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

”Let Lordess Xelvyn enter.” Qazaethel said, and the usher bowed and open the door for Xelvyn and lady Yvaine. The heavy doors of the throne room swung open with a groan, their iron hinges protesting the movement, and the two demon rulers stepped through the threshold and into the golden light of the Solkanaian court.

The contrast was striking—Xelvyn in her robes of black and silver, her dark hair was falling loose around her shoulders, her expression was cool and composed; Yvaine at her side in deep purple, her chin lifted, her eyes bright with curiosity and something that might have been amusement.

They moved through the throne room with the quiet confidence of those who had faced down worse things than a foreign court, and the ministers—those who remained—watched them with a mixture of fear and fascination.

The demons were creatures of legend in Solkanaia, beings of shadow and fire who ruled a realm that existed parallel to their own, and to see them here, in the golden light of the throne room, was a reminder that the world was larger and stranger than most of them had ever imagined.

Xelvyn entered and give a sign of respect, a slight bow of her head, her right hand pressed briefly over her heart. It was the traditional greeting of the demon realm, a gesture that spoke of ancient customs and long-forgotten alliances.

”Greetings, your majesty.” Xelvyn said, and Yvaine smiled and showed her curtsy. The omega’s curtsy was graceful, practiced, but there was a hint of playfulness in it, as though she was enjoying the formality far more than she should.

She was not like the other demon rulers, who came to the Solkanaian court with threats and demands. She was something different, something new, and the ministers who watched her could not quite decide what to make of her.

By that time, Liv also entered but she was a bit taken aback to see Xelvyn standing in front of Qazaethel and Dawn. So she approached Arielle and stood next to her in silence.

”Get to the point, lordess Xelvyn. But before that, may I ask who is this person with you?” Qazaethel asked, and Xelvyn just glance at Yvaine and close her eyes as she felt utterly problematic about bringing Yvaine with her.

The sovereign’s voice was sharp, impatient, and her gaze was fixed on the stranger at Xelvyn’s side with a wariness that was not entirely unfounded. In a court where betrayal had just been uncovered, strangers were not welcome. The ministers had been dragged away in chains, their crimes are laid bare for all to see, and the sovereign was in no mood for surprises.

”She’s... Err...” Xelvyn hesitated. The demon lordess, who had faced down the demon court with nothing but her wit and her will, who had walked away from an entire council of her peers without a backward glance, was hesitating.

It was almost comical. She had not wanted to bring Yvaine. She had not wanted to expose herself to the omega’s relentless attention, to the questions and the teasing and the uncomfortable warmth that seemed to follow wherever Yvaine went.

But Yvaine had insisted, had refused to be left behind, and Xelvyn had not had the energy to argue. Now, standing in the throne room of Solkanaia, with the sovereign’s sharp eyes fixed on her and the entire court watching, she was beginning to regret her decision.

”Greetings, your majesty. I am her fiancee, Yvaine of Kharvos.” Yvaine said, and they were a little bit taken aback, especially Arielle and Liv. The prime minister’s eyebrows shot up, and the general’s hand twitched toward her sword before she caught herself.

Dawn’s eyes widened, her mouth opening slightly, and even Qazaethel’s expression flickered with surprise before she smoothed it back into her mask of cold authority. A fiancee. The demon lordess had a fiancee.

And not just any fiancee—the lady of Kharvos, the first omega ruler in the history of the demon realm, a woman whose reputation for cunning and ruthlessness was matched only by her beauty.

”No, she’s lying. We just met today.” Xelvyn sigh, clearly annoyed about that fact. Her voice was flat, exasperated, and she did not look at Yvaine as she spoke. She simply stared at the ceiling, as though praying for patience. The words were a denial, but they lacked conviction, and the ministers exchanged glances, their earlier fear replaced by a flicker of amusement.

”No, you met me today. I met you back in the demon court.” Yvaine corrected and Xelvyn rolled her eyes off. The omega’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in her voice that spoke of genuine affection.

She was not offended by Xelvyn’s denial. She was not hurt. She was, if anything, amused. ”Whatever.” She sigh, and compose herself to look at Qazaethel. The demon lordess straightened her shoulders, her expression shifting from irritation to something more serious. Something more urgent.

