The Dragon King's Hated Bride-Chapter 125: Understanding Things

>>Aelin

His shoulders tensed, just for a heartbeat, before he sighed and awkwardly returned the hug with one arm.

"Vesper," he said, his tone caught somewhere between surprise and resignation. "You’re early."

"You’re late to welcome me," she teased, pulling back just enough to grin up at him.

I stood there, watching them—my heart an uncomfortable knot in my chest.

Her arms were still around him.

She hadn’t even looked at me.

Draegon gently unwrapped himself from her hold and took a half step back. "You remember how to knock, right?"

Vesper snorted and gave him a light shove. "Why bother when I’ve known you since you had milk-teeth?"

Then, finally, her bright, burning eyes slid toward me.

She looked me up and down. Not rudely. But not gently either.

"And you," she said, voice drawing out the words like a slow song. "You must be the little wife."

I blinked. Little wife?

My spine straightened without my permission. "I’m Aelin," I said, keeping my voice level. "It’s good to meet you."

Her smile stretched. "Is it?"

There was a beat of silence. The air between us shimmered with the kind of heat that wasn’t fire—but tension.

She walked toward me, graceful but powerful, like a snake circling another predator. "So you’re the one who snagged him." Her eyes glinted with something unreadable.

Draegon cleared his throat. "Vesper."

"What?" she said, laughing as she stopped in front of me. "I’m just saying hello."

She extended a gloved hand, and I shook it without hesitation, even though something about her grip was... testing. Firm. As if she wanted to know how hard I’d squeeze back.

I didn’t want to disappoint her, so I tried to squeeze back hard as well. Although, I don’t know how well that went since I don’t have much strength, and certainly not any to match a warrior.

Her brow lifted just a little.

"Well," she said, glancing at Draegon again with a smirk. "She’s got some spirit. That’s a relief."

"Vesper," Draegon said again, this time more firmly, though his face had a touch of that patient irritation.

Vesper waved a hand and stepped back. "I’m only teasing. I came to help, hope Draken informed you of that?" She looked back at me, her expression still playful but not entirely unkind. "We’ll get along, don’t worry."

I wasn’t so sure of that.

But I nodded politely anyway.

"Welcome, Captain Vesper," I said coolly. "I’m sure your skills will be appreciated here."

That earned me a real smile.

"I like her," she said over her shoulder to Draegon, and then turned toward the doors. "I’m going to find the barracks. Try not to miss me too much."

And just like that, she swept out.

The room felt a little too still once she was gone.

I turned to Draegon, who exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face.

"I think I need to apologize for that,," he muttered. "She’s... a lot."

"She certainly is," I murmured.

But I didn’t say the rest.

Like how that embrace had twisted something in my chest. I understand demons have very different concepts about intimacy than humans but as a human, I can’t help it.

***

The abandoned wing of the palace was still, but not empty. The wind did not whistle here, and the walls no longer creaked. I followed Seraphine down a narrow corridor, her movements slow and steady, her presence warm in the silence.

We entered a room—smaller than the one we’d been in before, and strikingly different. It was clean, almost untouched by time, the scent of aged wood and faint incense in the air. The stone walls were draped with deep maroon curtains that added a richness to the space, and a large arched window let golden light pour in, casting gentle shadows on the floor. A fire crackled quietly in a wide hearth, and a soft rug spread across the stone floor where two cushioned chairs faced each other. Shelves lined one wall, filled with preserved scrolls and leather-bound tomes.

This room felt more like a study—a sanctuary of warmth and memory.

"Draegon had this one sealed," Seraphine said, her voice low but carrying an old fondness. "A long time ago when I was sent to the tower. I think he couldn’t let this room decay even if everything else did." She moved toward the hearth and gestured for me to sit.

I lowered myself into the chair, letting the comfort of the room settle into my bones. My fingers instinctively found the hem of my sleeve, curling the fabric as my nerves gathered.

I thought about her words and then a question popped in my mind.

"Did the previous king allocate this wing to you? When he married you?"

She smiled, "He did," Then a subtle chuckle escaped her lips, "And when the Queen took over, she isolated this place."

Oh...

I always did wonder why this place was abandoned.... So it was out of spite.

"Sorry it took some time to open this place." She shook her head in amusement, "Draegon had the room sealed but he didn’t have the keys. It took time to make new ones and replace the heavy lock."

He didn’t have the keys?

Ah

The previous Queen must have taken them or thrown them away.

Seraphine turned toward me once she’d poured us both tea from a clay kettle, her eyes glinting with quiet purpose.

"Draegon told me about the ancient book," she said.

I blinked and met her gaze. "The one I had found in the library?"

She nodded. "The very one. And the fact that you can read it, Aelin, means something important. It means you are of the Solwyn people."

I swallowed. Hearing that term again made me feel weird.

"He also told me," I said softly, "that you never let anyone destroy the book. Even though no one else could read it."

