Chapter 14: Dragon Baby?!

Ilaria’s mind refused to quiet down. The dinner chatter had shifted into harmless laughter, and yet all she could replay was the moment when he had dragged her chair closer to his side as if she belonged there, as if she were not some outsider being questioned but someone worth shielding.

Her cheeks warmed. Was this what it felt like? To be defended by the very man she had long admired from afar? It was absurd! Ilaria tapped her cheeks and shook her head quietly, trying to compose herself before she gets even redder. The amount of embarrassment she got today was uncanny; she felt as if her face would burst at any moment.

Cautiously, she spared Levan a side glance while leaning back on her chair, careful not to make any sound. She inched a bit closer as if there was something fascinating on the back of his head. But there is nothing unusual, not really, it just…Ilaria clamped her mouth and bit the insides of her cheeks, mentally berating herself as she sniffed quietly.

…My, he smelled so nice.

Ilaria’s fingers twitched nervously as she pretended to examine her nails, then tapping the arm chair. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, in her ears. Hell, it was practically vibrating in her chest. Every time Levan shifted in his seat, or even just reached for his glass, her mind started racing.

Did he notice I’m staring? Did he know how flustered I am?

She tried to reason with herself because of how ridiculous this was. He is just sitting there, breathing, living, and being…Levan. But reasoning did nothing to the flowers in her mind. Her stomach fluttered with every subtle movement of his hand and every quiet inhale he took.

So she tried to focus on something else. Her eyes darted around the table setting, the chandeliers, the soft clinking of cutlery and even tried to engage with some of the nearing aunts, but her eyes always darted back to him. And the way his sleeve barely brushed hers when he adjusted his posture? Her heart stopped.

Levan, on the other hand, remained a perfect statue of calm beside her. His gaze occasionally flicked to the family across the table and only talked when they approached him first. But Ilaria swore she felt the faint brush of heat from him, almost like the air between them had grown smaller.

She could hardly sit still, yet…she dared not make a sound.

Saints above…he’s like a living, breathing danger, but don’t save me, please.

“His Majesty, King Kieran Gawen of Noctharis!”

At the proclamation, every head rose in unison as the double doors swung open. Ilaria’s spine stiffened as she quickly broke from her illusion, startled. Hurriedly, she straightened her posture and stood, bowing her head as deeply as etiquette demanded.

The King entered with measured steps, each one echoing softly against the polished floor, carrying the weight of command. His very presence seemed to draw the air taut around him, bending the room to his authority without him needing to say a word nor lift a finger. Even those cousins with mischievous eyes seemed to soften upon the King’s arrival.

Dark robes trailed behind him…the King’s sharp and discerning gaze swept across the hall like a dragon scrutinizing its domain, leaving no corner unchecked. Even the flicker of candlelight seemed to hesitate in his presence, as if acknowledging his dominion. His gaze lingered briefly on Ilaria, and she swore her soul has left her body, but she kept her head low.

As he reached the head of the table and took his seat, the soft murmur of resumed conversation signaled that the formalities had passed. Ilaria sat back on her chair only after her husband did. The King then averted his gaze to the empty chair beside him, where his firstborn should be, but as expected, he was not here. Again.

Lady Seliora’s eyes flicked toward the empty seat. “And there he goes again…Neven, always managing to escape family gatherings. You let him off the hook so easily, elder brother.”

The King barely reacted. “Seliora,” he said carefully, his hand sweeping lightly in dismissal, “he has his duties. You know as well as I do that the first prince cannot always attend. Don’t mind the absent ones. We are here to enjoy a feast, not to dwell on who is missing.”

His eyes then shifted to Ilaria, softening instantly as they met hers. The weight of his gaze made her freeze mid-breath. He did not say anything though, he only gestured toward the empty seat that was supposed to be occupied by the first prince.

Ilaria blinked, utterly stunned by the act. Her heart raced as she pointed at herself while looking into the King’s eyes, as if to make sure. Is that even proper? she thought, cheeks warming instantly. Every eye in the hall seemed to flick toward her, even Levan seemed skeptical, yet the King’s steady gaze reassured her with unspoken kindness.

With a slight bow, she rose from her seat and rounded the long table with her hushed steps, not at the head where the King is seated, never that, she took the long detour. Every step feel both dizzying and surreal. When she finally sat, though hesitantly, the King gave her a small, approving nod.

“It is only right that you feel welcome today. You are family now,” he said, and Ilaria could only smile as she looked back at her husband, who was now in front of her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Why do I feel like I heard the words a lot today?

Then, she turned towards Melvin, who was now beside her sitting nonchalantly. She blinked her wide eyes two times at him, sending him an S.O.S signal, but the second prince merely shrugged, as he too, does not understand what was happening.

Just then, the Herald’s voice rang out clear and formal, catching everyone’s attention. “By decree of His Majesty, today’s gathering is held to honour the arrival of Crown Princess Ilaria Alysanne Ryuu, daughter-in-law of Noctharis, and beloved of the Crown Prince.”

Ilaria’s eyes widened at the announcement, a small gasp slipping from her lips as she instinctively glanced at her father-in-law. She had not expected this

at all. All this time, the occasional family dinners had filled her with nothing but dread, but now, it seemed, the King had orchestrated something entirely different.

