(as requested by an anon, supported by the barrages of themysticalsong & lizziecorday)
Soft, sweet-smelling linens and flickering candle light engulfed them, cocooning them from the world. An obstinate curl or two tickled at his cheek as if to mock him, for no matter how many time he braided her hair, a few coils always rebelled, launching their feather-light assaults on his face. “My soldier,” she laughed gently, “not wanting to return to battle?”
Shifting, he wrapped himself around her more tightly, spreading his fingers to cup to underside of her belly. “It’s not battle, merely scouting and ensuring all is well – nothing of consequence. This,” Macbeth breathed as his hand began to roam her abdomen, “is important.”
Lady Macbeth hummed in response, placing her hand over his. “Important, of course, but there will be others, my love.” The rest of the night the was spent whispering plans and hopes amidst the exchange of light kisses and moving their hands to find the baby’s kicks, sleep overtaking them as the last light of the candle burned away.