[This would all be easier if he could just stop thinking of himself as Volsung. Or half Volsung. Or maybe even Sigmund; he doesn't know. But regardless of how he thinks of himself, one thing is going to stay the same.
He presses his cheek against her hair and sighs.] I want you to be happy.
He presses his cheek against her hair and sighs.] I want you to be happy.
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