Chapter 907: Battlefield Of Scars

She opened her mouth to answer, but he didn’t give her the chance.

"Every single one of those scars is a mark of your courage. Your sacrifice. Your goodness."

He moved closer, sliding across the sofa until he was right beside her again.

"You took blades to the back so children could escape..."

"You caught arrows meant for your soldiers..."

"You held up collapsing mines so miners could get out alive..."

"You let yourself be burned so others wouldn’t have to feel the flames..."

He reached out and took her massive hand in both of his, cradling it gently.

"Those aren’t ugly marks, Ragnora. They’re badges of honor. Medals of valor. Every single scar on your body is proof that you were willing to suffer so that someone else wouldn’t have to. There is nothing—nothing—disgraceful about that."

Ragnora felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

"But they’re—"

"Beautiful." Cassius interrupted firmly. "They’re beautiful. Every part of you including the parts you’ve been hiding."

"Cassius..."

"Show me."

The words hit her like a physical blow. "What?"

"Show me your back." His voice was gentle but resolute. "I want to see them. All of them. I want to see the history written on your skin."

"No." She shook her head frantically. "You don’t understand. You won’t like what you see. You won’t—"

"Ragnora." He squeezed her hand, his blue eyes holding her golden ones with unwavering intensity. "Let me see."

The request was simple. But the weight behind it was immense.

And Ragnora, who had spent her entire life hiding this part of herself from the world, found that she couldn’t refuse him.

With trembling hands, she reached up and unclasped her fur cloak. The heavy garment slid from her shoulders and pooled on the floor behind her, leaving her upper body covered only by the armored breastplate she wore beneath.

"This too." Cassius said softly, tapping the metal plate. "I want to see your back in its entirety. Nothing obstructing it."

Ragnora’s blush deepened impossibly. But she obeyed. Her fingers found the clasps of her breastplate which were heavy, sturdy things, designed to stay in place through the chaos of battle and unfastened them one by one.

The armor came away with a soft metallic clink, and she set it aside, leaving her chest bare.

’Woah...’

Her breasts didn’t bounce or jiggle like Isabelle’s might have. They were too firm for that—dense with muscle, shaped by a lifetime of combat.

They simply settled into their natural position as the confining armor was removed, and Cassius’s breath caught in his throat.

’Massive...’ He thought. ’Absolutely massive! The biggest I’ve ever seen! And that beautiful crimson color—like the rest of her, but somehow deeper here, richer. Her nipples are also a dark purple, almost violet, and they’re thick enough that I’d have to use my whole mouth to properly—’

He tore his gaze away with enormous effort and reminded himself that this moment wasn’t about his desires. It was about hers.

"Turn around." He said softly. "Show me your back."

Ragnora turned and Cassius saw her back that was basically a battlefield.

It was impossibly broad, a vast canvas of muscle and sinew that spoke of decades of brutal training. The muscles flowed across her shoulder blades and down her spine like rivers of sculpted stone, each one defined and powerful.

There was a certain softness to them too, a feminine curve that belied their strength—especially at her waist, which tapered inward with an almost delicate grace, as though her body was a living paradox of power and vulnerability.

But all of that was overshadowed by the scars.

They were everywhere.

Slashing sword wounds that had healed into raised, darker lines. Puncture marks from arrows and spears, clustered in groups where she’d taken volleys meant for others.

Burn scars, some from fire, some from acid, some from things that Cassius couldn’t identify spread in mottled patches across her shoulder blades.

A long tear down her left side where something with claws had tried to rip her open. A whitish discoloration near her spine where poison had once coursed through her veins.

Her back was a map of every battle she’d ever fought. A record of every person she’d ever saved.

And Cassius thought it was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen.

"Ragnora..." He breathed.

She tensed, waiting for the disgust. Waiting for him to confirm everything she’d always feared about herself.

Instead, she felt something wet and warm press against the deepest scar on her shoulder blade.

She yelped. "Cassius! What are you—"

He was licking her!

His tongue traced the length of the scar that had been there for twenty years, the one she’d been so terrified of him feeling.

He started at one end and slowly worked his way to the other, his tongue mapping every groove and ridge of the old wound.

"Cassius, stop! Don’t do that! It’s—"

"You have no idea." He murmured against her skin. "How much this turns me on."

Ragnora went absolutely still. "What?"

He pulled back just enough to speak clearly.

"Knowing that every single one of these scars came from you protecting someone else. Knowing that this one—"

He pressed a kiss to the sword wound on her shoulder.

"—was probably from you taking a blow meant for a soldier. Knowing that this one—"

He kissed a cluster of arrow scars.

"—was from you shielding civilians with your own body. Knowing that this one—"

He kissed the burn mark on her opposite shoulder.

"—was from you facing down a monster so your troops could escape. I just can’t."

