The Dragon King's Hated Bride

>>Aelin

I sat on the edge of the bed, a damp cloth pressed to my temple as the sheep doctor worked in silence. Her soft hooves clicked against the floor as she moved between her tools and the chair she'd placed beside me. Her concern was evident in her gentle hands, but her lips remained pressed in a thin, professional line. She didn't ask what had happened or how I had ended up with a gash on my head.

"There," she finally said, securing the last of the bandages. "The wound should heal in a few days, but you must be careful not to strain yourself."

I nodded weakly, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my dress. The words 'thank you' sat on the tip of my tongue, but instead, I found myself asking, "What do you mean by strain?"

The doctor, Lazelle, paused, her large eyes soft but firm. "Your body is fragile, Lady Aelin," she said. "You've been through too much, both physically and mentally. If you don't take care of yourself, the damage could become irreversible."

I bit the inside of my cheek, "I'm trying," I whispered, though it felt like a lie even as I said it. "I'm doing my best."

She tilted her head slightly, her voice gentle. "It's not just about your body. Your mind needs rest too. You've been through something… profound. The kind of loss that takes time to heal."

Her words brought a lump to my throat, but I forced it down.

Does she know how I lost the baby? 

I couldn't cry, not in front of her. There had been a question I was trying to ask for a long time now but I never got the chance. "Doctor," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "About… having a baby. Is it still possible for me?" Ever since I lost my baby, I kept having this feeling of void in my womb that I couldn't quite describe.

Her hands froze mid-motion, and her expression shifted to one of careful consideration. "Lady Aelin," she began cautiously, "with your current health, the chances of conceiving are close to none. Your body is still recovering, and… it," There was a look of pitiful sorrow in her eyes, "MIGHT be possible in the future." The words struck me like a blow, my breath catching in my chest, "But not anytime soon…" She looked away, making me anxious.

"But not impossible?" I asked, clinging to the shred of hope.

Her hesitation was answer enough, "We'll see in the future," She didn't meet my gaze again and I felt the layers of despair come and rest upon me

I nodded absently, my gaze falling to my lap. The doctor packed up her tools without another word, leaving me alone with the echo of her advice.

When the door clicked shut behind her, the silence in the room felt suffocating. No one else came to see me, no one asked how I was. The loneliness wrapped around me like a heavy shroud, and I sat there, staring at the flickering candlelight, wondering how much longer I could endure this.

I reached for the pendant around my neck, clutching it tightly. 

But then let it go. 

It wasn't working anymore

***

The faint echoes of drums and laughter drifted through the thick walls of my room. The demon festival for Draegon's return had reached its crescendo. I could hear the rhythmic pounding of the music, the cheers of the crowd, and the hum of festivities growing louder as the night went on.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the untouched plate of food from the day before. My room felt suffocatingly small, the air heavy with the weight of my isolation. The warmth of the festival seemed a world away.

As Draegon's wife, I should have been at his side, receiving the same adoration and honor as him. But no invitation had come to me.

Not even from my husband.

No maid had arrived with a dress for the feast, no word from Draegon had reached me. It was as if I didn't exist, left to rot away in this prison-like room while the world celebrated his triumph. 

The door creaked open, and a maid entered with my dinner tray. I had seen this maid a few times before in the past two years. She was a Minataur. She glanced around the room, her eyes briefly pausing on me as I sat unmoving, my gaze fixed on nothing. "You haven't eaten," she said softly, placing the tray on the table.

I didn't reply. I couldn't muster the energy to care about the food or her concern.

She hesitated, then stepped closer. "Lady Aelin," she began carefully, "the festival… It's for Lord Draegon. Shouldn't you be there?"

I scoffed, the sound dry and hollow. "Should I? Does anyone even care if I'm there?"

Her brows furrowed, and for the first time, she crouched slightly, meeting my eye level. "You're his wife. You have every right to stand by his side."

My hands clenched the fabric of my dress, my voice trembling as I replied, "Then why didn't he come for me? Why didn't he ask me to join him? If he wanted me there, he would have sent for me. But he didn't."

The maid sighed, glancing over her shoulder as if to ensure no one was listening. "I understand why you'd feel this way, but…" She hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You need to see this for yourself."

"See what?" I asked, my voice almost dead.

She hesitated again, wringing her hands nervously. "The way he treats Ruoxy compared to you. You need to see it with your own eyes."

I shook my head, the lump in my throat growing tighter. "Why would I do that? Why would I willingly go and watch him—" My voice cracked, and I looked away, biting down on my trembling lip. "It'll only hurt me more."

Her expression softened, and she placed a tentative hand on my arm. "Because there's a secret you don't know. Something that won't be told to you directly."

I turned back to her, my heart sinking. "What secret?"

She straightened, her voice firm now. "If you don't go, you won't hear the public announcement. No one's going to tell you separately, Lady Aelin. You have to be there to know."

I swallowed hard, her words weighing heavily on me. What could be so important that it was worth dragging myself out of this room, into a world that had no place for me? Into a world where my husband had replaced me with another?

