The Dragon's Heart: Unspoken Passion-Chapter 127: Mother

Ilaria noticed the shift before she fully understood it. It was too subtle to be accidental. The way his breathing evened out, the way his hold remained steady but no longer adjusted around her. Her heart gave a small, startled jump.

She drew back to look at him, realization caught up to her words. "Wait— husband. I’m sorry."

Levan had already closed his eyes by then, lashes resting calmly against his cheeks, expression unreadable and composed as ever. For a moment, she thought he might pretend not to have heard her at all. But then he opened his eyes slowly, as if nothing in the world had been disturbed.

"Sorry for what?" he asked mildly, his voice husky from the short nap.

Ilaria swallowed. "For bringing her up. I wasn’t thinking," she said carefully. "I know it’s... sensitive for you."

His steady gaze stayed on her face, searching not for offense, but for understanding.

"You didn’t say anything wrong," he replied simply.

"But I shouldn’t have mentioned your mother so lightly..."

Levan exhaled through his nose, more of a breath than a sigh. He brushed her hair back into place with the same familiar gentleness as before.

"No, it’s alright," he said quietly, "you’re allowed to speak her name."

"Even if I don’t know everything?" Her eyes flickered, uncertain. She wilted, "I know she mattered to you. And when I realized what I’d said, it felt like I’d stepped somewhere I wasn’t invited."

"You didn’t intrude, don’t worry about it." He paused, then added almost thoughtfully, tilting his head. "You’re looking at me like you want to ask something though."

Ilaria immediately tried to school her expression. "...Am I?"

"Yes, you do that when you’re curious," he said with a smile. "You chewed your bottom lip and your brows knit, just a little. Like this."

He lifted a finger and gently smoothed the spot between her brows. "You forget I’ve memorized you."

Her tension eased despite herself. "I didn’t mean to pry."

"Well, if I thought you were prying, I would have said so."

She hesitated, then ventured softly, "You don’t mind... talking about her?"

Levan considered that, the question settling more gently than he expected. It did not scrape at old wounds the way it once would have. Perhaps it was because it was her asking, because she had grown into his life in ways he had not thought possible. Because... he was too fond with his wife to let the past feel like a burden between them.

He said, "I don’t mind."

Her shoulders loosened.

He looked back at her, studying her expression like he was deciding which version of a story to tell. Then, instead of darkness, he chose something gentler.

"She liked mornings," he said casually. "Sunlight, open windows. She believed the day behaved better if it started warm."

Ilaria smiled without realizing it.

He huffed a fond breath. "She would have liked you a lot."

That startled her. "Really?"

"Yes," he said easily. "You’re bright. She was very fond of bright things."

Ilaria curled closer into his side until her forehead rested beneath his chin.

"Can you tell me more?" she asked.

Levan felt her ease against him. And so, he adjusted his arm around her, his hand continue to brush along her arm in a slow, unconscious rhythm.

"My mother was the gentlest person I have ever known. I used to think nothing in this world could touch her." His voice was even, almost conversational, as though he were recounting a season rather than a life.

"She was always healthy. She spent her mornings tending to herbs, mixing powders, anything to keep herself well. The palace was loud back then. There were music in the mornings, arguments in the afternoons. She used to complain that it was impossible to nap." A pause. "She laughed when she said it."

Ilaria smiled faintly, imagining it.

Levan continued, his gaze unfocused now. "Then she began to tire more easily. Nothing alarming at first. Just... small things. She complained about headaches and restless nights a lot." He tilted his head slightly, thinking. "The physicians said it was due to exhaustion and stress. Well, he’s not wrong, court life does that to people."

His fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their slow movement.

"And then, signs of The Blithe appeared for the first time," he went on, just as gently. "No one knew what it was then... Only that it spread quietly because it didn’t arrive like any other sickness should. There was no fever at first. Not even pain. If anything, it only made her calmer."

Ilaria felt his chest rise more deliberately beneath her cheek.

"But then..." He swallowed. "She stopped opening the windows in the mornings."

That was all he said, but it landed heavier than anything else.

"At first, I thought it was merely despair," he continued after a while. "Or... change of habit. I was young. I thought if I stayed close enough, if I listened hard enough... I could make it better."

His arm tightened around Ilaria without him noticing.

"But one day... the palace grew unsettled. Servants began whispering. Every door that had never been locked before was suddenly heavily guarded." His jaw flexed. "And one night, there was shouting."

"I was told to stay where I was, so naturally, I didn’t." A faint, humourless curve touched his mouth.

"I ran... all the way to her, and when I reached her chambers, the door was already broken." His voice faltered, slowed like someone walking through deep water.

"She was there," he exhaled. "Or... something that still wore her shape."

Ilaria did not move. She could barely breath.

"I don’t remember everything clearly," he admitted. "But I remember thinking that her hands looked wrong, like they didn’t belong to her anymore." His breath left him quietly. "I remember the smell of medicine and iron. And so much silence."

He stopped.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the steady rhythm of his breathing and the way Ilaria pressed herself closer, anchoring him without a word.

"They said The Blithe had taken her... swallowed her whole," he finished at last. "That it hollowed her out before anyone realized what it was doing. But sometimes I wonder if it find her because of something else. Because she was... gentle."

His thumb brushed the back of Ilaria’s hand, grounding himself. He looked down at her. "Like you."

He stayed quiet for a few breaths longer than necessary, as if making sure the memory settled back where it belonged. Ilaria felt the shift before he spoke again, the way his arm tightened, not protectively this time, but reflexively.

