Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 117: The Malika’s Silence

[Veyrhold House — Levin’s Chamber — Moments Later]

The chamber trembled with power.

Blue and silver light circled the room like a storm trapped inside stone walls, the air vibrating with the low, furious growl of the guardian dragon.

Lyresaph stood over Levin’s fallen body, his long silver form coiled protectively around him, blue eyes blazing as if ready to tear apart anything that dared to come closer.

The wind outside howled against the balcony, yet inside the chamber the air had become suffocating.

Levin did not move, his body lay on the cold floor, one hand still curled protectively over his stomach, the other lying beside the fallen letter.

His breathing was shallow.

Too shallow.

Lyresaph lowered his head closer, his nose almost touching Levin’s shoulder, a deep rumble vibrating from his chest.

Not anger.

Not yet.

Fear.

The bond between them flickered violently, and the dragon’s power surged again, blue light spreading across the floor in waves.

At that exact moment, the door burst open. Iru rushed in first, breath uneven.

"Malika—!"

He froze the moment he saw the scene.

The light, the dragon, and Levin on the floor. The cup in his hand fell and shattered against the stone.

CRASH—

Behind him, Captain Varesh and Raevahn entered at once, hands already moving toward their weapons out of instinct.

Varesh stopped mid-step.

"...By the Lord Urzan..."

Raevahn’s eyes widened.

"Do not move," Varesh said sharply.

Lyresaph’s head snapped toward them, A deep, warning growl rolled out of his chest, low and heavy, the sound vibrating through the stone walls as if the chamber itself had begun to tremble under the weight of his fury.

His blue eyes burned like cold fire.

The silver scales along his body shimmered as power gathered around him, blue and white light circling his form in slow, violent waves. The air grew dense, almost impossible to breathe, the bond between guardian and master raging like a storm ready to break.

One more step.

Just one more—

—and he would attack.

Iru dropped to his knees at once, his palms pressing against the cold floor.

"Lyresaph... please... it’s us..." His voice shook, but he did not lower his gaze. "He is not safe... we know... let us help him..."

The dragon did not move, his claws scraped against the stone as he shifted slightly, placing himself more firmly between Levin and everyone else, his long tail curling protectively around the fallen body.

His power flared again, the curtains snapped violently in the air, the lamps flickered, and the bond was screaming.

Footsteps rushed in the hallway.

More voices.

The door burst open wider, and Butler Macrane hurried inside, followed by Aelira and Duke Aren, who had clearly come in haste, his cloak still half-fastened as if he had not even stopped to dress properly.

They froze the moment they saw the chamber.

The light, the broken wind, the dragon, and Levin on the floor.

Macrane gasped softly.

"...Heavens..."

Aelira’s eyes widened, her hand rising to her mouth.

"What—"

Duke Aren did not finish the question. His eyes fell on Levin, and the color left his face at once.

"...Levin?"

He stepped forward instinctively, and that was enough.

RAAAAAAWWWWRRRRR!!!!

Lyresaph roared; the sound exploded through the chamber like thunder. His tail lashed violently across the floor, smashing into the balcony doors with a deafening crack.

WOOD SPLINTERED.

GLASS SHATTERED.

The frame broke apart as if struck by a siege hammer, pieces scattering across the floor while the dragon’s aura surged higher, brighter, more dangerous.

No one moved, no one dared; the message was clear.

Come closer—and die.

Duke Aren stopped mid-step, his breath catching in his throat, but his eyes never left his son.

"...He... needs treatment..." His voice was not commanding now.

Not a duke, not a ruler, only a father.

"Please..." He raised his hands slowly, showing he held no weapon. "Please... let us help him..."

Lyresaph’s growl lowered but did not stop. His gaze moved from Aren... to Iru... to Varesh... then back to Levin.

The dragon lowered his head slightly, his nose almost touching Levin’s shoulder, as if checking whether the life inside him was still there.

The bond flickered, weak and unstable. Lyresaph’s eyes narrowed; a low, broken rumble left his throat.

Then slowly and reluctantly, he stepped back.

Only one step, but his form did not change. His aura did not fade. He remained in full dragon form, standing beside the bed like a living wall, ready to strike the moment Levin’s life wavered again.

That was the permission.

Varesh moved first.

Fast.

He crossed the room in two strides and knelt beside Levin, his expression hard but his hands careful as he lifted him from the floor.

"...Easy..."

Levin’s head fell against his shoulder, his breathing uneven, his face pale in the dim light.

Iru hurried to the bed, pulling the covers aside.

"Here—here—!"

Varesh laid Levin down gently, one hand still supporting his back until his head rested on the pillow.