”This is a bad omen.” Xelvyn said, her voice low and grave. The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. The ministers who had been watching with amusement suddenly went still, their faces paling, and the air grew thick with tension.

”What?” Qazaethel asked, her earlier irritation was replaced by a cold, creeping dread. She had known Xelvyn long enough to recognize the tone in her voice. It was the tone of someone delivering bad news. It was the tone of someone who had seen something terrible and could not unsee it.

”Dark clouds are forming within the demon realm.” Xelvyn said, and there was a long silence before Dawn spoke. The Phoenix Empress’s brow furrowed, her head was tilting slightly to the side, and she looked at Xelvyn with a mixture of confusion and unease. She did not understand the significance of the words. She did not understand why dark clouds would matter.

”So?” She’s not trying to sound rude but that’s how her voice came. Good thing Xelvyn doesn’t think much about it. The demon lordess simply shook her head, while her expression was still grave. She had expected this reaction. She had expected the mortals to not understand, to not see the danger that was gathering on the horizon.

”Grakhorth... I supposed you know him, your majesty.” Xelvyn said, and Qazaethel suddenly tensed up. The name hit her like a physical blow, and she felt her blood run cold. She knew that name.

She knew it better than anyone. She had spoken it in whispers, had written it in her private journals, and had dreamed of it in her nightmares. ”The man you locked up in the abyssal realm.” Xelvyn added, and the words were a knife twisting in an old wound.

”What about him?” Qazaethel asked, her voice tight. Her hands were gripping the arms of her throne, her knuckles white, and she was forcing herself to breathe, to stay calm, to not let the fear show on her face. She had locked him away. She had made sure he would never escape. She had spent centuries convincing herself that he was gone, that he would never return, that the nightmare was finally over.

”The dark clouds was the sign he is coming back. Dark clouds don’t form out of nowhere within the demon realm because we had no clouds at all, and our sky remains red. Dead forests had gray skies, but not black.” Xelvyn explained, and Dawn glance at Qazaethel.

The Phoenix Empress had gone pale, her earlier irritation was replaced by something colder and more primal. She had heard the stories. She had read the histories. She knew what Grakhorth was, what he had done, what he was capable of.

”It’s impossible... I made sure he is locked up in the abyssal realm for three thousand years.” Qazaethel said, her voice was barely above a whisper. She had done everything right. She had used every binding spell, every ward, every protection known to the three realms.

She had made sure that Grakhorth would never escape, would never return, and would never threaten anyone again. And yet, the dark clouds were forming. The signs were there. The impossible was happening.

”He is trying to break free... And if that happens, it’ll become our biggest war. The coming of saint is the reason...” Xelvyn said, and Qazaethel knew this is a big problem. The saint. The one who would come to the world in its darkest hour. The one who would stand against the darkness. The one who was destined to die young.

”We need to find the saint.” Dawn murmured, her voice was heavy with worry. The Phoenix Empress had risen from her throne, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, and she was pacing, her footsteps echoing in the silent room. The saint was the key. The saint was their only hope.

”No... We have no time. If we wait for the box to turn white, we will simply waiting for the war to come and we’ll be unprepared.” Qazaethel said, trying to think of a way out for them. The box had shown gray, had shown uncertainty, and they could not afford to wait. The war was coming, whether they were ready or not.

”Qazaethel, you knew you cannot do this without the three supreme Gods.” Liv said, and Qazaethel knew that part. The general’s voice was steady but urgent, a reminder of the reality they faced.

The three supreme Gods had created the rules, had set the boundaries, and they would not intervene. They would send the saint, but they would not fight the battle. That was left to the mortals, to the demons, to those who lived in the world the Gods had created.

”But we know the rules. They’re sending a saint to help us. That’s their way, their rules, and their law.” Xelvyn said, and Arielle sigh. The prime minister had been silent throughout the conversation, but now she spoke, her voice tight with worry.

”Should we call the golden rabbit?” She asked, clearly worried for Ruthina’s safety. The rabbit spirit had become a friend to everyone, and a lover to her, and the thought of putting her in danger made Arielle’s stomach turn. Ruthina was innocent, was pure, was everything that was good in the world. She did not deserve to be dragged into a war.

”The Golden Rabbit is weak without the saint. If we let the golden rabbit face all this alone, she’ll die without even looking at Grakhorth.” Xelvyn explained and Arielle’s face turned grim the moment she heard that. The words were a death sentence, a warning that could not be ignored. Ruthina was powerful, but she was not invincible. Without her saint, she was vulnerable.