Seraphine smiled faintly, looking at the flames. "Because it’s sacred. My family clan, long before I was born, passed down a saying: The savior will need help, and the words of old will guide her. The book needed to be protected until it reached the right hands." frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

A strange pressure built behind my ribcage, an ache of something I couldn’t explain. A responsibility I hadn’t asked for.

"But how can you be so sure I’m the one?" I asked. "That I’m this... savior?"

Seraphine looked at me then, her gold-hazel eyes steady. "The mark on your forehead. When your magic rises."

I stilled.

"You haven’t seen it for yourself, have you?" she asked gently.

I shook my head.

"It’s the crest of Solwyn," she said. "Ancient. Unique. No one else in the world has it. Your very magic sings to it. The power that exists in you, Aelin—it’s not something that can be learned or stolen. You were born with it. The only one who can fight the abyss."

My hands gripped the warm teacup in my lap. The weight of her words fell heavily on my shoulders.

I stared down into the steaming liquid. "But I don’t even know how. It’s not like I can stop the gates from opening or anything along those lines."

"The gates are opening because something is shifting," Seraphine said. "They were sealed once, long ago, but the seals are failing."

"What? What is that supposed to mean?"

"That’s why you’re here. You’re not meant to stop every gate. You’re meant to find the source."

I looked up at her.

Seraphine leaned forward slightly. "Would you like to hear the prophecy my family has passed down for generations?"

I honestly wanted to tell her no.

But

I nodded.

Her smile softened, a private kind of peace in her expression. "I am so glad I never let them throw that book away," she whispered. "My parents told me the time would come. That I would know when the stars finally moved in the savior’s favor."

She reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a thin, aged parchment. Unrolling it gently, she read:

*"When abyss walks and the eye looks down,

And chaos eats the sun and crown,

From the golden sun a heart shall wake,

To wield the dawn, the dark to break.

She born not of here nor there,

Shall bear the crest and breathe the flare.

A soul of light, a hand of flame,

To call the void back whence it came."*

My breath caught.

I didn’t know why, but the words struck something deep inside me—something that hummed in my very blood.

"The ’crest’," Seraphine said, tapping the parchment with a finger, "is the mark you bear. The ’golden sun’’ is your bloodline. Your magic is different, Aelin. It’s a fusion—something the world hasn’t seen in an age. Your human lineage, and your Solwyn ancestry. It’s what makes you powerful enough to face what’s coming."

I stared at the parchment, my heart racing.

"But I’m not ready," I whispered. "I’m not... enough."

Seraphine tilted her head. "None of us are when we begin."

I smiled faintly at that—wry, uncertain.

She placed a gentle hand over mine. "But you’re not alone. You have people beside you now. Draegon. Drakkar. Ariston. Even Vesper."

I almost laughed, though it didn’t quite reach my lips. "I’m not sure Vesper’s on my side."

Seraphine chuckled. "Oh, she’s more complicated than most. But you’ll see. She’s not a bad person, well, the Vesper I remember was a joy."

I glanced down at the prophecy again.

I set the cup down slowly and looked across at her, brows drawing in as my thoughts churned.

"You said the gates are opening because something shifted," I said carefully. "That the seals are failing. But how do you even know there are seals to begin with? Everything we’ve found so far... it points to sacrificial rituals. Blood spilled in certain patterns, symbols carved into stone. We thought the cultists were making these gates open, not that they were... already weakened."

Seraphine met my gaze with quiet patience, as if she’d been waiting for that question.

"If blood sacrifices were all it took," she said softly, "then the gates would’ve opened long before now. Don’t you think?"

Her words struck me cold. I blinked.

They would’ve.

She was right.

We’d uncovered documents from decades ago—blood rites, violent cults, secret covens. All had tried to summon or awaken something. But the eye-shaped gates, those cracks in the sky that pulsed like they were alive... those only started appearing in the last two years. Two years. It wasn’t enough time to explain such a massive, terrifying phenomenon.

"They’re new," I murmured. "The gates... They’re recent."

Seraphine nodded, folding her hands over her lap. "The one the world noticed, yes. Two years ago. But I’m certain the smaller ones came before that—rifts too subtle to catch with the eye. Gates that didn’t fully open, but let something... seep through."

I swallowed thickly. I remembered the reports. Missing people. Twisted corpses. Whispers in the dark.

"And the seals?" I asked after a long pause. "What were they? Who made them? Where did the Abyss even come from?"

"I only know fragments," Seraphine admitted. "Even in my clan’s most sacred records, we never had the full truth. Only that long ago, the world teetered on the edge. And someone—some ancient force from the Solwyn tribe—sealed it. The Abyss wasn’t banished though."

"But why did the seal break then?"

"The abyss was locked away. But locks... rust. And seals... break."

The silence between us stretched for a moment, the firelight dancing across the walls.

I frowned, my mind racing. "Then how do we fix it? The seals. If they’re breaking—if they’re really the only thing keeping the Abyss out—how do we put them back in place?"

Seraphine’s face softened. "That..." A dark expression took over her face.

This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