Lisika didn't explain me immediately. She giggled for few moments then almost suppressing her mischievous smile stepped closer, eagerness flickering into her eyes, then with a low tone she spoke--
"Milady…..the hunting ceremony is not just a typical gathering. It is one of the oldest tradition of the North which takes place once a year."
I stayed quiet, listening carefully.
"In this ceremony," she continued, "married couples vow their marriage path to each other. The men usually rides to the mountains in search of deadly animals while their women stay behind."
"Deadly animals?"
Lisika nodded, her eyes gleaming in excitement, "The northern land is filled with beasts—wild boars, snow bears….creatures that survive where most cannot. The men hunt them. The stronger the beast, the greater the honor."
"And that for what?" my fingers curled.
"The blood of that hunted beast on the day is considered auspicious. Men use the beast's blood to wash their women's hair."
"...Blood. What?" I almost chocked.
"Yes," she spoke almost reverently. "It's a blessing. A vow. If he offers the blood of his hunt to her…..their marriage is believed to last beyond their life." She laughed lowly. "Isn't it cute...."
Cute---nah. Not at all. It sounded terrifying.
Something cold slipped down my spine. The thought of having your hair soaked in blood made me nauseous. Even for myself, getting accustomed to eating meat was so difficult. How could this?
"…..Then it has nothing to do with me," I said quietly. "I'm just a concubine—a thrown princess..." I looked down, Atticus figure redrawing in my head.
"That's true….in other religions. In the South, East, and West, men take multiple women. Status is divided." Lisika spoke softly, almost as sharing gossip. "But unlike that, in North people didn't believe in polygamy. That's something disgraceful."
I looked at her for a second or so, I meant what she wanted to say to many extends….but the thought of expecting something out of it is what I couldn't quiet consider. Right now, I was nothing more than a trouble maker in My Love's eyes.
...
"Milady….wake up."
Morning came to quickly. I sat up, the weight of the thoughts from yesterday night, still lingering in my mind. Today was the ceremony. My body felt sore from the training, heavy but obedient.
Lisika was almost jogging in hurry to have the things up.
The sunlight kissed my nose, I stretched my arms and decided to be no more trouble on Lisika. She dressed me differently this time—simple crimson flowy garment—bright, adorned but still speaking grace.
"You look pretty," she whispered combing my hair down freely, long and unbounded—brushing past my waist, not braided as usual. I touched my lips lightly and walked up to the door.
The moment it opened—he was there.
Atticus—
Was he waiting?
For a second, neither of us spoke. His eyes were reading my look in complement—his ears turned red. For a moment I felt that he was blushing, but how is that possible when he himself looked that majestic in such simple clothes.
Atticus looked simpler than usual—something in that look made me complete, almost as if we were complementing each other. Perhaps unlike me he had his hairs tied up—leaving space to have his bare face in center of compliment.
Then he extended his hand.
I looked at it, then placed mine in his.
And we walked out.
...…..
The North was alive in a way I hadn't expected. Voices rose freely, laughter slipping through the cold air without hesitation. No one lowered their heads in fear. No one stepped aside in fear. It felt...different.
After escorting me to the main ground, Atticus mounted his horse. Others followed—men from everywhere, from every rank—not divided, not distant.
They all went together, as if it was a common ceremony.
The women remained, seated, talking, waiting for their lovers to return. Children ran between them, laughter echoing.
I sat on a nearby stone. No one whispered any disgrace towards me. No one questioned me. I was almost a commoner between them...…..it was peaceful.
In the south, everything had been separated—status, power, distant. Here, there was none of that.
"....Are you an Angel?"
I looked down, it was a child of three years—he was smiling adorably towards me. Such Fluffy cheeks...…I wished to snatch.
I blinked. "…..No."
He smiled brightly. The garland was placed on my head anyway, flowers brushing lightly against my hair.
"I know you are lying, mom told that The Lord's lady is an outstanding beauty."
