The Dragon King's Hated Bride-Chapter 119: Reality Check

>>Aelin

It took a fraction of second for my heart start racing like crazy

"You’re burning up," he said, his voice dipping even softer. "Are you getting a fever?"

My breath caught in my throat as I stiffened and quickly shook my head—too quickly, probably.

"No!" I blurted, and then bit the inside of my cheek for being so loud. I lowered my eyes again. "I-I’m fine..."

Draegon looked uncertain, like he didn’t quite believe me, but his hand fell away slowly, respectfully. Still, I missed the warmth the moment it was gone. I wanted him to touch me again. I wanted him to stay close, to never leave. And that terrified me.

To fall in love... Was that ever a part of the plan? I wanted him to be with me, to stand by me, to protect me and act as a husband... but the love part... I didn’t really think about it like this before.

There was always so much going on...

"I’m sorry," he said quietly, "I know you must’ve heard us speaking... back in the council chamber."

I froze.

My eyes widened just slightly as a thought slammed through me like lightning.

He knows!!!

He knows I’m in love with him!!?? Gosh! He knows I fainted because of him!?!

I was beyond embarrassed.

Even though we’re husband and wife, I was still having trouble digesting it!

OH MY GOD!!!

WHAT DO I DO!?!?!?

My stomach twisted in panic, shame crawling up my neck like vines, choking me. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but Draegon kept speaking, and the next words that came out of his mouth were... entirely unexpected.

"I noticed," he said, his tone darkening slightly, "how King Orin didn’t speak to you at the party. He avoided looking at you even when you were mentioned." Draegon’s jaw clenched. "And you’re his daughter."

My heart sank.

Oh.

We weren’t talking about the same thing at all.

I looked down at my hands, resting in my lap. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I was wringing my fingers until my knuckles hurt.

Draegon continued, "I don’t mean to pry into your family’s affairs... but I couldn’t overlook that. It wasn’t just cold—it was disrespectful. And I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting my wife." I looked up at him, "And my Queen."

And something inside me melted.

There was no fire in his eyes—only sincerity. A quiet protectiveness. A quiet rage, not for himself, but for me. He hadn’t said it with pride. He hadn’t said it like a man trying to prove something. He’d said it because he meant it.

Because he believed I deserved better.

Warmth bloomed in my chest, gently replacing the ache that had been there before. My heart fluttered, slow and quiet like wings beating against the inside of my ribs.

He was defending me. Not as a political gesture. Not as a show of dominance. But simply because he saw me as someone worth defending.

Someone worth being cared for.

I didn’t know what I had done to earn his kindness. I didn’t know how I could possibly deserve it. And while it was all very warm, it was very strange

He knew the dark side of my family now. Not all of it... but he found something out.

"Draegon," I said softly, looking into his eyes now. "What... do you think of me?"

He blinked at the question, surprised. I saw him hesitate, just a fraction of a second. I wasn’t even sure he understood what I was really asking. I didn’t know if I understood it. All I knew was that I needed to hear his answer.

"...After knowing that even my own father doesn’t like me." I completed my question.

I meant for the words to come out light, maybe even a little joking—but they didn’t. They cracked at the edges. I hated how raw they sounded, how small.

I looked at him, heart wide open, waiting.

Draegon’s gaze sharpened, his body still and steady beside me, the purple hue of his eyes darkening slightly—not with anger, but with focus. Like he was studying me. Reading something I hadn’t meant to put on display.

"Aelin," he said carefully, voice low and measured, "did your father ever... hurt you?"

The question hit harder than I expected. My body stilled, breath held hostage in my chest. I blinked at him, lips parting slightly.

"...No," I whispered after a moment. "Never... Physically..."

It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.

Draegon studied me for a long moment. I could feel it—him sensing the weight of something else behind my words. Something I didn’t say.

He tilted his head slightly. "Then why do you act like this?"

I turned away from him, suddenly finding the blanket on my lap incredibly interesting.

"Like what?"

"So timid. So afraid of being seen. Of being heard. You shrink at times. You flinch when you’re praised. You look like you expect everyone to hate you." His voice wasn’t cruel. It was too soft to be cruel. Too full of something like... concern.

He paused. "That doesn’t happen because a father simply ignores his child. There’s more. Isn’t there?"

I swallowed hard, the words rising to the edge of my tongue. The memories—the whispers, the slammed doors, the way my siblings’ eyes used to flash when they looked at me. Raya’s cruel smile. Keal’s silence that felt like ice on my skin. Reagan’s cruelty

The way they’d lock me out of their games.

The names.

The guilt.

The way they blamed me when Mother died.

I thought of telling him. I really did.

But then I looked at Draegon—sitting there beside me with that look in his eyes, so honest, so steady—and I couldn’t. I couldn’t put that weight on him. He had too much to worry about already. He didn’t need my ghosts, too.

And I didn’t want to appear even more pathetic than I already was.

So I smiled softly—small, and maybe a little sad—and shook my head.

"There’s nothing," I said gently. "It’s just... been like this for a long time."

He didn’t look convinced. He watched me for another beat, like he was waiting for the truth to slip out anyway.

But it didn’t.

Instead, I lifted my eyes to his again, searching.

"You didn’t answer my question," I said quietly.

He blinked. "What question?"

"What you think of me?" My heart trembled as I asked him the question again. Because if he said something kind... I didn’t know what I’d do.

And if he didn’t...

I wasn’t sure I could stand hearing it.

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