Dragon King's Harem Chapter 413. When is War Ever Fair?

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 413. When is War Ever Fair?

I groaned, throwing an arm over my eyes again. “Fine, I admit it. I struggle with her. Just a little.”

Marissa didn’t say anything right away, but I could feel her gaze on me—sharp, questioning, like she was trying to dissect every word I just said. Her fingers paused briefly in their work on my shoulders, then resumed, lighter this time.

“It’s not because I want to be soft or anything,” I continued, my voice quieter now. “I just want her to be more…” I trailed off, frowning. The words weren’t coming as easily as I thought they would.

“Obedient?” Marissa offered, her tone as casual as if she’d just asked if I wanted tea.

“No,” I said immediately, shaking my head under her lap. “Not obedient. I know she’s not the type to bow down and follow orders, and honestly, I wouldn’t want that from her.”

“Then what?” she asked, leaning back slightly. “What is it you want from her? For her to enjoy being here? Because if that’s the case, you’ve got a hell of a challenge ahead of you.”

I cracked one eye open, catching the faint smirk tugging at her lips. “What makes you say that?”

Marissa shrugged. “I’ve been paying attention. She didn’t want to go to war in the first place. She went because her father asked her to—or, more accurately, ordered her to. She didn’t have a choice, not really.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, even though I already knew it was true. I let out a long exhale, trying to sort through the mess of thoughts swirling in my head. “Yes,” I muttered finally. “Something like that.”

Marissa’s hands slowed, resting lightly on my shoulders. “You think it wasn’t fair to her, don’t you?”

I huffed a short, humorless laugh. “Of course, it wasn’t fair. But when is war ever fair, Marissa? To anyone?”

She didn’t respond immediately, and I could feel her silence pressing down on me. It wasn’t judgmental—Marissa rarely judged—it was more like she was waiting for me to figure out what I wanted to say next.

“She had her reasons for going to war,” I said eventually, my voice quieter now. “And I had mine. She has her reasons for demanding freedom, and I… I have my reasons for making her stay here. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The same thing I hated being forced to do once… now I’m forcing her to stay.”

Marissa let out a soft sigh, her fingers resuming their gentle rhythm on my shoulders. “Ironic? Maybe. But it’s not the same, Argod. You’re not her father. You’re not forcing her to stay just for power or pride.”

“Maybe not,” I admitted. “But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s here against her will.”

“You’re trying to give her something she didn’t have before,” Marissa said simply. “A chance to heal. To figure out what she wants, outside of what someone else tells her she should want.”

“And if she doesn’t want that?” I asked, turning my head slightly to look up at her.

Marissa’s expression softened, and for a moment, she didn’t look like the cool, untouchable nymph I’d always known. She looked… understanding. “Then maybe you have to let her choose,” she said quietly. “But not until she knows she has the choice.”

I closed my eyes again, letting her words sink in. Letting her go. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I couldn’t ignore the truth in what Marissa was saying. Glasha had spent her entire life being used, being told what to do and who to be. Maybe the only way to truly help her was to give her the freedom to choose.

“Why are you so damn wise?” I muttered, a faint grin tugging at the corners of my mouth despite the heaviness in my chest.

Marissa chuckled softly, the sound light and melodic. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, being stuck in this palace with you.”

“Lucky me,” I said dryly.

“Lucky you,” she echoed, her tone teasing now. “Seriously though, Argod, you’re doing your best. That’s more than most kings can say.”

I let out a long breath, some of the tension in my shoulders easing under her touch. “Thanks, Marissa. For… everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said lightly, though her hands lingered a moment longer before she pulled away. “Just… try not to overthink it too much, okay? You’ve got enough on your plate without adding an existential crisis to the mix.”

I laughed softly, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. “I’ll try.”

Marissa smirked, crossing her arms. The playful look in her eyes hadn’t faded, and for a moment, I thought she was going to make another sarcastic comment and leave me to finally get some rest. But instead, she leaned closer.

“You’re always so tense, Argod,” she said, her voice dipping slightly. “Even after a massage, you’re still carrying the weight of everything on those shoulders of yours.”

I arched an eyebrow at her, trying to gauge where this was going. “Didn’t you just tell me to rest? Pretty sure that means you’re supposed to let me be.”

Her smirk widened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against my arm again, lingering this time. “Oh, I’m letting you rest. This is… part of the process.”

“Part of the process?” I echoed, my tone skeptical but amused. “I didn’t realize your massages came with bonus features.”

She leaned down slightly, her hair falling around her face like a silvery curtain. “You don’t know half of it.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Marissa, if this is your idea of relaxing me, you’re doing a terrible job.”

She slid onto the edge of the bed, her cool fingers trailing lightly up my arm. “Am I, though?” she asked, her voice soft but teasing. “You’re smiling. That’s progress.”

I tilted my head, watching her carefully. She was close now—closer than usual. Marissa wasn’t exactly known for her physical affection, which made this sudden shift all the more surprising. Her fingers moved to my shoulder, tracing slow, deliberate circles that sent an unexpected shiver.