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

Dawn, Eiravelle, and Ruthina rushed to Qazaethel, Arielle, and Liv. The crowd of nobles parted around them as they moved, their urgent strides cutting through the music and laughter like a blade through silk. Eiravelle’s legs were trembling, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps, and she leaned heavily on Ruthina’s arm for support.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and the faces of the nobles around her became a smear of colors and shapes that she could not focus on. She could hear the whispers, could feel the weight of their stares, and each one was a needle pressing into her skin. She wanted to disappear.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. But most of all, she wanted Qazaethel. She needed Qazaethel. She needed the one person who made her feel safe, the one person who could chase away the shadows that were threatening to consume her.

Qazaethel was standing with Liv and Arielle near the edge of the dance floor, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. The sovereign’s expression was calm, measured, the practiced mask of a ruler who had spent centuries navigating the treacherous waters of court politics.

But the moment she saw Eiravelle approaching, the mask shattered. Her eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat, and she moved forward without a second thought, her only concern the trembling omega who was stumbling toward her.

Eiravelle was trying to stop her tears but as they approach, she immediately bury her face on Qazaethel’s chest and cry. The sobs came violently, tearing through her chest with a force that left her gasping for air. Her fingers are clutched at the fabric of Qazaethel’s robes, gripping so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and she pressed herself so close that she could feel the steady beat of the sovereign’s heart against her cheek.

It was the only thing that felt real. The only thing that felt safe. Qazaethel’s eyes widened and she immediately pull Eiravelle in the corner of a curtained wall. The heavy velvet drapes provided a shield of privacy, cutting them off from the prying eyes of the court, and the sudden darkness was a relief. The noise of the celebration faded to a distant hum, muffled by the thick fabric, and for a moment, they were alone in their own small world.

”What happened? Why are you crying?” Qazaethel asked, and all can Eiravelle do was shook her head and tighten her hug around Qazaethel. The words would not come. Her throat was closed, and her mind was blank, and all she could do was hold on.

She pressed herself against Qazaethel’s warmth, breathing in the familiar scent of dragonfire and sandalwood, and she felt the tension in her body slowly begin to ease. She was safe. She was with Qazaethel. Nothing could hurt her here.

Dawn, Ruthina, Arielle, and Liv followed. The five of them crowded into the small space behind the curtains, their faces a mixture of concern, confusion, and barely contained fury.

Liv stood guard at the edge of the curtain, her hand was resting on the hilt of her sword, her sharp eyes are scanning the crowd beyond for any sign of danger. Dawn stood beside her, her expression grim, her mind already racing with the political implications of what had just happened. But it was Arielle who reacted first.

Arielle’s eyes widened when she saw her little sister’s distress. The alpha’s expression, which had been relaxed and content just moments before, hardened into something sharp and dangerous. Her eyes turned bright blue, glowing with the intensity of her fury, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

”Eivy... What happened? Why are you crying?” Arielle asked, she was clearly worried. She pushed through the small crowd, ignoring the others, and reached out to touch Eiravelle’s shoulder. The omega flinched at the touch, then immediately relaxed when she realized who it was. She turned her head, her face still buried against Qazaethel’s chest, and looked at her sister with tear-filled eyes.

”Prince Kariv just showed up in front of us and asked Ruthina to dance but we didn’t expect Eiravelle to get triggered like this.” Dawn explained, and it already made Arielle’s blood boil. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything that had come before.

The history between Eiravelle and Kariv was not a secret to anyone in this small circle. They had all heard the stories, had all seen the scars, and they all knew the kind of man that Kariv was. He was a predator. A manipulator. A monster who wore the skin of a charming alpha.

And now, he had approached Eiravelle, had spoken to her, had tried to use Ruthina as a way to get to her. It was a deliberate provocation. It was cruel. It was unforgivable.

”Where is he?” Arielle’s voice turned into a dangerous growl, and her eyes started to glow brightly as blue, showing she was getting angry again. The glow was an inherited trait, a sign of their family’s draconic bloodline, and it only appeared when an Arthion was on the verge of losing control.

Arielle’s entire body was trembling with the effort of holding herself back. She wanted to find Kariv. She wanted to drag him out of the crowd and make him answer for what he had done. She wanted to hurt him, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that her little sister had endured.

”Arielle, please give this chance to me to discipline my son.” Qazaethel said, and Arielle have to composed herself and stay calm. The sovereign’s voice was firm, commanding, but there was a plea buried beneath the authority. This was her son. Her blood. Her responsibility.

If anyone was going to punish Kariv, it had to be her. It had to be someone who could do it properly, who could make him understand the weight of his actions without letting personal vengeance cloud their judgment.

Qazaethel did not want Arielle to do something she would regret, something that would cost her the position she had worked so hard to earn. She wanted to handle this herself. She needed to handle this herself.

”Fine, your majesty. Since you asked so nicely, but please, educate him well. Because if I have my hands on him, I don’t care if I’m risking my position as the prime minister of Solkanaia.” Arielle said, Qazaethel wasn’t even offended because she knew this is all Kariv’s doing and it was also her fault as Kariv’s Ama.

The alpha’s words were harsh, but they were also a warning. If Qazaethel failed, if she let Kariv escape without proper punishment, then Arielle would take matters into her own hands. She would hunt him down. She would make him pay. And she would not care about the consequences.

