Chapter 78
“Shut up and just plant your seed. We have to keep going until I’m pregnant. Can you handle that?”
Even after hearing such words, he was still aroused.
Arms crossed and leaning against the wall, he slowly moved his legs and approached her. Without holding back, he grabbed her fiery red hair.
“Ugh…”
Dragged by his immense strength, Deswan let out a faint groan as she was thrown onto the bed.
“You should be the one worrying about whether you can endure until you’re pregnant.”
“Ugh, let go of me…! Do you want to die?”
“You talk too much for a disgraced princess. Remember, it’s you who needs to get on my good side if you want me to plant my seed in your belly and ensure you keep that precious life of yours.”
When the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Lutèce emerged from the annex after spending their wedding night, nearly three months had passed, and the Duchess was pregnant.
Even though it was a means to avoid punishment, the Emperor’s belief that the princess would abandon her ambitions and devote herself to her child once she became a mother was thoroughly mistaken.
Under the indifferent care of his parents, Iscarion was left in the hands of the servants, receiving no affection from anyone. Furthermore, no more children were born to the couple, so Deswan never came to understand the Emperor’s perspective.
***
After giving birth, Deswan used the lapse in surveillance to plot rebellion again. Despite her meticulous plans, her efforts were repeatedly thwarted. It turned out that her adversary was unexpectedly close.
The one who had been sabotaging her plans was her husband, Ivar.
When her last and most elaborate plot was foiled, she erupted in fury.
“Ivar! What on earth are you doing? Why do you keep hindering me?”
“Stop these foolish actions, Swan.”
“Hah, what’s this? Are you trying to act like a loving husband now?”
“Yes. I’ve come to love you. So now… I want to be happy with you in the family we’ve made.”
“…Don’t talk nonsense, Ivar.”
Deswan had desired only one thing all her life. Ultimately, not having achieved her goal, she succumbed to an internal illness and passed away before any help could be administered.
“Deswan, oh, Deswan…!”
When Ivar arrived too late, he wept bitterly, banging his head on the floor. He clung to her coffin, refusing to allow it to be nailed shut, crying for three days and nights, but the dead would never return.
***
“Isca, I didn’t love your mother at first.”
“…”
On the day he finally managed to hold a funeral, at the urging of vassals who insisted they could delay no longer, Ivar returned home.
Once all the guests had left, he sat alone, drinking, and confided in his young son. Iscarion, saying nothing, quietly watched him.
Looking at his son, who had inherited both his and Deswan’s features, Ivar sought solace in the shadows of his beloved wife’s face in the boy.
Seeing those eyes, so like hers, brought him a grain of comfort. He missed her so intensely that he longed to lick those eyes.
“When did I start… loving her?”
Love had struck suddenly, like lightning, without any warning. Even after they had shared flesh and produced a child, they had been colder than strangers. But over time, thoughts of her began to fill his mind. However, when he finally realized his love, it was already too late. The emotional chasm between them had grown irreparably wide.
Regretting his neglect, Ivar hoped she would avoid further dangerous endeavors. His intention was for her to relinquish her obsession with the throne and focus on their family, but it had the opposite effect.
“I’m truly sorry, Isca.”
Unable to forget his deceased wife, the only way he could express his love was to follow her in death.
“Where was I? Ah, yes. The list of things the head of the family must check annually is in the far-right drawer. The quarterly budget ledger and military supply records are tied in bundles of three years each in a box…”
Perhaps it was the joy of soon reuniting with his beloved that made him look so elated. Even while telling his ten-year-old son of his decision to die and explaining the duties of the head of the family, his face was filled with a strange sense of joy. He was found hanging in the room where his wife had died, his eyes bloodshot from the suffocation, yet still wearing a smile.
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