CHAPTER 40: NOT BY CHOICE

"I’m sorry that our moment was disturbed," Lucian said quietly, his gaze fixed on me. His lips were pressed into a thin line, as if he were trying to read the thoughts I wasn’t saying. "Do you have any questions? If you’re curious about what my father said, go on and ask."

But I remained silent, my eyes locked on him. There was something deep within his blue eyes, something flickering beneath the surface, like a storm barely contained.

For a heartbeat, I wanted to ask everything. About his father’s words, about the vow, about what he was hiding from me. But the weight of what had just happened hung too heavy between us.

Lucian exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim light. "You don’t trust me," he said, not accusingly, but almost like a quiet realization.

"It’s not that," I finally managed, my voice small. "I just... don’t know what to believe anymore."

His expression shifted, a trace of guilt passing through his eyes. "You should believe this," he said, stepping closer. "I’ll never let anyone hurt you. No matter what it takes."

"Why did you agree to the marriage in the first place?" I asked suddenly, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "Was it really because of the blood vows?"

Lucian froze.

For a moment, the only sound between us was the faint hum of the wind outside, brushing against the window like a whisper that didn’t belong here. His jaw tightened, his gaze lowering briefly before meeting mine again.

"Yes," he said at last, his tone too calm. "The blood vows were... necessary."

"Necessary?" I repeated, my heart tightening. "I heard you were the first person who agreed to this marriage alliance. For hundreds... maybe thousands of years, every heir before you refused it. So why did you?"

Lucian’s eyes dimmed sharply as they locked with mine. "Where did you hear that?"

"Uh..." I hesitated, quickly trying to think of a way to phrase it without exposing Maya. "I just... did a bit of reading," I said carefully. "About the vows. About both clans."

He studied me for a long moment, his expression was hard for me to read. Then, slowly, he exhaled, a faint, tired sound that carried something softer than I expected.

"So you’ve been curious," he murmured, his tone losing its earlier edge.

"Wouldn’t you be?" I asked, trying to meet his gaze. "You didn’t have to say yes. No one before you did. So... why me?"

Lucian was silent. The question hung in the air between us like frost.

Then his lips curved faintly, his voice dropping low. "If I told you the reason is because I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, would you believe it?"

I blinked, startled. "What?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. Then, after a moment, I managed a small, incredulous laugh. "That sounds too good to be true, Lucian. You know how we first met..."

He didn’t look away. "You think I’d agree to something this dangerous for tradition alone?" he asked quietly. "The vows may have been the reason we met, but you’re the reason I stayed."

I opened my mouth to argue but the way he said it, the way his blue eyes softened, stole the words from me. His voice carried no hesitation, no trace of the careful control he always wore like armor.

"Lucian..." I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. "You don’t have to say things you don’t mean."

He stepped closer until the faint chill of his presence brushed against my skin. "Who says I don’t?" His tone was steady but low, almost fragile beneath the weight of it. "You came into my life when everything was falling apart. You brought fire where there was only frost. You gave me something to fight for again."

I stared at him, my chest tightening, unsure if I wanted to believe him or protect myself from the ache that bloomed with every word. "You’re... serious?"

Lucian’s faint smile didn’t reach his eyes. "More than you know."

He reached out, his fingers brushing my cheek. The touch was cool and gentle. "So stop doubting it," he murmured. "Whatever my father said, whatever you’ve heard... I chose you. That’s the only truth that matters."

I nodded slowly, though something in his gaze made my heart twist.

Lucian smiled faintly and let his hand linger in my hair for a moment, his fingers threading softly through the strands before he finally pulled back. Then he turned, pressing the button to lower the car window. The night air slipped inside, carrying with it a faint chill that smelled of frost and rain.

He leaned slightly toward the open window and called for the driver, his tone calm and composed again but maybe too composed, as if the tenderness from a moment ago had never happened. "We’re leaving," he said, his voice steady and firm.

As the car started moving, I found myself watching him in silence. The glow from the streetlights washed over his face in fragments, sharp lines softened by shadow.

He didn’t look at me, not once, but when his hand found mine on the seat between us, his fingers curled around it with quiet certainty. Then, without a word, he closed his eyes and let out a faint, weary exhale.

The car fell silent, save for the soft hum of the engine.

I turned my gaze back to the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of gold and blue. My thoughts tangled somewhere between the sound of his breath and the echo of his father’s warning.

Before I realized it, the question slipped out. "Lucian... was your mother an ice dragon too?"

His eyes opened instantly.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t answer, just stared ahead, the faint reflection of the passing lights glinting in his blue eyes. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward me.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft—distant, like he was speaking to a memory.

"She was," he said. "But not by birth."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Lucian’s eyes remained fixed on the blur of streetlights outside. "My mother wasn’t born a dragon," he said quietly. "She was Alarion1... one of the frost-born."

The unfamiliar word slipped through the air like a secret. "Alarion?" I repeated.

"They’re rare now," he continued, his tone steady but heavy. "Beings born from snow and northern storms. Looking like us in shape, but their blood carries the chill of the wind itself. They can command cold, shape frost, summon blizzards with a breath... but they were never meant to become dragons."

I listened, barely breathing. His voice carried no anger, just the kind of sadness that had long frozen over.

"My father used a ritual called Blood Assimilation," Lucian went on. "He wanted to merge her kind with ours. Said it would strengthen the Frost Line... purify the clan. But it was a lie. He didn’t care about unity. He only wanted power strong enough to defy the old laws."

He paused, his hands curling slightly against his knees. "The ritual succeeded. My mother became a dragon. But the Alarion blood wasn’t meant to bear that weight. The frost that preserved her body... tore her apart from within."

My chest tightened. "Lucian..."

He shook his head faintly, his eyes flickering to me. "That’s why I said she wasn’t born one... she became one. My father called it devotion. But I watched it kill her, day by day, while he told the clan it was glory."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Lucian finally exhaled, leaning back against the seat. "So, yes," he murmured. "My mother was a dragon. But not by choice."

I just created this mythical thing, so don’t google it... hahaha