The moment Levin was placed on the bed, Lyresaph moved again, circling once, then lowering himself beside it, his long body coiling along the floor, his head raised near Levin’s chest.

Watching.

Guarding and daring anyone to fail.

Iru turned toward the door, his voice breaking.

"Physician Naram—!" He ran to the hallway and shouted with all his strength.

"HURRY!!"

His voice echoed through the manor.

Behind him, Duke Aren stood frozen at the foot of the bed, his hands trembling faintly, his eyes fixed on Levin’s face as if he were afraid to blink.

"...What happened...why did Levin..."

No one answered.

Even Aelira stood silent near the wall, her expression unreadable as she watched the dragon, the bed, and the unconscious heir of Veyrhold.

Lyresaph let out another low growl, not at them. At the world itself, his blue eyes never left Levin, his power still circling and still burning.

As if the guardian beast had already decided that if his master’s life slipped even one more breath... This entire house would not survive the night.

***

[Later — Veyrhold House — Levin’s Chamber]

The chamber had finally grown quieter.

The broken balcony doors had been covered with heavy cloth, the wind now entering only as a faint whisper, and the violent glow of Lyresaph’s power had faded into a dim silver aura resting near the bed.

Levin lay unmoving beneath the covers, his face pale but no longer strained, his breathing slow and steady.

Physician Naram sat beside the bed, his fingers resting lightly over Levin’s wrist while the faint glow of healing energy flickered around his hand. A shallow bronze bowl stood on the table beside him, the same ritual liquid trembling faintly as he finished the examination.

After a long moment, he exhaled.

"...He is stable."

Iru, who had been standing near the head of the bed with both hands clenched tightly in his sleeves, stepped forward at once.

"Stable...?"

Naram nodded.

"The Malika is safe... and both eggs are unharmed."

The tension in the room loosened slightly, but the physician’s face did not relax completely.

"He fainted from shock," Naram continued quietly. "Severe emotional stress... nothing more."

Iru blinked in disbelief.

Naram looked at him sharply.

"I warned you," he said, his voice lower now, more serious. "The Malika’s body is already under strain. Carrying a child in an Alpha body is not something the heavens designed lightly."

His gaze moved toward Levin’s stomach, his expression tightening.

"His aura is divided... his strength is feeding two lives at once. If his emotions break, his body follows."

Duke Aren, who had been standing at the foot of the bed without moving, finally spoke.

"...Will he recover?"

His voice was steady, but the fear behind it could not be hidden.

Naram turned toward him and bowed his head slightly. "Yes, my lord. He has only fainted. With rest, he will wake."

A pause.

Then the physician added, more quietly,

"But this must not happen again."

The words settled heavily in the room. Near the bed, Lyresaph lowered his head slowly, his blue eyes watching every movement of the physician’s hands.

The dragon leaned closer and sniffed Levin carefully, his nose brushing lightly against his shoulder.

For a moment, the silver aura around him flickered.

Then—It calmed. The tension in his body loosened slightly, the scales along his neck settling as the bond between them steadied again.

He let out a low breath, almost a rumble, and rested his head beside the bed, still alert but no longer ready to attack.

Duke Aren watched the scene in silence, his eyes dark with thought.

"...But what caused this..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "He was fine this morning...Did he receive something?"

Macrane stepped forward slowly and bowed.

"Yes, Your Grace." Everyone turned toward him. "My lord received a letter... from Zahryssar."

A faint tension passed through the room at once.

Aelira’s brows drew together slightly.

"...From Zahryssar?"

Her eyes moved across the chamber, searching. Then she saw it.

The letter.

Still lying near the table where it had fallen earlier. Her gaze lingered on it for a moment longer than necessary.

Slowly, carefully, she took a step toward it. Her fingers moved slightly, as if she meant to pick it up—but before she could reach it—A hand moved faster.

Raevahn stepped in front of her and took the parchment first, his eyes cold as he unfolded it just enough to see the seal.

Then he folded it again.

"I apologize." His voice was calm, but there was no warmth in it. "...Only the Malika has the right to read the letters sent from Zahryssar."

Aelira froze for a moment, then gave a small, nervous laugh.

"I was only curious."

Raevahn did not smile.

"I am sure you were."

He walked past her and placed the letter carefully on the drawer beside the bed, his hand resting over it for a moment before stepping back.

Physician Naram stood up slowly.

"That will be enough for now," he said firmly. "The Malika needs silence. Too many voices will only disturb him."

He looked toward the door.

"All of you... please leave."

Duke Aren hesitated, his gaze still fixed on Levin, "...Call me the moment he wakes."

