Chapter CXXIII: Nothing

Isabella stood before her council, her expression calm yet resolute as she gathered her thoughts. The lords around her murmured among themselves, uncertain of what their queen was about to propose. With a steady gaze, she raised her hand, commanding their attention.

“I’ve summoned you all here today because I’ve made a decision,” she began, her voice unwavering. “I will the Dragon King a peace offer.”

A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room. The lords exchanged shocked glances, some sitting forward in their chairs, others whispering to each other in disbelief. Lord Pallor remained silent, his eyes locked on Isabella.

One of the lords, an older man with a graying beard, was the first to speak. “Your Majesty, a peace offer? After everything? After the bloodshed, the battle for Rosehall, and the lives lost?”

“I understand your shock,” Isabella continued, her tone firm but measured. “But I will not allow my pride to dictate the fate of Allendor. If there is a way to end this war without further loss, I will pursue it. For the sake of my people, for the future of this realm.”

“And what will you offer him?” another lord asked, his tone both curious and skeptical.

Isabella paused for a moment, letting the weight of her next words settle over the room. “I will offer him the return of our son, Prince Ikkar, to his court.”

The room erupted into chaos. Several lords stood from their seats, their voices overlapping in protest. One of them, his voice sharp with incredulity, exclaimed, “If the prince returns to the Dragon King, what’s to stop him from mounting one of his dragons and burning Allendor to the ground? With the prince gone, we’ll have no leverage!”

Isabella let the noise die down before she spoke again, her voice cutting through the clamor. “The Dragon King is many things, but he is not a man who breaks his word. If peace is the condition for Ikkar’s return and he accepts it, we shall have it.”

Another lord, younger and more cynical, leaned forward, his arms crossed over his chest. “Do you truly believe that, Your Majesty?”

For a moment, Isabella faltered. The memory of the Dragon King’s betrayal flickered across her mind like a wound that hadn’t quite healed. But she quickly pushed it aside. This was not about love. This was about war.

“Yes, I do believe that,” she said. “It’s about preventing more deaths. I will sit down with him, face to face, and negotiate terms. I will only agree to allow the prince to return if he accepts peace, and with it, the independence and sovereignty of Allendor.”

Lord Pallor, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke. “And why would he agree to that? What’s to stop him from taking Prince Ikkar and continuing this war?”

Isabella’s gaze softened, but her voice remained strong. “Because Ikkar is our heir. He’s the future Dragon King, and he’s also the future King of Allendor. I know the Dragon King is prideful, but I also know that he loves his son and wouldn’t want Ikkar to grow up resentful of him for killing his mother. And he knows that the only way to stop me and this war from now on is by killing me.”

One of the lords, seated further back, muttered almost under his breath, “We’re fighting this war for nothing… Another Dragon King will still eventually rule Allendor...”

The words struck Isabella like a blade to the heart, but she didn’t flinch. Her eyes sharpened, and she stepped forward, commanding the room once more. “My father, when he was alive, had many suitors for me, many different alliances with various kingdoms. As I’ve heard, the Dragon King himself was once among them. Allendor was built on alliances, on the merging of crowns and the unison of sovereign nations that now call themselves Allendor. But understand this—what I’m fighting for is not simply a piece of land or a title. I’m fighting for my father’s crown and for Allendor’s sovereignty.”

She paused, her voice taking on a steely edge. “When my son becomes the Dragon King, he will not inherit Allendor as a conquered nation. He will inherit it as a sovereign kingdom, under my crown, not just as another realm his father slaughtered and claimed. Ikkar is the grandson of Aldrus, he’s the rightful heir of Allendor, and it happens that he’s the future Dragon King as well. Is that nothing?”

The lords fell silent, the weight of her words settling in. They exchanged glances, but none spoke. Isabella’s voice rang with determination, and they knew she was no longer the scared young mother who arrived at the Stone Keep a year ago. She was a monarch, a ruler. And her determination wasn’t questionable.

As the silence stretched on, Isabella gave a nod, her decision unshakable. “Me and the king will discuss the matter together and everything will be brought to this table before we make a move. You all may leave.”

With that, she dismissed the council, but as the lords rose from their seats, Pallor stayed behind, his eyes never leaving hers.

Isabella turned to Pallor, her eyes narrowing slightly as she spoke. "You don’t think this is a good idea, do you?"

Pallor hesitated, then shook his head slowly. "I know you know the Dragon King more intimately than anyone here, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who negotiates like this. And I think that, once he has the prince, he will take the risk of teaching him how to hate you instead of protecting you for his sake."

Isabella let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Alaric is ruthless, relentless, but he’s also a father. A very dedicated one. So dedicated that he decided to keep and raise the child he conceived with his whore and refused to get rid of her despite my pleas. For his children, he would do anything." Her voice softened for a moment, the memories of their past washing over her. "That’s for sure."

Pallor’s expression remained grave. "And how long do you think this peace will last?"

A long pause followed as Isabella considered his question. She knew the answer deep down, but admitting it was another thing. "Not long," she finally admitted. "That’s why I’m going to Old Theran. I need to gather soldiers. I’ll evoke my mother’s blood, and appeal to their hatred for the Dragon King."

Pallor frowned, stepping closer to her. "You shouldn’t travel now."

Isabella instinctively placed a hand on her stomach, feeling the subtle curve that held the child she carried. A wave of protectiveness washed over her, but she quickly steeled herself. "We made strong children, The Dragon King and I," she said, almost as if she was trying to convince herself. "This one will endure the journey well."

Pallor reached out and gently took her arms, his touch light yet firm. His eyes were filled with concern as he searched her face. "Be safe, my queen," he whispered. "Please."

Isabella looked up at him, and for a moment, their gazes locked. In his eyes, she saw everything he had always offered her—loyalty, care, unwavering protection. Pallor had always been the steady force in her life, a constant protector who never wavered, no matter how chaotic the world around them became. She felt safe with him, in a way she never had with Alaric.

He was a good man. A loyal soldier. Someone who would do anything for her without question.

Yet, despite all that, she caught herself wishing that she could feel for him what she had once felt—what she still felt—for the Dragon King. That undeniable pull, the fire that burned within her every time she thought of Alaric, even when hatred and anger clouded her vision. She could never feel that same madness with Pallor, no matter how much she might wish otherwise.

A quiet sadness settled over her as she pulled away from his touch, offering him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you," she said softly.

Isabella was making her way back to her chambers, her thoughts heavy with the weight of her decisions, when she felt a presence behind her. Before she could react, a hand clamped over her mouth, and she was dragged backward into the shadows by a man dressed in a black cloak. Panic surged through her as she tried to struggle, her heart pounding in her chest, but he was too strong. His grip tightened, forcing her against the cold stone wall. She tried to scream, but the man's hand muffled her cries. He leaned in close to her ear, his breath hot and menacing.

"Long live the Dragon," he whispered.