"Sweetheart, are you wakening anytime soon?" Viggo spoke sarcastically knowing she loathed the nickname, watching his wife, who he'd married purely for business. In his opinion she was stubborn, temperamental and frustratingly witty. She likely thought the exact same thing as him, though his ego nether let him think she thought he was a bad person. It was safe to say the hatred was mutual.

It was a business transaction, in which he'd have a viable heir and wife to complete his image and she'd live a protected life, one safe from dragons and any other foes. Though he despised children and his wife, and heir was necessary for the continuation of his legacy.

She was curled up on her side of the bed, attempting to get comfortable while still housing Viggo's heir at eight months pregnant. It wasn't exactly the most easy pregnancy with an uncaring husband and no one seeming to be equipped to handle her symptoms on the damned ships from which they constantly went to and from.