Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 127: The Emperor Who Belongs to One

[On the Road to the Vault — Zahryssar Imperial Carriage — Continuation]

The wheels rolled steadily over the frozen road.

Outside, the sound of hooves and armor moved in rhythm with the wind, the convoy of three empires traveling together, yet the distance between them felt greater than the desert itself.

Inside the Zahryssar imperial carriage, the silence was suffocating.

Levin sat on one side, his back straight, hands folded over his lap, veil still covering his face. The soft cushions beneath him were warm, the curtains thick, and the air scented faintly with black lotus smoke lingering from before.

Across from him sat Zeramet.

One arm rested against the side of the carriage, long silver hair falling over his shoulder, golden eyes lowered as if the man sitting before him did not exist.

The pipe lay beside him, extinguished. No words. Only the steady sound of wheels grinding against the frozen road. Levin sat straight, hands folded over his lap, fingers tightening slowly over the fabric of his robe.

The warmth around him felt thin.

Too thin.

The scent that once wrapped around him like a shield now felt distant, as if it belonged to someone standing far away.

Zeramet’s eyes lifted; they rested on Levin for a moment, sharp and observant.

"You look unwell."

Levin did not react at once, and then he raised his eyes slightly. "I am fine."

Zeramet studied him longer, his gaze narrowing faintly. "... Are my pheromones weakening around you?"

Levin’s lashes trembled once, almost invisible; he looked away toward the curtain.

"I said I am fine."

His voice was calm, cold, and almost unreadable.

Zeramet’s eyes darkened slightly at the tone.

His gaze moved downward, stopping at Levin’s stomach, his expression tightening before he leaned back again with a slow breath.

"...Was there any trouble in Thalryn?" The question came quieter, not as an emperor. As something else. Levin went still, his fingers curled tighter over his lap.

’Should I tell him about the poison and the assassins?’ His thoughts moved fast, too fast. ’But...would it even matter...?’

His eyes lowered.

’He has concubines now...’ A faint ache tightened in his chest. ’If these children disappear... it will not change anything for him... right?’

His face remained calm, too calm and too empty. Across from him, Zeramet was watching him closely now. He noticed the clenched fist. The silence and the faint shadow in Levin’s eyes he was trying to hide.

Zeramet exhaled slowly, then ran his hand through his hair with quiet irritation.

"...This is frustrating."

Levin froze, his heart skipped once, and his thoughts spiraled at once.

’Frustrating...? Is my presence frustrating him...? But he is the one who called me here... Then why...? Did he summon me just to warn me to stay away from the vault...? Or...’

His chest tightened.

’...does he not want me to return to Zahryssar anymor—’

His fingers trembled slightly before stilling again.

"Consort."

The voice came close, too close. Levin blinked and looked up.

Zeramet was no longer across from him; he had moved without Levin noticing, now sitting beside him, his presence filling the space like heat beside cold stone.

Levin stiffened. Zeramet reached out slowly, his fingers brushing the silver serpent earring hanging from Levin’s ear.

The symbol of their marriage, his thumb rubbed over it gently.

"...Why are you lying?"

Levin’s heart slammed hard against his chest; he did not answer, did not move. His throat tightened as if something heavy sat there, refusing to let him breathe.

He lowered his gaze. Zeramet frowned slightly, then lifted his hand and caught Levin’s chin, turning his face toward him.

"Why are you avoiding my eyes?" His voice softened. "Did I do something wrong, my moonflower?"

The name struck deeper than any blade. Levin’s breath shook. Zeramet’s thumb brushed lightly under his chin, his gaze searching his face.

"If I did... tell me." His voice lowered further. "I will apologize."

Levin’s eyes trembled; for a moment, the world blurred. The same voice. The same warmth. The same eyes that only looked at him like this.

’Moonflower...’

His lips parted slightly; he almost spoke.

Almost.

Then the memory rose like poison, the letter about him having concubines. His expression hardened.

