“Do you want to sleep more?”

His voice is soft and sweet, melting into her ear. Her stomach tickled with an unfamiliar feeling as she remembered the memories of the night.

Her stomach tingled with unfamiliar feelings as she remembered the memories of the night. Ragnar was about to say something when he suddenly pulled her into a crushing embrace. Christa groaned softly under his weight.

Laughter broke out between them. The sound filled the empty space. For once, Ragnar was acting like a child. And that wasn’t a bad thing.

It was ticklish and exhilarating at the same time. She hugged his neck out of habit.

* * *

It was dawn, but the northern summer days were short, and dawn was still a long way off. The room was dark, and it was impossible to tell the difference between heaven and earth. The only light was a dull lantern.

But their eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, could see where each other was and what they looked like.

He ran his hand through her tangled hair, enjoying the feel of her body against his; it was warm and fuzzy, and he thought he might fall asleep at any moment.

As his eyes closed, Ragnar broke the silence.

“Then, my sister…….”

His voice had subsided a bit. She could almost hear a dry rustling. Christa nodded, still.

“She was carrying ……a child.”

“Yeah…….”

A deep sigh sounded in his ears. He slowly closed and opened his eyes, then closed them and stiffened as he thought about something.

“That’s why I’m afraid…….”

Christa slowly swept his bangs out of his face. Then she cupped his cheek in a slow motion.

“What do you mean?”

She asked quietly, kissing the nape of his neck. He remained silent for an unusually long time.

There was silence in the bedroom for a long time. He started to say something, but quickly closed his mouth. It was a long time before he opened it again. Christa waited patiently for that long moment.

She had never seen Ragnar so vulnerable before, and it was almost unbearable to watch, so she bit down on the soft flesh in her mouth and held him close.

Soon, a sigh escaped his lips, a sob, and he breathed heavily.

“I’m afraid ……I’ll hurt someone again.”

His hands were trembling gently.

“Because I killed my nephew in the belly of my sister…….”

She didn’t think Ragnar had killed his sister because he wanted to. Something had to have happened. Perhaps it had something to do with the crown prince, Elio.

In that moment, Christa vaguely understood why he had said he didn’t want children: he was afraid of hurting someone with his hands.

She knows that kind of fear doesn’t go away easily. It happens to anyone who has ever killed a human being. Every soldier who’s been to war carries a little bit of it with them.

Christa can still clearly see the face of the enemy soldier she killed in her first battle, years later. Anything that looks similar to him, his mood, or the way he dresses, brings back memories.

Killing is always hard to get used to. Even if it was unavoidable, it leaves a lasting scar on the inside, and before you know it, your mind is broken. It’s even worse when it’s someone close and intimate.

Confronting one’s sins is painful for anyone. What made Christa’s past life so painful was that the life she had taken was a fellow human being who had lived and died with her.

So she could understand Ragnar.

She also understood why he had married a woman who would never have children, and why he didn’t care that she was barren.

‘If you are bothered by such things…….’

Christa reached out a clumsy hand and slowly patted him on the back. She had never soothed a child before, but she did her best Ragnar imitation.

“It’ll be okay.”

She continued to stroke and wrap her arms around him in a slow rhythm. She wished she could have held him more warmly; for the first time, she lamented her own low body temperature.

“……….”

Ragnar didn’t answer, so she said it out loud one more time. She tried to use the gentlest voice she could muster, to cover her failings.

“It won’t happen.”

“……….”

Their eyes met in the darkness. The emotions in his golden eyes slowly transformed: first fear, then regret. Now it was shifting from agitation to steadiness.

Seeing this, Christa felt an uplifting sensation. She was relieved. She was elated. She was satisfied, because she had figured it out.

‘That’s why you’re in an arranged marriage with a barren woman like me.’

He had a dark secret deep inside him, but that didn’t matter to her. What mattered was the fact that he was in a relationship with such a lowly piece of shit as herself, so how could she not tremble?

The thrill of being able to see that dark, weak part of him, and the thought of being able to parasitize on it. A strange sense of satisfaction rose in her.

At the same time, she was terrified. She looked at her fingertips, which were trembling slightly. She was terrified that she might upset the delicate balance.

Disgusted with herself for clinging to his darkness. She feels nauseous. Because she found herself reveling in the sight of his broken heart.

But even so, she can’t do much about it. Suddenly, she remembered the names her aunt and uncle had called her.

A monstrous bitch, a worthless carnivore, a rat who took what belonged to others.

They were right. She was a worthless monster who coveted his heart. Her love was so misshapen, so deformed. Does he know her dirty, ugly heart?

* * *

Christa comforts him. She reassures him that nothing will happen, that it’s okay. With clumsy hands, she ruffles his hair. A tingling sensation crashes into his stomach.

In that moment, Ragnar feels a kind of release. The white, cruel fingers that had always clung to the nape of his neck seemed to slip away. The pain that had consumed him for so long melted away.

For once, he decided that he would never let anyone get to his heart. He had learned that he can’t live for people.

Where his sister had left him, there was only an empty hole. It stung when the wind blew, and the vastness of the place she left behind was just too much to bear.

One loss was enough. Perhaps two losses would be unbearable. So he wouldn’t let anyone near him. He drew the curtains tight and locked the door.

No comfort allowed, he was determined not to forget the pain, not to become numb to it, so he had to be careful to keep his wounds from healing. He was not allowed a comfortable death, for he deserved a lifetime of punishment.

He had a lot on his shoulders. He had to live with the regrets of his past and protect the lives of thousands in his hands. There was much work to be done to secure the lands of the North that he had recaptured from his uncle.

Naturally, he chose not to. He tried to keep nothing out of sight, out of mind, and out of reach.

Until one day. Before he knew it, she was already there, sitting in his empty heart like a white beacon. Like a slowly rising tide, she washed over him.

It was too much for him to deny, and he was addicted to her like a drug.

She was already inside him, so deep that his toes couldn’t touch the floor, and all he could do was struggle to breathe, to catch his breath.

There was so much of Christa in his mind, so much of her. It seemed impossible to banish it. Already, he had fallen to her, and his white flag had long since been raised.

He’d known it from the first time he’d seen her. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he was drawn to her. It was as if he had learned to do this over and over again, and it had become second nature.

So he must not lose her.

Ragnar gripped Christa’s shoulders again, harder this time. The veins on the nape of her neck pulsed. A soft moan escaped her lips.

[T/N: So much heartbreak in this chapter. But I’m glad they’re healing each other ?_? ]