“Oh…so it’s for me…?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, tinged with awe.

The King’s stern features softened as he gave her a nod. “Indeed, princess. It has long been my wish to welcome you properly, now that your husband is present. You are family, and family deserves recognition.”

Melvin leaned slightly toward her, whispering in wonder, almost scoffing, “I didn’t know my father could smile, what did you do to him?”

Ilaria looked back at him and shook her head in disapproval, shushing him.

“Let the feast commence,” the King ordered, and the Herald immediately clapped his hands, signalling for the staff to serve.

Immediately, the doors swung open and a parade of maids and servants glided in, each carrying silver platters gleaming under the chandeliers’ soft light. The scent of roasted meats, exotic spices, and freshly baked breads swept across the hall, tugging at the family’s senses.

Platters of golden-brown pheasant, glazed with a honey-thyme reduction, were followed by bowls of vibrant vegetables, their colours almost too vivid to be real. Rich stews bubbled in ornate silver tureens, filling the air with aromas of saffron, rosemary, and slow-cooked meats.

Desserts came next, delicate towers of pastries adorned with candied flowers and gilded sugar, alongside crystal bowls of fruits so perfectly ripened they seemed unreal. Trays of pastries with pearly glazes and jewel-toned jams sparkled like treasures. And of course, they did not forget the princess favourite: Macarons.

Ilaria’s eyes followed every tray, marveling at the abundance, the artistry, and the sheer elegance of it all. Every dish was an opulent and deliberate statement of a feast for both eyes and taste buds befitting a royal table.

She glanced at Levan, who remained composed and immovable. Even so, the faint flicker of approval in his gaze made her heart skip a beat.

Melvin, on the other hand, was unable to contain himself as he whispered in disbelief, “This is ridiculous…who even eats all this?”

Ilaria giggled quietly, her earlier nerves melting under the warmth of the lavish spread. It was a feast meant for celebration — for her. She does not need this kind of grand gesture to feel welcomed in the palace, but she was thankful anyway.

Ilaria lowered her gaze respectfully towards the King, her voice gentle. “Thank you, Your Majesty…I am honoured, truly.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of the King’s lips. “See that you enjoy it. Tonight, we celebrate not just a union, but a joining of families.”

Soon, the long table filled with quiet chatter, the family enjoying the rich spread before them, passing plates and sharing smiles as they savoured the feast.

The King gestured at a plate in the middle. “Try the roasted pheasant. It’s seasoned with spices from the southern isles. I thought you might like it.”

Ilaria’s eyes lit up. “Yes, Your Majesty!” She carefully picked up a piece, her smile brightening the table.

“And the truffle-infused potatoes,” he added, handing her a small plate. “Don’t let them go to waste.”

“I…I’ll savour every bite,” she said meekly, taking a delicate forkful and closing her eyes in delight.

“Good. A proper meal is to be enjoyed, and you, my daughter-in-law, shall enjoy it fully.”

Ilaria beamed, reaching for a creamy tart. “It’s all so delicious, Your Majesty!”

While Ilaria’s fork danced from one dish to another, Levan, on the other side, took a slow bite of his own meal. He had not said anything since the feast start. Perhaps he too, did not know the occasion behind today’s feast. But that is the thing about her husband, anything the King said, he will heed without question.

The King leaned back slightly, addressing both of them now. “A feast is not merely for eating, it’s for conversation and reflection. Levan, Ilaria, I trust you both understand the responsibilities of family and of our court.”

Ilaria froze, fork paused mid-air as she swallowed the last meat that entered her mouth.

He continued steadily. “The kingdom will flourish not only through alliances and wealth, but through the legacy you two will carry. You must think of the future together.”

Ilaria’s cheeks heated at that, her fork trembled as she looked at Levan, who remained stoic. Yet when her gaze met his, she thought she caught the faintest flicker of something, almost like a consideration.

“Tonight, we celebrate family,” the King went on, inclining his head toward them. “And in due time…I hope this family will grow even stronger.”

Ilaria’s heartbeat quickened, and she found herself smiling shyly, though that warmth was quickly aborted when she felt something poking at her waist, making her jolt in surprise.

She glanced at Melvin, frowning in disbelief. “Don’t do that!” She whisper-yelled.

Melvin’s lips curved into a teasing smirk as he leaned slightly closer, voice low enough for only her to hear. “Ah…so that’s the reaction, hm? Your cheeks, your little gasp…Are you imagining a dragon baby yet?”

“V-vin! Don’t— don’t say things like that!” she hissed.

He chuckled teasingly. “I’m only observing, sister-in-law. A reaction like that? Priceless. You can’t hide it from me.”

Ilaria gave him a warning look. “I…I can’t even think about that right now!”

Melvin’s grin widened, pointing at her with his fork. “Oh, come on. You’re imagining it, admit it!”

She squeaked, cheeks flaming as she pretended to wipe her mouth with the napkin to hide her red face. “I’m not! Stop it!”

Melvin leaned back, laughter rumbling softly as he watched her flustered state, and Ilaria swore she had never wanted to pinch him more than she did now. Still…she could not stop her mind from wondering.

A dragon baby, huh…?

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