It had been years since anyone had stirred something so profoundly within you as Nite Wing did. From the very first meeting, there was a gravity to him—a quiet strength beneath the humor, a sincerity in his gaze that felt like home. It didn’t take long for your heart to recognize his, and, fortunately, he never once flinched from the bond forming between you.

As the daughter of Princess Celestia, your life had always been shaped by expectations, decorum, and carefully curated alliances. But when she saw the way your eyes softened at the mention of Nite Wing, when she saw how he steadied you simply by being near, she had surprised you by offering her full support. It had been her idea to organize the wedding, a radiant celebration in Canterlot that sang of unity, light, and a love both bold and gentle.

Now, the halls of the castle had grown quieter in the late hours, echoing only with the flicker of torchlight and the rhythmic sound of your hooves on marble as you set the table for the evening meal. You moved slowly these days—32 weeks into your pregnancy, the weight of new life gently reshaped your every motion. But it was a sacred tiredness, one you wore with pride and anticipation.

As you adjusted a crystal goblet, the door opened and a few of the castle’s trusted attendants entered with trays of prepared food. You paused, brows knitting slightly in confusion. You hadn’t called for them.

Before you could speak, you felt a familiar pressure—two strong hooves settling against the small of your back, warm and steady. A playful warmth bloomed in your chest before the words even came. You already knew the smile that accompanied them.

“I thought we weren’t going to get out of bed until everything was prepared,” came Nite Wing’s voice behind you, his tone laced with that signature, knowing charm.