Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 37

As she was swept away in this unfamiliar storm, Eirik was equally overwhelmed.

When he first entered her, his mind was filled with anxiety. Such pleasure shouldn’t exist. For someone who lived so ascetically, the intensity of the sensation was almost disturbing. He felt an unconscious aversion to the overwhelming pleasure.

Her insides were incredibly warm, almost unbelievably so, overpowering his senses. He moved almost instinctively, fearing he might lose control of his body. He held on until she got used to it.

But when her body turned red and she shivered, he lost the thin thread of control he had.

The woman making these sweet sounds was his wife. He could love her as much as he wanted, and it was right to do so. Their physical connection was not vulgar or obscene. It was an expression of affection and care.

When Miesa pulled him closer with desperate hands, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried himself deep inside her and climaxed, feeling relieved that the object of his intense desire was his wife.

At some point, Miesa had lost consciousness. When she opened her eyes, she found her entire body drenched in sweat. Rubbing her eyes, she heard Eirik’s voice.

“Wait a moment.”

She looked around and saw that it was still dark outside. Unlike her disheveled state, Eirik stood beside the bed, his hair still damp from a recent wash. He looked refreshed, wearing a thin robe and shaking out the water from his hair.

“Are you thirsty?”

Without a hint of fatigue, he helped her sit up and handed her a glass of water.

“I took a quick shower. I’ve prepared a bath for you as well, if you’d like to soak for a bit.”

Eirik seemed in high spirits, his tone more intimate than usual. Miesa tried to respond, but her voice caught in her throat. She weakly shook her head, and Eirik turned to prepare something.

“The water was warm earlier, but it’s probably cooled a bit by now.”

He meticulously cleaned her face and body with a damp cloth. By the time he reached her lower body, Miesa had regained some of her senses.

“I, I can do it myself,” she said, summoning the last of her strength to reach out. But Eirik gently pushed her back down, frowning.

“It looks like you might need some ointment here,” he murmured, carefully touching between her legs. Despite her exhaustion, her body responded involuntarily.

“Please, stop. No more,” Miesa protested, flailing her arms. Eirik quickly withdrew his hand, his face turning red.

“I’m sorry.”

Both of them avoided each other’s gaze, embarrassed.

“I’ll just finish cleaning you up.”

Once Miesa was clean, Eirik covered her with a blanket. He tidied up the basin and cloth, then sat down beside her on the bed, leaning against the headboard. His touch was gentle as he brushed back her hair, his fingers soft against her forehead and cheeks. The sensation was both soothing and disconcerting, reminding her of what had just transpired.

“I didn’t know it would be like this,” Miesa muttered, still dazed.

Eirik laughed softly. “I didn’t either.”

Would he have endured so long if he had known? He bent down to plant a light kiss on her lips, but as soon as he tasted her, he realized he wouldn’t have. Unable to resist, he deepened the kiss, entwining his tongue with hers. Miesa turned her head away, but he persistently followed, kissing her again.

Now genuinely frightened of him for a different reason, Miesa tapped Eirik’s chest with her hand. Reluctantly, he left several light kisses before pulling back. A faint, sweet, and unique taste lingered in her mouth where he had kissed her.

“What did you eat? It tastes different.”

“Taste?” he asked, chuckling at the unusual question.

“What does my mouth taste like?”

“Just now, it was sweet.”

“What about usually?”

Realizing how odd her question was, Miesa frowned, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Usually, it’s just normal.”

“Well, to me, your lips and breath are always sweet,” Eirik said, smiling.

“Don’t say weird things. And I’m still waiting for your answer.”

As Miesa glared at him, Eirik cleared his throat and returned to the topic.

“I had a bit of wine. That’s probably why it tasted different.”

“Give me some too.”

“Wine?” He raised an eyebrow at her but reached for the nightstand. “Have you ever had it before?”

“No.”

Hearing this, Eirik turned back and filled a cup mostly with water. The diluted liquid still shimmered golden.

“Here, take just a sip. It might be strong.”

