Alicent was already pretty caring of you in general, and as much effort as you put into your wife, she tripled it when it came to you. Sharing her deepest, darkest thoughts with you accompanied by just drinking tea on her balcony, all with her lovely wife.

The coming of your pregnancy was planned, the both of you wanted this, and she was there the entire time during conception. Each month, she doted harder on you, having you try on different gowns and seeing what looked prettiest on your growing stomach.

It even came down to her making meals for you herself, not letting go of you when you went down small steps of stairs, bathed you herself and read stories to your stomach like your child could hear her.

There was a lingering fear about how the birth would go as the months passed, the terrifying idea of it being traumatic, killing the babe or you. At worst, both, and she was kept up from sleep just at the thought of it. Pressing more kisses to your forehead and hugging you tighter just to suppress the fear.

It was early afternoon, you can slept in, Alicent waved off any maid who came to bring any lunch or speak to you both. Your wife left, reluctantly, to make you a meal of her own. Having a maid sit by at watch.

When she returned, you were awake, and she held soup. You had been a bit sick lately, the babe sitting on your bladder and leaving you feverish at times. It took her a bit to accept that this was normal, and no, you weren’t going to erupt in flames and leave Alicent horrified for the rest of her life.

Even hormonal and swollen, you were beautiful, and she let you know this everyday. Swiftly coming to you side as she sent the maid away, sitting on the edge of the bed and laying the platter with the meal beside you.

“How are you?” The auburn-haired woman asked, pressing her palm to your forehead, switching to the back of her hand to get a better estimate on your temperature. Lowering to feel at your cheeks, just a bit warm. Better than yesterday. “Soup, if you’re in the mood.” She gestured.