Under The Oak Tree Manga Page

The word "broken" hit him like a mace to the chest. He rose to his feet in a single, fluid motion, crossing the room before he could stop himself. He knelt before her chair, so close he could count the freckles on her nose.

He turned and walked into the library.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. The day had been brutal. A patrol had been ambushed by monstrous orcs from the Dragon’s Grave Pass. Three men dead. He had spent the afternoon burying them, his hands blistered from the shovel. All he wanted was to collapse. But more than that, he wanted to touch her. Just a brush of his fingers against her cheek. Just to feel her warmth. Under The Oak Tree Manga

The great oak stood sentinel on the hill, its gnarled roots gripping the earth like the fingers of a sleeping giant. For Riftan Calypse, that tree was more than a landmark; it was the anchor of his world. Beneath its sprawling canopy, he had first seen her—a flash of silver hair and wide, terrified eyes. Maximilian, the stuttering, fragile daughter of the Duke of Croix, had been a vision of impossible beauty and crippling vulnerability. He, a lowly knight-for-hire with more scars than coin, had been a beast drawn to a wounded dove.

"Not what I wanted?" His voice cracked. "Maximilian, I have wanted you since the moment I saw you picking wildflowers beneath that oak tree. You were fifteen. I was a nameless squire covered in mud. You dropped your basket, and when you bent to pick it up, you looked at me. Just for a second. And I thought, 'If I ever become a knight, I will marry no one but her.'" The word "broken" hit him like a mace to the chest

"Because I am afraid," he confessed, the words tearing out of him like a dragon's roar. "I am afraid that if I touch you, you will shatter. I am afraid that the desire I feel will terrify you. I am a brute, Maxi. I have killed more things than I can count. And you… you are sunlight. I would rather freeze on the floor for a thousand nights than be the reason for a single one of your tears."

She stared at him, her large, doe-like eyes wide. Then, slowly, tremblingly, she raised a hand. Her fingers hovered over his scarred cheek. "Y-you are n-not a brute," she breathed. "You are… you are my h-husband." He turned and walked into the library

And outside, the wind rustled the oak's branches, as if the old tree itself was sighing in relief.

He pulled back to look at her. Her silver hair was fanned out on the pillow, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with a mixture of fear and fierce determination. She was not the trembling girl from their wedding night. She was his wife. His partner. His equal.