Giaret
---
The carved edges of the table pressed ridges into my palms as I leaned forward, grounding myself in the weight of the moment. The lacquered wood gleamed beneath the lanternlight, its golden sheen mocking the ache twisting in my chest. I watched my brother—my only blood, the one remnant of a life I'd clawed my way out of—shift under the weight of my gaze.
"Gillai…"
His name slipped out like a sigh, heavy with a grief I had long lost the luxury of expressing. "We used to live in the slums… but then we came to the royal palace, and we were elevated beyond our wildest dreams."
He flinched. For a moment I saw the fragile child he used to be, buried under the silk robes and the thin veneer of borrowed nobility. His fingers twitched at his sleeves, betraying the terror he tried so desperately to hide.
And then he said the words that cracked something inside me.
"Now that the King has found a bride… it would be best if we left."
The silence that followed was absolute, sharp enough to cut.
My jewelry clacked loudly against the table as my hands pressed flat, each impact echoing through the chamber like a warning.
CLACK.
CLACK.
"You think we should leave?"
My voice came out lower than before—dangerous, simmering, barely contained.
I rose from my seat, the heavy fabric of my dress swaying like a shifting storm. Gillai shrank under my gaze, his breath catching, but I stepped closer, eliminating the space between us. The palace lamplight caught the sharp angles of my expression, casting my fury in molten gold.
"Say that again."
My heart thrashed in my chest, but it was not fear. It was desperation sharpened into resolve. Did he truly not understand? Did he forget the gutter we crawled out of? The filth, the hunger, the nights I nearly sold my soul just to keep us alive?
I moved around the table and stood before him, forcing him to look at me.
"Do you really want to see your sister grow old in some forgotten room somewhere like Adar?"
The words wavered, but the tremor wasn't sadness. It was rage. The helpless, suffocating kind.
He sucked in a breath, but I spoke over him.
"The officials have set a date to transfer the late King's body to the Mezaluc. Do you think I can remain in the Queen's palace after they remove Raikan's body?"
The bitter truth hung between us like smoke.
Every heartbeat spent here was borrowed time. Every step I took in these hallways was treated as a trespass. Every whisper in the court slithered with the knowledge that I was a mistake they wanted forgotten.
"Raikan is dead. My child"—my voice cracked, then reformed sharper than steel—"was killed in the Hatchling Massacre. If Hakan chooses that woman to bear his child, then I'm finished."
The word finished echoed inside me. Everything I bled for… everything I sacrificed… everything I killed for—gone. I would be dragged back to the dirt, to the mud, to begging for scraps.
I stepped forward until the hem of my dress brushed his feet. The light framed us like two figures in a fading portrait—one pleading, the other trembling.
"I need your help, Gillai."
My hand lifted, my fingers sliding beneath his chin, guiding his face upward. His skin was warm, his pulse fluttering beneath my thumb like a trapped bird. I softened my expression, letting the familiar sweetness seep into my voice—the one he always fell for.
"Gillai, my lovely little brother."
I kept my hold on him, firm but intimate, and let memory tighten the noose between us.
"When you were young, you would fall ill at the slightest thing."
He swallowed.
"Apart from your pretty face and talent for reading… you were utterly useless."
His eyes darted away, but I refused to let him escape. My thumb traced his jaw, an affectionate gesture sharpened by the truth behind it.
"Who fed and raised you?"
His breath hitched. His eyes shone with the beginning of tears.
"Y-you did…"
"That's right."
My lips softened, but my eyes never let him go.
"I did all sorts of odd jobs in the marketplace to pay for your medicine. I bought the expensive books you begged for, even when you were on death's door."
I paused, letting the sting of that truth settle.
"I bought all those things for you so you could die without regrets."
He shuddered. A single tear slipped down his cheek.
I never thought he would live.
I never thought he would grow into a man.
I never thought he would be… useful.
My fingers slid through his hair, gentle as a mother, deliberate as a kingmaker.
"Weren't you the one who said it first? That you wanted to repay the favor? That you'd do anything for me?"
His breath trembled.
I pulled him closer.
"We came all the way here because I believed in those words."
I eased back just enough to see him fully, the broken devotion in his eyes reflecting the power I held.
"Thanks to your mysterious talents that eliminated my competitors, we gained entry to the Queen's palace."
Images flickered across my mind—the golden elixir, the glowing design, the screams.
My voice thinned into a furious whisper.
"But you want to betray me now, after everything we've been through?"
