The storm that raged across the island was historic by the Maester's accounts. Dragonstone hadn't seen a storm this bad since the arrival of the his house. Of course, it was misty and rained often, but this was different. It felt as if the Gods were warring.

The swells covered the black sand beaches and Maegor came trudging down the hall, dripping wet from his sprint across the outer courtyard.

He was dripping wet as he passed down the black marble corridors toward his marital chambers where his wife no doubt already slept. It was late in the evening, and Maegor had been in council most of his day, having not seen you, his dear sister-wife, since he left you sleeping this morning.

This had unfortunately started to become routine for him. Waking in the early hours to train before his daily duties that would keep him away until dark, and by the time he had returned to you, you had found refuge under the sheets in slumber.

Because of this, Maegor was tense, never finding time to relax as once he returned to his chambers, he was too exhausted to even try to wake you. Additionally, the foreign guilt he had begun to harbor since the wedding, something he had never felt when you were not married.

You remained barren, and this aggravated him. After nearly ten moon turns, you still had not come with child, and it was no fault but his own, but it seemed no matter when you did find the time, it was fruitless.

As he approached your shared chambers, he could see your shadow milling about under the door, which perplexed him. You should have been asleep by now. Maegor slowly pushed into the dimly lit chambers, kicking his boots off immediately.

Maegor's eyes widened when he finally looked up, finding you in a long straight black and red sleeveless gown, your hair cascading down your back in soft waves. Around you was a small circle of candles, all lit circling a plush pile of furs seemingly taken from the bed.

He watched with a raised brow as you turned to face him, tome in hand.

"Wife...?" He muttered.