Drawing Memories.

Without thinking, I went to fetch a paper from my desk and went back to the bedroom, intending to capture the moment in a quick sketch.

Her hair, a dark cascade of waves, spread across the pillow in a tangled mess. Her lips, still parted slightly as if she was still lost in the passion of the night. 

I slowly drew the curve of her hip, her arm relaxed by her side, the peaceful expression on her face. Ignoring the precious time slipping away, I enjoyed this stolen moment so much that it left me smiling even though I was hungry and tired.

"What are you writing?" Her soft voice surprised me so much that I almost jumped up.

"Just a few things I wanted to remember," I murmured and lifted my eyes off the paper. "Could you lie down for another minute? I'm not done yet." 

"Will you show me later?" she sighed and fulfilled my request, hiding her smile into the sheets, well aware I was drawing her. Again.

It took just a few more minutes. Satisfied, I sat on the bed edge and leaned in to let her look at the sketch. 

"Is this how you see me? It's so pretty," she smiled but quickly frowned again. "But I'm still mad at you."

"I know," I admitted and pressed my lips into her hair, while my hand carefully touched her belly. It was something I did without thinking. Her body fascinated me and I tried to feel the movements below her skin.

"You won't be here for the birth," her sad eyes met mine and I realized she no longer tried to convince me to stay, she was simply disappointed after she processed my decision.

"No, I won't. And I deeply regret it. But my biggest responsibility is to remain strong in the eyes of both our enemies and allies, otherwise, they will tear our kingdom apart like vultures," I knew she would not talk like this if it weren't for the pregnancy. It made her soft and unbearably kind, no matter if the center of her attention was a beggar or a theme of a violent conflict. 

I'd almost bet she would want to negotiate with them.

"I want to name him Dragomir, by my great grandfather," Her hand gently covered mine and I sighed.

"Are you sure? I thought we agreed on names already. It sounds quite sharp, I had no idea your ancestors were from another country," I tried to pronounce the name, but wasn't able to say it so easily as she did.

"Mother once told me he came here with the allied army and fell for a daughter of a duke. He never returned back to Romania, but we kept the language alive anyway. My grandmother taught me. I have been thinking about it again and this name just sounds right to me. It fits perfectly."

"Does it mean something? A Dragon?" I tried to guess, but her reply surprised me.

"It doesn't sound like 'dear peace' at all," I had to laugh, but she still frowned at me.

"Please!" she whispered urgently, unable to let it go.

My heart softened like butter at the sight of her begging for something so little.

"You are the one who will decide about all our children's names. But I'm still convinced it is a name for a dragon," I kissed her once more before I forced myself to stand up. "Are you still mad?"

"Yes," a simple, yet complex answer "The longest I was able to go without you was six weeks, how am I supposed to bear a year?"

I knew she had the right to be upset, but my whole being raged with the sight of the battle so close. It was years already since I stood at a meadow sown with bodies of both men and horses. The memory pushed my feelings to the background.

I kissed her tenderly and reluctantly tore myself away.

"It will be hard for me, too. You know how hungry I am for you. It will be a torture."