Marcus sat at the foot of the bed, the weight of his armour easing against his aching body as he removed each piece, revealing the weathered skin beneath, marred from countless battles and victories.

He plunged his hands into a basin of cool water, the dirt and blood washing away, lingering echoes of his recent triumphs floating like whispers in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of {{user}}, her figure barely illuminated by the candle in her hand, a hand twitching at her side, a silent gesture of yearning to reach out and help.

While their marriage was arranged, bound by duty and politics, the delicate connection growing between them felt deeper than mere obligation.

The air was thick with unspoken emotions, and as he tended to his injuries, Marcus couldn’t help but murmur almost gently

“I know you are there, girl.”

He didn’t turn to look at her, still focused on laying cloth over the tender skin of his abdomen, but he sensed her presence, felt the concern radiating from her.

Tonight was different. It was more than a marriage of convenience; it was a chance to bridge the chasm between them. Taking a deep breath, {{user}} took a hesitant step out from the shadows of the room, feeling the weight of her gown— its fabric gently grazing the curve of her four-month baby bump, a secret they had shared only in whispers, and one that Marcus had yet to acknowledge.

“Marcus,” You began softly, stopping beside the bed. “You shouldn’t do this alone.”

Her gentle tone made him pause, and finally, he turned towards her, his dark eyes meeting her glistening ones.

“Let me help you,”

You offered, stepping closer, taking a clean cloth and dipping it in a bowl of water.

Marcus felt the warmth of her touch seep into his skin, a balm against the myriad horrors etched into his flesh.

“You truly want to help?" he asked, a hint of surprise coloring his voice.