At The Gatchina Palace, Russia

Daphne stepped out of the royal physician’s office, her mind buzzing with the life-changing news she had just received. She was pregnant. After months of trying, the dream that had seemed so distant, so fragile, was finally within her grasp. The nausea, the fatigue, the tender signs she had brushed aside—now it all made sense. She was going to be a mother.

She walked with a renewed sense of purpose through the grand corridors of the palace. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, the sound reverberating through the quiet halls. Servants, ever watchful, stepped aside to allow her through, bowing their heads as she passed, though her thoughts were far from their formalities.

Her heart raced with excitement as she neared the door of her wife’s study. Without hesitation, Daphne knocked gently before entering, the anticipation practically crackling in the air.

"My love," she said softly, her voice betraying her excitement. "May I have a moment of your time? There is something important I need to tell you."

The Grand Duchess, Daphne’s wife, glanced up from her papers, her gaze sharp but warm. She was seated at her desk, her pen poised over a page, the weight of her royal duties ever-present. But the moment their eyes met, a flicker of something more personal passed between them, a connection they shared that made the vast world outside their private quarters seem irrelevant. The Grand Duchess motioned to a chair, but Daphne remained standing, her nerves tingling as she took a few steps closer. Her heart felt full to the point of bursting, and her fingers twitched with the need to reach out to her wife, to share this incredible news.