Chapter 158 Everything Has Led to This
Damien
I don’t sleep much. My body refuses to let go of the edge of tomorrow entirely. I rest in stretches, drifting just enough to take the weight off my limbs before waking again to the quiet of the room and the steady presence of the dragon beneath my ribs. He isn’t restless. Neither am I. It’s something else. A held breath. A pause before movement, like the world has drawn back its arm and hasn’t swung yet. When I finally rise, the castle has already awakened, and activity has begun. Water runs somewhere down the corridor. Boots pass at a respectful distance. Voices stay low, clipped, purposeful. I wash and dress without thinking twice. The clothing laid out for me is simple, but hopefully enough to make Bella's eyes drink me in. Dark, clean lines, nothing ceremonial enough to feel like armour, nothing soft enough to feel careless. I pull on the shirt first, then the fitted layers beneath the outer coat, adjusting each piece until it sits the way it should. The fabric settles against my skin, and when I fasten the clasp at my throat, the dragon hums approval, a low, satisfied presence. This feels right. I catch my reflection briefly as I pass the mirror. I look the same as I did yesterday, yet everything is different. I think of another morning, another room, another version of myself standing alone with too many people waiting outside a door, the air thick with expectation and nothing in my chest to answer it. I remember how heavy that silence felt, how wrong it had been, how my body had known long before my mind caught up. I remember the feeling of pure rage, agony, rejection and loneliness when I was left standing at the altar, with no bride willing to tie their life to mine. I don’t let the memory linger. It has no place here. It’s a closed path now, grown over and forgotten. Today is not built on that.
I leave my room and head down the eastern corridor, the one that leads toward the smaller chamber where Marius waits. He’s already inside when I arrive, cloak folded neatly over the back of a chair, hands resting flat on the table like he’s grounding himself.
“Your Majesty,” he says.
“Marius.”
We don’t sit.
“Everything is in place,” he says without prompting. “The mountain paths are clear. The hearth hall is ready. The overlook has been swept and marked. No one is where they shouldn’t be.”
“And Bella?”
He meets my eyes without hesitation. “With Red and Ashlyn.”
“Good.”
“Everything is, as it was always meant to be,” he adds quietly.
“Yes,” I agree. “It is.”
We move through the final confirmations together, not lists so much as reassurances. Guards positioned where they need to be seen and nowhere else. Messengers posted, then dismissed. A reminder passed down the line that today is not about spectacle. The day will speak for itself. When it’s done, Marius inclines his head.
“I’ll be at the overlook,” he says. “I’ll signal when it’s time.”
I nod once. “Thank you.”
He leaves me with the silence again, and I walk the castle alone after that, taking a longer route than necessary. Not to delay, but to feel the place in this state, suspended between yesterday and what it’s about to become. Sunlight filters in through high windows, catching on stone worn smooth by generations of hands. The walls are bare. The corridors are unadorned. Nothing announces the day. That was how Bella wanted it, and it feels right. This place doesn’t need to be dressed up to bear witness. I step out into the courtyard briefly. The air there is already alive with quiet movement, people passing without stopping, heads down, hands busy. No one bows. No one calls out. The work has been done. The waiting has begun.
The climb up the mountain is slower than usual, my pace measured to match the calm in my chest—the path curves gently, the stones beneath my boots firm and familiar. I know every turn. Every place where the ground dips or narrows. The world opens gradually as I ascend, trees thinning, air shifting, space widening. The dragon stretches, pleased by the open sky. When I reach the edge of the secret place, I stop. I don’t step in right away. The hollow sits exactly as I left it, untouched, waiting. Lanterns are set but unlit. The ground is clear and even, stones smoothed and settled. The fire bowl rests at the centre, empty, patient. Beyond it, the sky stretches wide and open, the mountains layered in the distance like something painted just for this moment. This place has held my anger, my grief and my silence. I’ve stood here alone more times than I can count, letting the mountain take what I couldn’t carry. Today, it will hold something else. I move into the space and stand where I know I’ll be waiting, feet planted, shoulders relaxed, hands loose at my sides. The dragon settles fully now, no longer watching the edges of the world, no longer guarding against what might be taken. He knows she’s coming. We both know she's coming. I don’t imagine her dress. I don’t imagine the walk. I don’t rehearse the vows again. I’ve said them enough in the quiet of my own mind. They don’t need sharpening. They don’t need polishing. They just need to be spoken. I let the moment stay empty so it can be adequately filled when she arrives. Time stretches as I stand and breathe in the air. Today is the day.
Footsteps sound behind me, then stop, and Marius stands at the edge of the clearing, far enough away to give me space, close enough that his presence doesn’t intrude.
“It’s time,” he says.
I nod once and wipe my palms on my pants, suddenly nervous. He turns and leaves without another word. I face forward again, breathing slow and steady, the world narrowing into focus. Everything that led here falls away. The months of work. The nights of planning. The careful holding and stepping back. The choosing, again and again, to protect what mattered instead of proving anything to anyone. What remains is simple. I am here, and in a moment, Bella will walk toward me, and the rest of the world will finally understand what this has always been leading to.