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

Eiravelle and Qazaethel immediately went back to the Arthion mansion after they got the magical peach. The flight back felt longer than it should have, each beat of Qazaethel’s wings were carrying them through the morning sky while Eiravelle clutched the peach to her chest like a lifeline.

She could feel its warmth seeping through her fingers, pulsing gently against her palms, and she kept her eyes fixed forward, willing them to move faster. Every moment they spent in the air was a moment Arielle spent waiting, and the thought gnawed at her insides.

Below them, the mansion stood as it always had, grand and imposing, its windows glowing with warm light that spilled out onto the grounds. Eiravelle had never been so relieved to see it. She had never been so desperate to touch solid ground and run to her sister’s side.

As they landed again on the ground of the Arthion estate, Eiravelle didn’t think twice about dismounting. She swung her leg over and prepared to jump, her body was already leaning forward with the urgency that had been building inside her since they left Ragnar’s manor. But Qazaethel stopped her with a hand on her arm.

”Let me run for you,” Qazaethel said.

Before Eiravelle could ask what she meant, Qazaethel just carried her without a second thought, scooping her up as if she weighed nothing at all. Eiravelle gasped, her eyes were going wide as she tried to process what Qazaethel just did. Her arms are wrapped around Qazaethel’s neck on instinct, and the peach pressed between them, and then they were moving.

Qazaethel started to run faster, not faster than the speed of light but fast enough that the world around them blurred into streaks of color and shadow. The wind whipped at Eiravelle’s hair, stinging her eyes, and she buried her face against Qazaethel’s shoulder until the dizzying rush of movement finally slowed.

They got to Arielle’s bedchamber in no time. The door loomed before them, familiar and ordinary, and Eiravelle felt her heart clench with a mixture of hope and fear. She had the peach. She had what she came for. Everything would be fine now. It had to be.

Qazaethel set her down gently, and Eiravelle steadied herself against the wall for just a moment before reaching for the door handle. Her hand trembled, and she took a breath to steady herself. Then she pushed the door open.

”Sister, I’m here!” Eiravelle opened the door and paused.

Arielle was awake. She was sitting up in bed, propped against a mountain of pillows, and there was color in her cheeks that had not been there before. Relief flooded through Eiravelle at the sight of her, so potent that it nearly buckled her knees.

Arielle looked better. She looked stronger. Whatever had been draining the life from her had slowed, and Eiravelle felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

But her gaze quickly shifted to the unfamiliar figure seated beside Arielle, a woman whose back was facing the door. She had long silver hair that cascaded down her back like liquid moonlight, and she sat with a stillness that felt almost unnatural.

She was small, Eiravelle expected, with delicate shoulders and hands that rested quietly in her lap. There was something about her that made Eiravelle’s skin prickle, not with danger but with something else—something she could not name.

Eiravelle’s grip tightened on the peach. ”Who... Who is she?” She asked, her voice was cautious.

Arielle smiled, and there was something in her expression that Eiravelle could not quite read. It was not fear, not discomfort. It looked almost like wonder. ”She is Ruthina... A golden rabbit.”

At the sound of her name, the woman slowly turned to face Eiravelle, and Eiravelle found herself staring into a pair of bright, golden eyes set in a delicate face. Ruthina smiled, and it was a warm smile, open and genuine, but there was something else in her gaze—something that looked almost like recognition. Like she had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

Eiravelle was a little confused. She had never seen this woman before, had never heard of a golden rabbit, and she did not understand why Arielle seemed so calm about a stranger being in her room. She looked at the Arthion family, who were standing near the window, their expressions were a mixture of curiosity and caution.

They did not seem to know what to make of the situation either. Before Eiravelle could ask any of the questions piling up in her mind, the woman gasped in excitement and lunged forward, pulling Eiravelle into a tight embrace.

”I finally found you!” Ruthina said, her voice was bright with joy.

Eiravelle and Qazaethel were both startled by the golden rabbit’s sudden rise of voice. Eiravelle stumbled back a step, but Ruthina held on, her arms are wrapped around Eiravelle as if she were afraid she might disappear.

Qazaethel tensed beside them, her hand was twitching toward Eiravelle as if ready to pull her away, but she held herself back. Her eyes were narrowed, watching Ruthina with a wariness that she did not bother to hide.

