Chapter CXXII: Heirs

Isabella sat in her dimly lit room, her heart pounding in her chest as she gazed at her children for the first time in what felt like an eternity. A whole month had passed since she had sent Ikkar, Rya, and Zayr to hide in the Stone Keep of Pallor, far from the chaos of Rosehall and the relentless pursuit of the Dragon King. The ache of that separation had been nearly unbearable. But now, here they were—safe, innocent, and blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling around them.

Her breath caught as she looked at their little faces. They were a reflection of him, every one of them. The dark, intense eyes, the shape of their mouths, even the way they moved. It was as if the Dragon King had left his imprint on their very souls. The sight of them stirred something deep inside her, a mixture of longing and sorrow that she could barely contain.

She had the twins sitting on her knees, her fingers gently brushing over Rya’s soft hair as the little girl looked up at her with wide, curious eyes. Ikkar, the eldest, was busy playing with his wooden toys, blissfully unaware of the heaviness in his mother’s heart. Zayr, still so small, clung to her, his chubby hands grasping at her skirts.

Isabella swallowed the lump in her throat and began to speak, her voice soft and trembling. “I missed you,” she whispered, her eyes flicking between her children, even though she knew they couldn’t fully understand. “I missed you all so much.”

She glanced at Ikkar, knowing that, at his age, he could understand some of her words. But he was engrossed in his play, lost in a world of his own, and she let him be. Her hand lingered on Rya’s cheek as she continued.

“I miss your father too,” she said softly, her voice cracking as she admitted the truth. “I miss him dearly. His laugh, his arms… the way he used to hold me. His warmth.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and she felt the weight of them pressing down on her chest. It wasn’t just longing she felt; it was guilt, deep and overwhelming. She looked at her children again, at the way they carried so much of him in them, and her heart twisted painfully.

“The problem is…” she hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper, “the problem is that a dragon’s wing is not a safe place to take shelter. The heat will keep you warm… until it burns you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. How could they ever understand the choices she had made? How could they ever forgive her for taking them away from their father, from the life they could have had? She had tried to protect them, to keep them safe, but in doing so, she had ripped them away from him, from the love that could have been theirs.

“I hope… I hope one day you’ll forgive me,” she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. “Forgive me for taking you away from him. Forgive me for choosing this path.”

Her gaze fell to Ikkar, who still hadn’t looked up from his toys. She reached out and gently touched his shoulder, her heart aching with the knowledge that he, of all her children, would one day understand the most. He would understand the weight of the crown, the burden of being born into a war between his mother and father.

“I think…” she began, her voice faltering, “I think I’m more a woman than I am a mother. And I’m as much a queen as your father is a king.”

Isabella’s hand instinctively moved to her stomach, where a new life was growing—a child of the Dragon King, conceived in passion, in the midst of chaos. The thought of this child weighed on her more than she could bear. She was carrying an heir again. Another child to inherit a divided kingdom. How could she protect this new baby and her other children? How could she bring another life into this fractured world?

“I hope…” her voice cracked as she looked at each of them, her eyes brimming with tears, “I hope you’ll forgive us both. Your father and I. We made mistakes. But we love you… we love you so much. Even you two, Rya and Zayr… Your father may not know about you two, but his love for you already exists somewhere in his heart, I know it.”

She pressed a soft kiss to Rya’s forehead, her heart breaking with every word. She didn’t know how long she would have with them, how much time before the Dragon King came for them again. But for now, in this moment, she held on to them tightly, vowing to protect them, no matter the cost.

***

The Dragon King stood outside the door to Isabella’s room, his hand lingering on the handle, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. It had been months since he had last set foot inside, and the thought of doing so now filled him with a pain that twisted deep inside his chest. That room, once their sanctuary, now felt like a tomb—haunted by memories too vivid to escape. Memories of her. Of them.

He could still see her there, seated in the chair by the window, breastfeeding Ikkar. The golden light of the afternoon spilling over her as she hummed softly to their son. Her auburn hair falling in waves down her back, her soft smile lighting up her face whenever he entered. He remembered the way she’d glance up at him from that chair, her eyes sparkling with warmth and love. The way she’d lay in that bed, waiting for him to join her after long days, her arms always open, her embrace the only peace he’d ever known.

Everything had been perfect. Until Dara ruined everything.

The King’s jaw clenched at the thought of her—Dara, with her lies, her games. He had been a fool to let her so close.

What burned him more than anything, what kept him awake at night, was the fact that Isabella had believed he had betrayed her. She thought he had been unfaithful. He also believed it himself. This made his blood boil. He had never betrayed her. Not once. But Isabella… she thought he did, he thought he did. She had looked at him with disgust, with heartbreak. It broke something inside of her that had never healed.

He had hated Dara for deceiving him, but he hated himself more. How could he have let it happen? How could he have allowed someone to come between them, to poison everything? Could he even blame Isabella for reacting the way she had? For tearing herself away from him? The betrayal she must have felt…

A part of him wanted to fly to Rosehall at that very moment, to storm through her doors and tell her the truth. It had all been a misunderstanding. It was Dara’s deceit that had unraveled them, not his actions. If only Isabella could hear him, if only she could see that he had been faithful, that his heart had never strayed, that there was no other woman, no other child, no other heir… Maybe… maybe she would forgive him. Maybe they could find a way to fix everything that had been broken.

But then his anger surged, overpowering the grief. How could he forgive her?

She had waged war against him. She had claimed the crown he had taken from her father’s head. She left him, not just as an act of rebellion, but as an act of war.

Worst of all, she had taken Ikkar from him. His son. His only heir. The boy he loved with all his heart. How could he ever forgive her for that?

He tightened his grip on the door handle, nearly breaking it under his strength. His mind raced with thoughts of revenge, of reclaiming everything she had stolen from him. He would win this war. He would take back what was his—his throne, his kingdom, his son…

And Isabella… she would not die in this war. No, he couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t kill her, no matter how much he raged at her betrayal. He would keep her alive. He would bring her back to this room, to their room. And there, she would stay. She would never leave again. She would be his prisoner, his queen in chains. She would never see the outside world again, never run from him again.

She would stay in that room forever, just like the memory of her that haunted him every night.