Qazaethel went to the Eastern wing palace and saw the place was already dark. Lanterns and lights had been turned off and Qazaethel have no choice but to use her powers to get to Eiravelle’s balcony.
The night air was cool against her skin as she shifted, her dragon form was cutting through the darkness with silent wings. The palace below was a sprawl of shadow and silver moonlight, and the Eastern wing was quiet in a way that felt wrong. No guards patrolled the corridors, no servants moved through the halls, and the windows were dark.
It was as though the entire wing had been abandoned, and the thought made something cold settle in Qazaethel’s chest. As always, the door is always open. The curtains flew as the wind passed by and when Qazaethel got there, Eiravelle was crying. Ruthina was comforting her and trying to calm her down.
The sight of Eiravelle curled up on the bed, her shoulders are shaking with sobs, hit Qazaethel like a physical blow. She had seen Eiravelle afraid before, had seen her uncertain and anxious, but she had never seen her like this—broken open, her grief and fear spilling out in waves that seemed to have no end.
Ruthina was pressed against her side in her rabbit form, her small body radiating warmth, and her soft voice was a steady murmur of comfort. But it was not enough. Nothing was enough. Eiravelle’s sobs continued to echo through the room, and Qazaethel felt her heart break the moment she heard her crying.
"What happened?" Qazaethel asked, and Ruthina sigh. The golden rabbit looked up at her with eyes that held too much knowledge, too much sadness. Ruthina had been with Eiravelle for hours, had held her through the worst of it, and she knew that the omega was beyond simple comfort. She needed something more. She needed the person who had caused this pain to make it right.
"I should sleep in the guest room. Saintess, dragon is here." Ruthina said, and Eiravelle nodded as she let go of Ruthina. The rabbit shifted back into her human form, her movements were slow and reluctant, and she paused at the door to look back at them. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a warning in her eyes—a silent plea for Qazaethel to be gentle, to be patient, to not make things worse.
"Y-Yes, thank you." Eiravelle tried to keep her voice intact, but the way she trembled from crying is not helping. Her voice cracked on the second word, and she pressed a hand to her mouth as though trying to hold back another sob. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks were wet with tears, and her entire body shook with the effort of holding herself together.
Ruthina glance at them and then leave the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and the silence that followed was heavy, broken only by Eiravelle’s uneven breathing. Qazaethel slowly sat next to Eiravelle and gently pull her in her embrace, mindful not to hit the baby.
The omega’s body was tense at first, rigid with surprise, but then she melted into Qazaethel’s arms as though she had been waiting for this moment all along. The warmth of her, the familiar scent of her hair, the way she fit so perfectly against Qazaethel’s chest—it was all a reminder of what Qazaethel had been neglecting, and the guilt was almost unbearable.
"Eiravelle, what’s wrong?" Qazaethel asked, and Eiravelle just shook her head. She did not speak, could not speak. The words were trapped somewhere between her heart and her throat, and every time she tried to force them out, another sob threatened to break free. She had been holding everything inside for so long, had been trying to be strong for so long, that she did not know how to let it out anymore.
"I already know what happened." Qazaethel added, then she kissed Eiravelle’s forehead. The kiss was soft, lingering, a silent apology for everything she had failed to do. "Please tell me why you didn’t tell me." Qazaethel said, her voice was filled with warmth and softness that is foreign even to her own ears.
She was not used to being gentle. She was used to commanding, to demanding, to expecting obedience. But with Eiravelle, everything was different. With Eiravelle, she wanted to be soft. She wanted to be the kind of person who could hold someone without breaking them.
Eiravelle slightly withdrew and raised her gaze. Her eyes were glassy with tears, and her lower lip trembled as she tried to find the words. "Y-you’re... You’re already busy... And I don’t want to bother you." Eiravelle sniffed and wipe her tears, her movements were clumsy and desperate.
"I don’t wanna add to the burden you’re carrying and I should stop being pathetic. I just wanted to protect our child, and I don’t know what to do anymore... I’m just so tired... So tired..." Tears continue to stream down from Eiravelle’s eyes, and once again, Qazaethel lean down and kissed her forehead.
The words hit Qazaethel harder than any accusation could have. Eiravelle was not angry. She was not demanding. She was simply exhausted, worn down by fear and loneliness and the weight of carrying a child in a place that had never felt safe.
She had been trying to protect Qazaethel from her own problems, had been trying to be strong so that Qazaethel would not have to worry. And in doing so, she had been suffering alone. The realization made Qazaethel’s chest ache with a pain that was sharp and immediate.
Qazaethel cupped Eiravelle’s cheeks and sigh, her thumbs are brushing away the tears that continued to fall. "But you never had to be strong, Eiravelle. You’re already being strong for carrying a life inside you, you cannot be strong in guarding your surroundings too." Qazaethel held Eiravelle’s hand and brought it against her lips to plant a soft kiss on Eiravelle’s knuckles.
The gesture was intimate, reverent, a promise made without words. Eiravelle’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, the tears stopped. ℯ𝔴ℯ
"Let me do this for you and for our child, Eiravelle. Let me do my part too. I’ve been neglectful of you and I have no excuses for that. Forgive me, please." Qazaethel admitted, and all Eiravelle can do is lunge forward and wrapped her arms around Qazaethel’s neck.
She buried her face on Qazaethel’s neck and sobbed violently that her body was trembling so much. The force of the embrace caught Qazaethel off guard, and she had to steady herself to keep them both from falling. But she did not pull away. She held on, her arms wrapping around Eiravelle’s trembling form, and she let the omega cry.
"Shhh~ let it out. I’m just here." Qazaethel cradle Eiravelle’s head and gently apply soothing circles on her back. The motion was rhythmic, calming, and slowly, the violence of Eiravelle’s sobs began to subside. Her body still shook, but the tremors were softer now, the tears quieter.
