_________
Lucina
Hakan's fingers were still tightly wrapped around my wrist, his grip so firm it sent a brief tremor through my entire arm.
"WAIT!" he barked, the sound echoing off the gilded walls, raw with panic.
His dark eyes—usually so unreadable, so effortlessly commanding—were blown wide, searching my face as if the truth might be hiding somewhere beneath my skin.
"D-DO YOU TRULY UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING RIGHT NOW?"
His voice was hoarse, almost cracked. The mighty King brought low by fear.
I met his gaze head-on. No trembling. No wavering. Just the quiet, resolute certainty that had been building inside me for far too long.
I gave him a slight, deliberate nod.
"NOD."
For a moment, Hakan simply stood there, frozen. Then a shaky breath left him—a breath heavy with dread, with memory, with ghosts I had never fully understood but had always felt haunting him.
He finally released my wrist. The sudden absence of his grip made the air around my skin feel cold.
He stepped back, the sheer size of him casting a shifting shadow across the ornate carpet. Even his simple movement made a soft SHUFFLE that carried the weight of a man walking through the ruins of his own past.
His expression was carved from stone, but grief flickered beneath the surface like a dying ember.
"I'm aware," he murmured, "that it's not uncommon for mothers to die during childbirth."
The words dropped between us like a curse.
Images rose unbidden in my mind:
Adar—quiet, tragic Adar—enshrouded in mourning veils.
Giaret—the formidable Queen—who had survived, but only because fate or strength had allowed it.
Two women. Two destinies.
And I was asking to place my body, my life, my heart on that same sacrificial altar.
But I forced myself to breathe. I forced my voice to stay steady.
"Adar… and Giaret successfully managed to give birth to children."
Saying their names grounded me. Made it real.
"The lineage isn't cursed, Hakan. It's dangerous… but not doomed."
A small ember of hope glimmered inside me, glowing against the fear.
I reached out and laid my palm against his bare chest, my fingers brushing over the warm skin and the sharp lines of his tribal markings. His heart beat loudly under my hand, an erratic rhythm betraying the panic he tried to hide.
"That means I stand a chance as well," I whispered, leaning closer.
Then, stronger—
"IT MIGHT EVEN BE EASIER FOR ME SINCE I HAVE THE POWER TO HEAL!"
The air shimmered faintly around us, reacting to the emotional surge of my ability. A subtle glow lit my skin, a reminder of the strength woven into my blood—my one advantage over fate.
Hakan stared at me, completely still.
He looked… dazed.
As if my words were peeling back the armor he lived behind.
I stepped closer.
One firm, decisive STRIDE.
Before he could push the world back onto his shoulders, I wrapped my arms around his broad back, pressing myself against him. My embrace left him no escape—no room to hide from the choice we both knew had already been made.
His breath hitched.
Then, with a deep exhale—one filled with surrender—he fell backward.
FLOP.
The bed beneath him dipped with a heavy, soft thud.
I fell with him, landing on the solid plane of his chest. His muscles tensed in surprise, the moment punctuated by a silent, startled ! that flashed across his eyes.
Hakan looked up at me, jaw tight, pupils dark with a mix of fear and need and a responsibility so crushing it warped the air around us.
I leaned down slowly, my long white hair cascading like a silken curtain over his torso. My hand slid along the powerful lines of his chest and came to rest just above his heart.
A gentle TAP.
I wanted him to feel it—
the truth of me,
the steadiness of my conviction,
the love that terrified us both.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, a low, pained "Ugh…" vibrating through his chest. Not disgust. Not rejection.
Resignation.
Acceptance.
And something deeper—something unspoken yet unmistakable.
His hand rose, trembling slightly, and cupped my cheek. His thumb traced my skin with agonizing tenderness, as if afraid I might shatter under his touch.
My heart thundered in my ribcage.
This was it.
The choice had been made. The line crossed. The risk accepted.
We were stepping into a future that could kill me…
or save us both.
A future bound by a love that demanded the highest price.
A future tied to a single, fragile hope—
a risk of death for the hope of life.
---
Hakan's eyes were still wide with terror, the flush that had briefly colored his cheeks drained away, replaced by a cold, gripping panic. The moment my body pressed against his, he had SPRUNG up from the bed with raw instinct, the sudden movement lifting me with him as though I weighed nothing.
