Chapter 151: Qazaethel’s Worries

Back in the dragon realm, the air was warm and soft, carrying the faint scent of incense and the distant sound of water from the palace fountains. The royal chambers had been prepared for their return, the bed linens fresh and cool, the curtains drawn to keep out the harsh light of the afternoon sun.

Qazaevelle was cooing toward Qazaethel, her tiny hands reaching up as though she wanted to grasp something only she could see. They had placed the baby beside Eiravelle, and Qazaevelle kept smiling and moving ever since. The baby didn’t sleep—she had been sleeping the whole day, and now she kept smiling at her alpha mother, Qazaethel, with a joy that seemed too big for her tiny body.

Qazaethel sat on the edge of the bed, her body heavy with exhaustion, her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but she could not stop smiling at her daughter. Qazaevelle’s eyes were bright and curious, her little face scrunched up in that particular way she had when she was trying to figure out the world. She made small sounds, soft gurgles and coos, as though she was trying to tell Qazaethel something important.

"Daughter, me and your mama are very lucky that you’re not crying. She was too tired, thank you for being considerate," Qazaethel said, and her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. She leaned down and kissed her daughter’s forehead, breathing in the sweet, milky scent of her.

The baby slowly calmed down, her movements are becoming slower, her eyes growing heavy, and eventually she fell asleep, her tiny hand curled around Qazaethel’s finger.

Qazaethel smiled, and all her worries, fears, and tiredness eased away seeing her daughter relaxed in their presence. She thought of the hours she had spent in the infirmary, of the blood and the fear and the desperate prayers, and she thought of how close she had come to losing everything. But Eiravelle was here, sleeping peacefully beside their daughter, and Qazaevelle was safe and healthy, and for this moment, that was enough.

The room was quiet, the only sounds were the soft breathing of the sleeping baby and the distant murmur of servants in the corridor. Qazaethel sat there, watching her family, and she allowed herself to simply breathe.

She had not slept in nearly two days. She had not eaten properly, had not rested, had not done anything but worry and wait and pray. But now, with Eiravelle safe and Qazaevelle peaceful, she felt the exhaustion settling into her bones like a weight she could no longer carry.

Then slowly, Eiravelle stirred, and Qazaethel’s attention was immediately on her. The omega’s eyelids fluttered, her brow furrowing slightly as she fought her way back to consciousness. Her hand twitched against the blanket, and she let out a small, soft sound, something between a sigh and a whimper.

"Eivy," Qazaethel spoke, and she held Eiravelle’s hand, her grip gentle but firm. She leaned forward, her eyes searching Eiravelle’s face for any sign of pain, any sign that something was wrong.

"Qaz~" Eiravelle whimpered, and she slowly opened her eyes. For a moment, her gaze was unfocused, confused, as though she was not quite sure where she was. Then she saw Qazaethel, and she smiled, a tired, weak smile that nonetheless lit up her whole face. She gathered her strength and slowly sat up, and Qazaethel assisted her, propping the pillow behind her so she could lean against it properly.

"How do you feel? Are you in pain? Tell me," Qazaethel said, and she was trying to stay calm, trying to be the steady, unshakeable sovereign that everyone expected her to be. But the sound of the edge of her voice told a different story—the fear, the worry, the desperation that she could not quite hide.

Eiravelle smiled and cupped Qazaethel’s face, her fingers warm against Qazaethel’s skin. She leaned forward and kissed her, a soft, tender kiss that tasted of relief and love and the faint, metallic tang of blood. Then Eiravelle withdrew and nodded. "I feel okay now, don’t worry," she said, and her voice was a bit strained, a bit low, but it was steady.

"I should probably call the healers—" Qazaethel was really panicking now, her mind was already racing ahead to all the things that could go wrong, all the complications that could arise, all the ways she could lose Eiravelle again.

But Eiravelle held onto her hand and shook her head. "Calm down... I’ll be okay. Please stop worrying, I promise, I’ll be okay," she said, and her voice was gentle but firm, the voice she used when she was trying to soothe Qazaevelle.

