Chapter 129 Drakon's Vulnerability
Drakon's POV
"Hundreds poisoned through my charity programs!" Elara's hands shook as she read the list of victims. "Children. Elderly. The very people I was trying to help!"
"We'll find the poisoner," I promised. "We'll..."
"How?" She turned on me, eyes blazing with pain and fury. "How do we protect everyone? Every food distribution, every medicine clinic, every school? There are dozens of programs across both kingdoms! We can't guard them all!"
"Then we pause them. Temporarily. Until..."
"NO!" She slammed her fist on the table. "That's exactly what the poisoner wants! To make us abandon the poor out of fear! I won't do it!"
"Even if it means more deaths?"
"Especially then!" Her voice broke. "Because giving up means their deaths were meaningless! It means evil wins! And I can't... I won't..."
She collapsed into a chair, sobbing. The weight of responsibility crushing her.
I knelt beside her. "This isn't your fault."
"Yes, it is! I created these programs! Made people gather in predictable places! Created targets!"
"You also saved hundreds of lives before this happened," I said firmly. "Don't let one monster's actions erase all the good you've done."
But I understood her pain. Because I'd felt it for a century before she arrived.
"Let me tell you something," I said quietly. "Something I've never told anyone."
She looked up, tears streaming.
"Before you came, I ruled alone for a hundred years. Do you know what that's like? Watching everyone you care about age and die while you stay the same?"
"Drakon..."
"My first advisor was a brilliant human. He served me for thirty years. Then he got old, sick. I held his hand as he died. He was seventy. I looked exactly as I had when we met." My voice cracked. "I went through that fifteen times. Fifteen trusted advisors. Fifteen friends I watched die of old age."
Elara reached for my hand. I held it tight.
"I stopped letting myself care," I continued. "Kept everyone at distance. Because loving mortals meant losing them. Over and over. For a hundred years."
"That's so lonely," she whispered.
"It was crushing. I ruled fairly. Justly. But I felt nothing. I was going through motions, existing but not living." Tears fell freely now. "I thought I'd never find love. Dragons mate once, forever. I was convinced my mate didn't exist. That I'd be alone forever."
"Then I came."
"Then you came." I touched her face gently. "This terrified seamstress who'd been blackmailed into an impossible situation. And instead of breaking, you adapted. Learned. Grew stronger."
"I lied to you," she said.
"You survived," I corrected. "And when the lies came out, you didn't make excuses. You took responsibility. You fought for what you believed in. You showed me that love was possible. That connection was worth the risk."
"I saved you?" She asked, voice small.
"You saved me from a lifetime of loneliness. From existing without living. From ruling without feeling." I pulled her into my arms. "You gave me hope again, Elara. You showed me that a hundred years of pain was worth enduring to find you."
We held each other, both crying. Two people who'd suffered differently but equally. Finding comfort in shared vulnerability.
"I was nothing before you," Elara whispered. "Just a poor seamstress."
"You were always something," I corrected. "You just didn't know it yet. And I was powerful before you but hollow. We complete each other."
"Together," she said.
"Always together."
We stayed like that for a long time. Just holding each other. Sharing pain, sharing love, sharing strength.
Finally, Elara pulled back. "We need to stop the poisoner."
"We will. Together."
"And we can't pause the charity programs."
"Then we make them safer. More guards. Testing all supplies. Whatever it takes." I squeezed her hand. "We don't let evil win."
The next day, we doubled security on all charity programs. Implemented strict testing protocols. The poisoner struck twice more but we caught the contaminated supplies before they caused harm.
Then, three weeks later, we captured him. A bitter noble who'd lost his fortune and blamed the poor for his failures.
"You waste money on worthless commoners!" He spat as guards dragged him away. "They deserve to suffer!"
"And you deserve trial and judgment," Elara said calmly. "Which you'll receive. Fairly."
But that night, the Dragon Queen came to us with unexpected news.
"The dragon clans have been watching," she said. "Watching how you two handle crises. How you support each other. How your bond has grown."
"And?" I asked.
"And they want to make it official. Hold a traditional bonding ceremony. Recognize Elara as your true mate in the ancient ways."
"What does that mean?" Elara asked.
"It means marking her with dragon magic. Binding you permanently in ways even deeper than the mating bond. Making her part dragon herself."
"Part dragon?" Elara's eyes went wide. "Will I change? Grow scales? Breathe fire?"
"Perhaps. The ceremony is different for everyone. But all who undergo it gain some dragon aspects." The Dragon Queen smiled. "And they become recognized as true dragon mates. Equal partners to their bonded dragon."
"When?" I asked.
"Tomorrow. During the blood moon. It has to be tomorrow or we wait another year."
Tomorrow. Less than twenty-four hours to prepare for a ceremony that would change Elara forever.
"Do you want this?" I asked her seriously. "It's permanent. Irreversible. You'll carry dragon marks for life."
Elara looked at me. Through me. Into the depths of my soul through our bond.
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "I want to be yours. Completely. In every way possible."
But that night, as we prepared, a messenger brought a warning from Ravenna.
"The bonding ceremony will make Elara part dragon. But there's a reason it's not done often. Sometimes, the transformation goes wrong. Sometimes, the human body rejects the dragon magic. Sometimes, people die screaming as their body tears itself apart. My father used to force prisoners to undergo it for entertainment. Watched them die in agony. Sweet dreams. - R"
I showed Elara. Her face went pale.
"She's trying to scare us," I said. "It's probably a lie."
"Or it's the truth," Elara whispered. "And tomorrow I might die. Horribly."
We stared at each other. The ceremony was in twelve hours. And we had no idea if Elara would survive it.