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

Night had fallen over the Arthion manor, casting the sprawling estate in shadows and silence. The servants had long since retired to their quarters, their whispers about the day’s events fading into the darkness, and the grand halls that had once echoed with anger and tears were now still and quiet.

The only light came from the pale moon that hung overhead, its silver rays filtering through the windows and painting the corridors in shades of ghostly white.

Arielle made her way through the darkened halls, a tray was balanced carefully in her hands. On it sat a bowl of warm broth, a small loaf of fresh bread, and a cup of herbal tea that she had prepared herself with careful attention.

She had not eaten since morning, had not even thought about food. But even then, she had only grabbed a few bites of bread before her thoughts had turned back to Eiravelle.

Her sister had not eaten all day. Had not eaten since waking from the poison, had barely even drunk water. The healers had warned Arielle that Eiravelle needed to regain her strength, that her body was still recovering from the trauma of the poison and the pregnancy was taking its toll on her already weakened system.

If she did not eat, if she did not rest, if she did not allow herself to heal, the consequences could be severe.

Arielle would not let that happen. She would not lose her sister to something as mundane as hunger, not after everything they had been through, not after they had fought so hard to keep her alive.

She reached the door to her bedchamber and paused, taking a deep breath. The events of the afternoon still weighed heavily on her mind—Arisia’s cruelty,

Eiravelle’s bruises, the terrible word that had hung in the air like poison. She had spent hours cleaning up the aftermath, sending servants away, ensuring that no word of what had happened would spread beyond the walls of her wing.

She had done everything she could to protect Eiravelle’s privacy, to shield her from the judgment and gossip that would surely follow if anyone learned the truth.

But the hardest part was yet to come. She had to face her sister, had to look into those red-rimmed eyes and find a way to reassure her that everything would be alright.

She had to be strong, had to be steady, had to be the pillar of support that Eiravelle so desperately needed.

She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was dim, lit only by a single candle on the bedside table that flickered and danced with every draft.

Eiravelle was sitting up in bed, her back pressed against the mountain of pillows that Arielle had arranged for her, her hands resting limply in her lap.

She looked small and fragile, like a doll that had been dropped one too many times, and her eyes were fixed on some distant point beyond the window, unseeing and unfocused.

She had been crying. Arielle could tell from the redness of her eyes, the blotchiness of her cheeks, and the way her breath hitched every few seconds as if she were still fighting back sobs.

Her silver hair was tangled and unkempt, falling around her shoulders in a wild mess, and the bruises on her arms stood out starkly against her pale skin.

Arielle’s heart clenched, but she forced herself to smile as she crossed the room.

”Eiravelle,” she said softly, her voice gentle and warm. ”I brought you dinner. This broth is getting colder. How about you take one bite? Mmm?”

She sat on the edge of the bed and held up the bowl, the steam was rising from the golden liquid and filling the air with the scent of herbs and chicken.

She dipped the spoon into the broth and held it out, her expression encouraging, her eyes pleading.

But Eiravelle shook her head and looked away. The movement was small, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make Arielle’s heart sink.

”I don’t want to eat...” Eiravelle said, her voice was quivering and hoarse. It was barely above a whisper, as if speaking itself was a struggle.

Arielle’s smile faltered, but she did not give up. She set the spoon back in the bowl and leaned closer, her free hand reaching out to gently touch Eiravelle’s arm.

”You have to eat, Eiravelle,” she said, her voice firm but kind. ”The baby in your womb also needs to eat. You’re not just eating for yourself anymore. You’re eating for two now.”

Eiravelle’s head snapped toward her, and for a moment, Arielle saw a flash of anger in her sister’s eyes—an anger that was not directed at her, but at the situation, at the world, at the cruel twist of fate that had brought them to this moment.

”Sister...!” Eiravelle’s voice was filled with frustration and sadness, the words tearing from her throat like shards of glass. ”If Father finds out he will disown me! Maybe Sister Arisia was right. I should abort the child.”

The words hit Arielle like a physical blow. She felt her blood run cold, felt her heart stop for a moment before resuming its frantic beating. The bowl of broth nearly slipped from her fingers, and she had to set it down on the bedside cabinet before she dropped it entirely.

”No,” Arielle said, her voice sharp and immediate. ”You’re not gonna do that! You’re not gonna kill the child.”

She grabbed Eiravelle’s shoulders and held her firmly, forcing her sister to meet her gaze. Her eyes were blazing with determination, with love, and with a fierce protectiveness that she had never felt so strongly before.

”But I have to! I have to!” Eiravelle retorted, her voice rising to a wail. Tears streamed down her cheeks, fresh and hot, and her body began to shake with the force of her sobs.

”I have to, sister! I have to! If I don’t, Father will throw me out! Mother will disown me! Everyone will know what I’ve done, and they’ll all hate me, and I’ll have nothing! Nothing!”

All Arielle could do was pull her close, wrapping her arms around her sister and holding her as tightly as she could.

Eiravelle’s sobs were muffled against her shoulder, her body shaking with a force that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her—somewhere that had been holding back a flood of pain and fear and despair for far too long.

She’s been carrying so much, Arielle thought, her own eyes stinging with unshed tears. She’s been carrying so much weight, all alone, for so long. And I didn’t see it. I didn’t notice. I was so caught up in my own duties, my own responsibilities, that I didn’t see how much my little sister was suffering.

