That same morning, Qazaethel woke up and saw Eiravelle was sleeping in her arms. The omega was naked, her body was covered in hickeys and bite marks, but she avoided marking the omega last night due to political issues.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, casting a warm glow across the bed. Qazaethel lay still for a long moment, simply watching Eiravelle sleep.
The omega’s breathing was slow and even, her face was peaceful in a way that Qazaethel had never seen before. She looked younger like this, unguarded, as if the weight of the world had temporarily lifted from her shoulders.
Qazaethel traced the curve of Eiravelle’s cheek with her eyes, memorizing the way the morning light caught the soft down on her skin, the way her lashes rested against her cheeks, and the gentle parting of her lips.
She had seen many omegas in her long life, had shared her bed with a handful of them over the centuries, but none of them had ever made her feel like this.
None of them had ever made her want to stay still, to simply exist in a moment without thinking about the next battle, the next political crisis, or the next threat to her throne. With Eiravelle, the world seemed to slow down. The noise faded. The weight was lifted.
Here beside Eiravelle, all her fears and worries faded. The political machinations, the endless scrolls, the threats from her mother—none of it mattered in this moment. All that mattered was the omega in her arms, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and the warmth of her body against Qazaethel’s own.
Qazaethel leaned down and kissed her forehead, letting her lips linger there for a moment, and Eiravelle stirred a little.
Then the omega opened her eyes and looked up at Qazaethel. Her gaze was sleepy at first, unfocused, but then awareness dawned, and her cheeks flushed pink.
"Your Majesty?" Eiravelle gasped. She looked inside the blanket and saw that she was naked, her body was full of hickeys and bite marks, evidence of her and Qazaethel making love last night. Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck and across her chest, and she pulled the blanket up to her chin as if she could hide from what had happened.
Qazaethel watched the cascade of emotions play across Eiravelle’s face—confusion, embarrassment, and a flicker of something that might have been panic—and felt a warmth spread through her chest.
The omega was so expressive, so honest in her reactions, so utterly incapable of hiding what she felt. It was refreshing in a way that Qazaethel had not expected. After centuries of dealing with courtiers who smiled while plotting her death, Eiravelle’s transparency was like a breath of fresh air.
"We..." Eiravelle couldn’t finish her words when Qazaethel smiled softly and kissed her lips. The kiss was gentle, a simple press of lips that was more reassurance than passion. When Qazaethel pulled back, Eiravelle was staring at her with wide eyes.
"Yes, dear. We did." Qazaethel answered without thinking twice, and it made Eiravelle blush even deeper.
"Don’t... Don’t say that~" Eiravelle said and covered her face with her hands.
The action only made Qazaethel smile widely. "Hahaha. You look so adorable, aren’t you?" She tried to tease Eiravelle, reaching out to gently tug at the omega’s wrist, trying to coax her hands away from her face.
But then Eiravelle suddenly remembered something. Her hands dropped from her face, and her expression shifted from embarrassment to alarm. "Your Majesty! The empress? Isn’t she looking for you now?" Eiravelle panicked.
The warmth in Qazaethel’s chest cooled instantly. The smile faded from her lips, and the weight of reality settled back onto her shoulders.
Dawn.
She had almost forgotten about Dawn. The wedding, the empress, and the political alliance that had been forced upon her by the Ashrein kingdom and her own mother. It all came rushing back, and Qazaethel’s face suddenly turned serious.
"You’re right. But you don’t have to worry about her," Qazaethel said. The words came out more dismissive than she intended, but she could not bring herself to soften them.
She did not want to think about Dawn right now. She did not want to think about the young empress who had looked so lost during the wedding, who had smiled so thinly, who had probably spent the night alone in the dragon wing while Qazaethel was here, with Eiravelle.
Eiravelle shook her head. "I’ll go there and I’ll apologize to her."
When Qazaethel heard her, she froze. Her hand tightened around Eiravelle’s wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to stop her from moving. "No! She might hurt you, and the harem of this palace are to be damned if that happens."
The thought of Eiravelle walking into the dragon wing, of her facing Dawn alone, of what the empress might say or do—it made something cold and hard settle in Qazaethel’s stomach. She had promised to protect Eiravelle. She had promised to keep her safe. And she would not break that promise, not for anyone. ℯ
Eiravelle shook her head again, her expression was stubborn despite the fear in her eyes. "It is better that I apologize than lie to her face."
