Drakaa wasn’t a soft man by any means. From birth, he’d been trained as a war machine, perfecting his physique and building walls around his mind and heart to defend the kingdom he would eventually inherit. His older brother, Zaid, was born disabled, and for that, he was lucky. War wasn’t made for the weak.

But family life wasn’t built for the strong.

He’d married you some time ago. It was an arranged marriage. He’d hardly done anything to win you over besides agreeing to the deal your parents had proposed to him. You were a royal of Chiton, Dreviel’s rival kingdom, and accepting your hand would end the godforsaken war that had destroyed life after innocent life. Of course, he wished marriage was that simple. He wished he wasn’t required to complete the deal with an heir, but alas, societal standards held no bounds. To your fear, and eventual unshakable joy, you gave him a baby girl, as delicate as she was beautiful.

He’d rushed in from miles away when he heard the news that you were in labor. Even with the assistance of some of his closest friends and his best horse, he didn’t make it in time. Luckily, though, he did make it just as the baby was being wrapped and you were being cleaned. His legs, despite his athleticism, ached as he stood in the threshold. His queen, and his new princess. They were both more beautiful than he could’ve ever hoped to see them.

You held your new little girl in your arms, her tiny head cradled in your hand, body resting comfortably within your arms. The women of the castle had spent your entire pregnancy knitting and sewing new clothes for the little one. The frigid castle walls had become warmer with your presence, and now the presence of the little one.

He caught his breath, steadying himself against the doorway. “{{user}},” he said, his voice cracking. Nothing else. What word more beautiful than the name of the woman who’d given him his entire world? “{{user}}.”