Miesa took the heavy pewter cup and sipped as he advised. The alcohol warmed her throat as it went down.

“It’s hot inside.”

“It would have been too strong otherwise. Now, give it back.”

But Miesa held onto the cup, shaking her head. She stared off into space, silent for a moment, then took another sip before speaking haltingly.

“…There’s something I promised to tell you.”

Eirik noticed her tense expression and tried to reassure her with a gentle smile. “It’s okay if you’re not ready. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“The reason I hate rainy days is because of the goddess.”

As she spoke in a flat tone, she gripped the pewter cup tightly.

“When I was little, I was taught that thunder and lightning were the sounds of the goddess riding down from the sky. To punish those who had done wrong.”

Eirik had heard similar tales. During his days as a squire, southern mercenaries had shared such stories.

“But the day Vermel invaded the Celia Palace, there was thunder and lightning. The terrifying noise outside the window never stopped. Everyone died,” she said, her voice hollow and distant.

Eirik let out a sigh that was almost a lament.

“But I survived. So I thought the goddess was punishing me because I didn’t listen to my mother.”

The stories told by mercenaries to scare children had turned into a profound torment for her.

“Miesa, that…”

“That’s why I firmly believed I had to follow my mother’s last wish. To survive.”

Telling her that her lifelong torment was based on a foolish superstition would be nothing but arrogance and would belittle her struggle. Knowing that, Eirik kept his mouth shut and pulled her delicate shoulders into a comforting embrace.

“My mother told me to survive, whether by hiding under corpses or pretending to be mad. Why would she say that?”

Miesa tried to take another sip, but Eirik stopped her.

“Enough. Drinking too much will harm you.”

However, Miesa held on to the cup tightly. Eirik relented, allowing her to take another sip before she continued, “The first few months were terrifying. I probably wasn’t even in my right mind. That’s probably why Vermel kept me alive.”

She took a deep breath and continued her story with a sigh, “I saw so many things and did so many things. It was okay. My mother told me to survive no matter how filthy things got, and what they pointed at wasn’t the real me.”

Eirik held onto her hand, which was still gripping the cup. This time, she handed it over willingly and leaned her head weakly against his shoulder.

“At some point, I started to think her words were irresponsible and selfish. She only told an eight-year-old with no way to live properly to survive.”

Her voice began to tremble. “Did she want me to clear my maternal family name from the false accusations made by Vermel? Or did she think Vermel would suddenly become sane overnight? Maybe she thought a rebellion would soon rise and bring Vermel down from the throne…”

“Miesa.”

“Would I survive if a rebellion broke out? I don’t think so.”

Her words left Eirik feeling pained and heavy-hearted, but Miesa’s face remained expressionless.

She continued, her voice calm, “My mother was such a kind and gentle person.”

Eirik could only listen silently to her story, knowing that no words could truly comfort her.

Suddenly, Miesa mimicked someone’s voice, seemingly trying to find some joy.

“‘Miesa. I chose your name. I begged His Majesty for days and nights for it.’“

She seemed to be imitating the last queen. Eirik gently caressed her skin and asked softly, “Does it have a special meaning?”

Miesa smiled and turned her head, meeting his eyes. She tapped her lips with her index finger.

“‘Look at the shape of my mouth when I say it. When your name is spoken, it forms a smile.’“

“……”

“‘I named you Miesa hoping everyone would smile when they called your name.’“

She repeated her name several times, almost singing it, before suddenly bursting into loud laughter.

“‘Everyone is treating the princess like a plague.’“

“Miesa.”

“‘Do you think they’ll look you in the eye now? They all avoid eye contact with you, making such pitiful faces as they scurry away. The old ones bow their heads so low out of guilt.’“

Her laughter grew harsher. Eirik, seeing her laugh as if in a fit, hugged her tightly. His eyes were red and teary.

After a while, Miesa glanced up at him and whispered, as if she were looking at something filthy,

“‘Miesa? Oh, that thing has a name?’”

“……”

“‘More like an animal than a human, it seems. What kind of person licks the floor before the enemy who killed their mother?’“