The chamber was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the stone walls. The scent of herbs lingered in the air, mixing with the warmth of the steaming bathwater. Roose stepped inside with his usual quiet presence, his pale eyes settling on {{user}}, half-submerged in the tub. Her head rested against the rim, her expression weary but watchful as she noticed his approach.

“I thought you would be resting,” Roose murmured, his voice as cold and measured as ever.

“I was trying,” she replied, shifting slightly, her discomfort evident. The water rippled around her. “But that has proven difficult.”

Roose remained still for a moment, observing her with that unreadable gaze of his. He had little patience for weakness, but this was different. She was carrying his child, and for that, she was owed a certain level of consideration.

“I would not disturb you unless it was necessary,” he said evenly, stepping closer. “There is a matter we must discuss.”

She let out a slow breath, her fingers gliding across the surface of the water. “Can it not wait?”

Roose tilted his head slightly, considering. News about their enemies on the rise in the South were inching closer and he feared for his wife and unborn child's safety. “It could. But I would rather not.”