CHAPTER 382: THE PATH TO REDEMPTION - SEEKING FORGIVENESS

Marlon’s back went rigid. A chill raced down his spine at the sound of her voice—sharp, brittle, and devoid of the warmth a woman’s tone might normally carry. There was no kindness, no softness—only ice and long-nurtured resentment.

For a breathless moment, he stood frozen, as if the air itself had turned to stone. His courage faltered. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around, afraid of what would greet him in her eyes—memories, judgment, perhaps even hatred.

"I..." he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. What words could possibly undo the past? What balm could soothe the wounds left by betrayal? Odin and his children had suffered, and no apology could erase that truth.

"I came to ask for forgiveness," he finally managed, forcing the words past the guilt lodged in his throat. He gathered what strength remained and turned to face the niece he had betrayed four years ago.

She stood tall—173 centimeters of composed fury. Copper-brown hair, slightly wavy, spilled past her shoulders, but there was nothing gentle about her presence. Her eyes, a bright and searing brown, locked onto his with such intensity he nearly stumbled backward. Her gaze burned through him, slicing through pretense, stripping him bare. He could not only see the deep resentment in those eyes but he could feel it deep in his bones.

"Forgiveness?" Her voice could have frozen fire. "Do you think you deserve one?"

Marlon faltered. "I don’t... I know I don’t," he said, the words escaping like the last breath of a dying man. "But... may I speak to your father? I won’t stay long."

From the corridor, footsteps echoed—firm, purposeful. General Odin stepped into the room, his wife beside him, their sons Bener, Gideon, and Percival following close behind.

Odin’s brow was furrowed, his mouth a thin line as he joined Lara, Asael, and Galahad. The tension in the room thickened.

Marlon’s legs trembled. He felt like a condemned man before a tribunal. His resolve wavered, and for a fleeting moment, he wanted to flee, far from the family that he almost ruined. Far from the guilt.

Then came the first blow.

A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as his head snapped to the side. His cheek flared with pain.

"Who gave you the audacity to show your face here?" Lady Freya snarled. "How dare you?"

A second slap landed. The room rang with it.

Marlon felt the sting on both of his cheeks and he could hear the ringing on his ears.

"General," Seveir spoke worriedly, stepping forward, fists clenched in quiet fury. Lady Freya had not held back.

But Marlon raised a hand to stop him.

And then—just as he had done once before, in the chamber of Norse family tree—General Marlon Norse dropped to his knees before the very family he had wronged.

Gasps rippled through the room. Odin’s sons stared, stunned. Lara, however, remained still, her gaze distant and cold.

"Odin," Marlon said, his voice raw and steady. "I know I wronged you and even Lara. I hope you can find it your heart to forgive me. I am here not to plead with you to help me but I am here to plead for your forgiveness."

He bowed low, his forehead nearly brushing the floor.

"Today, I lay bare every sin I’ve carried in silence. My first betrayal... was when Lara was abducted. Four years ago. That was my doing."

The silence broke like shattering glass.

"You—!" Freya’s voice cracked with rage. "You did that? After everything we’ve done for you?" She surged forward again, ready to strike. She wanted to kick Marlon but Odin caught her wrist.

Let him speak," Odin said. His voice was level, almost eerily calm—but the steel beneath it was unmistakable. Galahad flinched, recognizing the tension of a man restraining a storm.

Marlon drew a ragged breath. His voice trembled, heavy with the weight of withheld guilt. "The night Asael was attacked... Zuran soldiers came to me. They offered a pact—collusion. I turned them away. But I never reported it. I should have sounded the alarm, taken action... but I did nothing. And because I stood idle, they struck back. They went after Merlin in retaliation. Asael tried to save him."

Lara’s brow furrowed. She had always sensed shadows around Merlin—secrets buried beneath his polished image. Perhaps he, too, had danced too close to the fire, even if Marlon never knew.

Marlon lowered his head, the words dragging out like a confession at the gallows. "And as you’ve likely already guessed... I played my part in your trial as well."

Odin’s jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides. Rage coiled in his chest like a serpent, venomous and ready to strike—but as he looked down at Marlon, kneeling, broken by his own conscience, something inside him faltered. The fury remained, but the edge dulled.

"I failed Great-Grandfather Beor," Marlon continued hoarsely. "I failed as a general. And as a father. I have disgraced the name of Norse." He paused, his eyes glassy, not with weakness, but with sincerity. "But I will make it right."

"Tomorrow, I will go to Carles and reclaim it."

He took something from the pocket of his tunic and while still on his knees, he handed a small sandalwood box to Odin.

He reached into his tunic and drew out a small sandalwood box. With both hands, he lifted it to Odin—still kneeling, his head bowed.

"I am no longer worthy to keep this. You deserve this better, and you can protect the Norse name better. You carry our legacy better than I ever could."

Odin took the box without a word. He didn’t need to open it. He knew what it was—the seal of the House of Norse. An heirloom, passed down through generations to the firstborn son. A symbol of trust, honor, and burden.

"You.."

Marlon rose to his feet slowly, unsteadily. His knees had locked, and when he staggered, Seveir was already there, silently catching and supporting him.

Marlon bowed deeply to Odin’s family—long and reverent—then turned toward the door. Toward Carles. Toward redemption.

"Stay the night," Odin said quietly.

Marlon halted at the threshold, not looking back.

"You’ll need your strength," Odin added, "if you’re to take back what was lost."