---
Absolutely! Here's your passage expanded and enriched up to the point you provided, keeping the tension, characterization, and shifting perspectives intact, without continuing beyond your last line. I've deepened emotion, sensory detail, and internal reflection to make the scene more immersive.
I kept my hand firmly on Gillai's jaw, my eyes boring into his, the weight of my gaze pressing into the corners of his mind. Every memory I wanted him to recall—the nights he trembled, the fevers that left him pale and fragile, the helplessness that defined his childhood—I forced into his consciousness. I needed him to remember everything, every moment of fear and dependency, every instance that bound him irrevocably to me.
"When you were young, you would always fall ill at the slightest thing," I said, my voice low and cutting, carrying the edge of years spent fighting for survival. "Apart from your pretty face and talent for reading, you were utterly useless."
I tilted my head, letting the unspoken question hang in the air between us like a knife: "Who fed and raised you?"
He couldn't look away. His wide eyes began to glisten with tears as the truth clawed out from the back of his throat in a weak, trembling voice. "Y-you did…"
"That's right," I confirmed, my gaze relentless, burning like sunlight on stone. "I did all sorts of odd jobs at the marketplace to pay for your medical care." The memory of my struggle, the hunger, the endless nights spent counting coins to keep him alive, was etched into my face in lines he had never noticed. "I even got all those expensive books you wanted to read."
I paused, letting the scope of my sacrifice sink in, letting him feel the weight of all I had given for him. "I bought all those things for you when you were on the brink of death, so you could pass away without any regrets."
My eyes swept over his healthy, adult body, marveling at the life I had preserved. "I never imagined you'd make a living..."
My hand reached out again, stroking his hair gently, deliberately, a calculated act of tenderness that tightened the invisible leash between us. "Weren't you the one who said it first? That you wanted to repay the favor? That you'd do anything for me?"
"We came all the way here because I believed in those words," I reminded him, letting the echo of his own vow settle like a chain around his heart.
I pulled back slightly, my voice hardening once more as I addressed his current purpose, the very thing that secured our position in the palace. "Thanks to your mysterious talents that eliminated my competitors, we were able to gain entry into the Queen's palace." The images flashed unbidden—the golden elixir poured over the mystical design, the horrified faces of those who had once been rivals, and the way they had vanished, leaving us unchallenged.
My voice dropped to a fierce, wounded whisper, painted red with accusation. "But you want to betray me now after everything we've been through?"
Gillai suddenly doubled over, coughing violently. The sound of his ragged breaths filled the room, rattling against the walls like a warning. "That's not true! I-I… just—!" he gasped, clutching at his chest.
"Is that damn heart condition of yours acting up again?" I scoffed, my gaze sharpening as I watched him struggle. "Hmph. You've always had that condition since you were young."
I remembered, vividly, how he had relied on it, using his frailty as cover while I endured the streets to keep him alive. "You used that as an excuse to sneak off all the time after I became Queen." I leaned closer, my voice dripping with scorn. "Now you're going to use that as an excuse again when I am about to be kicked out of the Queen's palace."
My anger mounted, fueled by the apparent weakness before me. "I spent my youth working to feed you and keep you alive since you were so frail and sickly." I demanded the answer he knew to be true: "Is your safety more important than mine or something?"
Gillai finally looked up, the mixture of despair and defeat written clearly across his features. My grip on his arm tightened, just enough to remind him who had the power here.
"What… do you want me to do?" he choked out, his voice raw with submission.
A slow, triumphant smile spread across my face. I had him.
"Bearing a Guardian Dragon child means…" I murmured, my mind already racing with the measures necessary to secure my place, my power, and the future I refused to surrender.
_______
Lucina
The day felt like a dream, suffused with ceremony, golden light, and the soft, distant clatter of palace life. The domes of the palace glittered under the sun, dusting the heavens with sparkling motes that seemed a world away from the slums I had once called home.
I entered the room, the sound of my sandals against the polished marble the only note in the quiet air. My gaze lifted, and there he was. CLACK. My heart leapt, joyous and full, catching in my throat.
"You're here," I whispered, soft and unrestrained, joy spilling from me like a secret I couldn't hide as I looked at Hakan.
He sat at a low table, a feast before him, the gentle hum of anticipation in his posture. CLACK. "I don't know whether you'll like the food, but…" His voice was warm, and his eyes held a patience I had not dared to expect.
