Chapter CXXXII: Fall

Isabella melted into him, her hands running through his hair as the kiss deepened. His lips moved with a hungry intensity, exploring her, tasting her, as if he could erase the years of bitterness between them. Alaric’s hands gripped her waist, then slid up her back, holding her close, as though afraid she might slip away from him again.

Alaric’s hands found the ties of her dress, and with a deft movement, he loosened them. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, leaving her chest exposed before him. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his breath ragged, his eyes filled with both wonder and possessiveness. His mouth found its way into her gorgeous breasts, his tongue circling her hard nipples.

Isabella could feel the raw need in him, and it matched her own—wild, uncontrollable, and unstoppable. She ground her hips against him, feeling the way his cock tensed beneath her. She frantically tried to open his pants while he tried to lift her dress, angry at the amount of fabric that separated them. Once his pants were open, she lowered her body until his length filled her up completely.

Their movements became more frantic, more desperate, as if they were trying to reclaim something they had both lost. Isabella’s hands roamed over his chest, her nails digging into his skin as she moved faster, riding him with a fierce determination. Alaric's hands gripped her hips, guiding her, meeting her movements with his own, their bodies perfectly in sync.

Isabella threw her head back, her eyes half-closed, her breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps as she felt the tension coil tighter and tighter inside her. She could feel Alaric deep inside of her, his body trembling with need, his breath hot against her skin as he moaned her name, pleading for more.

Finally, the tension snapped, and Isabella cried out, her body shuddering as she reached her climax, the pleasure washing over her in waves. Alaric followed soon after, his body tensing beneath her as he released, his grip on her hips tightening as he moaned her name one last time.

They remained entangled in each other’s arms for a while, their breathing slowly returning to normal as the intensity of the moment faded into a quiet stillness. Alaric, still beneath her, reached up and gently cupped Isabella’s face, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. His touch was tender, far softer than it had been in all their moments of anger and passion.

He gazed into her eyes, his expression filled with something deeper, something more vulnerable. For the first time in a long while, there was no war between them, no fire, no hatred—just him, looking at her with endearment. His hand, rough from years of battle, held her face as though she were the most precious thing in the world to him.

“We belong together, Isabella,” Alaric whispered, his voice low but resolute. “We always have.”

Isabella’s voice broke the fragile quiet between them. "How long?" she asked, her tone sharp and calculating.

Alaric blinked, confused for a moment, then asked, “How long what?”

“How long until the person you left in charge sends over the rest of your troops if you don’t return?” Her question cut through the tenderness of the moment like a blade, and Alaric was both impressed and shocked by her wit.

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Two months,” he admitted, his voice quieter than before, a mixture of resignation and admiration in his tone.

Isabella’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she rose from his lap, turning her back on him as she adjusted her dress. Alaric watched her, the cool distance suddenly growing between them again as she straightened her posture.

She glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “Then I have two months to figure out what to do with you.”

***

Isabella sat at the head of the long table, surrounded by her lords, their expressions ranging from stern to outright furious. The room was thick with tension. She had gathered them to discuss the Dragon King’s proposal, and the reactions were as divided as she expected.

One of the older lords slammed his fist on the table, his face red with indignation. “This is madness!” he shouted. “We cannot trust him! He is the man who destroyed our kingdom, killed not only your father, but your king consort! And now you would consider marrying him?”

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the room, but Isabella remained calm, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “I understand your anger,” she said evenly, “but we must think of what is best for Allendor, not just pride.”

A younger lord leaned forward, frowning. “Best for Allendor? He’s our enemy, Your Majesty. How can you even entertain the idea of marrying him? How can anyone trust him?”

Isabella met his gaze steadily. “This war has already cost us too much. More lives will be lost if this continues. And it’s not just about ending the fighting,” she said, her voice strong and unwavering. “This alliance could help us rebuild. It will solidify a peace between our kingdoms, and we can ensure that Allendor not only survives but thrives.”

A few of the lords exchanged uncertain glances, their initial fury tempered by her words. Lord Brannis, a more level-headed member of her council, spoke up. “The Queen has a point,” he said slowly. “If we can secure peace through this marriage, the people will no longer suffer or starve, and the kingdom can begin to recover.”

“But it’s him,” another lord spat. “The Dragon King, the very man who—”

“Yes, I know,” Isabella interrupted, her voice cold now. “He is the man who brought devastation to our lands and whose army killed our kings. But he also came here unarmed and he offered me not just peace, but sovereignty. He promised that Allendor would remain free, this marriage would be the symbol of an alliance, not defeat.”

There was silence for a moment, as her words sank in. Some of the lords were visibly shaken, grappling with the idea of trusting their former enemy.

Lord Tavian, a staunch opponent of the Dragon King, narrowed his eyes. “And what if he’s lying? What if this is just another scheme?”

Isabella stood, her presence commanding as she looked each of them in the eye. “I have considered that,” she said. “But none of you have provided a better solution. The truth is, we cannot continue this war. We do not have the resources, the men, or the time. If we reject his offer, he will return with an army in two months’ time, and we might survive another battle, maybe two or three… But how many battles can we actually take? The cost is too high. Too many allendorian lives.”

The room fell silent again. Some of the lords shifted uncomfortably in their seats, unable to meet her gaze. She could see the doubt lingering in their eyes, but also the fear—the fear that she was right.

“Then what is your decision, Your Majesty?” Lord Brannis asked quietly.

Isabella’s voice was firm as she answered. “I will do what is best for this kingdom. Always.”

The lords looked at one another, some still visibly angry, others resigned. But none could offer a counterargument. The weight of her decision hung in the air, final and unchallenged.

***

Late at night, in the dim glow of candlelight, three lords gathered in a hidden chamber deep within Rosehall's walls. The heavy stone room muffled their voices, ensuring their treasonous conversation would not be overheard. Lord Hargrave, his expression twisted with disdain, paced in front of the narrow window, while Lords Caswell and Ridley sat quietly, exchanging wary glances.

“This cannot be allowed to happen,” Lord Hargrave muttered, his hands clenched behind his back. “Marrying the Dragon King? Isabella has lost her mind.”

Lord Caswell, an older man with sharp features, shook his head in disapproval. “He promised sovereignty to Allendor, but there’s no sovereignty when our queen goes back to his harem to push out his babies. Marriage will not change that at this point.”

“She’s a fool,” Lord Ridley added darkly, leaning forward with a grimace. “Her father would have never allowed this. Isabella doesn’t think like a ruler. She’s a lovesick girl who’s still clinging to the man who captured her. It’s pathetic.”

Hargrave stopped pacing and turned to face them, his eyes burning with conviction. “The Dragon King’s promises mean nothing. He’ll betray her, and when he does, we’ll all pay the price. Allendor will become just another piece of his domain.”

Ridley nodded in agreement. “He’ll take her crown and her kingdom, and what’s worse—her son, the blood of the Dragon, will be made king. We’ll lose everything we fought for.”
“We must do something,” Lord Caswell whispered, his voice low but filled with urgency. “If we let this go on, Isabella will hand Allendor over on a silver platter. There’s no future for us under the Dragon King’s rule.”

Hargrave’s jaw tightened. “Then we stop her. If she cannot see that this path leads to ruin, we’ll make sure she doesn’t drag Allendor down with her.”

Ridley glanced around the room warily, his voice lowering even further. “You mean…?”

“The Red Queen must fall,” Hargrave said coldly.