The drums outside beat louder, the laughter growing more raucous, the celebration more vivid. My stomach twisted with unease, and yet, against my better judgment, a sliver of curiosity crept in.

"Alright," I whispered finally, my voice barely audible. "I'll go."

The maid nodded, her expression unreadable, and for the first time in weeks, I decided to go out of my room.

There was a big portion inside my head, telling me not to go and that it'll only destroy me.

But the fact that the maid stated about no one telling me separately was true. And I wanted to know what he was going to do. 

***

I wrapped the thick, dark robe around myself, pulling the hood low over my face. My fingers trembled as I fastened the clasp at my neck, my heart pounding with trepidation. 

The robe hung loosely around me, shrouding me in anonymity. I didn't want the curious stares and scornful whispers that would undoubtedly follow if anyone recognized me.

The corridors of the palace were deserted, the usual hustle and bustle abandoned in favor of the grand celebration outside. As I neared the open balcony overlooking the main courtyard, the hum of excitement grew louder, spilling over in waves of drums, flutes, and jubilant laughter. 

The palace festival was alive, its energy palpable even from this distance.

I stepped into the shadows of the balcony, carefully avoiding the flickering torchlight as I gazed down at the scene below. The entire palace courtyard was transformed. Lanterns floated in the air, casting a warm glow over the crowd of demons and dignitaries dressed in their finest silks and armors. Rows of tables were laden with exotic foods, and a grand stage sat at the center, draped in red and gold banners that shimmered in the light of enchanted flames.

It was beautiful. It was magnificent. It was nothing like my wedding.

My wedding had been a quiet affair—functional, devoid of warmth or celebration. No lavish decorations, no cheering crowds, no grand stage. Just the binding of two people for the sake of politics. 

As I stood there now, watching this spectacle unfold, I couldn't help but feel the sting of comparison. This was a festival of love and triumph. My wedding had been nothing more than a transaction even though it was a wedding between two royalties.

My gaze fell to the stage where Draegon stood. His jet black hair gleamed under the torchlight, his crimson cloak a stark contrast against the gold banners behind him. 

And beside him was Ruoxy.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw her, radiant in a flowing silver gown that seemed to sparkle with every movement. Her hand rested lightly on Draegon's arm, and the sight of it made my chest ache.

The crowd cheered wildly as Draegon lifted a goblet in a silent toast. His expression was calm, composed, but when he turned to Ruoxy, something changed. His lips curved into a wide smile, something I hadn't seen directed at me.

"She fought beside me," Draegon said, his deep voice cutting through the noise. The crowd immediately quieted, "Through the fiercest battles, she was there. Her courage and strength carried us to victory." I had been thinking this for a while but I had heard Draegon wasn't much of a talker… 

Guess, I heard wrong… 

Or maybe he simply changed…

Ruoxy smiled at him, placing a hand on his arm. "And none of it would have been possible without you," she said, her voice soft but amplified by the magic. "You are the true hero."

The crowd roared again, raising their goblets in unison.

My fingers curled around the cold stone of the balcony's edge. 

Below, Draegon turned toward Ruoxy, pulling something from his pocket as he crouched on one knee, making me freeze.

!!! 

The crowd fell silent once more as he held up a ring.

A mithril ring. 

It sparkled brilliantly under the lights, its intricate design catching every flicker of flame and magic. The sight of it knocked the breath from my lungs.

Mithril is the most expensive material in the world.

"This," Draegon said, "is a token of gratitude, of loyalty, and of what's to come."

Ruoxy's cheeks flushed as she extended her hand, and he slid the ring onto her finger

The crowd erupted into cheers as Ruoxy held up her hand, showing off the ring that glimmered like starlight.

My eyes drifted to my own hand, empty and bare.

…

I curled my fingers into a fist, the cold weight of reality settling over me. Draegon had never given me a ring.

At the wedding, I hadn't questioned it. I had told myself that the marriage was a matter of duty, that such gestures were unnecessary. But now, as I stood there, watching him give her something so deeply personal and symbolic, the absence of my own ring felt like a wound reopening.

I couldn't stop the flood of memories that came rushing back—all the words Draegon said to me after he came back.

'I never promised to remain married only to you,'

'I don't need to protect you,' he had said coldly. "I just need you alive. The truce between our kingdoms depends on it.'

'Abandon you? When did I own you?;

'Stop living in the past. It seems you're slow. If you didn't get it last time, I'll say it clearly. I lied. You mean nothing to me and I don't want to see your face EVER again.'

I gripped the edge of the balcony tighter, my knuckles turning white. The cheers below grew louder, the crowd chanting Draegon and Ruoxy's names in unison. The sound pierced through me, cutting through me.

As Ruoxy leaned into Draegon, her smile wide and victorious, I stepped back into the shadows, the ache in my chest growing unbearable. 

This wasn't my place. It had never been my place. And now, more than ever, it was clear that it never would be.