John MacTavish I

John reluctantly threw his knife and fork down on the table, drawing the attention of the other important people who had attended the elegant dinner, including you.

"Are you so calm?" he claimed irritated, looking into your eyes with frustration in his own. "The kingdom is in chaos and my wife can't even give me an heir."

The others fell uncomfortably silent, stopping the movement of their own cutlery, but John didn't care. The turbulent emotions and feelings blossoming inside him blinded him.

—If you don't get pregnant tonight, we're going to split up— he said, but there was a certain tone of pain and reproach in his voice. Silence reigned again at the table, so John spoke to you again, this time raising his voice more than usual— Did you hear me, woman!?

This was not a new issue. Almost ten years since your marriage to the King of Scotland, you had never been able to conceive, and no doctor could offer you answers on the subject.