I walked toward him, my white dress rustling, the world narrowing to the distance between us. I leaned in, unable to keep the words contained, my heart insisting on the truth. "I missed you, Hakan," I whispered, letting the honesty of it shiver through the space between us.
The kiss came naturally, deep and consuming, dissolving the world around us into a flutter of warmth and color. His skin was taut, warm beneath my hands, a sensation that made my pulse race. FLUTTER went my heartbeat. CLACK went the slight chime of my jewelry. Time seemed suspended, held in the gentle gravity of that moment.
When we finally parted, I rested against him, breathless, savoring the quiet hum of security, the tangible heartbeat beneath my cheek.
"Didn't I see you in the morning?" he teased, a husky edge lacing his words.
I giggled, a soft, intimate sound. "But it's… evening now." My eyes sparkled, reflecting the quiet certainty that came with the warmth of his presence.
He gave me a lingering, knowing look, and I leaned in, hiding my blush against his shoulder. The future was uncertain, shadows waiting in corners I could not yet see. But here, in his arms, I felt untouchable. Protected. Ready for whatever came next.
I stood alone in the chamber, the warmth of Hakan's embrace fading like a stolen breath. The uneaten feast before him now felt stale in my senses, a hollow echo of the joy we had shared. My heartbeat still thrummed from the intensity of our kiss, yet it was drowned out by the sudden intrusion of panic—the word Gillai rattling through my mind.
Hakan had left so quickly, so urgently, summoned by this man—Gillai—whose presence had snatched him from my arms. Who was Gillai, that a single call could command the King's immediate attention, severing our intimacy as if it had never existed?
A servant girl, one of my personal attendants, came rushing in, her steps light but hurried, her eyes wide with concern. "Huh? Was that Gillai just now?" she asked, confusion and worry twisting her features.
I turned toward the retreating figure of the messenger and then back at the attendant. "Who's that?" I asked, my voice unsteady. I hadn't even registered the man, only the urgency of his message and the sudden vanishing of Hakan.
The attendant's expression tightened. Her gaze flicked toward the corridor, her voice lowering. "He… he looked unwell," she muttered, pointing in the direction the man had gone.
Then came the crashing sound, reverberating through the palace corridors like a harbinger. A frantic cry followed. "PANT! PANT! THUD!"
My heart jumped into my throat. Without thinking, I surged forward, my silk gown trailing behind me like a white comet. The servant scrambled to keep pace, her fear mirroring my own rising dread.
The scene that unfolded stopped me cold. Gillai—yes, the man who had just spoken with such intensity—was sprawled on the marble floor. His eyes were closed, his chest heaving in shallow, erratic gasps. His body shook violently, muscles contorting as if caught in the grip of some invisible torment. STUMBLE. UGH!
I dropped to my knees beside him, the silk of my gown pooling beneath me. "Is he… not feeling well?" My voice trembled, edged with deep concern. Seeing a human suffer like this always pierced me.
The attendant screamed, pressing her hands over her mouth in horror. "GILLAI!" she cried, her voice cracking with panic.
I leaned closer, my hands instinctively reaching toward his chest. His skin was cold, clammy beneath my fingers, and the shallow rise and fall of his breathing was terrifyingly faint. A wave of pure dread slammed through me, tightening my chest and stealing my breath.
"HIS HEART…!" the attendant shrieked, tears spilling freely. "It's stopped!"
I stared down at him, my mind racing. Hakan was gone, called away by another crisis, leaving me here alone with a life teetering on the edge. My healing instinct, that undeniable force that defined my purpose, surged within me. Energy tingled in my palms, warm and potent, ready to flow.
IF I DON'T HEAL HIM IMMEDIATELY, HE'LL DIE! I thought, urgency clawing at every fiber of my being.
Yet hesitation struck like a blade. My power was immense—but it was also visible, undeniable, impossible to hide. Could I risk revealing the full extent of my true nature, right here in a palace corridor, with strangers watching and the King absent?
The seconds stretched, each heartbeat a drum of impending doom. The man before me was dying, and the clock was unforgiving. My hands hovered over his chest, energy coalescing, radiant and humming, ready to pour forth.
BUT… The thought cut through me like ice. Is this really the moment to show the world what I am?
I froze, face tight with internal struggle, caught between the imperative to save him and the instinct to conceal my true strength. The marble beneath me felt impossibly cold, and every echo of the palace seemed to hold its breath alongside me.
The man on the floor—Gillai—was dying, and there was no time to wait. The urgency of the moment consumed all else, the world narrowing to the space between his chest and my hovering hands.