Ragnar closed his eyes. He did not regret his decision.

Ten years ago, the Regent had ruled the North with a tyrannical hand. He was only seventeen when he struck his uncle’s throat. No, he had no choice.

The day he struck Regent Tristan’s head. Countess Dorthe, Tristan’s wife and Ragnar’s aunt, cradled her full-term belly and, through tears of blood, screamed curses at him.

‘I will curse you! Not a blade of grass will grow where you stand, and I will make everyone you love bleed. I will make you regret ever letting me live!’

Her aunt’s chilling voice still echoes in his ears.

“Whoo…….”

Ragnar sighed deeply and put the papers down. The fetus in his aunt’s womb didn’t make it to nine months. It was a boy.

The prevailing opinion was that he should remove the seed of unrest immediately. But he didn’t.

He was still criticized for being too gentle in his decision, which was also undeniably true.

But he wasn’t willing to see any more blood. Too much blood had already been shed for peace.

* * *

About twenty leagues from Castle Wishus lies the city of Varus. The current lord of Varus is absent. Varus belonged to Ragnar’s uncle Tristan, and is now ruled by Tristan’s wife Dorthe.

House Markel has been stripped of their titles, and they will not be passed down to her heirs. Ragnar did not confiscate their last asset, the manor.

For treason, three generations down the line would be exterminated. Dorthe had a son, Lars, and a daughter, Carina. If things had gone their way, they would no longer live in the north.

Ragnar did not execute them, nor did he banish them. He merely sent word that they were to live quietly and out of sight. It was an extraordinary gesture of kindness.

But Dorthe could not accept it as such. Thinking about it still made her heart boil.

‘You will regret sparing me and my children.’

A child of only seventeen had done such a thing, so it was only natural that it should end badly.

He may have had the balls to walk through the gates with his uncle’s head in his hands, but he couldn’t harm his aunt, who was carrying an unborn child in her womb, and his cousin, with whom he’d had some childhood interaction.

‘The day will surely come when you will regret that useless warmth…….’

Dorthe’s teeth chattered.

“Mother!”

Her son, Lars, now ten years old, still does not easily leave his mother’s arms. Considering that sons in the north already go hunting at that age, he is overprotected.

“Yes, my son, my life, my heart. Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Yeah, we’re going hunting today.”

Lars’ chin, plump with flesh, was overly thick. A small groan escaped Dorthe’s throat at the mention of hunting.

“Hunting, no, no, no!”

She exclaims. She runs her hands up and down her son’s body, planting kisses here and there. Then she whispers in the sweetest voice in the world.

“Surely, you didn’t fall for someone’s scheme, did your sister tell you about the hunt?”

Dorthe glared at Karina, who was standing behind Lars. The idea of taking her brother on a hunt was something that little wench had cooked up. But Lars spoke cheerfully.

“I said I’d get the bear! After all, the summer solstice is coming soon!”

In the north, it was tradition to go bear hunting before the summer solstice.

“But Lars. You are the only one who can restore our family name. You know that if you were to get hurt on one of those dangerous hunts, this mother of yours would not be able to survive…….”

“I know, because I’m going to be King of the North!”

“Yes, you will. That’s all you need to know…….”

Lars snuggles into his mother’s chest.

“Then I can’t help it, I can’t let my mother worry about me.”

“My son!”

It was their daughter, Karina, who looked at her mother’s embrace with disdain.

“Whoo…….”

She sighed deeply and shook her head.

Mother had changed. Ever since her father’s failed rebellion ten years ago. And so, even at the ripe old age of eighteen, Karina hadn’t heard a word of it.

She was the daughter of a traitor, and their future was one of exile. It was the firstborn of the Argonods who had shown them mercy and spared their lives.

And yet she would still turn against them. She hasn’t even hidden it. She dread to think what she would do if the Argonods found out.

But her demeanor is different today.

“Besides, His Highness the Crown Prince is coming to our estate soon. Karina, I need you to look good for him.”

