Chapter XCIX: Cage
Isabella became a shadow of her former self. The king's betrayal had broken her spirit in a way she still struggled to comprehend. Everything felt heavy, painful, and her heart ached with a constant reminder of what had been taken from her. Unlike the late queen, Isabella didn’t retreat into darkness—she kept her windows open, allowing the sunlight to spill into her room. But this decision seemed to play right into Dara’s hands. Every day, Dara took advantage of the open windows, brazenly sunbathing naked in the garden below, ensuring that Isabella could see her.
But Isabella refused to give her the satisfaction. She ignored Dara completely. Just as she ignored the king. Whenever she brought their son to see him, she would speak in brief, polite sentences, but nothing more. Their conversations were limited to their child, and any attempt on his part to discuss anything else was met with cold silence. She couldn’t bear to look at him for too long. Every time she did, all she felt was disgust, anger… and betrayal.
She had believed in his love. He had made her believe it—made her think that despite the world they lived in, despite the expectations of his station, she was enough for him. But what had that belief brought her? A man who had slept with another woman on their son’s birthday? And worse, that very woman was still kept around like a cruel reminder of Isabella's naivety. Every glance at Dara felt like a mockery, a constant display of just how foolish she had been to believe she could ever hold his heart completely.
The palace began to feel like a prison again. The jewels, the silks, the luxuries—they became nothing more than the golden bars of her gilded cage. She felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of it all, unsure of how to move forward or even how to feel.
Deep down, Isabella wished she had never seen it—never seen him in bed with Dara. Maybe then, she could have lived in blissful ignorance, still believing in the love he had promised her. But now that illusion was shattered, and with it, so was her heart.
Isabella took her son to see the king before bedtime. As soon as they entered the king’s bedroom, Ikkar wriggled out of her arms and ran excitedly toward his father. The king, his face lighting up with joy, scooped Ikkar into the air, laughing as he kissed his son's cheeks. They played together for a while, the king twirling Ikkar around and rocking him gently until the little boy’s eyes grew heavy with sleep.
Isabella stood silently in the background, her expression unreadable. Alicent was by her side, patiently waiting. Once Ikkar had fallen into a deep sleep, the king carefully handed him over to Alicent, asking her to put him to bed. But Isabella interjected, her voice soft but firm, “I’ll put him to bed myself.”
The king paused, then turned his gaze to her. “Could you stay, Isabella? We need to talk,” he asked, his tone calm but insistent.
Isabella looked at him, her face still and emotionless. “I have nothing to say,” she replied coolly. “And no, I don’t wish to stay.”
The king’s eyes darkened with a mixture of sadness and determination. “Then it’s an order,” he said quietly, but with an unmistakable firmness in his voice.
Isabella hesitated, her eyes flicking to Alicent, who was still holding Ikkar. With a resigned sigh, she bent down to kiss her son's head before giving Alicent a nod to take him away. Alicent left the room, closing the door gently behind her, leaving Isabella and the king alone in the heavy silence that followed.
The king sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at Isabella. "I wish you would forgive me already," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.
Isabella remained silent, her face a mask of quiet resolve.
"I can't go back and undo what I did," the king continued, his tone growing more insistent. "So, what do you want from me? What could possibly make this right?"
Isabella finally spoke, her voice calm but distant. "There are only two things I want from you."
The king’s brow furrowed as he asked, "What are they?"
She met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. "I want you to take care of your son and prepare him to be king. And I want you to grant me political protection until Ikkar comes of age."
The king stared at her, incredulous. "What are you talking about? Of course, I’ll protect you and Ikkar! How dare you even question that?"
"Then there's nothing else I want from you," Isabella replied coldly.
"But I want more," the king said, his voice dropping as he moved closer to her. "I want you. I need you."
Isabella’s expression remained stony as she replied, "I need you too… to ensure my son’s safety and to survive."
The king’s heart sank at her words, shocked by the icy detachment in her voice. "Please, Isabella," he said, grabbing her cheeks gently, his eyes searching hers. "Forgive me. I love you."
Isabella pulled away, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "If you want someone to warm your bed tonight, you should ask for Dara."
The king’s patience snapped. "I don’t want Dara!" he shouted, his voice booming through the room. "I want you!"
Isabella flinched at his outburst, swallowing hard as fear flickered in her eyes. The king, noticing her fear, immediately softened. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Please, Isabella…"
She looked up at him, her voice trembling as she said, "I know I can't stop you from getting what you want, but I beg you… please don't do this."
The king gazed into her eyes, searching for any trace of the love and passion they once shared. But all he found was fear, a fear that cut him deeper than any blade.
He released a heavy breath, the weight of his emotions bearing down on him. "You can go," he finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Isabella hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked out, leaving the king alone with the echoes of their ripped bond.
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