Chapter 204: The Dragon Who Stayed

Riley felt like the biggest jerk in existence.

Now that he thought back to their conversation before Kael started sharing his past, he was sure he needed to scrub his mouth with soap and issue a full, tearful apology. Because what had he said again? Something about taking a mating bond as a joke?

Heck! He even called the guy insane!

Wow. Fantastic.

His present self was clearly shaking in distress because he’d gone and assumed things. Maybe he was the one who deserved divine punishment—preferably in the form of lightning, or maybe a nice meteor.

His guilt was so bad that, at least for now, it didn’t even matter that his boss had been an absolute ass most of the time. Because honestly? After everything Kael had gone through, Riley couldn’t blame him anymore.

For someone carrying that much baggage, who wouldn’t grow up pissed?

Fuck gentle anything!

That whole thing was quite literally how villains were made! He wouldn’t even be surprised if anyone with such a backstory ended up being immortalized as the monster under the bed.

Because Riley knew it would’ve been a given for himself.

If he were Kael, and he’d gone through even half of what that man did, Riley wasn’t sure he’d be anywhere near as composed (debatable)—or magnanimous enough to volunteer for isolation, of all things.

And that was saying a lot, considering he was the very same hypocrite who had spent the last few weeks lecturing the elven royal family about morals, autonomy, and the sanctity of personal choice.

Then again, even as he thought about that, he felt like his boss was actually the prime example of someone who could’ve rightfully rampaged and yet still ended up electing to confine himself.

Not that it worked. But when given the choice, in fairness to the guy, he picked the one he could’ve just ignored.

Ahhhhh!

At this rate, was Kael actually a saint with a potty mouth?

And Riley? Well, at this point, he was likely the degenerate who was stewing in guilt.

Not that he was suddenly invalidating all his own suffering, but now that he could see the scale, his perspective couldn’t help but acknowledge the gap between five years of suffering and more than nine hundred years of tragedy.

Nine. Hundred. Years.

Yet, look at him! Riley’s imaginary hands practically pointed at Kael in his mind as he thought about how bad he could’ve turned out.

Unbeknownst to Riley, his panicked and rapidly spiraling thoughts were being reflected clearly on his face. The human aide sat on Kael’s lap, lips moving slightly and eyes wide, looking very much like he was in the middle of an existential crisis.

And Kael, of course, was just watching.

Golden eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable, the dragon lord observed the goldfish in front of him, who was visibly short-circuiting—clearly debating something dramatic in that tiny mortal brain.

Finally, Riley managed to speak, voice small but earnest.

“Kael… I-Is this—your past… is that why you didn’t really want to be the next dragon lord?”

The edge of the dragon lord’s mouth actually turned up at the question.

It took a moment before he answered, mostly because Riley’s eyes—wide and worried like some panicking fish—were staring at him as if he’d just asked something that could get them both arrested.

After all, what the twig had just implied really did sound treasonous.

“Hmm… Well, would you want to be the next dragon lord, after all that?” Kael said slowly, voice calm but cutting. “Would you even think it’d be possible to be one after experiencing something so ironic?”

His expression barely changed, but Riley’s certainly did. His face twisted into something between agreement and pain.

Kael looked straight at him. “Would it even be logical to entrust the fate of everyone to a dragon who didn’t even manage to protect the only one he was bound to protect?”

Riley’s throat bobbed, even if he had words to say, they’d likely be just as stuck as his thoughts.

But Kael wasn’t done.

“But more than that,” he continued, his tone quieter now, “if that innocent egg was never given the grace of peace or salvation, then tell me, Riley—does anyone else deserve to have that with my help?”

Riley took a deep breath.

He didn’t know how to answer that.

No. Actually, he probably did.

It’s just that his answer would likely contradict his own way of life. Because, as selfish as it sounded, it was one thing to avoid harming others but another to go out of your way to save them.

Then he had to be in a position where he was obligated to do so?

Haah… Even he would likely detest the whole thing.

Kael watched Riley’s expression, wondering what had gotten him looking so grim. At times, he thought he already understood Riley, but then he’d go and open his mouth, and the dragon lord who had lived for so long would realize that humans were really built differently in this way.

