Chapter CII: Decisions
Isabella fled the king’s office, her heart shattering with each step as she tried to contain the storm of emotions raging inside her. She couldn’t go back to her son in that state, so she tried to find a place to calm herself down. Her tears blurred her vision as she stumbled through the palace halls, desperate for a place where she could break down in solitude. She found herself in a secluded corner of the main garden, hidden away by dense foliage and a small, weathered stone bench. The night air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, but all she could feel was the suffocating weight of betrayal and despair.
Collapsing onto the bench, Isabella buried her face in her hands, her body trembling with uncontrollable sobs. The pain was unbearable—how could the man she had given her heart to, the father of her beloved son, have betrayed her so deeply? And not just with any woman, but with Dara, the very woman who had tormented her from the moment she set foot in the harem. The memories of Dara’s relentless cruelty flooded her mind—how she had beaten her, humiliated her, and done everything in her power to make Isabella’s life a living hell. And now, Dara was carrying the king’s child, a child that could threaten Ikkar’s very life.
Isabella’s tears came in waves, each one heavier than the last, as she imagined the horrors Dara might inflict to secure her own child’s rise to power, especially if she birthed a boy. Fear gripped her heart like a vice, not just fear for herself, but for Ikkar, her innocent baby boy who could become a pawn in Dara’s deadly game. Her sobs echoed in the quiet night, raw and unfiltered, a soul crying out in agony.
She tried to silence her pain, to hide her sorrow in the darkness, but suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps. She looked up, her tear-streaked face pale with distress, and her breath caught in her throat. It was Clara.
Clara knelt down beside Isabella, her expression soft but filled with concern. "Your Majesty, are you alright?" she asked, her voice gentle yet formal as she always addressed her queen.
Isabella’s breath hitched, and she broke down even further, her tears flowing freely. "I’m no majesty," she choked out, her voice trembling. "I’m just a whore who got lucky for a while."
Clara’s heart ached at the sight of her queen in such despair. "What happened?" she asked softly, knowing something terrible must have transpired.
"Dara is pregnant," Isabella whispered, her words laced with pain. "The king… he’s going to have a child with another woman."
Clara paused, choosing her words carefully. "That’s… expected, isn’t it? The Dragon Kings of the past always had harems, multiple wives, countless bastards…"
Isabella shook her head, her eyes filled with a grief that Clara had never seen before. "I thought he wouldn’t do this… not to me, not after everything we’ve been through."
Clara looked down, her heart breaking for her queen. "I’m so sorry," she whispered.
"I’m scared, Clara," Isabella admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I could deal with the pain and the bitterness of this heartbreak, but I’m truly scared of what this means for my son."
Clara’s eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"
Isabella’s voice trembled as she spoke. "If Dara has a boy, she’ll spare no effort to crown her son. I know what Dara is capable of—there are rumors that she killed one of the girls in the harem before I arrived. She would do anything to see her son on the throne."
Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken fears. Then Clara, her mind racing, spoke up. "What if… you ran away?"
Isabella looked at her in shock, her breath catching in her throat. "Run away?"
"Yes," Clara said firmly. "Get out of this palace, away from the Dragon King and his whore and their bastard."
Isabella shook her head, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and disbelief. "I’ve told you already… I can’t go."
Clara’s voice grew more insistent. "What’s left for you here? A life shackled in fear, left to be forgotten because the king gave to another woman something that was meant to be only yours."
Isabella’s voice broke as she tried to speak. "I can’t…"
Clara leaned closer, her eyes blazing with determination. "Your people are waiting for you, my queen. Your father’s crown is waiting to be placed on your head. They need you to lead them. They can protect you."
Tears welled up in Isabella’s eyes as she thought of her son. "But… my son…"
Clara’s voice was gentle but firm. "Your son wouldn’t be safer here than he would be in Allendor. The Dragon King betrayed you. When the people heard you gave him his firstborn son, they knew that even if you never returned, one day there would be Allendorian blood on the throne. But now… What guarantees that the Dragon King won’t betray you again?"
Isabella’s voice wavered as she considered Clara’s words. "If I leave… He will hunt me down to hell for taking his son."
Clara’s eyes were fierce, her voice unwavering. "If he wanted his son by his side so badly, he shouldn’t have given him a brother from another mother."
Isabella returned to her room, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision forming in her mind. As she entered, she found Alicent seated by the small table, carefully feeding Ikkar his dinner. The scene was so peaceful, so ordinary, that it almost felt like a cruel contrast to the storm raging inside her.
She paused, taking in every detail of the room—the ornate tapestries, the soft, rich fabrics draped across the furniture, the delicate porcelain vases filled with fresh flowers. This was her life, the world she had been thrust into, the prison gilded with luxury.
Isabella walked to the window, her fingers lightly brushing the cool glass as she gazed outside. The garden below was bathed in the soft golden light of the setting sun, everything draped in a warm, ethereal glow. But what caught her eye, what made her heart constrict with a mix of pain and determination, was Dara.
Dara was laying down on a couch in the garden, her figure framed by the sunset, casually eating from a tray of fruits held by a servant. Another servant fanned her with a large, ornate fan, and Dara’s hand rested possessively on her stomach, a smug smile playing on her lips. She looked every bit the picture of contentment and power, reveling in the attention and the knowledge of the life growing within her.
Isabella’s throat tightened as she watched, her heart beating faster, a silent fury building within her. This woman, who had tormented her from the moment she entered the palace, now bore a child that could threaten everything Isabella held dear. And there she was, flaunting it in the golden light, as if to mock Isabella's very existence.
Isabella swallowed hard, her resolve solidifying into something cold and unyielding. She knew what she had to do. There was no other choice left. The path before her was clear, even if it was perilous. She couldn’t stay here, waiting for the inevitable, waiting for Dara to strike and shatter what little remained of her world.
Isabella turned away from the window, her eyes no longer soft with sorrow but steely with determination. She had to protect her son, protect herself, and if that meant leaving everything behind and defying the Dragon King, then so be it.
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