Chapter 141 Made To Endure
Damien
Dinner unfolds more slowly than I expect. Nothing is wrong. Everything is right. And that somehow makes me notice every detail as if it matters more than it ever has before. Which it definitely does. I notice the way Bella’s fingers brush the edge of the pale blue tablecloth when she sits, like maybe she's inspecting the texture. I have to wonder if she likes it. I notice the way candlelight softens the frost threaded through her hair, turning it silver. I wonder if she's making little flurries because she's excited or happy. I notice the way she inhales when the first dish is set between us. I wonder if she's smiling because she's deciding whether this night is real or something she’s going to wake up from. I check my pocket discreetly. The ring is still there.
My dragon hums, low and amused.
It has not escaped, he says. It remains precisely where you put it.
I wasn’t worried, I tell him.
You absolutely were.
I pour the wine carefully, grateful for muscle memory. The liquid catches the light as it fills the glass, dark and hopefully the kind she likes. My hands are calm, even if my pulse is not. Bella watches me over the rim of her glass, eyes warm, curious, quietly delighted in a way that makes my chest tighten.
“You didn’t have to do all of this,” she says softly, though the way her shoulders ease tells a different story. I'm fairly sure she likes it all.
“I wanted to,” I reply. “There’s a difference.”
She smiles and takes a sip, eyes closing briefly as she tastes it. The night air stays cool but kind, brushing against skin without biting. Candles flicker without wavering, flames steady as if they understand the importance of behaving. Firelight and starlight exist together without conflict. Somewhere beyond the courtyard walls, the kingdom carries on, unaware that my entire world is balancing on one small velvet box.
We eat, and the food is good. She tells me it's good and that matters a lot. She relaxes as the meal goes on, or maybe that's me just overthinking it. I watch as her posture softens, and I imagine the tension draining out of her piece by piece. Her laughter comes easily as she talks about her office again, about the chair and the light and how the room feels perfect.
“I wrote the first line,” she admits, almost shy. “Then I panicked and wrote three more just to prove I could.”
I smile. “What was it?”
She shakes her head. “Not ready. You don’t get to read the rough draft.”
“I will wait,” I say easily. “I am very good at waiting.”
She snorts. “That's debatable.”
My dragon purrs, pleased.
She talks like she is happy here with us, he notes. She appreciates our efforts.
I check my pocket again. Still there.
Bella reaches for my hand across the table, thumb brushing my knuckles absently as she talks about the villagers, about Red organising, about how the children laugh when frost meets flame and they mingle together. The contact of her hand on mine steadies me more than any breath ever could.
“I think they’re going to be okay,” she says. “All of them.”
“I know,” I reply. “You made sure of it.”
She frowns lightly. “We did.”
“Yes,” I agree. “We did.”
Dessert arrives. It's something light and sweet but I barely taste it. Every nerve in my body is tuned toward what’s coming, every breath measured, every second loud and stretched thin.
My dragon shifts, his presence firm and grounding.
Now, he says quietly. Or you will jitter until the candles burn themselves out.
I exhale hard, preparing myself.
Bella tilts her head. “You alright?”
“Yes,” I say, because the truth is larger than words. “Just… give me a moment.”
I stand... The gravel crunches softly beneath my boots as I step around the table. Bella’s smile falters, curiosity sharpening into something else.
“Damien?”
I reach into my pocket, and the box comes free easily. It's so small but so heavy all at once. It carries every choice I’ve ever made inside it. I drop to one knee before my courage can second-guess me, and the world stills. Bella’s breath catches. Her hands fly to her mouth. Her eyes go wide, reflecting candlelight, stars and disbelief.
My dragon straightens fully within me, fire calm and reverent.
We are here, he says. Together.
I open the box. The ring catches the light immediately. It's a pale opal stone that sits in the middle of a silver snowflake, with veins that look like frost threaded around the band of gold. A ring I made, with only her in mind.
“Bella,” I say, and my voice holds steady even as my chest tightens. “From the moment you walked into my life, nothing has been the same. You did not need me. You did not bend for me. You stood by my side, and you chose to be there. You challenged every part of me that had grown too comfortable in solitude.”
Her eyes shine where tears gather, but don’t fall.
“I do not offer you safety,” I continue. “You have always made your own. I offer you a partnership. Fire and frost. Choice and balance. A life built not on duty, but on wanting.”
I swallow.
“If you will have me,” I say quietly, “I would spend the rest of my life beside you. With you. My dragon and I would choose you, every day, as you have chosen us.”
I swallow hard, looking deep into her eyes, "Will you marry me?"
Silence stretches for a moment, her hand still covering her mouth in shock, maybe awe... I hope it's awe. Fuck, I don't know if I did this right. Then Bella laughs, breathless and broken and entirely herself.
“Yes,” she says immediately. “Obviously yes.”
Relief crashes through me so hard my hands tremble as I take the ring from the box and slide it onto her finger. It fits perfectly. Of course it does, I only measured her fingers a million times while she slept. She surges forward, arms around my neck, and I stand and catch her, laughter and tears mixing as my dragon roars his approval into the night, fire from within curling warm and protective around us.
Mine, he says with deep satisfaction.
Ours, I correct, holding her close as the world settles into something permanent at last.