Page 75 of The Dragon King's Pregnant Mate
Another knock interrupts us, and this time it's Darian, coming to report that the Lords have all sent messages of congratulation. Even our bitterest rivals offer gifts and good wishes for the princess.
"The city celebrates," he tells us, keeping his voice low as Aurelie sleeps. "They say she's a sign of true peace."
"What do you think, old friend?" Arvoren asks. "You've seen enough of politics to know symbols aren't always enough."
Darian studies us—the king who learned to love instead of possess, the queen who chose to stay when she could have run, the child who bridges ancient magics.
"I think," he says carefully, "that some symbols carry their own power. I’m happy for you, Arvoren. And you, of course, my queen."
He withdraws silently, leaving us in peace. Outside, I hear the sounds of revelry drifting up from the city—music and laughter carrying on the warm summer breeze. So different from the fearful silence that once filled these streets.
As evening approaches, Aurelie wakes hungry and fussing. Her magic flares with her cry—some strange force rattles around the room. I can already tell she’s going to rattle this castle almost to its knees with the force of her tantrums as she grows. But Arvoren and I take care of her, working together just as we've learned to do in all things.
"Shh, little one," I murmur, settling her to nurse. "You're safe. You're loved. You're exactly where you belong."
“She already looks like you,” Arvoren murmurs into my ear, lips near my cheek. “I regret so many things, my love.”
"We've all grown," I remind him, reaching for his hand. "All changed. And…look at her. What is there to regret, when we have this?”
He settles beside us, fever-warm and solid. "I can see that look in your eye. Tell me what you're thinking."
I consider the question, watching Aurelie's tiny fingers curl against my skin. "I'm thinking about that day in the underchamber, when you first brought me here. How terrified I was. How angry." I smile, letting him feel my contentment through our bond. "And I'm thinking about all the days that followed—every step that led us here, every choice that made us who we are now."
"Doyouregret any of it?"
"No." The certainty in my voice surprises us both. "It wasn't easy, wasn't always right. But it brought us here.”
Arvoren looks at me searchingly. “Would you do it again?”
It’s a different question and we both know it.
“Yes,” I say, and I mean it.
Aurelie finishes nursing and yawns, sending tiny snowflakes spiraling through the warm air around us. Arvoren takes her with infinite care, his massive hands impossibly gentle as he settles her against his chest. Steam rises where their skin touches, but she only sighs contentedly, already used to the play of ice and fire in her blood.
"We'll teach her better than we were taught," I say softly. "Show her that strength comes in many forms. She’ll be so very loved.”
"Of course she will." His voice holds certainty now. "The future Queen of Kaldoria."
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I taste the promise in it. Whatever comes next, whatever challenges our daughter's power brings, we face them together. No more prisons, no more chains. Only choice and trust and love, freely given and freely returned.
As night falls, torches flare to life in the city below—countless points of light like earthbound stars. Aurelie sleeps between us, frost and flame dancing in perfect harmony around her tiny form. Soon we'll have to face the world again—there are celebrations to attend, diplomats to greet, a kingdom to govern. But for now, in this perfect moment, we simply exist together. A family born from winter's fury and forged in dragon-fire, ready to write our own story at last.
"I love you," Arvoren murmurs into my hair.
"More than life itself?" I tease gently, remembering all the times he's said those words before.
His laugh holds notes of dragon-fire. He presses his lips to my temple. "Thank you for staying.”
It’s such a simple sentence, but it almost brings me to tears.
I turn in his arms, careful not to disturb our sleeping daughter. "Thank you for learning. For trying. For becoming the man I knew you could be."
Aurelie sighs in her sleep, and frost patterns dance across the blankets once more. This time, we let them spread—delicate spirals catching torchlight, a reminder of the magic that flows through all our veins. Not a curse to be controlled or a power to be feared, but a gift to be cherished. To be shared.
The future stretches out before us, endless as winter stars.
Together, we'll make it worth the waiting.