Wooo!! Did that child meant to call me a pretty. NAhh, I feel shy, and a lot. Children don't lie, don't they?
"Then maybe you are," I murmured, lifting the child without thinking. Laughter spilled from him, bright and unfiltered.
"I'm so sorry, my lady!" a woman hurried over. "He ran off and—"
"It's fine," I said gently. "He's just a child."
She froze for a moment, then looked at me differently. "...So kind of you."
Kind—yeah, I was internally but still, the word felt unfamiliar.
More children came after that, one after another. Curious. Unafraid. I didn't stop them. Even the women began to speak to me—carefully at first, then openly. No judgement. No fear.
Just...normal.
For the first time in a long while, something warm settled in my chest.
A happiness sparked inside me. if this was the place where I belonged to—I would proudly stay my whole life.
.....
Then the sound came—distant at first, then rising.
Horses galloping.
"They're back!" someone called.
Everything shifted instantly. Women stood, gathering, holding their excitement. I stood too, my eyes searching for Atticus just like them—
And then I saw him.
Atticus.
At the front of all. Unshaken, untouched.
Behind him, draped across his horse—A beast.
A massive bear, its body heavy and still, like something conquered and broken. It was enormous. Bigger than I had imagined.
For a moment, my breath caught.
Because I understood what came next.
...…..
The air changed the moment they returned.
It was no longer light with laughter. It grew thick—with excitement. The horses slowed as they entered, their breaths visible in the cold. Snow crushed beneath hooves, steady, deliberate. Everyone moved—searching for their partners in glee.
My eyes were fixed on him for a while now—Atticus.
He dismounted without effort, as if the weight of the beast behind him meant nothing. The bear was bragged down soon after, its massive body hitting the ground with a dull, heavy sound that seemed to echo deeper.
Up close, it looked even larger. Its fur was thick, darken with blood. Its claws—long, brutal—still looked capable of tearing through the flesh.
My chest tightened.
I hated blood. Even the sight of it made my stomach twitch, a quiet nausea creeping upward. And yet, I stood unfazed there.
Around me, the ritual had already begun.
Foxes—small, manageable—lay split open in practiced hands. I saw clearly: stomach torn apart, flesh peeled back, blood spilling freely as if it meant nothing. The men poured it over their women's head, and none of them flinched. Not one of them hesitated.
Only me.
I held my smile--Because I understood what was expected. Because I refuse to look weak.
And then—I saw him stepping up towards me. Not the other way round.
What was the need of Atticus to have hunted such a large beast....?
He stopped right in front of me. Close enough that I could smell it—the sharp metallic scent of the blood. Close enough that my breath almost faltered.
I looked at him—up. Meanwhile his head was down, almost giving a feel of devotion without expression, without softness. But his eyes spoke—they seemed to have seen through—
Seen through the forced curved smile of my lips, through the fake conversations I was planning to make.
"I know you don't like blood."
My breath caught.
"You don't have to do it."
For a moment everything stilled. And then—something inside me shank.
Of course.
I lowered my gaze slightly, the smile on my lips turning faint, almost hollow.
'What was I even expecting…..?'
I was just a concubine.
Just a concubine—a jealous villainess, who could move to any extend. I was nothing more than a troble brought forcefully into Atticus life. Having no power, no skills and with all the bad deeds, I laid nowhere.
How could I have thought—even in my dead mind—that I would stand beside him in something like thing? That I would be included…..as if I belong by him.
He probably just called me for watching the ceremony.
A quiet, bitter amusement brushed through me.
'I really made a fool of myself with all those thoughts.'
Before I could build anything to say—
Before I could step back—
He stepped.
In one swift motion. Atticus tore open the bear's neck.
Blood poured out instantly, thick and warm, spiling over his hand, running down his fingers without pause.
My stomach twisted. I swallowed it down.
I couldn't guess anything he meant to do at this point…..