”Then what should we do?” Dawn asked, clearly worried for everyone. The Phoenix Empress looked at the demon rulers, at her own sovereign, and at the general and the prime minister, and she saw the weight of the world pressing down on all of them.

”For now, we can plan an alliance. The demon court will surely turn against me and Xelvyn now.” Yvaine said, and Xelvyn turn her gaze at Yvaine. The omega’s voice was calm, measured, as though she had already thought through every possibility and had chosen the only path that made sense.

”And why the demon court will turn against you?” Xelvyn asked, her brow furrowing. She did not understand what Yvaine was saying. The demon court had already turned against her. She had walked away from them, had declared her independence, and had made herself an enemy of the council. What more could they do?

”Because you are my fiancee now, I am choosing you. If we have this alliance, we can merge our lands and expand Vartuahry.” Yvaine explained, ”and we also can forge a partnership with Solkanaia.” Yvaine added, and everyone agreed with her plan as it makes sense.

The demon court would see Xelvyn and Yvaine’s alliance as a threat, a challenge to their authority, and they would turn against them. But that was a risk they would have to take. The alternative—facing Grakhorth alone—was far worse.

”Why are you doing this?” Xelvyn asked, her voice turned softer now. She was looking at Yvaine with an expression that was difficult to read—curiosity, perhaps, or something more.

She did not understand why Yvaine would risk so much for her. She did not understand why the omega would tie her fate to someone who had made so many enemies.

”Aside from I like you and that I want you to marry me, I am simply aware that if this battle happens, I won’t survive it alone. My land may be vast, but I know the limit of my own powers and capabilities.” Yvaine said, and Xelvyn was silent for a moment. The omega’s honesty was refreshing, her practicality was a welcome change from the usual political maneuvering. She was not pretending to be something she was not. She was simply stating the truth.

”I agree with the alliance... Lady Yvaine is thinking ahead and it’s brilliant. If we have an alliance, we can create a bigger army against Grakhorth. But now, send the signal to the church to pray for its people. Maybe at this time of impending crises, their prayers would help us.” Qazaethel sigh, clearly not feeling well since this morning.

The sovereign’s face was pale, her forehead beaded with sweat, and her voice had a rasp to it that had not been there before. She had been hiding it, had been pushing through the pain and the exhaustion, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

”Qazaethel, you’re still burning up.” Dawn said, she checked Qazaethel’s forehead again, but Qazaethel move back. The Phoenix Empress’s hand had barely touched the sovereign’s skin before Qazaethel pulled away, her expression tightening with discomfort.

”I’m fine, don’t worry. Don’t tell Eiravelle about this.” She said and sigh. The words were a command, a plea, and a confession all at once. She did not want Eiravelle to worry. She did not want the omega to know that she was sick, that she was vulnerable, and that she was anything less than the strong, unshakeable sovereign she had always tried to be.

”Your majesty, please rest. I’ll have the rest with them.” Dawn said, and Qazaethel shook her head. The Phoenix Empress’s voice was gentle but firm, a friend trying to care for someone who was too stubborn to accept it.

”We still have more problems to face.” She answered. The problems were endless, the weight of them keep pressing down on her, and she could not afford to rest. Not now. Not when the world was falling apart around them.

”But not with a body like that. When Dragons or phoenix are having a high fever, whatever they touch burn. So you must rest before that fever burns everything around you.” Xelvyn reminded Qazaethel of what will happen. The demon lordess’s voice was matter-of-fact, but there was a warning in it.

”And if you don’t listen, you’ll hurt Eiravelle too. I supposed she is heavily pregnant by now...” Xelvyn added, and Qazaethel’s eyes widened in horror. The words hit her like a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs, and she felt her heart stop in her chest.

”No! It won’t happen!” She almost lost her composure, but then she held unto the armrest as she tried to held back and calm herself. The thought of hurting Eiravelle, of burning her, of causing her pain—it was unbearable. It was the one thing she could not allow. She would rather die than hurt the omega she loved.

”Liv...” She called out, her voice strained, barely controlled. The general stepped forward immediately, her expression sharp and attentive.

”Yes, your majesty?” Liv asked.