He looked up at her, his blue eyes blazing.

"You see, Ragnora, I have a weakness. A very specific weakness. And that weakness is powerful women who use their strength to protect others. Women who bear the scars of their sacrifices with pride. Women who have been through hell and come out the other side stronger."

"Basically...women like you."

"You...you like..."

"I love it." He pressed another kiss to another scar. "Every single mark on this back represents a life you saved. A battle you won. A sacrifice you made. How could I possibly find that disgusting? How could I possibly find that ugly?"

He shook his head.

"It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!"

Ragnora felt tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t know when she’d started crying. She couldn’t seem to stop.

"Give me your hand." Cassius said.

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

Hesitantly, she extended her massive hand toward him. Cassius took it and before she could react pressed it firmly against the front of his trousers.

"Do you feel that?" He asked, his voice slightly strained.

Ragnora’s eyes went wide. Beneath her palm, straining against the fabric of his pants, was his erection!

It was impossibly hard and even through the cloth, she could tell that it was substantial.

"This is what you do to me." Cassius said hoarsely. "This is how repulsed I am by your ’ugly’ back."

He let out a shaky laugh as he continued,

"I’m rock hard, Ragnora. Because of you. Because of everything you are and everything you’ve done and everything these scars represent."

"For...for me?"

"Who else would it be for? The furniture?" He gestured around the empty room. "There’s no one else here. It’s definitely you. So please—"

He leaned forward and pressed another kiss to her spine.

"Let me have this moment. Let me show you how beautiful I think you are."

And then he resumed his work.

His lips pressed across her back with devotion, visiting every scar, every mark, every blemish that she’d spent years trying to hide.

His tongue traced the puckered edges of old sword wounds.

His breath whispered warm over the discolored patches where fire and poison had done their work.

He treated each one like a sacred relic, something to be honored rather than shunned.

"Tell me about this one." He murmured, his lips brushing against a particularly deep scar that ran diagonally across her left shoulder blade.

Ragnora’s voice came out shaky, thick with emotion.

"That was...that was from a Valorpathor in the northern territories. It had one of my soldiers pinned—a young woman, barely out of training—and it was about to tear her throat out. I...I threw myself between them. The beast’s claw caught me across the back instead."

"How old were you?"

"Nineteen. I’d only been commanding for a few months."

"And you were already throwing yourself between monsters and your soldiers." He pressed a kiss to the scar. "Incredible."

He moved to another mark, a pale circle near her spine.

"And this one?"

"A spear." She admitted. "During the Thornwall siege. One of the enemy commanders had a ranged unit targeting our medics. I couldn’t reach them in time to stop the attack, so I...I made myself the target instead. Drew their fire. Took a spear to the back for my trouble."

Cassius kissed that scar too. "Of course you did." He murmured. "Of course you did."

His lips found the cluster of burn marks on her lower back, the ones that had always made her wince when she caught them in the mirror.

"And these?" He showered them with kisses, his tongue tracing the edges of each one.

"A collapse." She whispered. "In the eastern mines. About fifteen years ago. There were miners trapped inside—twelve of them. The roof was coming down, and I..."

She swallowed. "I held it up with my bare back. Long enough for all of them to get out. The supports were on fire by then. I didn’t notice until afterward."

"You held up a collapsing mine with your back while it was on fire." Cassius’s voice was thick with something that sounded almost like awe.

"I couldn’t let them die."

"No. Of course you couldn’t." He pressed his lips to the largest burn mark. "That’s not who you are."

He continued his pilgrimage, moving from scar to scar with the devotion of a worshipper at an altar.

Each mark earned its own attention, its own reverence. And with every kiss, Ragnora felt something inside her begin to heal.

Not the scars themselves. Those would never fade.

But the shame she’d carried about them. The disgust. The fear.

’He doesn’t think they’re ugly.’ She realized. ’He genuinely doesn’t. He thinks they’re...beautiful. Honorable. A testament to everything I’ve done.’

’More then that. He’s...turned on.’

The thought was so absurd, so impossible, that she almost laughed.

And yet it was true. She could feel it in the way he touched her. The way his hands gripped her waist.

The way his arousal pressed against her hip, hard and undeniable.

He wanted her. Not despite the scars.

Because of them.

"Cassius." She breathed, her voice shaking. "I...I don’t know what to say."

"Then don’t say anything..."

His lips found a particularly deep scar from a wound that had nearly killed her when she’d taken a greatsword to the back while shielding a group of children from raiders.

"Just let me do this. Let me show you what I see when I look at you."

And he kissed that scar, too. His tongue traced the entire length of it, from top to bottom, slow and reverent and impossibly tender.

And Ragnora closed her eyes and let herself be worshipped by this impossible man who had somehow, in the span of two nights, undone decades of carefully constructed walls.