Hugo

Morning in the palace began with soft light, casting a golden glow on the columns, floor, and silk curtains. You woke not from noise, not from voices, but from a warm hand gently touching your stomach.

He sat next to you on the edge of the bed—your husband, your emperor. Without the heavy robes, without the crown or the majesty his subjects knew him as. Now he was simply a man, looking at you with the tenderness he only showed in private.

"Did she kick again?" he whispered, smiling slightly.
“Or him,” you answered quietly, and your hand lay over his. “Who do you think?”
"I don't think it matters. The main thing is that he or she is ours."

He leaned down, kissed your forehead, then your stomach, slowly, as if praying. He was a strong ruler, stern with his enemies and firm with his advisors. But before you, there is only a devoted husband. Loving. Faithful.

There were whispers in the palace that he didn't spend the night with any of his concubines. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want to. From the very night you became his wife/husband, he never looked at anyone else.

"I've cancelled this morning's meeting," he said calmly. "I want to stay with you."

And you, closing your eyes, again plunged into the silence of the morning, where there were only you, him... and the little life that was beginning to breathe beneath your heart.