Chapter 6
Fernir thought of Anaide, who would be sleeping unconscious in the bridal chamber.
“…Why did I have to live?”
When she had questioned her ‘usefulness’ to him.
Her face illuminated by yellow candlelight had been subtly distorted. It seemed like she was reproaching Fernir, but also seemed filled with pure curiosity.
But what was certain was that her question–that one question–had solidified his decision to make a proposal he didn’t need to make.
Actually, her suspicions were valid. Fernir had essentially made a useless proposal to her.
Though she had no power and received no education, making her future as queen look grim, she was still nominally a nation’s king.
Anyway, with no heir now, Anaide was the first in line for succession.
If she bore a son and divorced him, the freed Anaide could contact outside forces. Such were the conditions. No matter how much Fernir disliked her, it was a somewhat risky proposal with no benefit for him.
Therefore, he could have simply held her by force without complicated proposals. He had that power and justification.
However, what happened at the stone tower bothered him. Thinking of the pill that was the result of his hasty judgment, Fernir recalled the commotion from just yesterday.
“What if I’d rather throw myself out that window than marry you?”
Though she was deliberately acting strong, Anaide’s voice had trembled helplessly. Eyes that shook in pain as if pricked by a needle. The back of her hand where blue veins throbbed.
Fernir also knew she hadn’t truly intended to attempt suicide. The problem was that Anaide had provoked him with her life as stakes.
He was extraordinarily angry about that. Her image and voice endlessly replaying in his head even when he didn’t want to revisit it, the sound of her clothes rustling in the wind–it all continued to torment him.
He swept back his bangs and exhaled deeply.
‘Using her own life as a tool like that will become dangerous.’
How could he know if she’d later cause a scene by threatening suicide or even self-harm? Daring to act this way when she was nothing but a war trophy, not even recognizing who owned that life.
Fernir knew. Someone like Anaide who had suddenly lost all their supporting foundations and fallen into an abyss needed even a thread of hope.
The strange proposal to bear him a son was meant to give Anaide some pathetic ‘hope.’
A restraint that could bind her weak body and spirit to this world.
A deal that made it seem like she and he were facing each other as equals under fair conditions requiring only luck and chance.
Hypocrisy that Fernir Ris Valor de Rutilans bestowed upon his wife—though it was actually just an illusion.
In reality, the child’s gender wasn’t even a problem.
The excuse that a female child would be difficult to take along as a squire was just that–an excuse. An excuse to ensure Anaide could never leave his side.
Besides, wasn’t it too unfair to be denied opportunities because of unchangeable identity? Fernir fully intended to make a daughter his heir. Teaching her swordplay or whatever else.
Someone might say that since there are innate physical differences between women and men, wouldn’t it be better for a boy to be born if raising a knight?
But to Fernir, who had mobilized all kinds of personnel to protect the north, this was laughable. It wasn’t as if there were no famous female knights in this world. Anaide’s mother, the former queen of Rutilan, had been a knight who fought on the northern front lines.
His eyes narrowed. Unlike the former queen who had shown great achievements, he suddenly thought of Anaide, who didn’t resemble her at all.
Perhaps because of her privileged upbringing, though Anaide might have inherited the former queen’s strength, she seemed to have inherited none of her unique spirit.
She was someone who had never experienced real combat. As if proving she’d lived a damn smooth life, no matter how much Fernir tested and provoked Anaide, he couldn’t find proper fighting spirit in her.
‘After bearing daughters two or three times in a row, she’ll think it’s bad luck and give up appropriately.’
Then the naive princess would focus on married life with Fernir without daring to think of anything else. Swallowing the stone of deception instead of the sweet bait of a son and divorce, sinking below.
Fernir slowly blinked his gray eyes and repeated to himself:
Princess. Since you love lovely and cute things, you’ll surely like children too.
This should be the only gift I can give you for the miserable life you’re going to live. Though it’s peace built on deception, isn’t that something at least?
Since you have to bear children anyway, isn’t it much more desirable to give you breathing room like this?
Much better than you crying every day about not being able to endure anymore, wanting to die, after falling asleep with me.
Then the corridor’s candlelight suddenly penetrated his consciousness. The yellow and red light reminded him of the bridal chamber where he’d been with Anaide just twenty or thirty minutes ago.
He made various faces as he rubbed his face with his palm.
“Damn…”
Before he knew it, his head was full of Anaide.
Her tender body that surely had never gripped a weapon like a sword even once.
Her weak stamina–though she had defiantly bitten her lips at his advice to make some sound, she had frantically tried to catch her breath the moment she felt suffocated.
It must have been her first time.
Just as it had been for Fernir, all those acts might have been unfamiliar to Anaide too. That strangely stimulated him. It felt like secretly leaving footprints in clean snow at dawn when no one was around.
‘How sheltered a life had she lived?’
Fernir tried to lift his reluctant feet while tousling his hair.
