Barbaric Spouse, Descry the Night's Lure-Chapter 152: Scene CLII

The door of bright shade... appeared as dull as any boulder he has seen ever since born.

The silence of the woman as she separated from his grasp... seemingly gentle... felt cold to his heart that lightly cracked in concern, for the instincts of the ignorant man could tell... the woman was sombre while trying to appear relieved with the lifted corners.

’... Laugh with delight... show me that dot with honesty, Fatædi...’ — Feeling dejected by the woman’s weak energy, Aslak now stood from the ground, pensive, glancing at the place she was to be soaking. Concerned for the sensations the discussion summoned within both.

"Cursed be the earth... she even cried...!"

Frustrated by the clear image of her tears, Aslak roughly scratched his head, turning around to find his clothes and dress again so no more displeasure would invade the woman once back.

To distract himself, the Archduke requested for lunch to be prepared and brought to them, taking his time sharpening his weapon’s blades so his concern would be placated with little tasks while waiting for his wife.

And yet...

"Why is she taking so long. It’s just a bath, darn woman." — Annoyed by her delay, Aslak’s scowl deepened as nothing else was there for him to do while waiting. Ultimately making him pace around the chamber, burning again the herbs he had left and inspecting the little decorations he never looked at before. Disgusted by the odd shapes and colours he found useless. — "What even is this? Is it to drink mead?"

Many more objects were lifted and sniffed until the creak of a door he had been watching reached his alert ear, making him glance at the lightly open gate... from which his lovely woman peeked. Meek and quiet.

"Umh... husband..."

"... What is it." — Lowering both his long pipe and a random decoration Aslak bluntly spouted.

"... Could you please hand me a dress?"

Pausing to request for her garments after a cold response came from the stern man, who mindlessly, spoke harsh out of surprise, Ewelina’s hand unfolded, waiting timidly for the clothes he would provide.

"You won’t dress here?"

"... I..."

"Tsk." — Upset by the avoidance of Ewelina’s gaze, the click of his tongue made her flinch. While long strides were given to get the dress he had chosen, stomping his way to her and delivering her demand. — "Here."

Standing wide in front of the door, his glare intimidated the currently unconfident wife, and so, lowering her head, she was to say her appreciation as a hesitant hand took the cloth.

"um..... Thank you–!?"

"Are you alright?" — Clasping her wrist as she was to retrieve the piece, Aslak inquired indifferent to her jolt. Frowning at the ambience. Worried... unsettled by her humble attitude that instilled uncertainty and disorder in their closeness.

Her silence was followed by the meet of their eye. And still guarded by the door between them, she nodded, deciding herself to showcase her usual softness and composed demeanour.

"I am alright... the water is warm and cosy. My body feels better."

"... You took your time."

"... I was able to relax, haha. I might have dozed off a tad."

"Don’t fall asleep there."

"... Haha, I did not... Yet I still need to get dressed..." — Glancing at the wrist he still chained, Ewelina implied her request to let go. And yet the man did not comply... for there was a question he wanted to repeat.

"You won’t dress here?"

"Well..."

"Why."

"... It is cold..."

"..."

"It is warm in here..."

To the innocent peek Ewelina gave to his glare after barely explaining, Aslak’s gaze fell on the curly fur of his woman. Dripping little drops of water from its light copper-brown hair, which looked softer under the light of an intrusive sun.

His hand gently released the wrist unlike he caught her, and keeping quiet as he found the words, their gazes met once more, for him to talk softer this time.

"... Don’t take long... it’s not even as cold as back home."

"Ah... Indeed... yet the breeze feels colder."

"..."

"I will come out quick... I shall request your aid for it is a dress I cannot close on my own."

"Ou. I’ll help."

"... Not to undress, mischievous man."

"Fuh... alright."

Using the opportunity to lighten both’s moods, Ewelina playfully declared an idea he had not conceived. Permitting the malicious smirk of the man to emerge along with a glad whiff before she completely disappeared behind the doors.

And yet...

"..."

"..."

The two continued downcast while on their own. Both concerned... both doubtful... for even if there was brief joy by her tease...

’... I should act accordingly... it is too soon to give up on this love... this life...’

’..... How can I make her laugh... I want her to be bright again...’

... the two saved their worries to themselves to ponder about.

The man paced back to the vault where some of her belongings remained in. Waiting again. Taking once more the pipe that out of bore he had lit.

"Fatædi’s clothes are small... This woman didn’t bring pants... Tsk. I bet my guard peeked at her legs more than once while we came here... Haaa... fuck. I don’t like it."

*Knock*

"... What is it." — To the sole knock on his door only his men would give, Aslak glared. Summoning the response from the Constable outside.

"Your Grace. Yesterday, those from Kleifar ’got something’... I brought it to you."

Going to the door, Aslak opened it to receive a leather pouch.

"... Who."

"Vinka Fahh."

"How fast."

"Too fast."

"Did he die?"

"As I said... Heh. It was too fast. He died while Vinka and Yngve had fun cutting it."

"... Alright."

*Clank*...

"Oh... has our meal arrived?"

"... No." — To the sound of his wife’s pure voice coming out from the bathroom she had concealed herself in, Aslak immediately turned, closing the door in Kir’s face.

"! My lo-... rd. Shit. Effing Myrkzver. Hope he won’t show it to the Ma’am." — Recalling the shrieks of the women when merely glimpsing at the severed tongue, the Sire walked away. Leaving the Archuke on his own... who pacing inside threw the pouch on a close table, disinterested in the content, solely wishing to go back to his woman’s side.

"Was that Sire Kir?"

"Ou... Then. Should I help?" — Unwilling to talk about bothersome matters, Aslak came before Ewelina. Tracing her figure with moved amber while with conservative hands the upper side of a dark green dress was prevented from slipping her shoulders by her slim hands. While her cleavage, different to those garments usually worn during this season at Sortnafeigr enabled the sight of more of her soft skin.