"And that," he said at last, voice low, "is why I acted the way I did during the expedition."

She lifted her head up to look at him. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"When you were attacked," he continued, carefully, "it wasn’t the monsters I saw first. It was the noise... The shouting. The sudden chaos. People moving where they shouldn’t be, blood where it shouldn’t be. My mind did something unhelpful..."

"I knew it was you," he said quickly, as if that mattered. "I knew you were in front of me. But my body reacted before my thoughts did." His thumb pressed lightly into her wrist. "I couldn’t hear orders. I couldn’t hear reason. All I could think was that if I hesitated, even for a second, I would lose you the same way."

She remembered it still, the sharpness in his voice, the way he had moved too fast, too close. The way he had yelled at her.

"I wasn’t angry at you," he added. "And I wasn’t trying to control you." A faint, rueful smile touched his lips. "I was afraid, in a very old way."

Ilaria’s chest tightened, a soft ache blooming as she saw the vulnerability he rarely let anyone glimpse. She lifted her hand slowly, as if sudden movement might shatter him. Her fingers brushed his cheek, warm and steady, her thumb resting just beneath his eye.

"You already explained yourself back then," she assured. "You don’t have to do it again."

Levan’s gaze flickered, something fragile passing through it before settling.

"I know," she continued. "I understood you then. I understand you now." Her thumb traced a small, unconscious arc along his cheekbone. "I’m just glad you told me about her."

He searched her face, expecting pity or fear, but finding neither. There was only warmth. Only her. The weight in his chest loosened like a door left ajar to a summer breeze, so he lingered in that light, aware of all he had lost, yet grateful for what he still held.

"I’m glad too," he whispered.

Ilaria leaned up and pressed a light, careful kiss to his lips that spoke of reassurance. When she pulled back, her smile was soft and earnest. And he realized, with a subtle ache in his chest, that he could never tire of seeing it.

She relaxed her shoulders, her eyes already brimming with another request, wanting nothing more than to ease his mind from dark thoughts. "Now let’s talk about something else," she offered. "Let’s talk about the expedition."

He blinked once, slow, then a second time, as if something in his mind had just clicked into place.

"...Right," he murmured, the word carrying a faint note of chagrin. "I did say we’ll review it together."

"You did," she nodded. "You said ’later,’ and then later became baths and you hovering."

"That was a valid later," he replied mildly.

She smiled, clearly indulging him, and moved so she could look at him properly, her chin propped against his chest. "Maybe. But I still want to know about the beast and what we’ve been through."

Levan exhaled, a quiet sound through his nose, half amusement and half resignation. "Alright, ask."

That surprised her. "Just like that?"

He tipped his head, studying her face. "You’re already thinking of five questions. If I don’t let you start, you’ll circle them anyway."

She laughed softly. "You know me so well."

"So," he prompted. "Which one first?"

Ilaria recalled Lysander’s words about how Levan was the most resourceful with The Blithe. She figured now was the perfect moment to learn more... about everything she had been wondering silently, including the marks she still felt lingering on her wrist.

The marks he could not see.

"Back then," she moved, propping herself up slightly so she could see his face properly, "when we talked about the beasts, you keep deflecting the topic."

Silence settled between them.

When he had avoided the question before, it had not been because he did not know. It was because some truths did not wound loudly, they lingered, soaked into the bones, and changed the way a person looked at the world. He had thought that sparing her that knowledge was a kindness.

"You told me they were once human, but that’s all you said," she went on, a small pout creeping in despite herself. "And then you refused to explain anything else."

Levan exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to where her forefinger traced idle circles over his chest. After a moment, his hands slid to her lower back, fingers interlacing there.

"Why do you think that is?" he asked.

Ilaria thought for a moment, and said too cheerfully. "Because you thought I’m weak."

Levan’s eyes widened slightly, a faint tension running through his jaw. Without a word, he squeezed her waist firmly, making her jolt. "Hey—!"

"No, I didn’t," he said at once, unmistakably firm, like he was desperate to prove a point. "Don’t put that thought on me. I’ve never looked at you and seen weakness."

Her pout faltered.

"I did it because I thought knowing would only trouble you," he clarified. "Because you were already hurt and exhausted, and I didn’t want to add another weight to what you were carrying."

She searched his face. "...And now?"

"Now." His hold finally eased as he sighed. "I know that keeping things from you troubles you more. And because you’re already standing in the same world as I am, shielding you from it doesn’t protect you. It only keeps you in the dark."

Ilaria stared at him a second longer than necessary. He said it so plainly. Standing in the same world, not behind him, not sheltered away. Guess reading in the library paid off, huh? The thought made something warm fizz in her heart.

She lifted a hand and poked his cheek, earning a faint frown as his head tilted to the side. "Oh," she cooed, smiling far too sweetly, "you’re offended."

He looked at her like he was about to reprimand her for mentioning it, except he did not say anything.

"Means you care a lot about me," she poked him again. "Couldn’t blame you for it."

He clicked his tongue, clearly unimpressed. And caught her wrist when she poked him again.

"You’re enjoying this far too much," he observed. "Yes, I care. Now stop testing how much. I dislike being misread by my own wife."

Ilaria chuckled. "Okay~" she chimed obediently, though the smile lingering at the corner of her mouth suggested she absolutely would do it again.

She settled back against him, fitting herself into his side. "Then, husband, how does a person become something like that?"