Qazaethel, Arielle, and the Arthion family—who had been standing near, watched the scene unfold—all tilted their heads in confusion.

Ruthina pulled back slightly, her tears are falling freely as she held Eiravelle’s hand. Her grip was warm and surprisingly strong, and she looked at Eiravelle with an expression of such profound relief that Eiravelle felt her own throat tighten in response, even though she had no idea what was happening.

”I... I thought... I thought I’d fail... But I am here now, I finally found you!” Ruthina said.

Eiravelle was clearly confused. She looked at the others, including Qazaethel, hoping someone would side with her and tell Ruthina she must be mistaken. But no one spoke. They all looked as bewildered as she felt, their eyes darted between her and the weeping stranger who seemed to know her.

Arielle had not moved from her bed, but her eyes were wide, and her hands had stilled on the blanket, as if she too was trying to understand what was happening.

”I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” Eiravelle asked. Her voice came out softer than she intended, uncertain and a little afraid. She did not like being the center of attention like this. She did not like the way Ruthina was looking at her, as if she were something precious and long-awaited.

Ruthina blinked, as if only now realizing that Eiravelle did not share her joy. She released Eiravelle’s hand and stepped back, wiping at her tears with the back of her sleeve.

Her movements were quick and a little embarrassed, and Eiravelle caught a glimpse of the calluses on her palms—hands that had known hard labor, not the soft hands of someone who had lived a life of comfort.

”I apologize,” Ruthina said. ”I haven’t formally introduced myself. I am Ruthina. I came from the rabbit tribe, and they confirmed I was the golden rabbit after I was able to bless a sick older lioness with a healthy body.”

She continued to smile, her golden eyes were bright and unwavering, and Eiravelle didn’t even know what to say. A golden rabbit. A blessing. None of it made any sense. Eiravelle had grown up in this manor but she had spent her days tending to ordinary things and ordinary people.

She had never heard of golden rabbits or tribes or blessings that could heal the sick. She had never heard of anyone who could heal the sick at all, not without medicine and rest and time.

”I think you got the wrong being,” Eiravelle said carefully. ”And... What’s a golden rabbit?”

Ruthina’s smile faltered for just a moment before returning, softer this time, as if she understood Eiravelle’s confusion and was willing to be patient. She clasped her hands together in front of her, and Eiravelle noticed that her fingers were trembling slightly. Whatever confidence she was projecting, it was not entirely genuine. There was fear beneath it, and exhaustion, and something that looked almost like grief.

”My entire kin was ambushed by the Demon Lord, Cerpys,” Ruthina said. ”She kept me a slave for ten years, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to find you, Saintess.”

The sudden claim made Eiravelle’s eyes go wide. Saintess. The word hit her like a physical blow, and she felt the blood drain from her face. She was no saintess. She was just Eiravelle, a girl who had made mistakes and eaten magical peaches.

She was not anyone special. She was not anyone worth searching for, worth suffering for, worth waiting ten years for.

Even Qazaethel and everyone in the room were shocked to hear that. The Arthion family exchanged glances, their expressions were a mixture of confusion and alarm. Arielle’s hand went to her chest, her fingers are pressing against her heart as if to steady herself.

Qazaethel’s eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on Ruthina with an intensity that bordered on suspicion. The word Saintess hung in the air like a stone thrown into still water, ripples spreading outward in every direction.

”What? I... You must—” Eiravelle didn’t get to finish when Ruthina excitedly hugged her again, her arms are wrapping around Eiravelle with a desperate kind of hope.

”I’m so happy I finally found you, Saintess!” Ruthina said excitedly, her voice was muffled against Eiravelle’s shoulder.

On that moment, everyone in the room just froze. The air grew thick with tension, the silence stretched until it felt like something solid pressing down on them all. Eiravelle stood rigid in Ruthina’s embrace, her mind was spinning with questions she could not voice.

She could feel the peach still clutched in one hand, its warmth was a strange contrast to the cold dread creeping up her spine. She had come back to save her sister, to give Arielle the magical peach and watch her grow strong again. She had not expected this.

She had not expected to be called something she was not, to be looked at with such reverence by a stranger who had suffered for ten years chasing a hope that might have been nothing more than a delusion.

