Rejected by My Fiancé, I Accidentally Carried His Mother's Heir (GL)

In the Solakanaia imperial court, Arielle stood at the right side with a blank face. She wore her political robe attire, the ones that show power of being the highest and youngest prime minister of the Solkanaia history.

The deep midnight blue fabric was heavy with golden thread embroidery that traced the ancient symbols of her lineage, and the weight of it settled on her shoulders like a familiar burden she had carried since she first took office at an age when most were still learning the basics of court protocol.

On the left side, Kariv was standing, wearing his golden robe that show his status as the third prince of Solkanaia. The golden fabric shimmered under the morning light that streamed through the stained-glass windows lining the eastern wall, the intricate embroidery of dragons and clouds catching every ray and casting tiny reflections across the polished marble floor.

There was a tension in the air, other court officials murmur on their seats but Arielle remain unfazed despite Kariv’s smug face. Their whispers rippled through the hall like waves across on a still pond, a low hum of speculation and anticipation that seemed to fill every corner of the vast chamber.

Some leaned toward each other, their eyes are darting between the two figures at the center of the hall, their expressions are betraying their private calculations of which side would emerge victorious from this confrontation. The older officials, those who had seen decades of court intrigue, remained silent and watchful, their faces are carefully neutral, knowing better than to take sides before the sovereign had spoken.

But Arielle kept her expression with a mask of practiced neutrality, her dark eyes were fixed somewhere in the middle distance as she ignored the murmurs that surrounded her, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing even a flicker of uncertainty cross her features.

”Heh! Just accept defeat Arielle.” Kariv suddenly spoke, his face was still covered in bruises and cuts. The purple and yellow marks stood out starkly against his pale skin, a testament to the fury she had unleashed upon him that night. The swelling around his left eye had not yet fully subsided, and a thin scab ran from his temple to his jawline, a permanent reminder of the beating he had received at Arielle’s hands.

Then Arielle turn to look at him with a sarcastic smile, ”I can... Only if you let me break your skull this time. What would it look like if you’ll forever become a prince with deranged face?” Her voice carried across the hall with a cutting edge, and several court officials gasped at her audacity, their hands flew to cover their mouths in shock at her brazen disrespect toward a prince of the realm.

The words hung in the air, sharp and dangerous, and even Kariv’s supporters shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Hearing her words made Kariv to lunge forward, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, but he stop himself. He have to stay composed, everyone is looking at him. He could feel their eyes boring into him, weighing his every action, and he knew that any display of temper would ruin the carefully constructed image he was trying to project.

His bruised face flushed with anger, but he forced himself to take a slow breath, to unclench his fists, to let his shoulders drop into a posture of wounded dignity while his mind raced with calculations of how best to play this game. He must gain the sympathy of everyone in order for Arielle to be thrown away from power, in that matter, he can get some of her political influence and rank himself up to get closer to the sovereign’s throne.

The thought was intoxicating, and he could already see himself ascending to greater heights, his rivals will be crushed beneath his heel, his mother’s favor will be finally within his grasp.

It seems like a good deal for Kariv, especially that he holds the position of the third prince. But Arielle’s face turn unreadable, she was calculating something in her head that no one will understand. Her eyes moved in small, almost imperceptible patterns as she processed the situation, her mind worked through every possible outcome, every angle she could exploit, every weakness she could target.

She knew that Kariv’s attack on her sister’s honor was not merely about petty cruelty—it was a political move, a calculated insult meant to destabilize her family’s standing. Eiravelle had been a collateral damage in a game much larger than herself, a pawn in Kariv’s quest for power, and the thought of her sister’s tears that night made the cold fire of Arielle’s anger burn hotter beneath her composed exterior.

***

In the dragon imperial chamber, the sovereign had sigh upon hearing another royal court affair was needed to be settled. She had been in the middle of reviewing trade agreements when the messenger arrived, and the interruption had been unwelcome, pulling her from the quiet solitude of her morning routine.

