60 [21] About her

At dawn Harold woke up.

A bluish light plunged in through the window and darkened the room. Apparently the dawn is beginning.

She's lying down, still in deep sleep. Berta turned her back on this one and slept round her thin back to hold her bedding in. That was also a natural time.

Once awake, Harold awoke quietly, realizing that his eyes were completely covered, and put his feet down from his bedroom. Return to your room and go back to sleep, or, once in a while, even go out for a Kingsguard morning audition to move your body.

"... n,"

Sensitive to people's signs, she showed herself likely to react to the slight shaking of the bedroom, so Harold stood up carefully not to interfere with that sleep.

But slowly I get up, behind Harold trying to leave her room, and there are signs of friggin 'clothes rubbing up.

"Your Majesty,"

Somewhere blurry, I can be stopped by a wake-up voice.

Did I wake you up? It's not sneaky to let him hang out at this hour and wake you up.

Stopping and turning with that in mind, Berta looked surprised for some reason. A wide open eye stares at Harold.

Even though she called, and I doubt it, I notice things happening the next moment.

From those eyes that were rounded open, tears of puffiness and grain were spilling down.

"What's up?"

I felt the whimsical thoughts of the early morning and other comforts blowing away at once.

Harold, whose head was suddenly cold and turned back to the bedroom early enough, touched her cheek as it was.

In the thin light of dawn, her cheeks are making a number of brand-new teardrop muscles, just like wet.

"Nah, whatever. Nothing."

Berta makes a smile and laughs at Harold so she doesn't even feel like she's crying. The kind of grin that just tried to reassure the other person was painful, and Harold couldn't wait to hold her.

Berta kept herself in Harold, though it was done.

"What's up?... It's okay, Berta"

Don't shake off your arms or shrink. The tears, however, showed no sign of ever stopping and wet the chest of her underwear.

Harold wrapped his bedding with one hand and put a cloth around her to wrap her in her sleepy-disturbed underwear.

I don't know why she cries. But I have no doubt that Harold caused it.

I wouldn't be much of a good husband to her.

"... please, do. I'm going to cry,...... Why are you crying?"

"You don't have to stop crying"

Berta, who just keeps herself out of place, looks unstable and Harold finds himself nervous like he's on a stranded yarn.

Means like last night should not have been taken.

Harold just wanted to recognize and reassure herself that she was hers. But that's not what you get until you ignore the pain of your opponent.

There was nothing more one-sided than the agreement that I pulled out after knowing I would never be turned down.

Would Berta calm down if she wasn't here? Harold stroked his hand around its back, wanting to get away from her as if she had exposed her weakness.

Thin back.

Qualified Lady. The biological mother of only one prince.

The biological girlfriend is now somewhere incomplete, like a girl, behind the size of her presence when she thinks of Berta with public appreciation.

When she recognized her year-worthy daughterhood, Harold thought it was cute.

I think so, did I just love the young and immature figure and pretend not to see the weakness there and the virtues that remain in my youthfulness conveniently?

I wonder how she could have made a shaky imitation of her opponent. Why did you suspect her of being an unforgivable opponent?

(Berta, so much)

Until now, I feel like everything I've done and attitude toward her has been wrong.

Berta's tears remained intact, becoming his bitter regret, seemingly penetrating into the bottom of his chest.

Because that tear is not what is being shed to blame Harold.

I should have narrowed the distance while being healthier and more protective. I can think of as many attitudes as I think I will now.

"I called His Majesty and regretted it."

Berta talked blurry, like when she was floating in heat, in a narrative that didn't get guidelines for her.

"If I call,... and you can't turn around again, I don't know what to do"

"Have I ever ignored you?

When asked, Berta laughs a little troubled.

Her face was pressed against Harold's shoulder and her expression was invisible.

"There it is. Just once. … on the night I first came"

That's all I know about what you're talking about.

"I'm sure His Majesty won't remember."

Berta's voice was daring and mild as if to deceive the self-derision contained.

Her understanding is correct. In fact, Harold doesn't remember anything.

Berta when we were married. That day, she looked magnificently at Harold from the lower seat between her glances.

The princess, who had served from the south, had no way of being ruled by tension, just stood there to identify a king named Harold. The first thing Harold remembers in his marriage to her is what he looked like when he first met in public.

Spine stretched she was preferably Rin, but still must have been lonely in a strange land.

"Sorry."

Berta was sitting there alone, pompous.

Maybe that's why Berta is still there. I want to hug her and comfort her right now, but it's Harold from the past who didn't. I also created a far-flung factor that made her cry like this.

"No."

"... sorry. Berta."

Not last night. Didn't Harold have different means from the beginning then?

"Don't apologize. When I'm apologized, I don't know, I'm"

Berta looked up to Harold a little. Dark colored eyes were still wet in tears, but she looked rather forgiving, staring into Harold's eyes stained with regret.

"You've changed.... It tries to change me"

If affirmed by a soft voice, Harold feels like everything was forgiven. That shouldn't happen, and there's no way you can pass it on.

"I'm still the only one who hasn't changed. That's why I can't."

Leaving it alone, I'm really going to do that and get organized in her and accept it. And repeat again.

"No. Berta"

In retrospect, so was yesterday. She broke first, and she forgave Harold.

"No."

I didn't want her to endure it, or swallow tears like this morning.

Just next door, I want you to start laughing peacefully and safely. And hopefully someday, I wanted thoughts from her.

I am also just aware that my own stiff head was not the best force to put forward the problems with the South with regard to this policy.

There were many circumstances that I had no choice but to do so, but I hesitated to explain from the spirit of the premise of the transitional capital in the first place because I was wary of Berta's departure.

I was mistaken when it came to Berta, and I wanted to avoid a decisive conflict with her, which turned out to take that position lightly.

The truth is, deep in the royal palace, in a place unrelated to the tide of politics, etc., I just don't have to wish you were Harold's family.

But that's what makes no sense. I can't say enough that where I did that and locked her up in the first place, there will be no unforeseen circumstances in which the big picture in the outer morning threatens even the status of queen.

"Berta, you said you were mad at me."

Though it's hard for things like last night to go on so many times, it's exactly what she said Harold's faulty behavior was that he made her behave that way, which he inherently hates collisions.

"You have the right to scold the wrong stupid man, and if that makes you cry, it's my fault"

It's just that she's angry at the man who exposes her to indifference before.

Berta looks up at Harold with a somewhat anxious face that she doesn't quite understand.

"... somehow I'm always going to be an angry woman"

That much? Though I think.

How much healthier is that than making her look lonely and her tears flow where she doesn't know it?

"Better than not knowing what you're thinking."

I want to know more about this man who is strong and weak. Hugging him gently so that his thin body wouldn't tremble, Harold stroked his lustrous dark hair with his palm.

"I wish I knew your heart and everything."

Even saying things like a stubborn child, her voice is terribly unreliable and sad.

Until nightfall, Harold held Berta's shoulder intact and leaned back small enough for the bird of his turn to do so in the nest.