Qazaethel finally stepped forward, her voice was low and careful. ”Ruthina,” she said, ”perhaps you should explain yourself more clearly. Eiravelle clearly does not know what you are talking about.”

Ruthina pulled back, her expression was shifting from joy to something more serious. She looked at Qazaethel, then back at Eiravelle, and nodded slowly. The tears were still wet on her cheeks, but she wiped them away with a steadiness that suggested she had cried more times than she could count.

”You’re right. I should explain. I have waited so long for this moment that I forgot myself.” She took a breath, steadying herself. ”The rabbit tribe has a prophecy. It speaks of a time when darkness will cover the land and a great evil will rise. In that time, a golden rabbit will be born, and that rabbit will find the Saintess, the one who will bring light back to the world.”

Eiravelle stared at her, the words washing over her like cold water. A prophecy. A Saintess. A great evil. It was too much. She had only just learned that Ragnar believed she could be salvation or destruction, and now this stranger was telling her she was something else entirely.

She wanted to laugh, to tell them all that they had the wrong person, that she was nobody, that she had never done anything remarkable in her life. But the look in Ruthina’s eyes, the desperate hope in her expression, made the words stick in her throat.

”I don’t understand,” Eiravelle finally said. ”I’m not... I’m not anyone special. I’m just a girl. I don’t know anything about prophecies or Saintesses or golden rabbits. You have to be mistaken.”

Ruthina shook her head. ”I am not mistaken. I have searched for you for years. The tribe elders said that when I see my saintess, I will felt an intense peace and joy, and when I saw you, you were the only being that evoked that feelings inside me. You are the one.” She reached out and took Eiravelle’s free hand, her grip was gentle but insistent. ”I know this is a lot to take in, and I am sorry for springing it on you like this. But I have been waiting for so long, and when I saw you, I could not help myself.”

Eiravelle looked down at their joined hands, then at the peach in her other hand, and then at Arielle. Her sister was watching her with wide eyes, her expression was still unreadable. The Arthion family had not moved, had not spoken, as if they were all waiting for something. Qazaethel stood nearby, her arms are crossed and her face was unreadable as well.

”I need to give this to Arielle,” Eiravelle said quietly. ”That’s why I came back. That’s what matters right now.”

Ruthina nodded and released her hand, stepping back to give her space. ”Of course. The peach. I could sense its power when you walked in. Please, do what you came here to do. We can talk more later.”

Eiravelle walked to Arielle’s bedside, her legs are moving on their own, and held out the peach. Arielle took it with trembling hands, her eyes are glistening with tears. The golden glow of the fruit reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, she looked like the sister Eiravelle remembered from before the sickness—bright and full of life, with a smile that could light up any room.

”You had it,” Arielle whispered. ”You actually got it for me again.”

”I told you I would,” Eiravelle replied, her voice was thick with emotion. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hand was finding Arielle’s and squeezing gently. ”Now eat it. Please. I need to see you get better.”

Arielle bit into the peach, and the room filled with a soft, golden glow that seemed to pulse with life. Eiravelle watched her sister eat, watched the color return to her cheeks, watched her breath come easier with each bite. The tension in the room began to dissipate, replaced by something warmer, something that felt almost like hope.

Ruthina watched from a distance, her golden eyes are fixed on Eiravelle with an expression that was impossible to read. There was joy there, and relief, but also something else—something that looked almost like fear. As if she had found what she was looking for but was terrified of what it might mean.

Qazaethel moved to stand beside Eiravelle, her presence was a quiet reassurance. She did not speak, did not ask questions, but her hand rested briefly on Eiravelle’s shoulder, and that small touch was enough. Eiravelle leaned into it, drawing strength from the contact.

For a moment, everything else faded away—the prophecy, the Saintess, the golden rabbit, all of it. All that mattered was this moment, this small victory, this proof that sometimes, despite everything, things could still be okay. Arielle was going to live. Arielle was going to be fine. And whatever came next, whatever destiny had in store for her, Eiravelle would face it the same way she had faced everything else—one step at a time, with the people she loved by her side.

But even as she thought it, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered that nothing would ever be the same again. Ruthina had crossed the world to find her. Ragnar had seen her in visions of salvation and destruction. And the word Saintess echoed in her ears like a bell that would not stop ringing.

She did not know what it meant. She did not know if she wanted to know. But she had a feeling that the world would not give her a choice.