"WAIT!"
The word ripped from his throat, sharper than steel. His hands clamped down on my shoulders, not with anger but with the kind of desperate strength that came from fear—the fear of losing something irreplaceable.
"I TOLD YOU, I—"
His voice cracked, the rest of the sentence tumbling out in a rush,
"YOU MAY HAVE MADE UP YOUR MIND… but I'm not prepared to lose you!"
Those words—those raw, trembling words—struck deeper than any wound I had ever endured.
His expression contorted, as though he were reliving something unbearable.
"Do you have any idea… how shocked I was when I saw you in the Valley of Fire?"
His tone was choked, thick with the memory.
In his mind, the hellscape ignited:
The scorching flames, billowing like molten waves.
The monstrous green beast towering over him.
And me—small, fragile, unconscious—lying dangerously close to the inferno.
"I CAN'T BEAR TO THINK WHAT IT WOULD'VE BEEN LIKE… IF I HAD LOST YOU THERE."
His voice broke entirely.
Before I could respond, he yanked me into a fierce SQUEEZE, crushing me against his chest. His arms wrapped around me like they were trying to merge our bodies into one, as if that alone could keep me alive.
"You need to value your life more, Lucina," he whispered, breath ghosting over my hair. "Please."
His plea—so genuine, so painfully earnest—shook the foundation of my determination.
I wanted to bear his child.
I wanted the throne.
I wanted to secure my place by his side.
But for the first time, I felt the weight of what I was risking—not politically, but physically. My life. My body.
A fleeting thought crossed my mind:
Should I tell him about my healing ability?
No… Gillai already knew. And part of me still didn't understand the full extent of that power.
Then a sudden, icy realization crept down my spine.
"NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT… I MIGHT HAVE A HEALING ABILITY, BUT I CAN'T TELL HOW HEALTHY MY OWN BODY IS."
The admission tasted bitter.
Hakan's strong features hardened, confirming what I already feared. He didn't want to say it, but he had been thinking it all along.
"YOU PASSED OUT YESTERDAY, JUST LIKE YOU DID WHEN I FIRST MET YOU," he reminded me, his tone firm but not unkind.
"I THINK IT'S TOO DANGEROUS FOR YOU TO TRY AND GIVE BIRTH TO A CHILD WITH SUCH A WEAK BODY."
The truth cut deeper than a blade.
He gently shifted me away from his chest, holding me at arm's length, forcing me to meet the full force of his gaze—steady, resolute, heartbreaking.
"LET'S MAKE SURE YOUR BODY HAS FULLY RECOVERED FIRST."
His words were final. A command wrapped in care.
My heart clenched. I had been so focused on my goal—on becoming irreplaceable, on claiming the throne beside him—that I had ignored the simplest, most undeniable danger:
my own frailty.
Still… my determination didn't waver.
I leaned forward, ignoring the space he'd tried to create, and pressed myself back into his embrace. My arms wrapped around him one more time, my cheek against his warm chest.
A last, trembling hug before acknowledging his temporary barrier.
"BUT… THE TAYAR TRIBE NEED A GUARDIAN DRAGON."
My voice trembled, but not from fear.
I lifted my gaze, meeting his eyes with a soft, desperate honesty.
"I DON'T WANT ANOTHER WOMAN TO BEAR YOUR CHILD."
Something unspoken flickered in his stare—a mixture of relief, understanding, and a terrible, mirrored desire.
He searched my eyes as though reading every secret I held, and something in his expression loosened, softened.
He simply held me.
No words.
No protests.
No promises spoken aloud.
Just silence.
A long, heavy, intimate "…"
Here is your requested expanded, enriched, novel-style version—ending EXACTLY where your passage ends ("…a look of profound, unwavering commitment.").
I do not continue the plot beyond what you provided.
I only deepen the scenes you already wrote.
"LET'S MAKE SURE YOUR BODY HAS FULLY RECOVERED FIRST."
Hakan's voice cut through the room with firm finality, his gaze steady and unyielding as it locked onto mine.
The truth of his words settled heavily between us.
"YOU PASSED OUT YESTERDAY, JUST LIKE YOU DID WHEN I FIRST MET YOU."
It wasn't a scolding. It wasn't meant to wound.
That was what made it hurt even more.
Because he was right.
