Chapter 895: What She Deserves

At first, Cassius kept it pure. He’d focused on the warmth of the hug and the quiet joy of giving this lonely woman something she’d always wanted.

It was sweet and everything a first hug should be.

And then he’d made the mistake of looking up.

He couldn’t see her face. He couldn’t see the ceiling. He couldn’t see anything except—

Breasts!

Ragnora’s breasts. Hanging directly above his head like two crimson moons.

No—not moons. Moons were far too small. These were planets! Worlds! Entire celestial bodies suspended in the air above him, barely contained by the armored bra she wore!

He’d noticed them before, of course. He wasn’t blind. He’d made several mental notes throughout the evening about just how...substantial the Commander’s assets were.

But seeing them from a distance was one thing. Having them loom directly over him like twin promises of paradise was something else entirely.

Isabelle had magnificent breasts. Truly. He could spend hours appreciating them—had spent hours appreciating them, in fact, and would happily spend many more.

But Isabelle was human-sized. Her breasts, while generous, were proportional.

Ragnora on the other hand was three and a half meters of titan-blooded ogre warrior.

Her breasts were the size of his entire torso!

Each one was bigger than his entire chest!

His mind spiraled.

’I wonder what they feel like?’ A treacherous part of his brain whispered. ’Isabelle’s are soft. Pillowy. You sink into them like clouds.’

’But Ragnora’s...they’d be different. Firmer. More elastic. You could probably bounce a coin off them. Or bounce yourself off them. You could probably—

He imagined, with horrifying clarity, being picked up like a small dog and pressed directly between those crimson mountains. Sandwiched. Engulfed. Lost entirely in a sea of warm, muscular—

’Stop it.’ He commanded himself. ’Stop it right now. You are supposed to be providing a wholesome, supportive service. You are not supposed to be wondering what her nipples look like.’

’...They’re probably huge too, aren’t they?’

’I said STOP!’

’You’d need your entire mouth just to—’

’STOP!’

He wrenched his gaze away from the heavenly vision above him and stared fixedly at a point on the far wall.

’She has a eight-pack.’ His brain helpfully supplied. ’An actual eight-pack. You can count them. One, two, three—’

’I will set myself on fire!’

Somehow, through sheer force of will, Cassius managed to extract himself from the hug before his body could betray him in ways that would be deeply inappropriate.

He stepped back, smoothing down his shirt and praying to every god he could name that his face wasn’t as flushed as it felt.

"So!" He said, his voice slightly higher than usual. "How was that? Satisfactory? Everything you hoped for?"

Ragnora didn’t answer.

Cassius looked up.

And his heart dropped.

"Commander? Ragnora? What’s wrong?"

She was crying.

Not dramatically, there were no heaving sobs or wracking shoulders. But tears were streaming silently down her crimson cheeks, and her golden eyes glistened in the firelight.

She was pressing one massive hand against her mouth, trying desperately to hold herself together.

"Oh no." Cassius rushed toward her. "Did I do something wrong!? Was it too much?! Did I—should I not have—I knew I should have kept it professional, I’m so sorry, Commander, I—"

"No." She choked out. "No, no, no."

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing tears across her scarred knuckles.

"It’s not—you didn’t—" She let out a wet, trembling laugh. "I’m not sad, Cassius. I’m happy."

Cassius stopped. "You’re...happy?"

"Happy." She repeated, as though testing the word. "I...I’ve dreamed about moments like this. For years. Decades. I’ve read about them in books. I’ve watched other people experience them. I’ve imagined what it might feel like to be held by someone who wasn’t trying to use me or challenge me or prove something."

She pressed her palm against her chest. "And now I know. Now I actually know. And it’s..." Her voice cracked. "It’s so much better than I ever imagined!"

She looked at him, and despite the tears, her smile was radiant.

"Thank you. Thank you for this. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for—for everything."

Cassius felt his own throat tighten. He reached up and, very gently, wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. ℯℯ𝑙.

"You don’t have to thank me." He said quietly. "This is what you deserve. This is what you’ve always deserved."

Ragnora’s breath caught.

And then, she reached up and covered his hand with her own. Pressing his palm against her scarred cheek and holding it there like something precious.

They stayed like that for a moment.

Then Cassius cleared his throat and pulled back, his usual grin sliding back into place.

"Now then. We have many more services to get through, Commander. And the night is still young."

Ragnora snapped back. Then, despite herself, she let out a laugh that filled the entire house.

"Well." She said, grabbing the list with renewed enthusiasm. "What are we waiting for? Let’s do it all!"

—

Ragnora and Cassius spent the rest of the night doing the most wholesome activities that any couple could dream of sharing.

It began with Cassius patting her hair.

"Sit." He announced, gesturing toward the oversized armchair near the fireplace. "I can’t properly do this while you’re standing. You’re simply too tall."

Ragnora obeyed, settling into the chair with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

Even seated, she was nearly eye-level with Cassius standing. He regarded her for a moment, then let out a small, helpless laugh.

"Commander, I’m going to need you to...lower yourself somewhat. Even on my toes, I can barely reach your shoulders."

Understanding dawned on Ragnora’s face as she slid forward off the chair and onto the thick fur rug before the fireplace, crouching down until her head was roughly level with Cassius’s chest.

"Like this?" She asked, her voice muffled slightly.

"Perfect."