Qazaethel couldn’t help but cry again. The tears came without warning, spilling down her cheeks, and she did not bother to wipe them away. "I... I can’t seem to stop worrying," she answered, and her voice cracked, the composure she had been clinging to finally shattering.

Eiravelle sighed and rested her forehead against Qazaethel’s, her breath warm against Qazaethel’s lips. "Shhh~ I’m here. I didn’t die," she tried to reassure Qazaethel, and she even touched her arms to ground her further, her fingers tracing small circles on Qazaethel’s skin.

"I don’t know what to do when I saw you lying there," Qazaethel said, and the words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other as though she had been holding them back for too long. "All I can think about is what am I gonna do when you’re gone... I don’t want Qazaevelle and me to lose you, Eiravelle. You’re our world." She said, and her voice broke on the last word, the tears falling faster now.

Eiravelle smiled when she heard how Qazaethel was really devoted to her, how much she loved her, how lost she would be without her. It was a smile that was full of tenderness and sadness and something that looked almost like guilt. "I am here now, I am not gonna leave," she said, and she hugged Qazaethel, holding her close, letting her cry against her shoulder.

She continued to soothe her, her hands gentle on Qazaethel’s back, her voice a soft murmur of reassurance. But she knew she was lying. She hadn’t told Qazaethel she was going back to the academy, and she would return after the Crown trial. The thought of it sat heavy in her chest, a secret she was carrying, a burden she was not yet ready to share.

She had not told Qazaethel because she knew what Qazaethel would say. She knew Qazaethel would worry, would protest, would try to stop her. And Eiravelle could not afford to be stopped. Not now. Not when there was so much at stake.

She thought of the academy, of the halls she had walked as a student, of the library where she had spent countless hours poring over ancient texts, of the professors who had taught her everything she knew.

She could not tell Qazaethel. Not yet. Not when Qazaethel was still trembling in her arms, still crying, still terrified of losing her. Eiravelle would tell her when the time was right. She would explain everything, would make Qazaethel understand why she had to go, why she had to do this. But not now. Now, she simply held Qazaethel, and she let her believe that everything was going to be alright.

"I love you," Eiravelle whispered, and the words were true, truer than anything she had ever said. "I love you, and I love our daughter, and I will do everything in my power to keep us safe."

Qazaethel pulled back slightly, her eyes red and swollen, her face blotchy with tears. She looked at Eiravelle, at the woman she loved, at the mother of her child, and she felt a love so fierce it almost hurt. "I love you too," she said, and her voice was hoarse. "I love you so much, Eivy. Please don’t ever scare me like that again."

Eiravelle smiled, a real smile this time, and she reached up to wipe the tears from Qazaethel’s cheeks. "I’ll try," she said, and it was the best she could offer.

They sat there together, Qazaethel’s head resting on Eiravelle’s shoulder, Qazaevelle sleeping peacefully beside them, and for a while, the world outside the room ceased to exist. There was no church, no investigation, no danger lurking in the shadows. There was only the three of them, a family, bound together by love and blood and the promises they had made to each other.

But Eiravelle knew it would not last. She knew that the real world would intrude soon enough, that there were still problems to solve, enemies to defeat, secrets to keep. She knew that she would have to leave, would have to return to the academy. But for now, in this moment, she allowed herself to simply be. She allowed herself to hold her wife and her daughter, to breathe in the quiet, to pretend that everything was going to be alright.

Qazaevelle stirred in her sleep, her tiny face scrunching up for a moment before relaxing again, and Qazaethel reached out to stroke her daughter’s hair, a soft, absent gesture that spoke of a love so deep it could not be put into words.

Eiravelle watched them, her heart was full to bursting, and she made a silent vow. She would protect them. She would protect them both, no matter what it took, no matter what she had to sacrifice. They were her world, her reason for being, her everything. And she would not let anyone or anything take them from her.

Not the church. Not the demons. Not even her own blood.

She would protect them. She would keep them safe. And she would come back to them, no matter what.