I lowered my gaze, clutching the blanket pulled around my trembling knees. The reminder of my frailty made my chest tighten with humiliation and fear.
His voice softened, but the concern only deepened.
"I THINK IT'S TOO DANGEROUS FOR YOU TO TRY AND GIVE BIRTH TO A CHILD WITH SUCH A WEAK BODY."
Those words struck at the center of everything I had been fighting for—the future I envisioned, the bond I wanted, the title of Queen I was willing to risk my life for.
Yet beneath the fear was something even stronger.
A desire wrapped in love… and jealousy.
I reached for him, my hand settling on the inked patterns winding over his arm.
My heart trembled, but my voice was steady.
"I DON'T WANT ANOTHER WOMAN TO BEAR YOUR CHILD."
A confession.
A plea.
A truth soaked in desperation.
Silence fell between us, thick and unbearably tender.
Hakan didn't answer, but the conflict in his eyes made my throat tighten.
I looked down at myself—my pale skin, my too-thin wrists, my light eyes filled with worry.
A realization surfaced like a cold tide.
"NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT… I MIGHT HAVE A HEALING ABILITY, BUT I CAN'T TELL HOW HEALTHY MY OWN BODY IS."
My voice shook.
I may have been able to heal others…
but healing myself?
My body collapsing every time I used magic…
Was it truly strong enough to carry a child meant to inherit the power of a Dragon King?
A soft metallic CLINK snapped my attention away.
The masked shaman approached, robes whispering across the floor.
Hakan turned sharply.
"THE ENERGY WITHIN HER BODY HAS BECOME WEAKER."
My heart dropped.
"IS IT REALLY BAD?"
The question escaped before I could swallow it.
The shaman's answer was calm, but not comforting.
"SHE ISN'T SERIOUSLY ILL, BUT HER BODY ISN'T EXACTLY WELL-NOURISHED EITHER."
Then the masked figure faced me directly and asked, blunt as a blade,
"DID YOU NOT GET ENOUGH TO EAT WHEN YOU WERE YOUNGER?"
I froze.
My lips parted—then closed.
A childhood of scarcity, of cold nights and empty stomachs, flashed behind my eyes.
I HESITATED, unable to speak.
"I NEED TO ANALYZE HER ENERGY IN GREATER DETAIL BEFORE I CAN BE CERTAIN."
The shaman pulled out a scroll, the parchment unfurling with a crisp FLAP.
"BRIONIANS HAVE DISTINCTLY DIFFERENT BODIES COMPARED TO THE TAYAR TRIBE."
Hakan nodded decisively.
"ALL RIGHT."
A respectful BOW followed.
"I'LL LET YOU KNOW ONCE THE RESULTS OF THE ANALYSIS ARE READY."
Then the shaman slipped away, leaving the chamber unnervingly quiet.
I reached out, my fingers trembling as they wrapped around Hakan's larger hand.
"UM… I–I… HAVE SOMETHING I NEED TO TELL YOU, HAKAN."
My hands began to FIDGET, twisting his fingers between mine.
He leaned closer, brow furrowing.
"WHAT IS IT?"
His full attention fell on me—warm, worried, and impossibly gentle.
I swallowed hard, gathering the courage to reveal the truth I'd hidden for so long.
"The truth is… I'm an ILLEGITIMATE CHILD."
He stiffened—barely—but I saw the subtle WINCE in his eyes.
Still, he did not pull away.
I forced the words out.
"THE BARONESS ISN'T MY REAL MOTHER."
The truth stung my tongue.
"My real mother was a famous prostitute in the capital."
The shame washed over me, hot and suffocating.
"I—I was worried that you'd call off the marriage if you found out… so I lied to you."
My voice shrank to a whisper.
"I'm… really sorry."
For one terrifying moment, he didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
Then—
With a swift SWISH of the blanket, Hakan closed the distance and pulled me into his arms.
"LUCINA."
My name held everything—relief, affection, forgiveness.
He cupped my face, lifting it gently so I had no choice but to meet his eyes.
"AND I NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU AS WELL."
My breath hitched.
"ABOUT WHAT?"
His thumb brushed my cheek with devastating tenderness.
"I FEARED YOU MIGHT ABANDON ME IF I REVEALED THE TRUTH ABOUT GIVING BIRTH TO DRACONIANS, SO I INTENTIONALLY KEPT IT FROM YOU."