Or maybe it was just this one.

Because who would have thought that Kael would one day speak his true reasons for refusing the role everyone had long expected of him?

Most would assume that the darkest time in Kael’s life had been when the dragon estate was razed to the ground.

And while that was true for nearly nine hundred years, it apparently wasn’t the darkest.

Because in truth, Kael only truly learned what helplessness felt like—and what it meant to not belong anywhere—when the bond disappeared.

Before that, he had this small inkling of hope. It was so small and personal that no one would’ve dared speak about it, but it had been there.

And then he woke up one day, and it was gone.

That was the moment he broke.

Not with rage, not with vengeance—just a quiet, exhausted kind of ending.

He had simply been done.

And for the first time, he understood why disappearing seemed like the easier choice for immortals like him.

But his parents must have sensed where his thoughts were heading.

His father, especially, had acted before he could fall too far.

He tied Kael to the position of dragon lord, binding his existence to it—perhaps as a way to anchor him in this world for longer.

The title came with power, and with that power came consequences that any other dragon would’ve called benefits.

It strengthened the bond between Kael and his own life force, making it nearly impossible for him to destroy his core, no matter how much effort he tried to put into it.

Kael remembered laughing—manically, bitterly—when he realized what his father was really hoping to do. He had been furious then, convinced that they were doing it out of selfishness.

But now, after so many years, he wondered if the old man had known something he didn’t.

Because if he hadn’t been forced to take the position, then would any of this have been possible?

Would he have met this ridiculous twig who kept crying and getting angry for him?

Kael thought about how, if things had gone differently, he would have missed meeting Riley by only a few years.

Missed.

That made him chuckle inwardly. He actually considered it a potential missed opportunity. He reached out and pinched Riley’s nose lightly.

“Hey!” Riley flailed in protest, swatting at Kael’s hand, his face scrunching in irritation. “Don’t—”

“You didn’t even cry all those times before,” Kael said teasingly, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “And now look at you.”

Riley, of course, was completely losing it.

He was still processing everything, his thoughts a whirlwind that refused to settle. “I think I get it now. Actually, no… I think I don’t,” he admitted, rubbing at his face. “Because while I understand it, there’s no way I could actually understand how all that must have felt.”

He drew in a shaky breath, his words tumbling out fast. “I’d be lying if I said something like ’I feel you,’ because right now, I don’t think even the searing pain I’ve felt before could compare to this.”

Kael stayed quiet, watching him.

“So,” Riley went on softly, “I’m sorry. I jumped to my own conclusions and thought you were taking things lightly.”

Kael blinked, surprised—not just at the apology, but at the fact that Riley was covering his eyes.

“Is it right to apologize without looking at the person you’re apologizing to?” Kael asked suddenly, a faint teasing note in his tone.

Riley stilled. “Huh?”

“I’m asking,” Kael said, leaning a little closer, “if you think it’s proper to apologize like that.”

Riley’s shoulders tensed. He knew the dragon was right, which made it even more annoying. “Fine,” he muttered, dragging his hands away from his face.

Kael tilted his head slightly.

For a moment, he just stared.

Why was the twig so red?

“Are you sick?” Kael asked, genuinely concerned.

Riley’s eyes went wide. “What—no! I’m fine! Perfectly fine!”

The words came out so fast that Kael blinked again.

Riley, realizing what he had just said and remembering everything Kael had gone through—loss, pain, death, despair—panicked internally. He should probably be more conscious of things like illness, injury, or anything similar in the future.

“Really,” Riley said quickly, his hands flailing in reassurance. “I’m totally fine!”

Kael raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you red?”

Riley’s face grew even hotter. He fiddled with his fingers, avoiding Kael’s gaze.

“I just…” He trailed off, then peeked up hesitantly. “It just dawned on me that you might not have been kidding when you said those words.”

Kael’s lips curved slightly. “Those words?” he asked, though he already knew exactly what Riley meant.

Riley’s throat felt dry. “Yes, those…”

There was a long, quiet moment. Kael didn’t look away.

And then the dragon lord spoke, his voice low but steady.

“Yeah. I meant every word.”

He leaned closer, his gaze holding Riley’s completely.

“So be my mate.”

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