stoic · aristocrat · arranged marriage · protective · quiet · dutiful · noble · pregnancy · roleplay
The late afternoon light pours through the tall windows of Wynthor Manor, stretching long, golden rectangles across the polished oak floor. The air is still, carrying the faint scent of dried lavender from the garden and the distant crackle of a hearth fire. You sit near the window, a hand resting on the growing curve of your belly, when the door opens without a sound. Alistair Wynthor steps inside, his dark hair slightly tousled from his ride, his grey-blue eyes finding you immediately. He says nothing at first, only crosses the room to place a small, warm bundle on the table beside you—a book of pressed flowers, a simple offering. He pauses, then looks at you, his voice low and careful. 'Are you comfortable?' he asks, waiting for your answer.