The Dragon King's Hated Bride-Chapter 120: Our Unshared Past

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Chapter 120: Our Unshared Past

>>Aelin

Draegon’s expression softened at my question. Not with pity though but with a steady sort of warmth. Like embers that had been quietly glowing this whole time, now gently fanning into flame.

He reached for my hand, his touch light, deliberate. His voice was quieter than before, as if he didn’t want to break the moment. "Aelin," he said, "nothing in my heart or mind has changed because of that."

!!!

The words settled over me like a balm I hadn’t known I needed.

A soft breeze floated in from the open window behind us, rustling the curtains, lifting the strands of hair that had fallen around my face. I didn’t move, only looked at him, like he was the only man in the world. His face bathed in morning light, his jewel purple eyes catching the sun, like something out of a dream I never thought I deserved.

Our gazes held. No pressure. No force. Just something shared in silence.

"But..." I found myself saying, almost breathless, "doesn’t it... doesn’t it make me seem small? That you—married the unwanted daughter?"

He chuckled softly, and the sound wrapped around me like the sun’s warmth. His smile—quiet, genuine—crinkled the corners of his eyes. "And what is there to worry about in that?" he asked, still holding my hand. "You know, Aelin, I’m not exactly the crown jewel of my family either."

I blinked at him, unsure what he meant.

He went on, his voice still that same warm, steady rhythm. "Maybe no one here says it aloud anymore, but everyone in this kingdom knows the former Queen didn’t care much for me." He glanced out the window briefly, like he was watching ghosts dance in the wind. "Didn’t want a son from a concubine her husband had an affair with."

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure I could.

Draegon’s gaze returned to mine, more careful now. "You knew I was sent to war because I was the least favored one, didn’t you?"

I hesitated... then nodded. "I’d heard."

"And yet," he said, gently, "Do you think of me badly?"

Draegon’s fingers shifted slightly around mine, as if grounding us both in the moment. Then his voice, still low and even, threaded softly through the quiet air between us.

"You knew," he said. "From the beginning. You knew I wasn’t a favored prince. You knew they sent me to the frontlines because I was the one they could afford to lose. And you... you were afraid of me."

I froze. My lips parted slightly, about to protest, but no sound came. Because he was right. I had been afraid of him. Of his silence, his strength, his unpredictable eyes. Of what marrying a demon prince really meant. I’d stood at the altar with my heart in my throat.

But he wasn’t finished.

"And yet," he continued, "you still chose to trust me."

I stared at him. At the ease with which he said it. There was no accusation in his voice—only quiet wonder, like it was a truth he’d been holding onto, one he hadn’t dared to say until now.

I didn’t know what to say. My chest tightened, and I blinked quickly, unsure if it was guilt or something else rising inside me.

But Draegon slowly turned his hand palm-up between ours, revealing his wrist. There, nestled between scars and heat-marked skin, was the simple beaded bracelet.

The same bracelet I had given him.

My breath caught.

It was a small thing—wooden beads strung on a fraying cord, something I had put together but never truly thought someone would cherish it.

A token. A gesture. I hadn’t even known if he’d still had it. After all that happened, I thought-

"I wore this every day," he said quietly, lifting his wrist so I could see the way the beads caught the light. "It reminded me that... someone had wanted me to come back." ƒree𝑤ebnσvel-com

!!!

A slightly stronger gust of wind blew past us

My eyes stung. My fingers hovered just above the bracelet, trembling.

He looked at me, truly looked, his purple eyes soft but searching. "You were the only one who showed me softness. The only one who made me feel... wanted. Not for duty. Not for power. Just... me."

My heart surged in my chest. The silence in the room pulsed, heavy and full of something I couldn’t name. I didn’t realize until that moment just how deeply my gesture had mattered. That something I had given in fear, in desperation, had become an anchor for him.

I swallowed hard. My voice barely rose above a whisper.

"I didn’t know it meant that much."

"It did," he said simply. "It still does."

And I... I didn’t know what to do with the warmth spreading through me. I had lived so long expecting to be overlooked, unwanted. But here was Draegon, his soul open to me in a way I had never imagined

Draegon’s eyes lingered on me, soft and searching. The quiet in the room was weighty—not uncomfortable, but intimate, like the hush that followed a long-awaited truth. I held his gaze a moment longer before my voice came out, barely above a whisper.

"Did you ever think about me... during the war?"

Draegon didn’t even hesitate. "Always."

The word landed like a weight in my chest, and my heart gave a painful squeeze. I looked down, unsure what to say, then slowly raised my eyes to him again, a bit more vulnerable this time.

"Then... why didn’t you write back?"

For the first time, Draegon blinked, he looked a little startled by my question. His brow furrowed as he said, "I did."

I stilled.

"You... you wrote to me?" she asked, almost disbelieving.

Draegon nodded, his expression now troubled, brows drawn tight. "Every time I got the chance. I sent the letters through the royal channels. I thought you never responded because... you didn’t want to."

My breath caught, and slowly—painfully—something clicked in my mind.

The quiet in the castle during those days. The vague responses from messengers. The way no one ever brought up my letters, no matter how many I’d sent, how desperately I’d waited for a single word in return.

I pressed a hand to my chest, the ache suddenly overwhelming. "Then... they never gave them to us. Neither yours to me... nor mine to you."

The realization hit like a cruel wind, sweeping through my bones. Draegon was silent, jaw clenched, his anger thinly veiled now behind those purple eyes.

We didn’t get to complete this conversation last time, but-

I let out a soft, broken laugh—half disbelief, half bitterness. "If we’d gotten each other’s letters..." I started, then paused, swallowing the sting in my throat. My voice was quieter when I spoke again. "You could’ve known about our daughter."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Draegon’s entire body went still.

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