Season 2 - Breeder to the White Queen
Maeve
I cannot believe this is the man whose baby I’m supposed to carry.
Thick droplets of rain rolled down the glass as I looked out the far window, my eyes fixated on the lazy patterns of moisture they left in their wake.
I was sitting at one end of the long, immaculately set table in the dining hall like I had done every evening since setting foot in the Alpha’s castle three months ago, my plate barely touched and my wine undrunk.
It was no fault of the kitchen, nor that of the servants who had spent their entire evening dressing the table with steaming platters of food. No.
I had a challenging time staying awake during dinner, in fact, forever lulled into half-slumber by the incessant dry conversation taking place on the far end of the table.
Oh, Ernest.