"You never have to be strong. I’m so sorry." Qazaethel murmured against Eiravelle’s hair. She pressed another kiss to the omega’s temple, then her cheek, then the corner of her eye where a tear still clung to her lashes.
"I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do anymore." Eiravelle whispered, her voice was muffled against Qazaethel’s neck. The admission was raw, honest in a way that Eiravelle rarely allowed herself to be. She had spent so long pretending to be fine, pretending that she could handle everything on her own. But she could not. She was not fine. She was terrified.
Qazaethel continued to listen and nodded in understanding, her hand never stopped its gentle circles on Eiravelle’s back. "From now on, you never have to be scared. Because I’ll fix this, Eiravelle. I swear to you, to our child, and to everything I have." Qazaethel said, and she withdrew slightly to lean down and kiss Eiravelle.
The kiss was gentle at first, a question more than a demand. But Eiravelle responded immediately, her hands are fisting in the fabric of Qazaethel’s shirt as she pulled her closer. The kiss calm Eiravelle down in an instant, and the omega found herself wrapping her arms around Qazaethel’s neck once again, making the kiss more longer than usual.
It was not a kiss of passion, not yet. It was a kiss of comfort, of connection, of two people finding their way back to each other after too long apart.
Then they withdrew and gasp for air, their foreheads was resting against each other and the warmness of their breath was evident as it hit their faces. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, and the moonlight streamed through the curtains cast soft shadows across the bed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply existed in the quiet, in the warmth, in the closeness that had been missing for so long.
"Thank you... Thank you~" Eiravelle breathed, and Qazaethel shook her head with a smile. The smile was small, almost shy, and it transformed her face in a way that Eiravelle had never seen before. The sovereign was always so composed, so controlled, so distant. But here, in this room, with Eiravelle in her arms, she was just Qazaethel.
"I haven’t do anything yet..." She admitted, and Eiravelle giggled now. The small giggle she didn’t made for weeks and the same giggle that Qazaethel had missed so much. The sound was like sunlight breaking through clouds, and Qazaethel felt something loosen in her chest. She had not realized how much she had missed that sound until she heard it again.
"Your majesty––" Qazaethel cut Eiravelle off, pressing a finger gently to her lips. The gesture was playful, intimate, and Eiravelle’s eyes widened in surprise.
"Qazaethel... Or just Qaz... Call me by my name when we’re private, and your majesty in public." Qazaethel said, and she softened. Her voice is not commanding, rather intimate. It was a request, not an order, and the distinction mattered. She wanted Eiravelle to feel safe with her, to feel equal, to feel loved.
Eiravelle was taken aback, she remembered Kariv. The Alpha prince, son of Qazaethel, she had loved. The one who hurt her and the one who never allow Eiravelle to use his name even in public. The memories were sharp, painful, and they cut through the warmth of the moment like a blade.
Kariv had been cruel in ways that were subtle and devastating. He had made her feel small, had made her feel worthless, had made her believe that she was nothing more than a tool for his pleasure. He had never let her use his name, had never treated her as an equal, had never given her the simple dignity of being called by her own.
Eiravelle can see their stark contrast and she can’t help but cry once again when her eyes stayed on Qazaethel’s eyes. Looking for that deceptive expression that Kariv showed. But she found nothing. There was no cruelty in Qazaethel’s eyes, no hidden agenda, no cold calculation. There was only warmth, and patience, and something that looked almost like love.
"What’s wrong?" Qazaethel asked, and Eiravelle slightly shook her head. The tears were still falling, but they were different now. They were not tears of fear or grief. They were tears of relief, of gratitude, of joy.
"Nothing~ I just noticed that you and Kariv are very different..." Eiravelle said, and she can’t help but smile as her tears stream down with joy. The smile was watery, fragile, but it was real. It was the first real smile she had worn in weeks, and it made Qazaethel’s heart swell.
Qazaethel gently wiped her tear off and kissed her nose. The kiss was light, playful, and Eiravelle’s smile widened despite herself. "We are... Kariv is immature, and I am not." Qazaethel said with a chuckle, she was happy to know Eiravelle felt safe with her.
The words were teasing, but they carried an undercurrent of truth. Kariv had been a boy playing at being a man. Qazaethel was a woman who had learned, through years of pain and responsibility, what it meant to care for someone.
"Hahaha... Uhm... Qazaethel." Eiravelle finally used her name and Qazaethel’s ears shot up, "yes?!" She excitedly asked and held Eiravelle gently by her arms. The reaction was so immediate, so eager, that Eiravelle could not help but laugh again. It was a small sound, barely more than a breath, but it was genuine.
"I... I’m... Hungry." The omega hesitated and look down, Qazaethel noticed the way she tried to make herself small but she didn’t mock her, instead she smiled and nodded. "Then we’ll get you something to eat."
The words were simple, but they carried a weight that Eiravelle felt deep in her chest. Qazaethel had not dismissed her, and didn’t made her feel foolish for admitting something so small. She had simply accepted it, had simply promised to take care of it. It was such a small thing, but it meant everything.
Their night continued, whatever war or secrets are waiting to be unravel, it can wait. Qazaethel made that clear in her mind. Everything can wait, but not Eiravelle and the child inside her womb.
She would make sure of it. The war, the politics, the endless demands of ruling—none of it mattered as much as the omega in her arms. None of it mattered as much as the life growing inside Eiravelle, the child that was theirs, the future that they would build together.
Qazaethel had made mistakes. She had been neglectful, had been distant, had been so consumed by her duties that she had forgotten the most important one. But she would not make those mistakes again. She would be better. She would be there. And she would protect Eiravelle and their child with everything she had, for as long as she lived.