The uncertainty had driven him to seek advice discreetly.
The palace physicians had offered endless explanations to what might be wrong with her but none of it had satisfied him.
His mother had provided the only answer that felt genuine.
He could still hear her voice as she said, "Son, childbirth takes a heavy toll. Your wife has spent months carrying the child, and the birth itself has drained her, both in body and soul. She needs ti to recover, and that recovery won’t happen overnight. Be patient with her. Stay by her side, speak gently, make sure she eats, drinks, and gets as much rest as she can. So won recover quickly, while others need much longer before they start feeling like themselves again. Most importantly, don’t leave her to struggle through it alone. Your support will matter more than you realize."
Ragnar had taken those words seriously.
He remained patient. He stayed close. He never pressured her. Yet every day he watched her suffer, and every day it beca harder to stand by and do nothing.
He was the king but he could not fight whatever haunted her. Could not command it away. He was out of his depth and he hated not knowing what to do.
That night, after the palace had finally quieted and the last servants withdrew back to their quarters, Ragnar discovered Circe standing alone on the balcony, bath in moonlight. Strands of her hair fluttered in the breeze.
She stood motionless, staring into the darkness beyond the palace grounds.
Ragnar approached quietly from behind.
When he reached her, he placed both hands gently upon her shoulders.
She startled slightly before relaxing beneath his touch.
For a mont neither spoke.
Then Ragnar broke the silence.
"What is wrong, my love?"
Circe lowered her gaze, so he would not see the look in her eyes. "Nothing."
He imdiately shook his head, unwilling to accept her half-hearted response.
"No." The single word was gentle as Ragnar turned her toward him. Moonlight illuminated her face.
The sadness he saw in her eyes struck him like a physical blow.
"You have given us a strong son," he said. "You have endured more than I can fully understand, and I cannot bear watching you fade before my eyes. Talk to ."
Circe looked away. "I don’t even understand it myself." Her voice trembled.
Ragnar’s heart squeezed painfully just from seeing her like this.
"Then tell what it feels like so I can help you."
For several monts she said nothing. But faced with his unending care and patience, her eyes glistened with the result of all her pent up emotions.
The tears appeared so suddenly that Ragnar felt panic flash through him.
Then the first one fell.
And another.
And another.
The dam finally broke.
"I miss my ho." The confession erged as little more than a whisper. "I miss Westeria so much that I can barely breathe so days. Ever since Khamsin was born, I cannot stop thinking about it. About my childhood. About my family. About everything that was taken from us."
She let out a shaky laugh through her tears. "I know it sounds ridiculous."
"It doesn’t," Ragnar said firmly, unwilling to let her dismiss her own feelings.
"It does." Her voice cracked. "I have a loving husband. A healthy son. A beautiful ho. I am blessed and fortunate. I should not want for anything more."
Ragnar reached for her hand as she continued. Now that she had started, everything else just ca tumbling out.
"But after the birth everything ca back. mories I haven’t thought about in years. I rembered our ho. I rembered the yearly cultural festivals. The folk songs very child knew by heart."
More tears slipped down her cheeks.
"I might not have chosen to co to Lamora but I chose to build this life with you. Yet I keep looking at our son, and all I can think about is that he will never know those things. He will never know Westeria the way I did. He’ll grow up here. He’ll learn Lamorian customs. Lamorian traditions. Lamorian history." She wiped at her eyes. "I know Lamora has its own beauty. I truly do. This kingdom has beco important to . But it isn’t my ho. It can never replace what I lost. I feel guilty even saying it aloud."
"You shouldn’t."
"I do. Every day. I feel selfish. Ungrateful. Weak. I know there are people suffering far worse than I am, yet I can’t seem to stop feeling this way. It’s like sothing inside broke after the birth and I can’t put it back together."
Ragnar imdiately pulled her into his arms.
Circe buried her face against his chest.
Months ago she would have fought the tears. Tonight she surrendered to them.
Ragnar held her as she cried. His hand moved slowly through her hair soothingly as he reassured her.
When her sobs finally began to quiet, he pressed a kiss against the top of her head.
"You are not weak, nor are you selfish and ungrateful for wanting that connection to your holand. Never call yourself those things, even in jest."
He kissed her again and his arms tightened slightly around her.
"You have carried more than anyone should have to bear. You were taken from your ho. You built a new life in a foreign kingdom. You gave birth to our son. If your heart aches for the place that made you who you are, there is nothing shaful about that."
She lted deeper into his embrace, exhausted and emotionally drained. Yet sohow lighter than she had been in weeks.
Ragnar continued holding her beneath the moonlight. Outwardly, he remained calm.
Inside, however, his mind were already churning, considering every variable in their situation.
A visit to Westeria would not be simple. There were old wounds between kingdoms, old resentnts that still existed in the hearts of Westerians as they lost the war again Lamora. Going there now might pose a serious risk to their safety.
As king, he knew exactly how complicated such a journey could beco.
As a husband, he wanted to do everything in his power to chase Circe’s lancholy away.
He pushed those thoughts aside. There would be ti for decisions later.
Tonight she needed comfort.
So Ragnar simply held her beneath the stars while the kingdom slept around them.
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