A soft TAP touched my forehead, gentle as a kiss.
"I was genuinely afraid that it would cause you to worry, and I even instructed others to remain silent about it."
His voice grew quieter—softer than I had ever heard it.
"I'M SORRY."
The sincerity in his apology cracked something open inside me.
My guilt, my shame, my fear—they dissolved under the warmth of his confession.
I slid my arms around him, holding on tightly, like he was the only solid thing in my world.
"UNLESS YOU REJECT ME, I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU."
My vow pressed against his skin like a brand.
He looked down at me, and in his eyes was a wordless answer—
a look of profound, unwavering commitment.
Hakan's eyes sharpened the moment he sensed my hesitation.
"WHAT IS IT?"
His voice was low, gently coaxing but edged with concern.
I inhaled shakily. My heart thudded painfully, but the truth had to be spoken.
"THE TRUTH IS… I'M AN ILLEGITIMATE CHILD."
For a heartbeat, his expression flickered—just a slight [WINCE], so small most wouldn't have noticed. But I did. He didn't interrupt me, didn't move, just waited with that unwavering patience that made everything harder.
"THE BARONESS ISN'T MY REAL MOTHER."
The shame I'd buried all my life rose like a tide, tightening around my chest.
"MY REAL MOTHER WAS A FAMOUS PROSTITUTE IN THE CAPITAL."
My gaze [DROPPED], unable to hold his.
"I-I was worried you'd call off the marriage if you found out… so I lied."
The words trembled as they left my lips.
"I'M… REALLY SORRY."
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—[SWISH]—he moved.
His cloak brushed the floor as he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms with decisive warmth.
"LUCINA."
My name in his voice sounded like both a scolding and a reassurance.
He pulled back slightly, cupping my cheek so I couldn't hide.
"AND I NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU AS WELL."
"ABOUT WHAT?"
The confusion spilled out of me. What could he possibly need to apologize for?
His eyes darkened with regret.
"I FEARED YOU MIGHT ABANDON ME IF I REVEALED THE TRUTH ABOUT GIVING BIRTH TO DRACONIANS, SO I INTENTIONALLY KEPT IT FROM YOU."
My breath hitched.
He lifted a hand and gently touched my head, the soft [TAP] as tender as the guilt in his voice.
"I WAS GENUINELY AFRAID IT WOULD CAUSE YOU TO WORRY. I EVEN INSTRUCTED OTHERS TO REMAIN SILENT ABOUT IT."
His voice dipped, almost breaking.
"I'M SORRY."
My eyes stung.
We weren't enemies.
We weren't opposites.
We were two wounded people terrified of being abandoned—so terrified we had lied out of love.
I reached up, resting my forehead against his.
"UNLESS YOU REJECT ME, I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU."
His breath brushed my lips before he whispered,
"I PROMISE YOU THAT FROM NOW ON… I WON'T KEEP ANYTHING HIDDEN FROM YOU EVER AGAIN."
His lips met mine, a soft kiss at first—hesitant, reverent—before deepening with emotion we had both denied for too long. His arms wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly, holding me tight against his warm, solid chest. It wasn't just affection—it was a vow.
A vow that neither of us would ever run again.
──────────────────
Authors pov
Far from our private world, another story stirred awake.
An older woman with long white hair lay in a dimly lit room. Her eyelids fluttered open, breath catching as she pushed herself up with a [RUSTLE] of bedding.
"UGH…"
A groan escaped her lips, raw and disoriented.
A broad-shouldered servant rushed to her bedside, relief bursting across his face.
"HAVE YOU FINALLY WOKEN UP, MA'AM?"
She blinked, still swimming in fog.
"WHAT HAPPENED…?"
The servant nearly choked on his excitement.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU RECOVERED SO QUICKLY! THERE'S NO DOUBT YOU'VE RECEIVED THE BLESSING OF FIRE!"
But instead of joy, panic seized her expression. Her eyes widened.
She lurched upright, urgency replacing confusion.
"P-PARDON?"
But she didn't wait for the explanation. Something far more important clawed at her mind.
"I HAVE TO WARN HIM AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!"
Her hand slammed down on the bed with a sharp [THUMP].
"BRING HAKAN HERE!"