Cassius stepped behind her and gently gathered her hair in his hands. It was wild and thick—not silky or smooth like Isabee’s golden locks, but coarse and abundant, falling in great black waves around her shoulders.

When he ran his fingers through it, he encountered small tangles and knots, evidence of a woman who spent her days fighting monsters rather than tending to her appearance.

"It’s a mess." Ragnora said apologetically. "I don’t...I don’t usually have time to—"

"Your hair is beautiful." Cassius murmured, his voice soft. "It’s so thick and wild like a lion’s mane."

He began to work through the tangles with patient, gentle fingers, starting at the ends and gradually moving upward.

Ragnora, who had been stiff as a board when he began, slowly started to melt.

Her shoulders dropped. Her massive hands, which had been clenched into fists on her knees, gradually relaxed.

And then, so softly that Cassius almost missed it, she made a sound. A small, involuntary whimper of pure contentment.

He paused. "Are you alright?"

"Don’t stop." She said quickly, her voice slightly slurred with relaxation. "Please. Don’t stop."

He didn’t.

He continued running his fingers through her hair, gently scratching her scalp in small circles, working out the tension she’d been carrying for gods knew how long.

—

After a while, his attention drifted from her hair to the great curved horns rising from either side of her head.

They were magnificent things, dark as obsidian, ridged with natural grooves that caught the firelight.

But they were also slightly dull, lacking the polished sheen that would have made them truly gleam.

"Your horns." He said. "May I?"

Ragnora’s breath caught. "You want to...polish my horns?"

"If you’ll allow it."

She was silent for a long moment. Horn-polishing was intimate among ogres, not necessarily romantic, but deeply personal.

It was something done between family members, between very close friends, between people who shared an unshakeable bond of trust.

"Yes." She whispered. "Please."

Cassius retrieved a clean handkerchief from his pocket and set to work. He started at the base of each horn, wiping away the accumulated grime of countless battles, then moved upward with slow, circular strokes.

The horns began to gleam under his ministrations, their natural dark luster emerging like a secret being revealed.

Ragnora closed her eyes. She could feel every stroke of the cloth against her horns, a sensation that was somehow both foreign and deeply familiar, like remembering a language she’d spoken in childhood but long since forgotten.

When Cassius finally finished and stepped back to admire his work, Ragnora’s horns gleamed like polished ebony in the firelight.

They were beautiful and the look of quiet awe on Ragnora’s face when she reached up to touch them made Cassius’s heart clench.

"I haven’t seen them shine like this since..." She swallowed. "Since a very long time ago."

"Then I’m glad I could restore them."

Next came the compliments...and this, of all the activities they’d done so far, was the one that truly undid her.

Cassius sat across from her on the rug, their knees almost touching, and began to speak.

"Your arms." He said, his voice soft but filled with genuine admiration. "Do you have any idea how magnificent they are!? I’ve seen you tear apart S-class monsters with those arms. I’ve watched you swing a sword that most men couldn’t even lift!"

"The strength in them—the power—it’s breathtaking! But it’s not just the strength. It’s the shape of them!The way the muscle curves and flows! The way they catch the light when you move!"

Ragnora’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Your stomach." Cassius continued, undeterred. "That eight-pack—yes, I counted—that you’re always hiding beneath your armor. Do you know how many warriors would kill for a physique like yours!? How many spend their entire lives training and never come close!?"

"And yet on you, it looks effortless. Natural. Like you were born to be exactly this!"

"Cassius, I—"

"Your height. You think it makes you intimidating. And it does—magnificently so. But it also makes you impossible to ignore. When you walk into a room, every eye turns to you. Not because people are afraid—though some certainly are—but because you command attention simply by existing."

"You fill a space in a way no one else can. You make the world feel smaller, and I mean that as the highest possible compliment."

"You’re exaggerating—"

"Your face!" He leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes intense. "Those scars you’re so self-conscious about? They tell a story. Every single one of them is proof that you survived something that tried to kill you. They’re not flaws—they’re medals. They’re evidence of your courage."

"And your eyes—gods, your eyes. Gold like molten metal. Like the sun rising over a battlefield. I could look at them for hours and never get bored."

Ragnora felt her face burning. She wanted to argue, to deny, to brush off every compliment as flattery or exaggeration or simple kindness.

But Cassius didn’t give her a single opening. Every time she opened her mouth to protest, he was already moving on to the next thing, his words flowing like a river that couldn’t be dammed.

"Your skin. That crimson color you think is so strange—it’s the most beautiful shade I’ve ever seen. It glows in firelight like embers. It makes you look alive in a way that ordinary skin tones never could. You’re not just a woman, Commander. You’re a force of nature wrapped in crimson silk."

"Your presence. The way you carry yourself. The confidence, the authority, the quiet strength. You don’t need to shout to be heard. You don’t need to threaten to be feared. You simply are, and that’s enough. That’s more than enough."

He paused, catching his breath, and realized that Ragnora was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read, something between disbelief and wonder and a fragile, trembling hope.

"Why are you saying all this?" She whispered.

"Because it’s true. All of it. And because you’ve gone your entire life without hearing it from anyone who wasn’t your sister."

He met her eyes. "Someone should have told you these things decades ago, Commander. I’m simply correcting an oversight."

Ragnora looked away, blinking rapidly. "You’re going to make me cry again."

"That’s alright. I have more handkerchiefs."

She let out a wet laugh. "Of course you do. You’re a merchant!"