Going to try and keep these about this length. Going to try and aim for under one thousand words for each of them. Short and sweet where I can make them. Some I might elaborate on.
Anyway, someone asked for doting dad-to-be Alistair?
“You know, you could help me.” Roselyn grunted
from the bed where she struggled with buttoning up her night gown over the tight
swell of her belly.
Alistair grinned, leaning against the lintel of the door. He stood with his arms folded across his chest admiring the scene of his heavily pregnant Queen and the daily struggle to
dress and undress.
“You could ask
for help.” He retorted, playful in his teasing.
Roselyn grabbed his own bed shirt, screwed it into a
ball and tossed it at him with a small huff of frustration. Alistair caught it
and unraveled it while chuckling and folding it back up. He placed it at the
end of the bed, crossing the room towards her.
“I can’t see my feet anymore.” Roselyn
remarked in a pathetic tone, peering down at the floor. He watched her trying
to stretch her feet out in an attempt to glimpse her toes. “I miss being
able to see my feet.”
“They’re still there, I promise.” Alistair
told her, “all ten toes.” He stood in front of her and swatted away
her hands from the buttons on her cream night dress. Most of the buttons
strained against their holes where they were fastened. Others were left open
over the greatest stretch of Roselyn’s body, the cotton material lacking any
stretch to make the buttons and holes meet.
He began to fasten those she had been struggling to
reach, buttons that were lower than the distance his wife could bend.
“This can’t be comfortable.” Alistair said
after a few seconds, pursing his lips and pausing his fingers.
Roselyn shrugged, “my new night dresses aren’t ready
“Isn’t this one new?”
“Yes.” She nodded, dropping her gaze.
“I’m growing so fat and so fast that I already need new ones.”
Sighing, Alistair slipped his palms over her exposed skin.
“You’re not fat.”
“Your wife has been replaced by a
broodmother,” Roselyn snorted derisively, “admit it.”
“No.” He pressed his lips to her forehead,
massaging his large hands over her belly, “you’re much prettier than a
broodmother.” Roselyn laced her fingers through his. “And you’re carrying
the life of our child.” Alistair dropped his gaze to meet hers, a lopsided
smile tugging at the corner of his mouth “Believe me, you have never looked more beautiful.”
Colour blossomed in her cheeks, turning her a delightful
shade of pink. Roselyn dropped her eyes, squeezing his fingers.
Loose, dark ringlets tumbled over her slim shoulders and Alistair heard her
“Doesn’t fix my night dress problem, does it?”
She said, biting her bottom lip.
Laughing through his nose, Alistair grabbed his folded
shirt from the end of the bed. “I have a solution to that.” He shook
it out and put it across Roselyn’s knees. He worked quickly, taking
buttons from holes with familiar and skilled swiftness until her night gown a was
open. Roselyn’s skin prickled in response to the cold while Alistair slid the
sleeves of the cotton gown off her shoulders and down her arms, leaving her
gloriously naked but for her small clothes.
“This is not a good solution, Alistair.” She
remarked, grey eyes narrowing covering her nakedness with her hands and arms.
Alistair returned her disapproving gaze with a childish
face. “Just a moment, Your Majesty.” He took his bed shirt up in his
hands again. “Arms up, please.”
Roselyn obeyed and helped in pulling his thicker woolen
shirt down her arms and over her body, concealing her pregnant belly underneath
the baggy material. Unlike her own gown which had stretched, Alistair
shirt sat loose over her, swamping Roselyn smaller frame in the garment.
“How’s that?” Asked Alistair, standing back to
admire her. He had always appreciate her on the occasions she wore his clothes. A
habit she had adopted during the Blight, but had sadly become a rare occurrence
after they had taken up the ruling of Ferelden together.
Roselyn ran her hands over the sleeves, rolling them up
so they did not cover her hands. She pulled her hair out from under the collar,
shaking it out.
“It’s comfortable.” She remarked, almost
begrudgingly. “You don’t mind?”
“I wish I’d thought of it sooner.”
grinned, grazing his lips over her forehead. He teased his fingers back through
her hair, working out the tangles and knots. Roselyn wrapped her arms around
his waist, sighing and hugging him as close as her growing body would allow.
“Thank you.” She muttered, voice small and
barely concealing a sniffle.
Kissing her forehead again, Alistair trailed his
hands down the back of her neck and around her chin, coaxing her to lift her head. “I am your humble servant, Rose.” He told her, nuzzling her forehead. “You know that.” His lips
tingled when he kissed her, his whole body warming to the sensation.
When he pulled away he felt a little light headed,
breathless almost and grinned at the soft expression on his wife’s face.
Adoring and gentle, one she kept only for him. He stroked her cheeks and
pressed his lips to the spot between her brows.
“Now, My Lady,” he took her hands and bowed
while Roselyn giggled. “Is there anything else this humble servant can do
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