Chapter XXXVIII: Possibilities
As nearly six months crawled by, the king's absence loomed over the harem like a shadow, casting uncertainty over their lives. News from the frontlines trickled in sporadically, leaving the concubines in a state of anxious anticipation. Each passing day stretched into eternity, their hearts weighed down by the absence of their sovereign.
Isabella, her belly swollen with the promise of new life, felt the weight of solitude pressing down upon her. With each passing day, her fears intensified, a gnawing worry that the king would not be present for the birth of their child. As much as their relationship was turbulent and complicated, she longed for his return, yearning for his presence amidst the impending arrival of their offspring.
In the harem's quiet moments, Isabella found solace in the gentle fluttering of life within her. She whispered soothing words to her unborn baby, promising to protect and cherish he or she with all her might, even in the absence of their father. But deep down, she couldn't shake the ache of longing for the king's return, praying fervently for this war to be over at once.
Isabella's concern for her child's future weighed heavily on her heart, prompting her to seek solace from Lady Belet. "What will become of me and my child if the king doesn't return?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
Lady Belet, her expression grave, chided gently, "Such thoughts are not for you to dwell upon, my lady. The king will return victorious, of that I am certain."
"But if he doesn't..." Isabella persisted, her eyes betraying her fear.
With a heavy sigh, Lady Belet relented, "In such a dire event, a regent would be appointed until you give birth. If it's a boy, he will inherit the throne with the regent's guidance once he comes of age. If a girl, Prince Damian, the king's brother, will ascend the throne."
Isabella absorbed the information, her mind racing with the implications. "And what of me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"For now, focus on the king's safe return," Lady Belet advised, her tone gentle yet firm. "Your well-being will be ensured, regardless of the outcome. Pray for his victory, my lady. That is all we can do."
A couple weeks passed and Isabella’s anxiety only seemed to grow alongside her belly. On an evening, from her upper floor chambers, Isabella's ears perked up at the sound of commotion drifting up from the harem below. Curiosity piqued, she descended the stairs to investigate, finding the other concubines clustered around Lady Jia, who held a piece of paper in her hand.
"What's going on?" Isabella inquired, her voice soft but tinged with intrigue.
"There’s a letter," one of the other concubines explained eagerly, gesturing toward the parchment in Jia's hand. "It's news about the king!"
Isabella's heart skipped a beat, anticipation coursing through her veins. She edged closer, eager to hear the contents of the letter for herself.
Amidst the bustling harem, Lady Jia's voice rose above the chatter as she unfolded the letter, her expression a mixture of excitement and disbelief. "Listen, everyone," she called out, capturing the attention of the concubines. "It's from the Theran Islands. The Therian generals have surrendered, and our king will be returning soon!"
As the war on the Theran Islands reached its climax, the battlefield was painted with blood and echoed with the cries of the fallen. Yet, amidst the chaos, victory prevailed. The Therian generals, defeated and humbled, surrendered their sovereignty, bowing to the might of the Dragon King.
With the conquest of yet another territory, the Dragon King's dominion expanded, his empire growing stronger with each triumph. And now, weary but resolute, he turned his gaze homeward, prepared to return to his kingdom, where many news awaited him.
As the king's procession wound its way through the bustling streets of the capital, a symphony of cheers and fanfare echoed off the cobblestones. The air was electric with anticipation, each heartbeat of the city pulsating in rhythm with the approaching arrival of their victorious sovereign.
At the palace gates, adorned with banners fluttering in the breeze, the courtiers stood in eager anticipation, their faces a tapestry of reverence and awe. The king’s courtiers gathered on the palace’s gates in order to welcome him, and so did his concubines. His eyes searched specifically for one of them.
Isabella stood proudly amidst his concubines, her radiant presence like a beacon in the sea of revelers. Dressed in a flowing gown of delicate pink silk, her hand tenderly cradling the swell of her pregnant belly, she was an almost unbelievable vision of pure beauty.
As the king drew nearer, the sight of Isabella stirred a whirlwind of emotions within him. He marveled at the way her eyes sparkled with pride and anticipation, her smile illuminating the path before him. In that moment, amidst the tumultuous celebrations, he found himself captivated by her beauty, her grace, and the undeniable aura of maternal warmth that surrounded her.
Despite the weight of her belly, she attempted to bow in deference, her effort met with a gentle chuckle from the king, which made her laugh as well.
With a tender smile playing on his lips, the king reached out to caress her belly, his touch conveying a depth of emotion words could not capture. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead and a sense of tranquility washed over them both, a silent acknowledgment of the affection and respect he had for her.
Taking her hand in his, the king guided Isabella by his side, her hand on his arm a symbol of unity amidst the jubilant chaos. Together, they crossed the threshold of the palace, side by side, as if nothing else mattered.
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