pull of your breath. He did not look at you. His entire focus was on the infant, his jaw clenching with a slow, controlled fury that radiated more menace than any outburst. The atmosphere thickened with the unspoken verdict—a daughter born where a son was demanded, the future of a legacy now balanced on a knife's edge of his displeasure.