"You have my word," Iru replied.

One by one, they began to leave the chamber. Macrane bowed and stepped out. Aelira left without another word, her expression thoughtful, unreadable.

Duke Aren was the last to go. He stood for a moment longer, then turned and walked out slowly, the door closing behind him with a dull sound.

Silence returned.

Only the faint sound of Levin’s breathing remained.

Lyresaph waited until the room was empty, then his body shimmered. The large silver form shrank, scales folding inward, light gathering around him until the great dragon became small enough to curl beside the pillow.

In his smaller form, he climbed carefully onto the bed. He lowered his head and sniffed Levin again, his blue eyes soft now, no longer burning.

A faint, worried sound left his throat.

He circled once, then curled beside Levin’s shoulder, his tail wrapping lightly near Levin’s arm, as if making sure the bond could not slip again.

The letter remained on the drawer, and in the silent chamber of Veyrhold House...the storm had not passed.

It had only begun.

***

[Levin’s Chamber — Later]

Silence filled the chamber.

The lamps had been dimmed, and the cloth covering the broken balcony doors moved slightly with the cold northern wind, letting thin lines of pale light fall across the floor.

For a long time, nothing moved.

Then—Levin’s fingers twitched.

A faint breath left his lips, uneven, strained, and his brows tightened as if the weight inside his head refused to let him wake peacefully.

His eyes fluttered open and the light hurt.

"...Hngh..."

He raised a hand to his forehead at once, pressing his fingers against his temple as a sharp pain throbbed behind his eyes.

Slowly, he pushed himself up. His body felt weak, heavier than it should have, his breathing uneven as he sat against the bed.

"...What..."

His voice was hoarse and he looked around the chamber, confused. The broken balcony door and the scattered wood still lying near the wall.

"...What happened here...?"

A soft sound came from beside him.

Lyresaph.

The small silver dragon lifted his head the moment Levin moved, his blue eyes bright with relief. He climbed closer at once, letting out a low, worried rumble before pressing his nose against Levin’s hand.

Then he began licking his fingers quickly, as if making sure he was truly awake.

Levin blinked faintly.

"...Lyresaph..." His hand rested weakly against the dragon’s head, his fingers moving slowly over the smooth silver scales.

"...Why are you here...?"

Lyresaph let out another soft sound, curling closer against him, his tail wrapping lightly around Levin’s wrist as if afraid to let go.

Levin’s gaze moved again toward the broken balcony, and then—He remembered.

The letter.

His hand froze and the warmth left his eyes completely.

"...Right..."

The word came out as a whisper. His fingers slowly fell from Lyresaph’s head, his hand resting in his lap as his gaze lowered.

"...How did I forget...?"

His head bowed slightly, his hair falling over his eyes as the pain inside his skull pulsed again, but this time the ache in his chest was worse.

Much worse.

His fingers moved slowly to his stomach, pressing lightly against the fabric as if he needed to remind himself that the life there was still real.

Still there.

Still his.

His lips trembled faintly, though his voice stayed quiet.

"I went there as a bride..." A breath. "...to bear his child."

His eyes closed for a moment, his lashes shaking slightly as the memory returned, every word of the letter cutting deeper now that the shock had passed.

"And now..." His voice grew softer. "...when I finally carry his blood...I am replaced...by many."

The word barely formed, his chest rose sharply as if the air had become too heavy to breathe, his thoughts spiraled deeper, darker, each one striking harder than the last.

’I knew this...I knew what kind of throne he sat on...’ His hand pressed harder against his stomach, his shoulders trembling faintly.

’I knew I was never the only one meant to stand beside him...’

His breath shook.

"...Then why..." The question broke in his throat. "...Why did I let myself believe...?"

He swallowed hard, his eyes opening slowly, unfocused, lost somewhere far beyond the walls of the chamber.

"I should not have fallen for him..." The words came out almost soundless. "I knew... this would happen..."

A long silence followed.

Even Lyresaph did not move, the dragon only watched him, his blue eyes filled with something that almost looked like grief. Levin turned his head slowly toward the broken balcony.

Cold wind entered the room, brushing against his face, but he did not react.

His gaze stayed on the torn cloth, on the open sky beyond it, as if he was looking at something much farther away.

His voice was barely a whisper.

"...I wonder..."

A long pause, his fingers loosened slowly over his stomach, his hand falling back to the bed beside him.

"...what my worth is now."

The wind moved through the broken doorway again.

No answer came, only silence, and in the quiet chamber of Veyrhold House—the Malika of Zahryssar sat alone, heart cracked open, wondering for the first time if love had been nothing more than a mistake.