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She’d been lying there staring at Casteel’s sleeping form for twenty minutes. Usually such a prolonged amount of staring in their bed was due to her admiring her husband’s body, his features, bathed in the moonlight.
Tonight, in addition to the aforementioned admiration, she was debating whether or not to wake him. To bother him. Poppy had always been fiercely independent and the choice to rely on someone else, to ask for a favor, was never easy.
She inhaled deeply through her nose, steeling herself, fingers drumming nervously on her swollen belly. “Cas, are you awake?”
There was a pause.
“No,” he said, eyes still closed and voice thick with sleep. The corner of his lip hitched up. “And neither are you.”
Poppy smiled in spite of herself and threw off the downy duvet, sitting up in the bed. She started to slide off the mattress when Casteel’s fingers wrapped around her wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“The kitchens,” she said, shifting on the bed to face him. “Want anything?”
“No, Poppy.”
“Alright, then-“
“No, I mean, no, you aren’t going to the kitchens.” He opened his eyes, surrendering her wrist and sitting upright. Casteel inhaled, sobering himself before looking at her. “What do you want? I’m sure there are leftovers from dinner.”
“I can get it myself, Cas. Really.”
He shook his head.
She’d try again.
“I know where to find what I want, so I’ll go.”
“Poppy, I’ve lived most of my life here. I know where everything is,” he said with a yawn. “What is it you want at…” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “three fifteen in the morning?”
Poppy bit her lip. She could tell by that glint in his sleepy eyes that he’d already made up his mind. He had no idea how specific what she wanted was though… He raised a dark brow and Poppy relented.
“Fruit.”
Cas shrugged. “Fruit. Easy.”
“Strawberries to be precise.”
“Alright, strawberries,” Cas nodded, slipping out of bed and pulling on his trousers.
She grimaced, sliding back onto the bed. “Chocolate…”
Casteel dragged a hand through his dark hair. “Chocolate and strawberries.”
He started for the door when Poppy stopped him. “Strawberries… dipped in dark chocolate. Not separate.”
He faced her with a half-smile. “Very specific.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said shaking his head. “I don’t mind as long as you share this… very particular craving with me.”
“It’s not that weird,” Poppy scowled.
“I didn’t say weird, I said particular. ”
Poppy crossed her arms, “I can get it myself…”
The King of Atlantia released a drowsy laugh. “I have every faith in your ability to feed yourself, Poppy. But allow me.”
Casteel returned a half hour later with a plate of six chocolate covered strawberries and clambered into the bed. Poppy pushed three to his side of the plate and three to her side.
“No, no,” Cas said, giving her a fourth and fifth.
She didn’t object, only took a bite of one. “Did you make these just now?”
Cas shook his head. “No actually. They were with the desserts for tomorrow’s banquet. They won’t miss six of them, I promise.”
For a moment she thought to argue on behalf of the cooks, but Casteel silenced her with a look. “Trust me, when I tell the cooks that their desserts brought great joy to their Queen in the wake of her very specific cravings, they’ll be honored to make more.”
He polished off his strawberry and inched closer to her on the bed, lying on his side and propping himself up on an elbow. He brought a hand to the apex of her now very prominent stomach. Poppy still had quite a long way to go, but she was now at the point in her pregnancy that people were frequently commenting on her bump.
His hand moved in a circle, over the silk of her nightgown, eyes studying her belly. “When will she start kicking?” he asked, mildly.
Poppy finished the second strawberry, setting the stems down on the plate and moving onto the third. “The Healer said in a few weeks, maybe a month.”
Cas groaned, his forehead falling to rest against her rounded stomach in defeat.
Poppy snickered, combing the fingers of her free hand through his hair. “This pregnancy has taken quite the toll on your patience, Cas.”
He lifted his head, the corner of his lip hitched up. “Can you blame me? She’s going to-“
“She, she, she,” Poppy said, setting down the remains of the third strawberry and moving the plate to her nightstand. “You really think it will be a girl then?”
Cas nodded towards the plate. “You’re not gonna finish them.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Poppy said sternly. “You want a girl then?”
A smile spread on his lips as he pressed a kiss beside her navel. “And if I do?”
“What do you mean ‘if you do?’ I have no control over that,” Poppy laughed.
“Fair,” Casteel shrugged, continuing to study her abdomen. “I suppose if it isn’t then we’ll try for a girl next time.”
“ Next time? ” she balked. “Let’s just set our sights on the one and we’ll worry about the next one later.”
“As you wish, my Queen.” A laugh rumbled through his chest. “Gods, if I was a wreck when you told me I would be a father I can’t imagine the state I’ll be in when they kick for the first time.”
Poppy grinned, bringing one hand to rest on the side of her swollen stomach.
Cas’s eyes turned pleading to the bump. “I beg you not to kick in public, princess. I have an image to maintain.”
Poppy laughed. The Dark One, pleading with his infant daughter not to make him cry in front of his subjects.
“She says that she makes no promises,” Poppy said grimly. “But if she does kick for the first time when we’re before a crowd, I’ll be sure to wait until we’re alone to bring it to your attention.”
Casteel turned to her, his expression affronted. “You certainly will not. ” His fingers splayed on her belly. “You will tell me the very second it happens. My image be damned.”
“Even if you’re in front of the entire Royal Guard?”
“Yes.”
“Even if you’re… speaking to the entire court?”
“Don’t even hesitate. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a speech. As Queen it is your solemn duty to notify me the second you feel that first kick.”
“My solemn duty?” Poppy said methodically. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to then.”
A few moments passed with Cas silently feeling her stomach. Poppy remained quiet, letting him admire her bump uninterrupted. Finally, he sighed, and sat up straight, pecking her on the lips and taking her in his arms.
“I’m a talented singer, you know?” he muttered, warm breath tickling the shell of her ear. “And I know many, many Atlantian lullabies.”
“Let’s hear one then.”
Casteel nipped at her lobe. “Let’s save it,” he said gently. “I’ll perform for the both of you in time.”
“How am I supposed to get back to sleep?”
“Oh, please, Queen Da’Neer. I’ve seen you nearly pass out sitting up these days. Once I start running my fingers through your hair you’ll wink out like a star.”
“Not true.”
Casteel’s long fingers began gently raking through her hair and her head tilted back against his chest. She felt his chest hum with laughter against her shoulders and surrendered to the heaviness of her eyelids.
When he heard her breathing even out, Casteel pressed a kiss to her temple. “Goodnight to both of you.”