Chapter CXV: Proposal

The Allendorian army had successfully reclaimed the Palace of Rosehall. They knew this was just the beginning; the Dragon King would come at them with full force now that they were no longer lurking in the shadows. Isabella, her blood-soaked gown clinging to her as a macabre testament to her victory, carried Erkmen’s severed head to the throne room. She paused before her father’s throne, memories of the past flashing before her eyes.

With grim determination, Isabella ascended the steps of the dais, turning to face the soldiers who had just defeated the Dragon King’s forces. As she stood there, a silhouette of blood and power, one of the soldiers caught sight of her and shouted, “It’s our queen! Our queen! Isabella, the Red, who led us to victory!”

A chorus of voices echoed through the throne room, chanting, “Long live the Queen!” Isabella couldn’t be sure if they called her "Isabella the Red" because of her fiery hair or the blood-soaked gown that clung to her. Perhaps it was both. She raised her hand, commanding silence, and the room fell still, the only sound the distant crackling of flames and the heavy breathing of the victorious.

Under the weight of their expectant silence, Isabella began to speak. “We have taken back Rosehall, our capital, the foundation of our power… But this is just the beginning. Allendor shall be one once again. Together, we will rebuild our kingdom. Our roses will blossom from the ashes.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices a resounding affirmation of her words. Isabella allowed the noise to settle before continuing, her voice steady and resolute. “And to ensure our kingdom rises again, to usher in a new age of prosperity for the people of Allendor, I have decided to accept the marriage proposal of Lord Ian Pallor, the Duke of Pallor and Lord of the Stone Keep. He will stand by my side as the general of our army… and as my King Consort.”

The crowd cheered once more, their voices a thunderous wave of support and hope for the future. In the corner of the room, Lord Pallor stepped forward, his face unreadable yet steady. Isabella nodded to him, and as he walked towards her he extended his hand, which she took courtly.

Isabella cleaned herself up, washing away the remnants of battle and blood. She began settling into the room that had once belonged to her father, the former king. As she looked around, she noticed that there was nothing left of what had once been hers—no dresses, no shoes, no jewelry. It had all been looted during the war, or perhaps lost in the chaos that had engulfed Rosehall. But Isabella didn’t care; she was simply relieved to no longer be covered in blood.

She dressed in one of the simple gowns she had brought with her, the fabric feeling light and clean against her skin. Just as she finished adjusting the dress, there was a knock on the door. Isabella ordered the visitor to enter.

Lord Pallor stepped into the room, his demeanor calm but with a hint of curiosity. “That was a very nice speech you gave,” he said. “Really inspiring.”

“Thank you,” Isabella replied, offering a small smile.

Lord Pallor hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I was just a little confused about the part where you said I proposed to you. I thought the marriage was your idea.”

Isabella chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I didn’t want to risk hurting your ego, Lord Pallor. But besides that, it’s better this way. The people need to think I’m not the one in charge of everything, that I’m not calling all the shots.”

Lord Pallor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And why is that?”

“Because no one likes to take orders from a teenage girl,” Isabella said with a wry smile. “Even the one they crowned queen.”

Lord Pallor nodded thoughtfully, understanding her strategy. “So, you think they’ll accept your leadership more easily if they believe I have some authority over you?”

“Exactly,” Isabella said. “It’s a game of perception. They’ll follow me because they believe they’re following you as well. It’s necessary.”

Lord Pallor studied her for a moment, a new level of respect forming in his gaze. “You’re wise beyond your years, Your Majesty.”

Isabella smiled, but it was a smile tinged with the weight of everything she had been through. “I’ve taken the decision of wearing this crown, so I’ll honor it. For Allendor. For my people.”

Lord Pallor bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. “And for that, you’ll have my unwavering support, my queen.”

“Thank you, Lord Pallor,” Isabella replied, her tone sincere.

The wedding between Queen Isabella and the Duke of Pallor was celebrated at Rosehall a few weeks after the battle that dethroned Lord Erkmen. The event was simple but beautiful, symbolizing a new era for Allendor. Many who had taken refuge in the Stone Keep of Pallor, including Alicent and Isabella's children, had moved to Rosehall to help rebuild the capital.

The ceremony was conducted by a Red Priest in the traditional Allendorian style. Their hands were tied together with a lace, a symbol of their union. When the priest finally pronounced them married, Lord Pallor leaned in, but instead of kissing Isabella on the lips, he sensed her hesitation and gently kissed the corner of her mouth.

Isabella was nervous and found herself skipping most of the feast, retreating to her room early. She missed her babies terribly; leaving them so soon had been a painful sacrifice. A wet nurse had been hired to care for them in her absence, but she struggled to breastfeed them again when reunited, as her milk was drying up.

Once she had settled her children and seen them to sleep, she retreated to her room, yearning for solitude. The grand celebration outside felt like a distant memory. Her wedding day, a day she had once dreamed of with hope and anticipation, was now marred by a profound sadness. She had once harbored dreams of marrying Alaric, of standing beside him as his bride. But those dreams had been shattered, replaced by a reality where her new husband was not the man she had longed for.

Dressed in a breathtaking gown and veiled, she sat alone, her heart aching for what could have been. The room felt empty, and the grandeur of her surroundings only served to highlight the emptiness within her. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of regret and sorrow, drowning out the echoes of celebration that drifted faintly from the feast below.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered as she sat in her desolation. It was Lord Pallor who entered, his presence bringing a stark contrast to the melancholy of her room. He carried two cups of wine, his expression softening as he took in the sight of his bride. He approached her with a gentle smile, holding out one of the glasses of wine he had brought. “This is for you, my queen,” he said softly.

Isabella accepted the glass, a faint smile touching her lips. “I’m your lady wife now,” she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. “You don’t have to call me that.”

Pallor shook his head, a look of earnest affection in his eyes. “You will always be my queen.”

Her smile deepened, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Pallor’s gaze softened as he noticed her subdued demeanor. “You seem sad,” he observed.

Isabella quickly masked her emotions with a bright smile. “I’m not,” she said, though her smile faltered. Pallor took a deep breath, his expression serious.

“Look, we both know this marriage is, before anything else, political,” he said, his tone gentle. “Its purpose is to help us rebuild our kingdom. We already have our heirs. I’m an old man, battle-scarred… I won’t touch you for as long as you wish to not be touched. It could be for a couple days or forever. I won’t.”

Isabella’s eyes welled up with tears, touched by his words. “Thank you,” she managed to say, her voice breaking slightly.

Pallor, sensing her distress, started to rise. “I should leave you to your thoughts,” he said quietly.

“No,” Isabella called out, her voice trembling. “Please, stay with me. There are too many people outside, but I don’t really want to be alone.”

A soft smile graced Pallor’s face as he settled back down beside her. “Of course,” he said, taking her hand gently. They sat in companionable silence, the weight of their new roles settling around them, as the festivities outside faded into the background.