The sunlight occasionally caught her as she crossed stretches of open sky between the tree lines, causing her wings to gleam brilliantly against the blue.

When they finally reached the capital and the city unfolded before the returning army, a substantial crowd had gathered to welcome them.

Morana separated from the group before they entered the city proper. The last thing she wanted was to descend directly into a public reception.

Instead, she found a quieter route to the palace. She landed on a deserted section of the grounds and her wings folded neatly against her back.

Before her feet had fully touched the ground, she cast her glamour and the wings vanished from sight and by the time she made it into the palace courtyard, she appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary woman crossing the grounds.

Circe was waiting at the main palace entrance..

The moment she saw Ragnar, relief washed over her and every emotion she felt right then was plastered boldly on her face.

She ran toward him without a second thought. It was no different from the other times she had excitedly welcomed him back home.

Ragnar barely had time to dismount before she threw her arms around him. He embraced her immediately.

Holding her again after weeks apart stirred something deep inside him.

One of the first things he had noticed when he spotted her standing at the palace entrance was how much her pregnancy had progressed during his absence. Her belly was noticeably larger now than it had been when he left.

As he held her, he could feel the difference.

Her body was softer and her figure had become fuller.

To Ragnar, it was a welcome sight. It meant that both Circe and their child were healthy.

For weeks, his thoughts had been occupied by battles, his troops, casualties, and responsibilities. Yet now, standing in the palace courtyard with Circe in his arms, all of those concerns seemed distant.

He had missed her more than he had realized and now that she was finally here in his hands, he found that he was reluctant to let her go. His wife. The one his soul was made for.

Even her cheeks seemed fuller than before, touched by a healthy glow. There was a radiance about her that pregnancy had only heightened.

Though she had always been beautiful, there was something about her now that made her seem even more captivating.

Morana watched from a respectful distance. She did not intrude upon the intimate reunion, but neither did she retreat. Instead, she remained where she was, quietly observing as Ragnar and Circe embraced after weeks apart.

There was something bittersweet about witnessing it.

For years, Morana had wondered what kind of man her son would become. She had imagined countless possibilities, but standing here now and seeing him wrapped in the arms of the woman he loved, seeing the happiness that radiated off him, she found herself grateful simply to have lived long enough to witness it.

Then Circe looked up. Over Ragnar’s shoulder, her eyes found Morana.

Circe’s expression softened into a genuine smile. She did not release Ragnar or pull away from him, but she acknowledged Morana all the same.

Morana returned the smile warmly. It was a small exchange, but one that carried understanding between them.

Circe knew what this moment meant to Morana and Morana knew how much Circe had missed her husband.

Neither woman needed words to express this.

A few moments later, Ragnar finally drew back enough to look properly at his wife. His hands remained on her waist.

For several seconds he simply stared at her, as though reassuring himself that she was truly standing in front of him and not merely another memory of her that his mind had conjured up because he missed her fiercely, something he did constantly during the campaign.

He smiled at her and the expression transformed his face entirely. A second later, Ragnar leaned forward and captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

Circe kissed him back eagerly, lips moving over his in a sensual caress.

Neither of them appeared remotely concerned that they might have an audience watching. At that moment, the only people who existed in their world were the two of them.

Later that afternoon, with his chief advisor at his side, Ragnar summoned the courtiers for a mandatory debriefing.

The meeting lasted several hours.

Reports were delivered regarding the campaign’s conclusion, casualty figures, reconstruction efforts in the eastern territories, and the current political situation following the deaths of Gerard and Remin.

Questions were answered. Orders were issued. Resources were allocated, all during the meeting.

By the time Ragnar was finally finished, the sky had already turned dark. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Dinner that evening was considerably more pleasant. He shared the meal with Circe and Jayran.

Compared to the endless reports and political maneuvering of the afternoon, the dinner felt almost relaxing.

They spoke about lighter matters. Jayran recounted several events that had occurred in the capital during Ragnar’s absence, some of which were entertaining enough to draw genuine laughter from both Ragnar and Circe.

For a few hours, he was simply a husband and an older brother. Not a general or a ruler. Not a man responsible for countless lives. And he was content.

***

It had been a few weeks since they returned to the capital.

The season had turned completely. Winter had finally released its grip on the land, and spring had settled in fully. The gardens that had stood bare beneath frost now showed new green growth and fresh blooms.

Life within the palace had resumed its familiar rhythm, and Ragnar and Morana had settled into a new version of the arrangement he had originally established between them. Though the terms were looser now.

She no longer had to avoid him and he no longer went rigid the moment she entered a room.

They crossed paths in hallways and stairwells without immediately searching for an excuse to leave. They occasionally occupied the same space without either of them feeling compelled to fill the silence or escape it. Neither of them spoke about the change, but it existed all the same.

Progress. Small and fragile perhaps, but progress nonetheless.