Chapter 224: Her Past(2)
Aralyn remembered the terror like a living thing clawing at her chest. She nearly bled out from fear, from helplessness, from rage. And yet, when the Queen’s uncle arrived under the command of the King, promising to shield the child, she had no choice but to trust him.
She didn’t want to. But the King asked her to do it. Told her that it was the best thing to do. Trembling, she handed over her baby, placing her entire heart, her entire hope, in the hands of a man whose loyalty was one of the few things she could count on.
And that was the last she saw of her child, born out of love, without the status to rule... the child she didn’t even feed once...
But she had to protect him.
The court was told the child had perished at birth. And in that lie, her son’s life was preserved, hidden from the eyes of a Queen who would have destroyed him without hesitation.
And she didn’t hear from the King again. He visited her occasionally, still holding the same deep love for her, but after the loss of her son, Aralyn could not bear the weight of it all. She felt hollow, trapped in grief and love, longing to leave, to reclaim some semblance of agency.
Yet the King would not let her go. He too had changed, his laugh waning over the years, bound by the crippling unease that he couldn’t protect their son. For two long years, she remained bound by love and obligation, a gilded prisoner in the life she no longer wanted.
Until one day, she made her decision. She would leave. On the day she was to depart, the clash of swords once again rang outside her home. This time, it was Hadrian who came, not to kill, but to protect. The Grand Duke offered her sanctuary: a position as lady-in-waiting to his wife. He assured her the Queen believed she was dead.
The home she had shared with her love, where she had spent countless stolen hours with the King, felt empty, hollowed by the absence of their child. She needed change, distance, escape.
The King begged her not to accept Hadrian’s offer, warning her that the Grand Duke was not to be trusted. But Aralyn, weary and desperate, did not listen. She entered Hadrian Arvand’s household, hidden from the eyes of those who might seek her, leaving behind the life she had known, and never again glimpsing the King’s face.
She later learned that he had spoken her name before his death, a last echo of love she could not answer.
Hadrian, however, had his own agenda. After ten years, he wanted to know if her son truly lived. At first, she did not understand why he had brought her there, why he had waited so long to ask. Then his wife died, killed by Hadrian himself, and Aralyn found herself cast into the dungeon, punished for knowing a truth no one else could.
From that moment, her life became a cycle of torture and silence. Hadrian pressed her for the location of her son, but she did not know, could not tell.
She endured years of pain, uncertain whether the true reason for her imprisonment was her knowledge, or something darker. Eventually, the questions ceased, leaving her in the suffocating dark, stripped of hope.
Yet now... could there have been another reason? One she had not yet imagined, lurking just beyond the shadows she had long called her prison.
Did Hadrian know she carried the blood of the Dragon King? Or had her punishments ceased only when he’d finally discovered her son’s identity? Why had he spared her life at all?
These questions circled her mind like vultures, refusing to settle.
And then another thought struck her, sharp and insistent.
How had her son ended up in the Kaltharion royal household? And how come the queen let him live after knowing who he was?
Her son...
The mere thought softened her expression. The moment she’d been rescued, a miracle she had never truly believed would happen, the first coherent thought she’d clung to was to find Lord Osric, to demand answers about the child she’d lost. But before she could even act, there he was.
Her son.
In the flesh.
Standing before her, grown and strong, with that beautiful mark, his father’s mark, gleaming proudly on his cheekbone.
How lucky was she?
And he loved her cooking. The way he devoured her food, the quiet comfort in his expression—surely, some part of him must have recognized her. He had been tethered to her for ten whole months. A bond like that, forged in blood and womb, could not simply be erased by time or circumstance.
But then...
Aralyn’s eyes burned with unshed tears as the memory returned—his anger, sharp and cutting, the way he had berated her as though she were some shameless intruder. A mistress.
She clenched her fists. She might not have been a queen, but she was not corrupt. She was not a thief of love.
Aldric watched her quietly. The strength that had once defined her seemed drained, leaving her a woman teetering under the weight of memories and present wounds. She had endured so much. Perhaps, in the flood of happiness at finding her son again, her expectations had soared too high. Perhaps that was why she had clashed with his wife, trying, foolishly, to correct her, to assert the place she thought still hers.
"When the last king of the Dragon Dynasty was slain," Aldric began slowly, "the young heir was entrusted in the protection of—"
"I was not a mistress," Aralyn interrupted, her voice trembling but fierce. Her eyes lifted to meet his, defiant. "We were in love. He loved me deeply. He loved our child."
In those stolen moments with the king, she had never felt like a secret shame. With him, the world had fallen away until there was only the two of them.
Aldric inclined his head. It looked like she didn’t want to know about her bloodline. All she cared for was what her son thought of her. He pitied her. "I know," he said softly. "That was why the dowager wanted you gone. She feared you... because he loved you."
He glanced at the closed chamber door, where Lorraine and Leroy had disappeared moments ago, and a wry, knowing look crossed his face.
"Those two..." Aldric gestured toward it. "Their bond is... something beyond human understanding. It’s better not to get between them. Even if you’re his mother."
The words fell gently but firmly, and Aralyn flinched at the truth in them.
It needed to be said.