Qazaethel stared at her, frustration and admiration warring in her chest. The omega was so infuriatingly honest. She did not scheme or plot or look for ways to avoid responsibility.
She faced things head-on, even when it scared her, even when it might hurt her. It was one of the things Qazaethel admired most about her, and one of the things that made her want to wrap Eiravelle up and hide her away from the world.
"Eiravelle, don’t you get it? This place is full of lies. And you’re the only one who’s pure." Qazaethel admitted. The words came out before she could stop them, raw and honest in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. She was not used to admitting things like this. She was not used to showing weakness. But with Eiravelle, it was different. With Eiravelle, she did not have to pretend.
"Please... I don’t want this guilt, Your Majesty." Eiravelle said, her voice was full of pleading that made Qazaethel’s heart ache at her purity. The omega truly believed she had done something wrong, that she owed Dawn an apology for existing, for being chosen, for something that was not her fault.
Qazaethel studied her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But all she saw was determination, a quiet resolve that reminded her of why she had chosen Eiravelle in the first place.
The omega was not like the others. She did not scheme or manipulate. She did not play games. She simply was who she was, and she faced the consequences of her actions with a courage that Qazaethel admired.
"Okay... But you have to stay with me the entire time. That is final." Qazaethel said. It was not a request because it was a command, the voice of a sovereign who was used to being obeyed. But there was something else in her tone too—something that sounded almost like fear.
Fear that if she let Eiravelle out of her sight, something might happen. Fear that she might lose her.
Eiravelle nodded, a small smile flickering across her lips. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
Qazaethel kissed her forehead again, then reluctantly pulled away. The warmth of the moment was gone, replaced by the cold reality of what they had to do.
They had to face the day. They had to face Dawn. And Qazaethel would be by Eiravelle’s side through all of it, no matter what happened.
Qazaethel and Eiravelle dressed properly after they came up with a plan. The servants followed behind them, keeping their heads down as they walked through the corridors.
The palace was stirring to life, the sounds of morning activity filled the halls—servants rushing to and fro, guards are changing shifts, and the distant murmur of voices.
But around Qazaethel and Eiravelle, there was a bubble of silence, a quiet that seemed to follow them wherever they went.
Qazaethel kept her hand on the small of Eiravelle’s back, a gesture that was both possessive and protective.
She could feel the omega trembling slightly, could sense her nervousness, and she did not blame her. Walking into the dragon wing, walking toward the empress, walking into what was sure to be an uncomfortable confrontation—it was not something anyone would look forward to.
But Eiravelle was doing it anyway, because she was brave, because she was good, and because she was everything Qazaethel was not.
As they reached the dragon wing, and eventually outside the dragon chamber, the servants stopped outside. The butlers opened the door for Qazaethel, and both Eiravelle and Qazaethel entered.
I wouldn’t let anyone hurt Eiravelle. Not even Dawn. The words rushed through Qazaethel’s head as she thought about it.
She had made a promise, and she intended to keep it. Whatever happened in the next few minutes, she would protect Eiravelle. She would protect her from the harem, from her Dawn, and from anyone who tried to harm her.
That was her vow.
When she walked inside and went to their bed, she and Eiravelle’s eyes widened when they both saw Liv and Dawn on the bed. Both of them froze and glanced at each other with their mouths hanging open.
The scene before them was unmistakable. Liv and Dawn lay tangled together beneath the sheets, their clothes are scattered across the floor. The marital wine jar sat empty on the table, and the air was thick with the scent of wine and something else, something intimate.
Liv’s arm was wrapped around Dawn’s waist, and Dawn’s head rested on Liv’s chest, her hair spread across the pillow like a dark halo.
Qazaethel’s mind went blank. She stared at the scene, her eyes are moving from Liv’s sleeping face to Dawn’s peaceful expression, from the empty wine jar to the discarded clothing, and she could not seem to form a single coherent thought.
This was not what she had expected. This was not what she had prepared for. She had expected Dawn to be awake, perhaps angry, perhaps hurt. She had expected a confrontation, a conversation, and an uncomfortable exchange of words but she had not expected this.
Dawn stretched out and yawned, then when she opened her eyes, she was shocked to see Eiravelle and Qazaethel.
"Liv... Liv! Wake up!" Dawn shook Liv, her voice was rising with panic.
The general jolted awake and looked everywhere. "W-What? Why?" When she looked up, she saw the sovereign and Eiravelle.