”Prepare the iron chambers, I’m staying there.” Qazaethel said, and Liv bowed. The iron chambers were cold, barren, devoid of anything that could burn. They were designed for dragons in the grip of fever, for those whose power had spiraled out of control. They were a prison, but they were also a protection—for everyone else.

”As you wish, your majesty.” Liv said and leave to carry out her order. The doors closed behind her, and Qazaethel was left with her guests, her friends, and the weight of the fever that was burning through her veins.

She did not know how long she would be in the iron chambers. She did not know what would happen while she was there. But she knew that she had to go. She had to protect Eiravelle. She had to protect everyone. And she would. No matter what it cost her.

The room fell silent after Liv’s departure, the echo of the closing doors lingering in the air like a held breath. Dawn stood frozen, her hand still extended toward the sovereign, her expression a mixture of frustration and fear.

She wanted to argue, wanted to insist that Qazaethel stay and rest somewhere comfortable, somewhere safe. But she knew that arguing would be pointless. Once Qazaethel had made up her mind, there was no changing it.

Arielle had moved to stand beside the Phoenix Empress, her arms crossed over her chest, her brow furrowed with worry. ”The iron chambers,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. ”I’ve heard of them. They’re in the deepest part of the palace, beneath the dungeons. No one goes there unless...” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

”Unless a dragon is about to lose control,” Xelvyn finished for her, her voice flat. The demon lordess had not moved from her position near the door, her dark eyes fixed on the space where Qazaethel had been sitting.

”The fever is dangerous. If it gets too high, a dragon’s fire can consume everything around them. The iron chambers are the only place where they can burn without causing harm.”

Dawn turned to look at Xelvyn, her expression was sharp. ”You knew about this? You knew this could happen?” The accusation in her voice was clear, but Xelvyn did not flinch.

”I knew it was a possibility,” Xelvyn admitted. ”Dragons are creatures of fire. When they fall ill, the fire burns hotter. It’s a defense mechanism, a way to burn away the sickness. But it can also be deadly—to themselves and to others.” She paused, her gaze shifting to the closed doors. ”I did not know she was already feverish. If I had, I would have insisted she rest sooner.”

Yvaine stepped forward, her earlier playfulness replaced by a quiet seriousness. ”The sovereign is strong. She will endure the fever. But the iron chambers...” She hesitated, her brow furrowing. ”They are not comfortable. She will be alone, in the cold and the dark, for however long the fever lasts. It could be days.”

Dawn’s jaw tightened. ”She shouldn’t be alone. Someone should be with her.” She moved toward the doors, her intention clear, but Arielle reached out and caught her arm.

”You can’t,” Arielle said, her voice was gentle but firm. ”If the fever takes her, anyone in those chambers will burn. You know that.”

Dawn stopped, her shoulders slumping. She knew Arielle was right. She knew that going into the iron chambers would be suicide. But the thought of Qazaethel alone, suffering, was almost unbearable. ”Then what do we do?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

”We wait,” Arielle said. ”We wait, and we pray. And we hope that the fever breaks before...” She did not finish the sentence. She did not need to.

Yvaine moved to stand beside Dawn, her presence a quiet comfort. ”The sovereign is not alone,” she said softly. ”She has all of us. And when she returns, we will be here. We will help her rebuild. We will help her fight.” The words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity that made Dawn’s eyes sting with tears.

Xelvyn watched the exchange in silence, her expression unreadable. She had not expected this—the loyalty, the love, the fear that these mortals felt for their sovereign. In the demon realm, rulers were feared, not loved.

They were obeyed, not cherished. But Qazaethel was different. She had earned the devotion of her people, had built something that transcended politics and power. She had built a family.

”The alliance,” Xelvyn said, breaking the silence. ”We should discuss the details while the sovereign is... indisposed.” She paused, the word hanging in the air. ”If Grakhorth is truly returning, we have no time to waste.”

Arielle nodded, her expression was shifting from worry to determination. ”You’re right. We need to plan. We need to prepare.” She looked at Dawn, at Yvaine, at the ministers who still lingered in the shadows of the throne room. ”We need to be ready.”

Dawn took a deep breath, steadying herself. She was the Phoenix Empress. She was a ruler in her own right. And she would not let fear paralyze her. ”Then let’s begin,” she said. ”We have a war to prepare for.”