The mention of the crown prince startled Karina.

“What?”

“How do you know, maybe if you catch his eye, he’ll welcome you to become his mistress, even if you’re like that?”

“Mother…….”

She had seen her mother letters several times recently, but she had no idea it was with the crown prince.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Mother…….’

Karina bit her nails impatiently. Perhaps she was wrong. But they were family, bound by the ties of blood. Unable to do anything about it, she stepped back.

A few days later, the crown prince sought out Varus himself. Varus was a ramshackle estate, far too shabby for a guest of honor. Dorthe resented that, too. All the glory of Tristan’s days seemed to be gone.

Still, they held a small feast. The beasts Karina had hunted were dismembered and served, and expensive wines were brought out.

Karina was ashamed of the red paint on her lips, which she wiped off with her sleeve at every opportunity.

Dorthe saw her and slapped the back of her hand.

“Come, come, come. You have to say hello to the crown prince.”

Dragged by Dorthe’s hand, Karina stood before the crown prince with a ragged expression. The man with a delicate face was more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen.

She wondered if the angels in the religious paintings looked like him, so perfect and lithe. Her cheeks warmed unnecessarily.

“You must be the eldest daughter of House Markel.”

Karina bent her knee in greeting.

“Welcome to our estate, Your Highness, the little sun of the Empire.”

He extended his hand to her in greeting. Karina felt an instinctive repulsion from this alienly beautiful man. His smile was beautiful, but lifeless. He smiled, but the intensity in those green eyes was murderous.

Her hunter’s instincts warned her. This man is a great man who will bring ruin to everything. The future must not be entrusted to such a man.

* * *

‘……Ragnar.’

The voice he once heard every day stuck to his ears like sticky tar and wouldn’t come off. No matter how hard he tries to fight it, no matter how much he tries to run away, the black aura slowly envelops him.

All he could see were empty eyes. He hates those eyes. The way she’s always looked at him.

Ragnar realized he was in a dream that would be hard to break. It was his usual lucid dream. So he knew what was coming. The dreams were always the same.

The long, slender fingers that curled around his arm were now skeletal. The hand moved up his forearm, to his shoulder, to his neck. White, cruel fingers. The scars on the back of his hand.

A helpless defiance flashed through him, until he was still breathing.

Ragnar opened his eyes slowly. The day had passed as it always did when he had dreams like this, and a strong wind blew as if a storm was about to break.

After returning to the North, his dreams became more frequent. Yudina’s dream. The only thing that kept him awake was her warmth in his arms.

In his arms, Christa lies curled up in a ball. He listens to her steady, even breathing and slowly relaxes.

“Mmmm…….”

She stirs, and a sweet scent wafts up. He doesn’t know if she realizes it, but when she falls asleep, she assumes a fetal position. He can’t tell her how many times she’s wrapped his arms around her tiny back and cuddled up to her curled, frowning form.

Slowly, he buried his face in her silver hair. She breathed its scent deep into his lungs. She wanted to bite the delicate flesh at the nape of her neck, but she held back. She didn’t want to wake her, so she soothed himself with another inhale.

“What are you thinking…….”

Sometimes looking at Christa made him nervous. It was like looking at a decorative knife with a well-sharpened edge.

It was dangerous to have a sharp blade out in the open without a sheath, and no matter where you put it, the blade would stick out and cut you. Moreover, it seemed as if she could disappear in a puff of smoke at the slightest distraction.

He hugged her tightly whenever he felt like that. He had to hold her close, even if he knows how dangerous a sheathless sword was. The crushing embrace elicited a soft moan from her throat, and it felt so good to hear it.

However, she showed no sign of waking up after all this maneuvering. She’s been sleeping a lot lately, and she’s in a deep, slow-moving sleep. He’s surprised she doesn’t wake.

She was like a child, sleeping oblivious to the world. He wanted to keep her away from all the dirty and harsh things in the world. He wanted to drape her in only the finest and prettiest things and keep her hidden away.