The Dragon King's Hated Bride-Chapter 121: Our daughter

>>Aelin

He looked at me, completely motionless, as if the air had been knocked from his lungs.

My eyes welled with tears—not just from sadness, but from the sheer weight of everything that could’ve been.

"Her name was-"

"Asha," Draegon completed my sentence, "I remember," He said, "You told me last time."

I gave him a broken smile. "I wrote to you about her in every letter after I found out. I thought maybe... if you knew, it would bring you home faster."

Draegon’s eyes darkened, filled with something raw. Grief. Shock. A splintering kind of sorrow. But no words left his lips.

I know it’s been a while since I lost her but I still can’t help but think about her, "I wonder who she would have looked like," The words were a mere whisper, but filled with sorrow.

Draegon still didn’t speak. He reached forward instead, slowly—carefully—like he was afraid to break me or maybe himself. His hand found mine on the sheets, rough fingers curling gently around my trembling ones.

The air felt warmer than it should, golden light from the setting sun casting long, quiet shadows across the floor. Draegon sat beside me, his large frame still as stone, and yet there was a gentleness to his presence, something steadying. Something kind.

His voice broke the silence, low and hesitant.

"When I found out about Asha," he began, and I turned to him, "I thought about something a lot."

He did? It was something I didn’t expect.

"What?" I asked softly

There was a look of sorrow in his eyes, "What she would’ve looked like."

"Oh," I didn’t think that would be on his mind. Would he have minded her appearance?

I wanted to ask more in detail about what he meant but I couldn’t get myself to say it. I was a little afraid he’d say something about her being a half and how it would have been bad... Like everyone said when I was pregnant.

And those were the words I didn’t want to hear.

Luckily though, he told me himself.

"I... hoped she’d have your eyes." His words shocked me. Made my eyes go wide for a moment, "Your softness." I looked at him in awe, "But maybe she’d have my wings. My horns." He smiled faintly, almost wistfully, like the thought was both a dream and a memory.

Something in me ached and bloomed at the same time.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. The idea that he had imagined our daughter as a perfect mix of the two of us—it felt like someone had wrapped my heart in something warm and quiet and sacred. At that moment I thought about how stupid my previous thoughts were. He wouldn’t have resented her. He wouldn’t have pushed her existence away in shame like I had feared.

"I thought about her a lot," Draegon murmured, eyes cast down, his voice nearly a whisper. "How she might have smiled. Whether she would’ve liked flying. What kind of laugh she’d have had..."

The shame in his voice broke something inside me. My own tears were burning behind my eyes but I didn’t dare let them fall. Not yet. I needed to know.

"Would it... would it have mattered to you?" I asked softly, unsure if I even had the right to ask this. "That she was a half?"

He looked up at me then, slowly, and when his eyes met mine, they held nothing but warmth. No disgust. No conflict. Just quiet certainty.

"No," he said. "Of course not. That would’ve been my daughter. Ours. Why would it matter? Whatever she was she would’ve been mine—and I would’ve loved her with everything I had."

The air left my lungs like a wave.

He had hoped for her. Wanted her. Loved her, even if only in his mind.

My heart clenched and fluttered at the same time. That smile, that smile—wasn’t meant to make me fall apart, but it did. It made me feel seen. Accepted. Cherished in a way I didn’t know I’d been starving for.

I thought of Seraphine then—his mother. She was his mother and a half. It made sense now. Why he didn’t flinch. Why he didn’t look down on me or our daughter, not even for a second. And how his thoughts didn’t have any vulgarity like other demons had.

I sighed, a trembling breath that shook more than it should have.

We could have been a small family now.

Asha could have been with us. I bit my lower lip as a tear slipped down my cheek. I immediately wiped it away but I couldn’t hide it

Draegon’s gaze hardened—not unkindly, but with purpose. "I swear to you," he said, and his voice was steel wrapped in flame. "I will find Alishay. I will make her pay for what she did to our daughter. I don’t care what it takes."

His words pierced through my soul. They anchored me in a way nothing else had.

And I believed him. With every thread of my being, I believed him. I had seen it after all. If it weren’t for the Queen, he would have killed Alishay.

I saw his rage then

And now I understood the reason behind it clearly.

I reached out slowly, my fingers brushing over his wrist, where that worn wooden bracelet still clung.

I let my fingers linger there, as my heart pulsed in rhythm with his.

"She would’ve loved you," I whispered, "Asha would have been very happy to have a father like you."

His hand covered mine gently, fingers curling over mine with a strength that didn’t crush, only held. My heart fluttered at his action, then it began to beat loudly.

"I hope so," he said, voice rough with emotion.

"I know so," I said, "She was the one who asked me to help you after all." I smiled at him and he looked back at me in awe

"What?"

***

I told him how I met her and he was amazed at it.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, "I see," He seemed a little distracted. I saw his eyes a little distant. I knew inside what he was thinking about and the thought gave me peace.

I sat there, still holding his hand.

The moment should’ve filled me with peace. His promise. His words about Asha. That gentle smile of his that always, somehow, made everything else blur into nothing.

And yet...

Even with the warmth still clinging to my skin from his touch, even with the truth of his love for our daughter echoing in my ears—I couldn’t quiet the storm churning in my heart.

What... what does he feel for me?

I looked at him from the corner of my eye, at the quiet strength in his jaw, the way his hair fell slightly across his forehead now that his crown wasn’t there. Draegon, King of Demons. My husband.

Husband.

But that word alone didn’t mean love. Not in the way I had come to understand it. We were married—yes. But out of alliance. Duty. Strategy.

He had chosen to protect me. Defend me. He spoke to me gently, called me his wife in a way that made the title sound soft, sacred.

But did that mean anything beyond obligation?

Does he love me?

The word felt too large in my chest. Too fragile to even think without fearing it might shatter.

I bit my lip and looked away, ashamed. What kind of fool was I to even wonder? To hope?

What had I ever done for him to love me? Why would he love me? I was timid, uncertain, emotionally broken and always questioning my place. Moreover, I was a human, a weak little entity.

He deserved someone braver. Someone who didn’t shrink in rooms filled with voices like her own. Someone who wasn’t still haunted by a childhood full of shadows.

And yet, here I was—wondering if this man could love me.

A soft ache bloomed under my ribs, something bruised and pathetic.

I could feel my eyes begin to burn, and I quickly looked down to hide it. Maybe he would never feel that way about me. Maybe what we shared would always be built on the ruins of political necessity and not... something more

"Aelin?" Draegon’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. It was quiet, concerned.

I blinked, trying to chase the sadness from my face before I looked up—but he was already watching me, brow furrowed.

He tilted his head, those sharp eyes narrowing just slightly.

"What’s wrong?" he asked. "You look like something is on your—"

But he didn’t finish.

Instead, his voice caught in his throat, and he turned his head away with a sudden, violent cough.

"Draegon?" I sat up straighter, worry filling me immediately

He doubled over slightly, coughing hard enough that it made his whole body shake. But that wasn’t alone what made my mind rush with worry.

It was the black blood coming out of his mouth as he coughed.

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