”My son is really a trouble maker.” She muttered under her breath as she get to read the report scroll. Her fingers traced the edge of the parchment, her golden eyes are scanning the familiar words with growing irritation as she pieced together the truth hidden beneath the official narrative, reading between the lines of the carefully crafted account that her son had submitted.

”Very well, dress me up.” She ordered, and all alpha servants obeyed her. The sovereign was a female alpha, so the ones who have to dress her up has to be an Alphas too...

Their primary gender doesn’t matter as long as they’re an alpha, obedient, and they’re submissive. Very humiliating for an alpha to do, but the law of the royal family that when it comes to serving the royals, there’s nothing to be ashamed of since they’re practically the most powerful people in the hierarchy.

The servants moved with practiced efficiency, their hands were gentle but sure as they helped her into her imperial robe, their eyes lowered in submission, their movements are careful not to disturb the elaborate folds of the garment that signified her absolute authority.

As they put on her imperial robe, embroidered with dragon and phoenix, they also fix her hair. The gold thread of the embroidery caught the candlelight, making the mythical creatures seem to writhe and soar with every movement, their jeweled eyes glittered with an almost supernatural light.

But they left half of it to flow down naturally. The sovereign’s hair was wine red, soft curls, and flowy like phoenix, one she had inherited from her Oma1, the Phoenix Omega Empress. The curls cascaded down her back like a river of fire, framing her face in a way that softened the sharp edges of her features while still conveying the undeniable authority of her station, the crimson waves catching the light and shimmering with each subtle movement.

Her name is Qazaethel. She has soft yet sharp eyes, a tall nose, a very tall figure that spoke her lineage as one of the living God who lived for thousands of years, ruling the Solakanaia KIngdom.

Her features was soft, and her eyes was a glowing gold. Those golden eyes held the weight of centuries, the wisdom of countless rulers who had come before her, and the fierce fire of a sovereign who had seen empires rise and fall, who had watched dynasties crumble and new ones take their place, who had endured more than any mortal could ever comprehend.

They put on her imperial shoes, then she carried herself out of her bedchamber and went to the imperial court. Her robe trailed behind her like a river of fire and gold, the fabric whispered against the marble floor with each step.

As she stood at the grand entrance, the court usher had loudly announced: ”The Sovereign had arrived, show your absolute respect.”

Every court officials who were sitting stood up almost immediately and bowed their heads. The rustle of robes and the shuffle of feet filled the hall as they rose, their hands pressed to their chests in the traditional gesture of submission, their bodies bent low in reverence.

Qazaethel entered, her footsteps were slow and steady, she was a graceful ruler who carried herself with fairness and ruthlessness. Her presence filled the room like a physical force, and even the most seasoned court officials found themselves holding their breath as she passed, the air seeming to grow heavier with each step she took toward the obsidian throne.

Arielle and Kariv put their hands on their chest and bow, showing their profound sign of respect to the sovereign. Kariv’s bow was just a fraction deeper than Arielle’s, an attempt to appear more contrite than he actually was, his shoulders hunched in a posture of false humility that fooled no one.

Qazaethel did not acknowledge their presence and simple walk towards her throne and sat down. The obsidian throne seemed to pulse with power as she settled into it, and her robe pooling around her like a river of fire, the dragon and phoenix embroidery catching the light and seeming to come alive.

”The court will proceed here, and I wish to finish this dispute in a day.” She coldly said, and everyone remained silent. In this world, Qazaethel’s words are the law, nothing is above them except her. The weight of her command settled over the hall like a shroud, and even the most ambitious nobles knew better than to challenge her will, their mouths snapped shut as they waited for her to continue.

”I have read the report, I must say that Prime minister Arielle, Daughter of Arthion and Elaria had loses her temper towards Prince Kariv. Care to explain, Lordess?” Qazaethel asked, her voice was calm, her composure was impossible as no one can attain such posture and tone for thousands of years without harsh discipline.

Her hands rested on the armrests of the throne, her fingers are drumming a slow rhythm against the obsidian, the only indication of her impatience.

Arielle was about to speak, but Kariv cut her off. ”Ama, believe me. Arielle had hurt me without a right reason.” He said, and some of the court officials had agreed, even the witnesses of that night had nodded, including Kariv’s knight.

