Chapter LXXXVII: Demanding
Later that night, the king and Isabella lay on the bed, their son giggling as he played with a couple of wooden toys. Alaric watched their boy with a soft smile, occasionally glancing at Isabella, who was equally captivated by their child.
As they prepared to put Ikkar to bed, Alaric broke the comfortable silence. “You know, your father once offered your hand in marriage to me,” he said, his tone contemplative.
Isabella looked at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Alaric sighed, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on the mattress. “Almost ten years ago, Aldrus offered me your hand in marriage in exchange for an alliance.”
Isabella's confusion deepened. “No, that can’t be right. I was betrothed to a prince in the Therian Islands as a child. I never got to meet him, but my father…”
“Exactly,” Alaric replied, his gaze steady on her. “Your father tried to play both sides in the war. He wanted to secure his power no matter which way the tides turned. That’s why I wanted my revenge so badly...” Alaric sighed. “But now, his grandson will sit on my throne. In a way, he got what he wanted.”
Isabella watched their son with a distant look in her eyes before turning to Alaric. “I don’t believe my father would trade peace for the possibility of a blood legacy that will never be acknowledged. We watched our homeland burn and our loved ones die because of the war.”
The king chuckled softly. “You were born with a heart too pure to understand the ambitions of men.”
Isabella raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think that?”
The king looked at her, his expression serious. “You loved your father, Isabella. That love blinds you to the harsh truth that he wasn’t just a loving father, he was a schemer and a huge political player in the war.”
She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I disagree with you, I don’t think my ability to love blinds me of anything. Like, I love you, but that doesn’t mean I believe you’re a good man.”
The king looked at her, shocked by her candidness. “You… don’t?”
Isabella met his gaze steadily. “No, Alaric, my king. You are many things—a powerful ruler, a fierce warrior, a loving father—but a good man? No, I don’t think so. You have done terrible things, to me and to others. My love for you doesn’t erase that.”
Alaric’s expression softened, and he let out a sigh. “I don’t really deserve your love, do I?”
Isabella placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. “Love isn’t about deserving. Love is about love. Despite everything, I love you. But that doesn’t blind me to who you are. But I do hope a love like ours to be able to change you for the better.”
The king opened his eyes and looked at her with a mixture of awe and gratitude. “I don’t know what I did to earn your love, my little dove, but I will spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of it.”
Isabella looked at Alaric with determination. “All I need from you is to be a good father to Ikkar and a good man to me.” She paused, then added, “And also to shut down the harem.”
Alaric laughed, the sound filling the room. “Someone is getting demanding.”
Isabella sat beside Alaric, her gaze steady as she spoke. “If you truly love me, Alaric, then shut down the harem. There’s no reason to keep a dozen companions in your castle if you wish to commit to one.”
The king’s expression grew thoughtful, though a hint of annoyance flickered in his eyes. Isabella noticed it and asked, “Why do you hesitate?”
Alaric sighed, leaning back in his chair. “The harem is more than just a collection of women, Isabella. It’s a display of my power. These women are war prisoners, trophies from conquered lands. Setting them free could create a dangerous precedent. They could go and try to reclaim power, or worse, be used as pawns in new insurgencies.”
Isabella stayed quiet, her mind racing. She thought of the Allendorian rebels who still fought in her name, risking their lives for a cause she no longer had the strength to champion. How would Alaric punish her if he ever discovered the remnants of her people still resisting him?
After a pause, Alaric continued, “I could, however, marry some of them to my officials or offer them as gifts to my allies. It would take time, but at least it wouldn’t seem like I’m setting them free.”
A heavy silence settled between them before Alaric spoke again, this time more lightly, almost casually, “Or I could just have them killed.”
Isabella’s eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. She was speechless, unable to comprehend the ease with which he suggested such a horrific solution.
Alaric noticed her reaction and shrugged. “They are, in the end, the seeds of my enemies. That would’ve been their fate if it weren’t for the harem. And it would be safer than risking rebellions in their names.”
Isabella found her voice, trembling as she spoke. “Killing them seems… extreme, Alaric.”
The king looked at her, his gaze hardening. “It’s the reality of ruling, Isabella. Mercy can be a weakness, and loose ends can become nooses around your neck.”
Isabella struggled to reconcile the man she had just made love to with the one who was speaking now. She realized the depth of the darkness in him, a darkness that no amount of love could fully illuminate. She looked down, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions, but she knew she had to tread carefully. One wrong word, one misstep, could lead to consequences she wasn’t prepared to face.
Isabella finally nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I understand. But… please, Alaric, think of another way. There has to be something that doesn’t involve… that.”
The king chuckled lightly, his tone teasing as he asked, “Isabella, are you suddenly feeling sympathy for your peers?”
Isabella’s eyes flashed with anger. “They are not my peers,” she snapped, her voice sharp. But the truth that churned within her wasn’t sympathy—it was fear. All of the women in the harem, as far as she knew, were utterly devoted to the Dragon King. They were nothing but obedient, eager to please him, each one vying for a glance or a touch. None of them were defiant, none of them rebellious, not like her. If he was willing to be this ruthless with them, Isabella could only imagine the cruelty he might unleash on her if she ever dared to step out of line.
As her thoughts spiraled, the king pulled Ikkar into his embrace. The boy’s laughter rang out, joyful and innocent, a sharp contrast to the tension that hung between his parents. Alaric reached for Isabella’s face, his hand warm as he caressed her cheek. His touch was gentle, almost tender, and for a moment, it soothed the storm within her.
“I love you,” Alaric said, his voice low and earnest. “I know how important it is for you to shut down the harem. But believe me when I say, there is no other woman in this world I wish to be with. My heart belongs to you, Isabella.”
Isabella searched his eyes, trying to find the sincerity in his words. She wanted to believe him, to trust in the love he professed, but the fear lingered. The memory of his earlier words, the casual way he had spoken of killing the women who shared her fate, haunted her. She knew how dangerous it was to love a man like Alaric, a man who could turn so easily from lover to tyrant.
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