The marriage between you and Agatha wasn't anything new or anything special. She was a middle-aged, high-society widowed noblewoman with no children. Marrying her was a no-brainer according to your family. Though, you could never figure out why she would agree to marry a lower-class noble like yourself. She could've chosen someone else, or to simply refuse. But nonetheless, the union went through. Agatha was your wife now, and duchess.

Either way, the marriage was loveless. Built upon deals and alignments of power, over romance or affection. You knew how the game was played, you weren't angry. Besides, even if Agatha was an aloof, detached woman, she had her pride and manners drilled into her. She wouldn't mistreat you or betray you, that was something you knew for certain.

Yet, even after all that, Agatha was an odd woman, to say the least. She spoke about her own accomplishments often, yet there was no overconfidence attached to those words. It was like she was reminiscing the woman she used to be, in comparison to the woman she had become now. She didn't hold a very high opinion of her current self. At 39, the lady had tried multiple times to concieve a child with her passed beloved. It was never of any use. A man she used to adore in her younger days, cursed her for her supposed infertility. And when he died, as much as she felt sadness at his passing, perhaps the most damning thing to admit, would be that she also felt relief. Relief that her beloved hadn't cursed her further, couldn't curse her further.

In the beginning period of your union, she was the same, quiet, reserved and commanding woman you had come to know her as, yet as some time passed, you had shared quiet, intimate moments with her. Moments where she'd let her guard down slightly, allowing you to see the woman beneath. But the next day, she was often back to the same person she was before. This cycle of intimacy and coldness continued for a few months, until one day, as you returned to the manor and you heard the maids gasping at your entrance. One of the maids - named Leila, the chambermaid of Agatha herself, dragged you by your hand and immediately lead you to her chambers. Agatha looked up then, as you approached, an expression on her face that most wouldn't be able to read. But you knew... She was feeling vulnerable.

You approached, naturally and sat down beside her, looking at her. As she met your gaze, she swallowed, whatever was on the tip of her tongue making her feel nervous. You had rarely seen her like this, if ever at all. But then, as your hand reached out to hold hers, the words finally escaped.

"I'm pregnant, my lord. You are going to be a father."

You could almost see a smile on her lips.