Chapter CXXX: Powerless

There was no army behind the green-scaled dragon as it approached the gates of Rosehall. The beast flew low and swift, but its rider came alone. Mounted on the dragon was none other than the Dragon King himself, his imposing figure unmistakable even from afar. As the dragon landed a few meters from the castle walls, the Allendorian soldiers surrounded him, their weapons drawn and ready.

The Dragon King dismounted. He raised his hands in a clear gesture of surrender, his face calm, though his eyes burned with purpose. The soldiers did not hesitate. They shackled him in heavy iron chains, binding his wrists and leading him towards the palace like a common prisoner. The weight of his capture seemed to ripple through the air as whispers spread among the soldiers and courtiers alike.

When he was finally brought into the great hall of Rosehall, they forced him to his knees in front of the throne, where Queen Isabella sat regally, watching him with eyes colder than any winter storm. She wore a stunning dark green dress, a golden crown resting upon her head.

The silence in the hall was suffocating as the two locked eyes. The Dragon King, the great conqueror, her captor, her lover, her enemy, now knelt before her in chains, while she, in all her majesty, ruled from the throne that he once took from her.

"Your Majesty," the Dragon King spoke, his voice steady but thick with something unspoken.

Isabella did not respond immediately. She let the tension linger, the weight of her gaze heavy upon him. Finally, she spoke, her voice cold and commanding.

"You come alone, without an army, without an armor. What is this?"

Alaric met her gaze, his jaw clenched, but the glint of defiance never left his eyes. "I come to speak with you, Queen Isabella. Because I need… I need to know."

Isabella narrowed her eyes, her gaze piercing through him. “What is it that you need to know?”

Alaric, still on his knees before her, swallowed hard. “Were you pregnant? When you left the palace… Were you?”

The question hit her like a storm. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. For a long moment, she stared at him, the weight of the truth bearing down on her.

“Yes,” she finally whispered.

The Dragon King’s face contorted, his pain palpable. “I heard you have a boy and a girl… A pair of twins. Is that true?”

Isabella’s voice steadied, though her heart pounded in her chest. “That’s right.”

His eyes searched hers with an intensity she had never seen before, his walls crumbling. “Are they mine?”

Isabella felt her heart break, seeing him so vulnerable, shackled and kneeling at her feet. For all his power, for all his ruthlessness, he now seemed small, a man stripped bare of all pretense. His question had a tone of desperation that broke her heart.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice soft.

“May I see them?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Isabella gestured to one of the guards. “Bring them,” she instructed.

In a few minutes, Alicent entered the throne room, cradling Rya, while another maid carried Zayr. The twins were nestled in their arms, their eyes wide with curiosity. Isabella watched as the king’s expression shifted from uncertainty to awe.

Alaric’s breath hitched, and she watched as a tear escaped the corner of his eye. “It was all a lie… I was all a lie, Isabella,” he whispered, his voice thick with anguish.

“What?” Isabella asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Dara,” he spat the name like venom. “She plotted with her husband, my cousin, to deceive me… To make me believe the child was mine. But she was already pregnant when she arrived. I did not touch her, Isabella. She just laid down by my side to make me believe I did, but I didn’t. If I’m guilty of anything, it’s drinking enough to pass out and allow them to deceive me, but I never laid a hand on her that night.”

Isabella’s face contorted in shock. “And why should I believe you?”

Alaric chuckled, a hollow sound filled with bitterness. “Because I cut the bitch’s head off like you wanted.”

Isabella recoiled in horror. She was about to speak, but he continued, his voice darker now. “I intended to bring it to you, you know? Her head. But it started to stink halfway through the journey, so I threw it from the sky. It’s probably in the woods somewhere.”

Isabella looked at him in disbelief, her heart pounding. What the hell?

The Dragon King’s voice softened as he looked up at her again, pleading. “Is Ikkar alright?”

Isabella blinked, shaking herself from the shock of his words. “Yes, he’s fine,” she managed, her voice trembling.

Alaric smiled weakly. “He must’ve grown so much…”

“He has,” Isabella replied, a faint smile breaking through the pain. Without thinking, her hand moved to her belly, a reflex she barely noticed herself. But Alaric noticed.

His eyes, sharp and observant, followed the movement of her hand. “You’re pregnant,” he stated, the realization dawning on him.

Isabella nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tightening. “Is it mine?”

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally escaped her eyes. “Yes.”

Alaric let out a long breath, nodding slowly. “Alright then. Let’s get this done.” His voice grew stronger, as if he’d made a decision. “I came here to kill your husband, whoever he is. I’m challenging him for your hand, in fair combat, once and for all. Him or his best champion, whatever it is.”

Isabella’s heart shattered all over again. She tried to speak, but her throat tightened with emotion. “That won’t be possible,” she choked out, barely able to form the words.

Alaric’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? Of course it’s possible! I’m the father of your children, you were my concubine! I have a claim to your hand!”

Tears streamed down Isabella’s face as she shook her head. “It’s not possible because my husband… My consort, the Duke of Pallor… He perished in battle. Two months ago.”

Upon hearing that Isabella’s husband was dead, the Dragon King froze, his body rigid as if he had turned to stone. The weight of her words hung in the air between them, and he looked into her eyes, searching for a flicker of hope. “Well, that change some of my plans…” he murmured. “Listen, Isabella, Queen Isabella, I came without an army, without an armor,” he said, his voice low and heavy with emotion. “I came to end this war once and for all. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

His gaze softened as he took in her regal form, the crown adorning her head gleaming in the dim light of the throne room. “The crown suits you,” he said, a bittersweet smile crossing his lips. “I always knew that. I think I feared that too.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he rose from his knees, standing tall before her. “Before your court, before your subjects,” he began, his voice gaining strength, “I recognize the sovereignty of Allendor, your final victory against me. You have my promise that your kingdom and your crown will remain sovereign until the day of our deaths, when Ikkar, our heir, inherits both crowns and decides for himself what shall be done.”

Isabella studied him, her heart racing. “What do you want in exchange for all that?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with curiosity and caution.

“All I want,” he replied, his gaze unwavering, “is for us to be a family again. I want to hold our children, all of them. You can be the queen of Allendor, shit, I guess you are. But I want you by my side as my queen, my consort… My lawful wife. I love you, Isabella. For you, I would fight a thousand wars… But not against you. Not anymore.”

The king searched Isabella’s watery eyes, desperately hoping to find the answer to his pleas. He waited for the moment she would say yes, that she loved him with all her heart and didn’t want to be apart from him anymore. But instead, she remained silent. The room was heavy with anticipation, everyone watching her, waiting for her to speak.

His heart pounded as the seconds stretched on, each one filled with mounting dread. He had laid his soul bare, surrendered his pride, and offered her everything, yet she said nothing. The silence between them felt like a chasm, growing wider and darker with each breath.

Finally, Isabella’s gaze hardened, her decision clear. She turned her eyes to the guards standing nearby and, without so much as a glance back at him, she said in a cold, steady voice, "Take him to the tower and lock him up."

The words struck like a blow to his chest. He stood frozen, staring at her, unable to believe what he had just heard. The guards moved quickly, their hands firm as they grabbed him and began dragging him away, his shackles clinking with every step.

The Dragon King kept his eyes on her, hoping for a change, for her to call out and stop them. But she didn’t. Isabella remained seated on her throne, her face unreadable, the queen she had become eclipsing the woman he had once known.