"Your Majesty?" Liv was shocked. She and Dawn’s hearts pounded with fear, their faces were pale with dread. They both knew the consequences of what they had done.
Adultery with the sovereign’s spouse was a crime punishable by death, or worse. The fact that Liv was Qazaethel’s closest friend and most trusted general would not save her. If anything, it would make the betrayal worse.
"You... You both... Are..." Qazaethel trailed off in her words as she couldn’t bring herself to finish it. Her mind was reeling, trying to process what she was seeing.
Liv, her right hand, her most loyal friend. Dawn, her new empress, her political bride. Together, in her bed. On their supposed wedding night.
"Your Majesty, it’s not the empress’s fault, please! It was mine!" Liv said, taking all the blame because she knew the consequences of the adultery they had done.
She sat up, the sheet was falling to her waist, and she did not bother to cover herself. Her focus was entirely on Qazaethel, on the anger and hurt that she expected to see in her sovereign’s eyes.
"What? No! She’s lying. It was also my fault, Your Majesty!" Dawn admitted, and Liv was shocked when she heard Dawn say that.
"No! Don’t say that!" Liv tried to argue and prove to Qazaethel that it was her fault alone. She could not let Dawn take the blame. She could not let the empress suffer for something that Liv had initiated. She had been the one who came to the dragon wing. She had been the one who knocked on the door, the one who drank the wine, and the one who had initiated the sex with Dawn.
Eiravelle got quiet, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. She did not understand what was happening, not fully. But she could see the fear on Liv’s face, the panic on Dawn’s, and the strange, unreadable expression on Qazaethel’s.
She stayed silent, her hand was finding Qazaethel’s and holding it gently.
Qazaethel couldn’t stand the noise. The voices were rising, overlapping, each one was trying to take the blame, each one was trying to protect the other. It was too much. It was all too much.
"Enough!!" She commanded, and there was a sudden silence.
The room went still. Liv and Dawn stopped arguing, their mouths snapped shut. Even the air seemed to hold its breath. Qazaethel closed her eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath, and when she opened them again, something had shifted in her expression.
The anger was still there, yes, but beneath it was something else. Something that looked almost like resignation.
Then she sighed and nodded. "I’m not mad, and I’m not gonna punish you two... Just keep this a secret from between the four of us."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Eiravelle, Dawn, and Liv were all confused and utterly shocked by her decision. They stared at her, their mouths were agape, and their minds are struggling to process what they had just heard.
"Your Majesty?" Liv finally managed to say. "But... The law... The consequences..."
"I know the law," Qazaethel said quietly. "But I also know that sometimes the law is wrong. Sometimes the law does not account for the heart."
She looked at Liv, at the woman who had stood by her side for almost five thousand years. She remembered all the battles they had fought together, all the nights they had spent planning strategies, and all the times Liv had saved her life. She remembered the loyalty, the friendship, and the trust that had been built over centuries.
And she knew, in that moment, that she could not punish Liv for something that was clearly not malicious.
And then she looked at Dawn, at the new empress who had been thrust into a world she did not understand, who had been given to Qazaethel as a political pawn, who had never wanted any of this. She remembered the look in Dawn’s eyes during the wedding, the emptiness and the sadness.
She remembered the way Dawn had smiled, thin and fragile, as if she was holding herself together by sheer will. And she understood, perhaps better than anyone, what it felt like to be trapped in a life you had not chosen.
"I have spent my entire reign being told what I should do," Qazaethel continued. "My mother, my advisors, the court—they all have opinions about how I should live my life, who I should marry, and who I should love. But I am tired of listening to them. I am tired of being a puppet to their expectations."
She paused, her gaze drifted to Eiravelle, who was watching her with wide, wondering eyes. "Eiravelle showed me that there is another way. That it is possible to be honest, to be true, even in a place that is built on lies. And I will not punish either of you for being true to yourselves."
Liv stared at her, her eyes are glistening with something that might have been tears. "Your Majesty... I don’t know what to say."
"You don’t have to say anything," Qazaethel said. "Just... Be careful. Be discreet. And never let my mother or anyone find out. Because if she does, she will use this against us all."
Dawn nodded slowly, her mind was still reeling. She had expected anger, punishment, maybe even death. She had not expected this. She had not expected understanding or had not expected kindness.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
Qazaethel nodded. "Clean yourselves up. Get dressed. We have a wedding gift event to attend, and it would not do for the empress to be late."