Eiravelle had faced so many things these past few weeks—the poisoning, the near-death experience, the revelation of her pregnancy, the cruelty of Arisia’s words.

And adding to the weight she was carrying was too much. It was too much for anyone to bear, let alone a young omega who had spent her entire life being told that she was not good enough, that she was a disappointment, that she was nothing more than a burden to be managed.

”No~ Eiravelle. Listen to me.” Arielle’s voice was firm but gentle, her hand moved in slow circles on her sister’s back. ”You don’t need to kill your child. I’m sure we can talk to Father or Mother. I will find a way. I will make them understand.”

She pulled back slightly and looked into Eiravelle’s puffy, red-rimmed eyes. ”I will find a way,” she repeated. ”I promise you.”

Eiravelle shook her head and withdrew slightly, her hands were pressing against Arielle’s chest as if to push her away. ”No~ you’ve done so many things. You’ve already sacrificed so much for me. Please, sister, I don’t want to drag you further into my problems. I don’t want to be the reason you suffer too.”

Arielle shook her head, her jaw set with determination. ”Please listen to me, Eiravelle. I am doing this because I care for you and your child. I know things are already hard,but I am your older, Alpha sister. It was my duty to protect you, okay? I am not gonna abandon you, not now, not ever.”

There was an absolute firmness in Arielle’s voice as she admitted those words—a conviction that came from somewhere deep inside her, a promise that she intended to keep no matter what it cost her.

She pulled Eiravelle into a tight hug and kissed her little sister’s forehead, letting her lips linger there for a moment as if she could transfer some of her strength, some of her love, some of her unwavering resolve through that simple gesture.

”We’re gonna face this together,” Arielle uttered, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with a fierce determination.

”I’m not leaving you. No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says, no matter what Father or Mother or Arisia or Ariphale or anyone else thinks—I am on your side. I will always be on your side.”

All Eiravelle could do was cry at her sister’s chest.

The sobs came in waves, crashing over her and then receding, leaving her breathless and exhausted. She clung to Arielle like a drowning woman clinging to a lifeline, her fingers digging into the fabric of Arielle’s robes, her face pressed against the warmth of her sister’s shoulder.

She cried for the child she had never wanted but now could not bear to lose. She cried for the stranger in the forest, the alpha whom she doesn’t know but whose touch she could not forget.

She cried for the future that had been stolen from her, the reputation that lay in ruins, the family that would surely turn its back on her.

And through it all, Arielle held her. She held her and rocked her gently and whispered soft, soothing words that Eiravelle could barely hear but that somehow made the pain a little easier to bear.

”I’m here,” Arielle murmured against Eiravelle’s hair. ”I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe now. You’re safe with me.”

She did not know how long they stayed like that—minutes, perhaps, or hours. Time seemed to lose meaning in the quiet darkness of the room, with only the flickering candle and the sound of Eiravelle’s sobs to mark its passage.

But eventually, the tears subsided, the sobs quieted into hiccups, and Eiravelle’s trembling body slowly relaxed against Arielle’s.

Arielle gently eased her sister back against the pillows, her hands gentle as she smoothed the tangled hair away from Eiravelle’s face. She picked up the bowl of broth, now lukewarm but still nourishing, and held it out once more.

”Just a little,” she coaxed gently. ”Just a few spoonfuls. For me, if not for yourself. For the baby. Please, Eiravelle.”

Eiravelle looked at the bowl, then at her sister’s face, and something in her expression softened. She nodded weakly and allowed Arielle to bring the spoon to her lips.

The broth was warm and savory, and her empty stomach welcomed it despite her lack of appetite. She managed a few spoonfuls before shaking her head, and Arielle did not push for more. It was a start and it was enough.

Arielle set the bowl aside and took Eiravelle’s hand in her own, squeezing gently. ”I’m going to figure this out,” she said, her voice steady and sure.

”I’m going to find a way to protect you and the baby. I don’t know how yet, but I will. I promise you, Eiravelle. I will find a way.”

Eiravelle looked at her sister, at the determination in her eyes, at the strength of her jaw, and at the unwavering love that radiated from every fiber of her being. And for the first time in weeks, she felt a flicker of hope.

”You really think you can?” She asked, her voice small and uncertain.

”I know I can,” Arielle replied. ”I am the youngest prime minister in the history of Solkanaia. If I can navigate the treacherous waters of politics, I can navigate this. Your child will be born, Eiravelle. Your child will live. And I will be there, every step of the way, to make sure that happens.”

Eiravelle’s eyes filled with tears once more, but this time, they were not tears of despair. They were tears of gratitude, of relief, of a love so profound it seemed to fill every corner of her broken heart.

”Thank you, sister,” she whispered. ”Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Arielle smiled, a soft, sad smile that spoke of all the pain and all the hope and all the love that she carried within her. ”I will never give up on you, Eiravelle. You are my sister. You are my family. And I will protect you until my last breath.”

She leaned forward and kissed Eiravelle’s forehead once more, then settled back against the pillows beside her. She would stay here tonight, she decided.

She would stay with Eiravelle, watch over her, keep her safe from the nightmares that lurked in the darkness and the demons that haunted her waking hours.

The candle flickered and danced, casting its warm glow over the two sisters as they lay together in the quiet of the night. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, and the stars shone cold and distant in the sky.

But inside, in the warmth of that small room, there was only love—fierce, unwavering, unbreakable love.