Spencer kissed every inch of her, murmuring how beautiful she was, how she drove him mad with desire.
When they finally collapsed in a tangle of limbs, their bodies slick with sweat, the storm outside seemed to calm as if in deference to their union.
Beatrice lay sprawled on his chest, her hair a messy halo around her flushed face. Spencer's arm was draped protectively around her, his fingers lazily stroking her back.
"I sent the kids to the Queens, and now I feel a little guilty," she admitted, though her tone betrayed no real regret.
Spencer laughed, the deep, rich sound reverberating in his chest. "Don't. They'll have a great time, and we needed this." He kissed the top of her head. "You deserve to be spoiled, Bea. You give so much to everyone else—let me give this to you."
She tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes soft. "You always know how to say the right thing, don't you?"
"I try," he said with a smirk, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But with you, it's easy. You're my everything."
Her heart swelled at his words, and she leaned up to kiss him again, this time slow and sweet.
The rest of the night passed in quiet intimacy, their laughter and whispered confessions filling the space until sleep claimed them.
Spencer held Beatrice close as the rain continued its gentle song, their love a bright, unyielding beacon in the dark.
Though Spencer had a bastard child it was obvious there's a story to that because their love was strong.
~~~{─────────
The Same Night.
Ffth Prince's Chambers,
Wyfkeep Castle. Wyfellon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
The evening had settled into a peaceful stillness, the quiet hum of the castle only interrupted by the occasional crack of the hearth.
Princess Florence lay in bed, her body heavy with the weight of pregnancy, feeling the chill of the room seep into her bones despite the blankets piled high around her.
Her fingers instinctively traced the curve of her growing belly, a small smile on her lips as she thought of the little life growing inside her.
When the door to her chambers opened, she expected the usual bustling of attendants, but instead, Prince Lucas, her husband, entered, his face a mixture of exhaustion and happiness.
He had just returned from a long, hard week of battle duties, his armor still on, though a hint of discomfort from a recent injury marred his usually composed expression.
He caught sight of Florence lying in the bed, her form nestled into the softness of the sheets, and for a moment, his heart swelled with love.
His eyes softened. "My beautiful Florence," he murmured, his voice a low and affectionate rasp.
Florence turned to look at him, a smile curving her lips despite the exhaustion weighing down on her. "You're home," she whispered, relief flooding her. "You look… tired."
Prince Lucas winced slightly, his hand instinctively brushing over the bandage wrapped around his arm where a fresh wound marred his skin.
It was a shallow cut, but it still ached, a reminder of the day's turmoil.
"I'm tired, but nothing compared to how I feel when I see you, Florence," he replied softly, his voice full of warmth.
He shed his heavy cloak, his boots, and his armor, revealing a more relaxed version of himself as he moved closer to her.
"I've missed you so," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she sat up in bed, trying to fight the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.
Her pregnancy had been both a blessing and a challenge. The weight in her stomach sometimes made it hard to breathe, let alone think straight.
"I missed you too," he replied, kneeling beside her, his hands gently cupping her face. "Are you alright?"
Florence swallowed hard, her face pale as she tried to smile. "I'm fine… just… the baby makes me feel unwell sometimes."
He frowned, but before he could say more, Florence hesitated, then reached toward him with an expression of concern. "Lucas… what happened to your arm?"
Lucas winced, glancing down at the injury. The bandage was already starting to stain with a dark patch of blood. "It's nothing," he said quickly, brushing it off. "Just a scratch."
Florence's brows furrowed in disapproval, her fingers trembling slightly as she gently reached for the bandage to check the wound. "You always say it's nothing, but you're not fine, Lucas."
He let out a soft chuckle, though it was tinged with fatigue. "I'll be fine. You need to rest, Florence."
Despite his protests, she carefully unwound the bandage, revealing the injury beneath. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the blood, but she forced herself to focus.
She tried to tend to him, her face turning a shade of green as the nausea hit her again.
"Florence," Lucas said, his voice gentle but firm. "You need to stop. You're not well."
"I can't just… let you…" she began, but before she could finish, another wave of dizziness hit her, and she nearly toppled forward.
Lucas caught her immediately, his expression turning to one of deep concern.
"Stop, Florence," he repeated, his hand holding her chin gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You've got to rest. Please. I can take care of this."
She let out a shaky breath, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I want to help you. You've been through so much."
He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know you do, my love. But I'll be alright. Right now, you need to take care of yourself and the baby. Nothing else matters."
Florence nodded, but her eyes were still troubled as she pulled the blankets higher around her.
Lucas cleaned and bandaged his wound in silence, knowing that his wife, though stubborn, had a heart that couldn't bear to see him hurt.
Once he had finished tending to his injury, he climbed into bed beside her, gently pulling her into his arms.
Florence let out a quiet sigh of relief as she settled against him, resting her head on his chest.