The morning after Circe’s confession, Ragnar found himself alone in his private study. Reports, and sealed correspondence lay spread before him. Normally, such things would have held his complete attention.

Today they did not.

His eyes moved over the reports about the recent actions of Westerian loyalists, but his thoughts remained elsewhere.

He could still picture Circe standing on the balcony beneath the moonlight. He could still hear the strain in her voice as she spoke of her homeland. Most of all, he remembered the look in her eyes when she admitted how much she missed it.

Ragnar leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Enter," he called immediately, already knowing who stood on the other side of the door. After all, he was the one who had summoned him.

The door opened a second later.

One of his most trusted generals stepped inside and bowed.

"You sent for me, Your Majesty."

Ragnar gestured toward the chair opposite his desk. "Sit."

The man obeyed.

Ragnar didn’t waste time with pleasantries, he got directly to the point.

"I want the latest information regarding Westeria."

The general’s expression turned serious. "The withdrawal of our troops from the region continues as ordered."

"How much progress has been made?"

"Not enough, your majesty."

The general could sense Ragnar’s displeasure at his response but he continued regardless. He wasn’t like some of the king’s attendants that buckled at merely glancing at Ragnar’s scowl. If he was, he wouldn’t be a general.

"The first contingents have already departed, and several garrisons are in the process of relocating. However, thousands of our soldiers remain stationed throughout the territory. Supplies are still being transferred, command structures are being dismantled, and local authorities are only beginning to reestablish control."

Ragnar folded his arms. "And the population?"

"Still very hostile. They have attacked our soldiers multiple times to be considered anything else."

Ragnar had expected as much. If the rest of the Westerian people shared their princess’s viciousness then he knew there was still much to be done before he could consider granting her heart’s desire.

"The withdrawal announcement has improved matters somewhat," the general added. "Most Westerians understand that our occupation is ending. However, resentment does not disappear overnight. Many lost family members during the war. Some are celebrating our departure. Others are waiting to see if we truly follow through."

"And if I were to travel there?" Ragnar asked.

The general’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Personally, Your Majesty?"

"With my family."

"It would be unwise." The general looked at Ragnar as though he had lost his mind. Truthfully, Ragnar wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t.

"Explain."

The general obliged him. "The withdrawal order was signed recently. Emotions are still running high. While most people would never dare act against you openly, it only takes one angry man with a blade to create a tragedy. If word spread that the King of Lamora had entered Westeria with his wife and infant son, it would draw attention everywhere you go. I would strongly advise against it."

Ragnar nodded, dismissing him. "Thank you."

The general rose from his chair and bowed low. "Your Majesty."

Ragnar remained seated long after the door shut. For several minutes he simply stared at the reports in front of him, too distracted to comprehend the words written on them.

Then he stood and walked across the room. Turned and walked back. He repeated the process, mind racing.

Duty and desire rarely moved in the same direction.

As king, the answer was obvious to him. Westeria remained unstable, traveling there would be reckless. No responsible ruler would risk his queen and infant heir merely to satisfy an emotional longing.

The decision should have been simple.

Yet every time he remembered Circe’s tears, certainty slipped away.

By evening, Ragnar still had not reached a decision he was satisfied with. Regardless, Circe deserved the truth.

He found her in their chambers, curled beneath the covers.

At the sound of the door opening, she lifted her head and looked toward him. Ragnar crossed the room without a word and climbed into bed beside her.

She smiled at first. Then Circe seemed to notice the troubled look on his face.

"What is it?"

"I spent the day discussing Westeria with some of my top officials. The situation is not safe enough for travel.There is too much uncertainties to consider. I cannot justify taking you there while the risk remains this high."

"I understand," she said calmly, and she truly did. When she had confessed what she was going through, she had never expected him to immediately start searching for a solution. At the time, she had simply been overwhelmed and in need of the kind of comfort she found only in her husband’s embrace.

"I am sorry. I wish there was more I could do." He said. "I would take you to visit Westeria this very instant if I could."

But she was already shaking her head. "You don’t need to apologize. You’re right. If it is dangerous, then we shouldn’t go." She would never risk the two most important people in her life for her own desires.

Ragnar took her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm.

Over the following days, Ragnar paid closer attention to her than ever.

The melancholy Circe had hidden that evening never truly faded. If anything, it seemed to deepen.

It troubled him more with each passing day.

Four days later, Ragnar reached a decision.

He found Circe in her wing of the palace.

Several of her ladies were gathered around her, and from the seriousness of their expressions, they were in the middle of discussing matters that required her immediate attention.

Ragnar stopped near the doorway.

One of the women noticed him and started to rise, but Ragnar gave a small shake of his head.

The woman settled back into her seat.

So Ragnar remained where he was, standing quietly in a corner, not wanting to interrupt.

Eventually, the discussion came to an end.

Circe offered a few final words before dismissing her ladies.

The women bowed and began filing out of the room.

Only then did Ragnar step away from the wall.

Circe looked up and blinked in surprise. "How long have you been standing there?"

She had barely noticed him before now.

"A while." He answered.

She raised a brow. "And you didn’t think to make your presence known?" The corners of her mouth twitched. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes." He said as he lowered himself into the chair opposite hers. "I’ve made a decision. I still believe traveling to Westeria now would be irresponsible. But four months from now will be a different matter. By then most of our forces will have withdrawn. The transition of authority should be largely complete. The people will have had time to see that the withdrawal is genuine and permanent."

Circe blinked, lips parting in surprise. She was struck speechless and all she could do was stare.

Ragnar allowed himself the smallest smile as he watched understanding slowly dawned on her.

"You mean..."

"I mean that four months from now, I will arrange for us to travel to Westeria. It will be brief. No more than a week. We will travel with a substantial escort and take every possible precaution. The route will be carefully planned, security will be extensive, and we will leave immediately if conditions appear unsafe."

Her breath hitched as tears welled in her eyes. These were nothing like the tears she had shed on the balcony. Those had been born of helplessness and despair.

These were different. These were tears of relief.

"Ragnar..." One moment she was sitting in her chair and in the next, she was throwing herself into his arms.

"You will have to be patient, alright? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it happen sooner." He murmured. "I can’t promise perfection, but I will do everything I can to give you something as close to it as possible."

She intertwined her fingers with his.

He loved how she never hid her joy and excitement from him. And that look in her eyes— like he hung the stars just for her. He would do anything to have her look at him like that for the rest of his life.

"You would do that for me?"

A quiet laugh escaped him. It amused him that even now, she still didn’t know how far he would go just for her.

"Circe, I would move mountains for you if I thought it would please you."

The tears finally spilled over. This time accompanied by a genuine smile.

The first truly genuine one he had seen in days.

The journey ahead would not be an easy one. There would be preparations to manage, negotiations to navigate, and countless security concerns to address. For now, though, none of that seemed important. The light had returned to Circe’s eyes, and that was all that mattered.