”Let’s wait until this event is over. I have a plan.” Qazaethel answered, and then she turn her gaze to Eiravelle and cupped her face, ”Eivy~ hey~ look at me~” Qazaethel said, trying to comfort and soothe the omega. Her voice was soft, gentle, a complete contrast to the cold, commanding tone she had used just moments before. She tilted Eiravelle’s chin up with a single finger, forcing the omega to meet her eyes.

Eiravelle’s face was a mess of tears and flushed skin, her eyes were red and puffy, her lips were trembling. She looked broken. She looked terrified. And it made Qazaethel’s heart ache with a pain that she had not felt in centuries.

”Stop crying, he’s not coming to hurt you.” Qazaethel gently plant a soft kiss on her forehead and hug her. The kiss was a promise. A vow. A declaration that she would do whatever it took to keep Eiravelle safe. She wrapped her arms around the omega, pulling her close, and she held her as though the world itself was trying to tear them apart.

She could feel Eiravelle’s body trembling against her, could feel the wetness of her tears soaking through her robes, and she made a silent promise to herself. She would find Kariv. She would deal with him. And she would make sure that he never came anywhere near Eiravelle again.

”Qaz, I wanna go. I don’t want to stay here.” Eiravelle whimpered, and Qazaethel immediately nodded. The words were small, broken, but they were also clear. Eiravelle did not want to be here anymore. She did not want to be surrounded by nobles who whispered and stared. She did not want to be in the same building as Kariv. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be somewhere safe.

”Okay... As you wish.” Qazaethel said, then held her wrist. The gesture was possessive, protective, a silent declaration that Eiravelle was hers to protect. She looked at the others, her expression softening slightly, and she asked, ”Can you guys take care of the event?” The words were a request, not a command.

Qazaethel was asking them to do something that she would normally never ask of anyone. She was trusting them to handle the celebration while she took care of Eiravelle. She was putting the omega’s needs above the endless demands of the court, and she did not care who noticed.

They nodded. ”Just take Eriavelle back to the eastern palace to rest. We’ll take care everything here.” Arielle said, and Liv agreed. The Phoenix Empress stepped forward, her expression warm but resolute, and she placed a hand on Qazaethel’s arm. ”Go. We’ll handle everything.”

”Yeah, just go.” Liv said, her voice was gruff but kind. The general had never been one for displays of affection, but even she could see how much Eiravelle needed Qazaethel right now. ”Dragon, please take care of sister Eivy.” Ruthina said, and she’s clearly worried.

The rabbit spirit had been silent until now, her small hands were clasped tightly together, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. She did not understand the full extent of what had happened, did not understand the history between Eiravelle and Kariv, but she understood that her friend was hurting. And she wanted to help. She wanted to protect Eiravelle the way Eiravelle had protected her.

”You got it.” Qazaethel answered.

”Wait...” Arielle called out and pull Eiravelle into a hug and kiss her forehead. The alpha’s earlier fury had cooled, replaced by a fierce, protective tenderness. She held her little sister close, breathing in her scent, and she murmured against her hair. ”Just rest, Kariv won’t touch you, okay?” The words were a promise, a vow, a declaration of war.

If Kariv so much as looked at Eiravelle again, Arielle would end him. She did not care about politics. She did not care about her position. She would burn the entire palace to the ground before she let anyone hurt her sister again.

Eiravelle nodded and let her older sister wipe her tears for her. The gesture was familiar, comforting, a reminder of a time before everything had gone wrong. Arielle’s thumb brushed gently across her cheek, wiping away the tears, and for a moment, Eiravelle felt like a child again—small, fragile, but loved.

She looked at her sister, at the alpha who had always protected her even when she had not deserved it, and she managed a small, watery smile.

Then Qazaethel gently guided Eiravelle to exit without notifying the guests or others. They slipped through a side door, hidden from view, and made their way through the quiet corridors of the palace. The music and laughter of the celebration faded behind them, replaced by the soft echo of their footsteps and the distant crackle of torches.

The air grew cooler as they moved away from the great hall, and Eiravelle shivered, pressing closer to Qazaethel’s side. The sovereign’s arm was around her waist, steady and warm, and she did not let go until they reached the carriage that would take them back to the Eastern wing palace.

The ride was quiet. Eiravelle sat with her head resting on Qazaethel’s shoulder, her eyes were closed, her breath slowly evening out. She was still trembling, but the violent sobs had stopped, and she was beginning to feel the exhaustion that always followed a flood of tears.

Qazaethel held her hand, her thumb was tracing slow, soothing circles on Eiravelle’s palm, and she did not speak. There were no words that could make this better. There was nothing she could say that would erase what had happened. All she could do was be there. All she could do was hold on.

When they arrived at the Eastern wing palace, Saye was waiting at the door. The servant’s face was pale with worry, her hands clasped in front of her, and she rushed forward the moment she saw Eiravelle. ”My lady, what happened? Are you alright?” Saye asked, her voice was trembling. She had been waiting for hours, ever since Qazaethel and Eiravelle had left for the celebration, and the sight of her lady in distress made her heart clench with fear.

”I’m okay, Saye. I just want to rest.” Eiravelle said, her voice was small and tired. She did not have the energy to explain. She did not have the energy to do anything except sleep.

Qazaethel helped her up the stairs, her arm was still around her waist, and Saye followed behind them, her expression was worried but relieved. When they reached Eiravelle’s chambers, Qazaethel helped her into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin and tucking them around her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on Eiravelle’s cheek, and she looked at the omega with an expression of such profound tenderness that it would have shocked anyone who knew her.