The contents of the missive still weighed on his mind, even while he carried the folded parchnt in silence as he made his way through the winding halls of the manor and toward his chambers.
When he pushed the door open, he found Circe sitting on the bed, her posture calm and relaxed. Beside her stood Morana, who had clearly only just finished her examination.
Morana straightened at once upon noticing him and dipped into a respectful bow. "Your Highness."
Ragnar inclined his head in acknowledgnt. "Morana." His tone was polite, but it was rely performatory. "If you would excuse us. I would like to speak with my wife."
After further discussions with Circe, he ultimately chose to allow Morana to continue serving as her midwife, though he knew he would not hesitate to send her away at the slightest suspicion that Circe was not receiving the care she needed.
"Of course, Your Highness." She did not have to be told twice. Gathering her things, she offered Circe one last reassuring smile before making her way toward the door.
Ragnar remained where he was, waiting. He did not speak, did not move, until the door had shut fully behind her.
Only then did his attention settle completely on Circe.
She was already looking at him, her lips curved into a soft, radiant smile that reached her eyes. There was a brightness in her expression, a lightness that made sothing in his chest ease.
"You ca at the perfect ti," she said, her voice warm with excitent. "Morana just finished examining ."
Ragnar crossed the room slowly, drawn to her without thought. "And?" he asked.
"She says everything is progressing well," Circe continued, the words spilling out of her with barely contained joy. "Better than expected, even after... everything that happened." Her hand rested instinctively over her stomach. "She checked thoroughly. There are no signs of further complications. The baby is alright."
There was no mistaking the relief and happiness in her voice.
Ragnar felt it settle into him, pushing against the uncertainty he had carried into the room. By the ti he reached the bed, a smile had already ford on his lips.
"That is good news," he said, though the words felt far too small to properly convey the full extent of what he was feeling.
It showed in what he did next.
He reached for her, further closing the distance between them as he captured her lips in a firm, affectionate kiss. It was brief but full, the kind of kiss that spoke more clearly than words ever could. When he pulled back, his hand lingered lightly against her cheek, his smile still present.
"You have no idea how glad that makes ," he said and he ant it.
But even as he spoke, sothing flickered behind his eyes, so subtle that anyone else would have missed it. But Circe saw it.
Her smile faltered, just slightly. The excitent in her expression dimd as her brows drew together with concern.
"What is it?" she asked softly. "Is sothing wrong?"
Ragnar held her gaze for a mont longer, as if contemplating how to begin.
Then he exhaled.
"A missive arrived from the palace," he said.
Circe’s posture straightened, her earlier ease gone in an instant. "From the queen?"
He nodded once.
"She has ordered to lead a beast hunt."
The words hung heavily in the air.
For a brief mont, Circe simply stared at him, as if she had not heard him correctly.
Then the aning settled.
"No," she said imdiately, shaking her head. "No, you cannot."
She made no attempt to soften her words. Her hand tightened against the fabric of her gown, her breathing quickening as fear took hold.
"You will not go," she insisted, more firmly now. "Ragnar, you nearly died the last ti. You told yourself what those things are capable of. You cannot go chasing them."
His hand stayed on her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over her skin in an attempt to soothe her.
"I will be fine," he murmured. "You do not need to—"
"I do," she cut in, her voice breaking through his calm with surprising force. "I do need to worry."
Her eyes searched his, frantic now, refusing to be comforted by empty reassurance.
"I am carrying your child," she continued, her voice unwavering. "If you go and sothing happens to you—" She swallowed hard. "Who will be here when the baby is born? Who will be with ?"
The question struck deeper than anything else she could have said.
"And what of the child?" she pressed on. "If you die, they will never know you. They will grow up without their father."
"I do not have a choice, Circe," he said quietly once she had finished. "If I refuse, she will turn it against . She will call it treason. Cowardice. She has already decided what she wants, this is just the ans to get it."
Circe’s lips parted, but no words ca.
She understood his decision. That was the cruelest part of it.
Her shoulders sank slightly, the fight in her expression giving way to sothing more resigned, though the fear remained just as strong.
For a long mont, neither of them spoke.
Then her gaze hardened with a different kind of resolve.
"Then swear to that you will co back," she said. "Swear that you will survive this and that you will return to ." Her hand pressed more firmly over her stomach. "Swear that you will be here when our child is born."
There was no hesitation on his part.
"I swear it," Ragnar said, his voice firm, unwavering. "I will return to you."
He ant it every word.
Circe searched his face, as if trying to asure the truth of his vow, to find sothing solid enough to hold onto.
Slowly, she nodded.
Ragnar did not wait any longer. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him carefully but firmly, holding her as though he could shield her from everything. He pressed a kiss to her temple.
In his embrace, Circe’s hands ca to rest against him.
"I love you," she whispered.
Ragnar tightened his hold just slightly.
"As do I," he replied, his voice low but certain. "And nothing in this world will keep from coming back to you or from seeing our child when they are born."
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