The knight kept his gaze fixed on the floor, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes as the weight of his false testimony felt heavy on his conscience while he stood in silent complicity with his prince’s lies.

Qazaethel sigh and her gaze landed on Kariv. ”Have I given you permission to speak, my son?” She asked, and that question made Kariv silent. He couldn’t even swallow the lump that formed inside his throat. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, but no words came out, and the color drained from his already bruised face, leaving him pale and trembling.

Then Qazaethel looked at Arielle, ”explain yourself, Lordess Arielle.” She repeated.

Arielle sigh and gather her courage, ”forgive me, your majesty. I have lost my control that night and assaulted the prince. But I simply did that in order to avenge the honor of my sister, Eiravelle. You were the one who had set up their engagement, yet prince Kariv broke it in front of my little sister Arisia’s birthday just so he could humiliate Eiravelle. And because of that, my entire family’s honor was tarnished.” She explained, and Qazaethel listened without interrupting.

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of a family’s shame, and Arielle could feel the eyes of the court upon her, waiting to see how the sovereign would respond to this revelation.

Kariv don’t even know what to say, but he tried to explain, ”Ama, that––”

And Qazaethel cut him off. ”Enough.” One word, and it was enough to make them silent. The word echoed through the hall like a thunderclap, and even the court officials who had been whispering fell quiet, their breath caught in their throats, their eyes went wide with anticipation.

”You had summoned me here and bothered me for this? And then what? You expect me to take your side?!” Qazaethel angrily yelled, her voice was cold that it made everyone flinched, except for Arielle. The sovereign’s composure cracked, just slightly, and the fury beneath the surface began to show itself, her golden eyes blazed with barely contained rage, her voice was rising in volume until it filled every corner of the vast chamber.

”I passed an order that you marry Lady Eiravelle as her wish from me, I honored that wish as my gift to her after she saved me, remember?!” Kariv flinched once more, then Qazaethel close the report scroll. The sound of the parchment snapping shut was sharp in the silence, like a whip crack that made several court officials jump in their seats.

”You even gave me an incomplete report of what happened.” Qazaethel throw the scroll in front of Kariv. It landed at his feet with a soft thud, and he stared down at it as if it were a snake about to strike, his hands trembling at his sides, his face became a mask of terror.

”I will forgive you for ruining the engagement, but you will be punished for tarnishing the honor of Lordess Arielle’s family, and lady Eiravelle’s honor! You will be punished with one thousand lightning whips and a month of self-reflective isolation!” Qazaethel delivered her command, and Kariv tried to plead but his royal servants had drag him away.

His cries echoed through the hall as they pulled him toward the exit, his protests fell on deaf ears, his pleas for mercy was swallowed by the cold indifference of the court as he disappeared through the grand doors.

”You should feel lucky that’s only your punishment.” Qazaethel muttered, then her gaze landed on Arielle. ”I hope this brings back the honor my son took, I shall add to his punishments the penalty of humiliating an omega... But about what you did... Arielle, child, you cannot hurt a royal heir, do you understand? So I will be fair and give you a hundred whippings without any magic spell that make the whippings worst... Just the normal one.” She said, her voice was a little gentle.

The shift in her tone was subtle, but Arielle caught it, the way the sovereign’s eyes softened just slightly when she spoke of Eiravelle, the way her voice lost some of its sharp edge.

Arielle put her hand on her chest and bow, ”then I shall take the punishment. Thank you for restoring our honor, especially my sister’s.” Arielle said, and there was in Qazaethel’s expression that became unreadable every time Eiravelle was mentioned.

The sovereign’s golden eyes flickered with something that Arielle could not quite identify—regret, perhaps, or sorrow, or a deeper emotion that lay hidden beneath centuries of practiced composure—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, and Qazaethel rose from her throne, signaling the end of the proceedings. 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

The court officials bowed as she passed, and the morning light streamed through the windows, casting fractured rainbows across the marble floor as the sovereign exited the hall, leaving behind a silence that seemed to stretch into eternity.

A term used to describe a female Omega parent