Chapter CXLVIII: A man who never hurt you
Alaric and Isabella lay together in bed, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room. Each cradled a cup of wine, the rich red liquid reflecting their earlier passion and the emotional storm that had passed between them. The air felt lighter now, the remnants of their earlier anger dissipating with each sip.
“I’m sorry,” Alaric finally admitted, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to be such an asshole… It’s just hard for me to remember that time.”
Isabella raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What time?”
He hesitated, the weight of the past heavy in his gaze. “The time when I was going insane inside this castle, cursing the walls because the woman I loved not only left but took my son, waged war against me… And married another man.”
A smirk crept onto Isabella’s face as she looked at him. “I’m not sorry,” she teased.
“You’re insufferable.” Alaric rolled his eyes, a playful grin breaking through his seriousness. “Can’t you at least pretend to be sorry?”
She caressed his face gently, her touch tender. “I love you, Alaric. That’s all that matters.”
He nodded, the tension in his expression softening. “I do know you love me, Isabella… But I do know that I’m not exactly a good man. You’ve said it yourself.”
“I’m far from a good woman, too, maybe,” she countered softly, recalling her own words.
“You’re perfect, my love.” Alaric kissed her forehead, his heart swelling with affection. “But I’ve always feared that if you looked past the cage I built for you, you might see there are men out there who never hurt you. No matter how much I change, I can’t undo the past. I’ll never be a man who never hurt you… And that Lord Pallor you married—whoever he was—died before he ever could stain his memory in your mind. How could I ever win with that?”
Isabella felt her heart clench at his words. She took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m right here, with you. Of course you’ve won. I love you—hurt or not—like I’ve never loved any other man.”
He searched her eyes, uncertainty still lingering. “Didn’t you love me more when my broken, twisted love was all you knew?”
“I loved you more when, after I ran away and waged war against you, you swallowed your pride and surrendered yourself in the middle of that war because you couldn’t stay away from your children any longer.” she replied, her voice steady. “I loved you more when you chose me… And were willing to change because of me. The fact that I respect and treasure Pallor’s memory will never change the truth that you, my king, are the only man I’ve ever truly loved—the one I love right now, more than I ever did.”
Alaric pulled Isabella into a gentle kiss, their lips meeting softly yet with an intensity that spoke of everything unsaid. He reveled in the feeling of her naked body against him, the softness of her touch, the way she fit perfectly in his arms. All the pain, the anger, and the struggles they had faced faded into the background, overshadowed by the undeniable truth of her love. In that moment, he was reassured that he had won the most important battle of his life: the one for her heart.
As they pulled away slightly, their foreheads resting against each other, Alaric smiled. The world outside felt distant and irrelevant because she was right there.
***
Isabella joined Clara for tea in the garden, the air fragrant with blooming flowers as they watched the little princes play. A smile crept across Isabella's face; she loved seeing her children’s laughter echoing through the air, though a bittersweet pang tugged at her heart. They were growing up far too quickly.
Clara caressed her rounded stomach, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I can’t wait to see my little one running around like this,” she said, her voice filled with warmth.
Isabella nodded, her gaze drifting to Kai, the youngest prince, with his fiery hair gleaming in the sunlight. He dashed towards them, beaming, and presented Isabella with a little rock, his proud gift. “For Mama!” he declared.
She took the rock, beaming down at him. “Thank you, my love!” As she turned her attention to Clara, she noticed Kai’s curious eyes studying Clara’s pregnant belly. He offered her a rock, too, and Clara smiled, saying, “Thank you, my little prince.” Kai gently touched her belly, intrigued.
Isabella watched the sweet scene unfold, her heart swelling with warmth. But then a flicker of anxiety crept in—what if others saw some nonexistent resemblance between Kai and Clara, fueling rumors that he was actually Lord Pallor’s son? She quickly masked her nervousness, calling to Kai, “Why don’t you go pick another rock for Mama?”
As Kai scampered off, Isabella spotted Lord Wendell and Alaric walking together, engaged in deep conversation. “What do you think they are discussing?” she asked Clara.
Clara leaned in slightly, her expression serious. “Wendell is probably talking to the Dragon King about sending some of his troops to Allendor.”
Isabella’s brows knitted in worry. “Why do we need more soldiers in Allendor?”
“We don’t exactly need soldiers now,” Clara clarified. “What we need are the dragon banners. Ever since you left, many lords have been recovering their domains. Wendell and I suspect some of them might gather… Way too much power. Power that threatens your crown.”
Isabella felt a chill run down her spine. “Why would they need the dragon banners? I am the queen of Allendor; that’s what they must be reminded of.”
Clara sighed, her gaze drifting to the men in the distance. “The dragon imposes fear. It reminds them that waging war against you means waging war against the Dragon King all over again.”
Isabella mulled over Clara's words, the weight of the situation settling in. “What else are they discussing?” she asked, eager to shift focus.
Clara hesitated, then spoke carefully. “Wendell and I were discussing how Rosehall lacks a royal presence, I believe he might mention that.”
“I’ll pay a visit to Rosehall soon,” Isabella replied, though thoughts of her unfortunate succession of miscarriages lingered in her mind. “I just need to deal with some things first.”
Clara exchanged a glance with Lord Wendell, then continued. “We have been thinking about something more permanent…”
Isabella raised an eyebrow, curious. “Like what?”
“Bringing one of the princes with us,” Clara said cautiously. “To be raised in Rosehall’s court.”
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