Chapter 100: Please, don't leave me.
Mixed POV
After Anastasia left Raphael watched her go without a word. The moment she stepped out, he turned to the ministers.
“You’re all dismissed.” His voice was final, edged with impatience. He wanted them gone, so he could understand what Gwen meant by ' he can heal your mate'
The ministers wasted no time in running off, everyone in a hurry to overtake one another, their nervous glances darting between him and Drogon. Only Minister Atticus remained. Raphael had ordered him to stay.
He wanted to know why the old councillor had suddenly suggested seeking help from the temple. The priests had deliberately isolated themselves from the kingdom’s affairs for centuries. Why now?
His gaze flicked to Gwen, who stood beside Drogon, silent and stiff.
“Sit and wait for me,” he instructed.
She hesitated for a moment before nodding and taking a seat.
But Raphael’s focus remained on Drogon. He didn’t trust him. Not yet. He looked too suspicious.
" Atticus, tell me, why do you want us to seek the temple?" Raphael asked. The curiosity in his voice couldn't be hidden.
" My king, the bloodshed in the kingdom this period has been much. Seeking the guidance of the heavens wouldn't be a bad idea, don't you think so?" He asked humbly. His head bowed.
He does have a point, but the issue is the temple doesn't want to be a part of anything that has to do with the kingdom. They just want to be on their own.
" Atticus, you do have a point. However, the temple won't open its gates to us. You know that." Even I as the king.
They had turned Raphael down when he went to them to seek help from Ava. The only thing that kept them alive till now is because the temple was built by Raphael's mother. So Raphael couldn't bring himself to burn it down even at their level of disrespect.
" My king, there is a way to fix that," Atticus calmly said. Raphael nods at him.
" How about taking Princess Allora to them? She is blessed with holy powers isn't she?"
" Allora is bedridden, Atticus."
" I know that we can send her in disguise or have them treat her. And because she has pure, holy powers, they might open their gates to her," he stops talking, waiting to see if he is listening.
" And?" Raphael nudge. Looking very interested. To him, having the temple open its gates would help assuage the people's fear, and just in case Gwen's man is unable to heal Ava, then the temple can.
" And we can ask them to open its gates and pour the goddess's blessing on the land to cleanse it and you as well, your majesty." He doesn't complete his words, but Raphael knows what he is referring to.
He was referring to his impending madness. " Alright, Atticus. I leave everything to you." Atticus bows and then turns to leave.
Raphael raises his head from his scroll after remembering Gwen is still waiting for him, but as he looks around, he sees they are gone.
Meanwhile, outside the Hall, the moment Anastasia stepped out of the grand hall, her legs gave out beneath her.
She hit the cold ground, her hands trembling. And then, she broke.
Tears came fast and hard, spilling down her face in quiet sobs.
She didn’t care who saw her. Let them look. Let them whisper. She didn’t have the strength to hide it anymore.
For three months, she had fought at the battlefront. Three months of sleepless nights, thinking of Gwen. Wondering if she was safe. If she missed her. If she had returned waiting for her.
But instead, Gwen had been with another man. Her heart clenched painfully at the thought.
She had trusted her. She had loved her. And yet, Gwen couldn’t even look her in the eye as she broke her heart.
Anastasia swallowed hard, her breath shaky.
"Is it my fault?" She whispered to no one.
"Had I been too cold? Too distant? Too unlovable?" She spoke out once again. Had I pushed her away? She wondered. No answers were provided to her questions.
Her hands balled into fists. How was she supposed to survive without Gwen? Fresh tears streamed down her face. Life without her will be so dark.
A shadow fell over her.
She lifted her head slowly, her tear-blurred vision focusing on the figure in front of her.
Gwen. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
"…Ana," she called softly. Anastasia’s chest tightened at the endearment.
"I’m sorry," Gwen whispered, dropping her gaze to the ground.
Anastasia just stared at her.
Even through the pain of betrayal, she knew—there had to be a reason. Gwen wouldn’t do this without a reason.
But it didn’t make her heart hurt any less.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Then she asked the question that had been burning in her mind.
"Do you love him?" It was the wrong question. But it was the only one that mattered to her at that moment.
Gwen’s head jerked up, her eyes wide. She didn’t answer. She just stared at Anastasia, her lips slightly parted.
"Gwen?" Anastasia’s voice was quieter this time. She held her breath, waiting. Hoping.
Then... "I don’t know!" Gwen’s voice cracked as she dropped to her knees.
A sob tore from her throat. "I don’t know, and it’s killing me!"
Tears streamed down her face as she clutched at the hem of her dress.
"I never wanted this. I was happy with you. I never planned for any of this to happen. I just wanted to heal Ava and come back home to you."
Her words dissolved into sobs, her body shaking. Anastasia felt her devastation settle deep in her chest.
But at that moment, seeing Gwen break down, she couldn’t stop herself. She stepped forward. Then she knelt and wrapped her arms around her.
Gwen collapsed into her embrace, clinging tightly.
"Please, don’t leave me," Gwen whispered. "I’ll find a way to fix this."
Anastasia’s fingers curled into Gwen’s back. Her voice came out hoarse.
"How could I possibly do that, Gwen?"
Watching from afar, two feet away, stood Drogon motionless, watching the scene unfold.
His chest ached. He had seen Gwen cry before. But never like this. Never like this.
His first instinct was to go to her. To wipe her tears. To take her pain away. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Because if he did, she would only hate him more. Instead, he clenched his fists and swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth.
His mind echoed with a single thought.
'You were mine first.'
The gods had played their cruel games, and this was the result. A voice broke through his thoughts.
"What’s your story with her?" He turned his head slowly.
It was Raphael. His piercing gaze was locked onto him, unrelenting. Drogon exhaled, his expression unreadable.
Where should he even begin?
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