A few hours ago, his body hadn’t felt like his own. Though he didn’t feel good about being unable to control himself, his throat had burned like crazy.
Deep sighs didn’t calm his heart but only stirred it up more.
His current state was similar to when feeling hatred. Then was this also contempt for her?
Fernir thought impulsively:
‘Should I go back?’
Should he go wake her up? Or just let her sleep?
Bad thoughts grew like vines and wrapped around his heart. Before those vines could coil around his brain and spinal cord too, Fernir quickly pressed against the corridor and buried his head toward the hard stone wall.
Bang–a heavy impact sound burst out. If he didn’t do this, he couldn’t guarantee what he might do if he lost his reason. Fernir caressed his unmarked forehead and thought:
‘No, if I do more, that woman will die of a heart attack.’
It would be troublesome if she died so pointlessly after he’d kept her alive. Fernir barely caught his steps that were heading toward the bridal chamber and walked again toward the dark corridor.
She would have wanted to die just from being intimate with him anyway. He decided not to be that cruel. Stimulating her more than necessary was also dangerous.
She was someone who had greeted him with red, swollen eyes both at the stone tower and at the wedding ceremony. Though she would still seem like a beautiful woman to others, Fernir, who had pretended to be her lover for two years, could naturally imagine how much she must have cried.
In the past, he would have comforted her by placing ice packs over her eyes.
However, it happened to be winter, and someone who had committed rebellion didn’t need to offer sweet words to her.
Rather, Fernir found Anaide’s tears annoying.
That was why he had pulled her into his cloak at the stone tower and covered her eyes at the wedding ceremony.
Princess Anaide had no right to cry.
Fernir despised the lazy people who had lived comfortably in the capital. So he also despised Anaide, who hadn’t even received proper heir education and seemed to have never experienced hardship.
A war trophy. A tool for legitimate bloodline.
The means he had won.
That was Anaide’s only role. And it was extremely important to him that she complete the role given to her.
Probably Anaide, that stupid woman, would think he wanted to divorce her. Because Fernir disliked her.
‘But she can’t just not have children at all.’
However, separate from his disgust, he wanted to possess her forever. He planned to use the tool called Anaide to the fullest to protect the peace of his world.
Looking at the results, he had deceived her, but that fact didn’t matter much. How could divorce be possible when the other party was merely a tool? You can only divorce or whatever when your spouse is human.
Fernir exhaled shallowly and licked his lower lip.
Though it was annoying to have to take her through such troublesome methods, what could he do? He was the victor and survivor who held her lifeline.
As long as he existed, she could never leave the palace on her own feet.
Fernir was prepared to deceive Anaide for life.
Just as Fernir hated the former king, even if she eventually learned he had broken his promise from the beginning and, blinded by betrayal, stabbed his heart with a knife.
He looked at the sun rising beyond the curtains, driving away the night sky and yellow moon.
Betraying someone once–how hard could it be to do it twice?
Anaide opened her eyes feeling a stabbing headache.
It hurt. With some exaggeration, her body ached so much she felt like dying. Her muscles were screaming beyond just being tight. She groaned while disheveling her messy hair.
“Ugh…”
Had she caught some illness…?
Thanks to her constitution, she rarely got sick. But seeing how difficult this was, her unconscious seemed to have arbitrarily judged this degree wasn’t fatal.
‘Still, I didn’t die, so I guess that’s fortunate.’
She had expected him to strangle her or beat her as punishment, but fortunately that was a misconception.
Anaide wriggled like a worm in the warm blankets like a nanny’s embrace. When she turned her head slightly to the side, she couldn’t see the man’s black head. It seemed he had left first.
She knew that not staying by one’s side after the wedding night was generally undesirable behavior between spouses, but she preferred not seeing Fernir’s face.
Though she didn’t know well what would change going forward, at least her current wish was simply to bear the heir he wanted and leave.
At least gender was an element determined only by chance, so that should be fine. She curled up while holding her stomach.
‘How could I determine the child’s gender?’
Though she would love a daughter dearly, if possible, she hoped for a son.
So he could grow up without knowing the contempt of his father-to-be. So he wouldn’t grow up deprived of even the chance to be raised as an heir like herself.
Someone might curse her as a woman with no guts, but Anaide was a defeated soldier trampled underfoot by one who had won an overwhelming battle. The pride she had held as the only princess was on the verge of shattering due to the small crack of not being raised as a proper heir.
Anaide had no power, military strength, or economic capability. All she had left was pure bloodline.
In contrast, how long had Fernir proven his abilities?
‘Did he have so many scars on his body?’
Last night, though only body outlines were visible in the darkness… the unfamiliar traces she’d felt as skin rubbed together were vivid as if drawn before her eyes. Anaide swallowed and rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand.
It was when she was mentally tracing the scar around Fernir’s eye that an unfamiliar voice came from outside.
“Your Majesty the Queen.”
