Chaptet CLXX: Amara

The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the soft crackling of the hearth. The royal chambers were quiet after days of celebration. Amara had been born, the joy of a healthy child tempered by the exhaustion of Queen Isabella’s labor. In the aftermath, the palace had begun to settle, and the Dragon King and Queen had retreated to rest.

Ikkar found himself wandering the halls, drawn by instinct or perhaps by fate, to the nursery where his youngest sister lay sleeping. He peered into the dimly lit room, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he beheld Amara’s tiny figure swaddled in silk.

And there, by the crib, was Talia.

She hadn’t noticed him at first, her attention focused on adjusting Amara’s blanket. The soft glow of the lantern illuminated her delicate features, and Ikkar found himself unable to move or speak, simply watching her. Finally, she turned and caught sight of him, startled but quickly composing herself.
“Your Highness,” she said, bowing her head.

“You’re still here,” he replied, stepping into the room. “Everyone else has retired for the night.”

“The Queen asked me to watch over the princess for a few hours so she can sleep a little,” Talia said softly, her voice warm with genuine care. “She’s so beautiful…”

“My mother is lucky to have you,” Ikkar said, his tone weighted with more meaning than he intended.

Talia’s brow furrowed slightly, sensing something in his words, but she didn’t respond. She moved to the side, as if to leave, but he spoke again.

“Talia, wait.”

She stopped, glancing back at him.

For a moment, neither spoke. Ikkar looked at her, his dark eyes searching hers, as though summoning the courage to say what he’d kept buried for too long.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his voice low. “Something I should’ve said long ago.”

Talia tensed. “Your Highness, I don’t think—”

“Please,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “Just listen.”

She stayed rooted to the spot, her hands clutching the fabric of her apron.

“I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you,” Ikkar confessed. “I didn’t realize it then, but over time… It has become impossible for me to ignore. I’ve tried to, Talia, I really have. But you’re in my thoughts, my dreams… You consume me.”

Talia’s breath hitched, her eyes wide. “Your Highness—”

“Ikkar,” he corrected gently. “Call me Ikkar.”

She shook her head, looking away. “This… This isn’t right. It can’t be.”

“I don’t care about what’s right or wrong,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “All I know is that you’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted. And I don’t want you as a mistress, Talia. I would never disgrace you like that.”

Her gaze snapped to his, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and sorrow. “What are you saying, then? That you want to marry me? A maid? It’s impossible.”
“I’ll figure something out,” he said fiercely. “I won’t give up on you, I won’t give up on us.”

Talia took a step back, shaking her head again. “There is no us, Your Highness. You’re a prince. I’m just a servant. Whatever you want from me, you can take. But I beg you, don’t do this to me… Don’t make me dream of something I can never have.”

“Talia,” Ikkar said, his voice breaking, “look at me.”

She hesitated, but his plea was impossible to ignore. Her tear-filled eyes met his, and in that moment, the distance between them disappeared.
Ikkar reached out, cupping her face gently, and leaned in. His lips brushed against hers, hesitant at first, but the kiss deepened as years of unspoken feelings spilled between them.

Talia pulled away suddenly, tears streaming down her face. “We can’t do this,” she said, her voice trembling. “This will ruin me. It will ruin you…”

“It doesn’t have to,” he said, desperation lacing his words. “I will find a way, Talia. I promise you. One day, I’ll make this right.”

She shook her head, her voice firmer now. “You mistake me for the kind of woman who would trade her honor to become a prince’s mistress. But I’m not. I know my place and I honor it. And this—whatever this is—can only bring pain. To us, to everyone.”

“It’s not like that,” Ikkar insisted. “I love you, Talia. I’ve loved you long enough to know this feeling isn’t going anywhere. And I know you feel something too. Don’t tell me you don’t, because I can see it in your eyes.”

Talia tried to speak, to deny his claim, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, tears fell faster as she realized he was right. She did feel something—something that could destroy her.

She looked down, unable to face him. “I must take care of the princess, Your Highness,” she said, avoiding his gaze, “you should leave.”

***

*Five years later…*

Amara was the youngest of eight siblings, the last blessing born to the Dragon King Alaric and his beloved Queen Isabella. At just five years old, she was the court’s greatest joy, her dark curls bouncing as she ran through the grand halls, her bright, mischievous smile lighting up even the gloomiest of days.  

Her siblings, much older, had long since taken on responsibilities that made their lives vastly different from hers. Yet Amara adored each of them. Her days were filled with their stories and laughter whenever they visited her between their duties. They spoiled her endlessly, the little dragon of the family.  

For Alaric and Isabella, seeing their children happy and healthy was the ultimate blessing—a reflection of the love they had built and shared through the years. Even as life moved forward, their family remained a source of light and warmth, a living legacy of happiness in the heart of the kingdom.

The royal children took their designated places in the grand council chamber, where the weight of the kingdom rested on their shoulders—some more than others. Ikkar, Zayr, and Rya now had seats at the lords’ table, their voices carrying real influence in court matters. Meanwhile, Mahir, Dayan, and little Kira were relegated to the sidelines, allowed only to observe.  

Kira sat quietly, embroidering a delicate floral pattern on a piece of fabric, her attention drifting far from the discussions of alliances and territories. Matters of state bored her, and she had no interest in the weighty responsibilities her older siblings seemed to shoulder with varying degrees of enthusiasm.  

The chamber stilled as the double doors opened, revealing the Dragon Queen herself. Isabella strode in, her auburn hair catching the light, her regal presence commanding attention. She apologized for her lateness with a nod before taking her seat beside Alaric, the Dragon King.  

Without preamble, Isabella addressed the council. “The lords of Theran will be visiting court anytime soon,” she announced, her tone both firm and diplomatic. “Theran has been prospering like never before—something not seen in centuries, not since the days of Old Theran.”  

Alaric leaned forward, his eyes glinting with ambition. “Which is exactly why we should finish what I started,” he declared, his voice booming. “We must take their territory while they’re at their strongest, ensuring our dominance.”  

Isabella sighed, clearly exasperated. “No more expansion wars,” she said, her tone sharp but calm.  

Alaric countered with a smirk. “It doesn’t have to be a war. They only need to accept *you* as their queen. Of course,” he added, his smirk fading, “there will only be war if they don’t.”  

Isabella rolled her eyes. “Theran has revived the old ways of their government. They do not wish to subject themselves to a single ruler. However, I am more than interested in an alliance,” she said, shifting the conversation. “So, we must ensure their visit goes smoothly. Their delegation includes Princess Alina.” She paused, her gaze landing on Ikkar. “I would be very pleased if the crown prince,” she said pointedly, “were to welcome Princess Alina and get to know her better.”  

Ikkar stiffened but kept his expression neutral. It wasn’t hard to see through his mother’s thinly veiled attempt to arrange a match. He had successfully evaded many of his parents’ attempts to marry him off, but the pressure was mounting. At 22, it was not only expected of him to take a wife but to produce heirs—royal princes and princesses who would carry on his parents’ legacy.  

He nodded politely, giving nothing away, but inwardly, his mind churned. None of it mattered. His heart hadn’t changed in five years.  

In the years after his confession, Ikkar’s love for Talia only grew. He never pursued another woman, despite his parents’ attempts to marry him off. When the weight of his unrequited love grew unbearable, he sought fleeting distractions in the brothels his brother Zayr frequented, but no one ever came close to her.
Talia remained in his thoughts, his dreams, his heart. She was his one hope, his one desire. And one day, he vowed, he would find a way to make her his—no matter the cost.