He turned his face away.

"...Everything is fine." His voice came out colder than he intended. "You do not need to concern yourself with—"

Zeramet did not let him finish.

His arm moved suddenly around Levin’s waist, pulling him closer in one motion, his other hand steadying his back as he drew him against his chest.

"My consort is angry with me..." His voice was low, almost amused, but his hold was firm. "How could I not concern myself?"

Levin gasped softly, startled by the sudden closeness.

"Let go—" He tried to push against Zeramet’s shoulder, but the arm around his waist only tightened.

"You are holding too tight—"

Zeramet did not move; he only rested his chin lightly against Levin’s hair, calm as if nothing was wrong.

"Not until you tell me what I did."

Levin struggled again, trying to pull away like a trapped cat, his hands pushing weakly against Zeramet’s chest.

"Malik... please... let me go."

"No."

Zeramet’s voice remained steady, "Not until my consort tells me why he is punishing me."

Levin froze.

"There is no punishment—"

"My moonflower refuses to look at me." Zeramet’s hand slid up to his shoulder, holding him gently but firmly. "...That is punishment enough to be called cruel."

Levin stopped struggling; his hands slowly lowered. His eyes stayed on Zeramet’s chest, refusing to rise higher.

His voice came out quiet.

Cold.

Controlled.

"...Please let me go, Malik." A pause and then—

"I do not wish to be touched..." His fingers clenched in the fabric of Zeramet’s robe. "...by the same hands that have touched many."

Absolute silence.

Zeramet froze, his arm loosening without him realizing it. Confusion crossed his face slowly, his brows drawing together as if the words had not made sense.

"...What...?"

The word came out low, almost disbelievingly.

Levin did not look at him; he turned his face toward the window, eyes fixed on the frozen land passing outside, his expression calm, cold... yet something in his gaze felt painfully distant.

Zeramet studied him, his confusion deepening. "What are you talking about, consort?"

No answer.

Zeramet’s voice hardened slightly. "...Why would I touch someone else?"

Levin’s lips tightened faintly. Still not looking at him.

"You do not have to lie, Malik." His voice was steady, but the hurt beneath it could not be hidden from the man sitting beside him.

"I know... you have concubines now." 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Zeramet’s eyes narrowed slowly. For a moment, he did not speak, his thoughts moving fast.

’Concubines...? How does he know...when i never released any official statement about this?’

His gaze shifted to Levin again, sharper now.

"...How did you know about—"

The words stopped because he saw Levin’s eyes clearly. Cold on the surface. Strong and controlled, like any alpha raised for war and throne.

But beneath that—hurt and lonely. Wounded in a way Levin was trying with everything he had to hide. Zeramet’s expression changed at once.

And before Levin could react, Zeramet moved; he slid down from the seat and KNEEL.

He knelt on one leg in front of him. The movement was so sudden; Levin’s eyes widened in shock.

"What are you—"

Zeramet did not answer; he took Levin’s hands in both of his, holding them carefully, as if they were something sacred.

Then he lowered his head; his lips touched Levin’s fingers gently.

Once.

Then again, like a man worshipping before an altar. Levin froze completely. Zeramet pressed Levin’s hands lightly against his own eyes, closing them for a moment as if taking an oath.

When he looked up again, his golden gaze was no longer cold.

It burned, deep and unshaken.

"This husband of yours would never dare to have concubines, my moonflower."

Levin’s fingers twitched in his grasp. Zeramet’s voice dropped lower, softer, but every word carried the weight of truth.

"In this life... I belong to you." His hands tightened slightly around Levin’s. "From my head... to my feet... from my blood... to my soul..."

His eyes did not leave Levin’s.

"I am entirely yours." A breath. "Only yours, consort."

Levin’s chest trembled; his heart felt too heavy, too full, as if something inside him were breaking open. He tried to pull his hands back, but Zeramet held them tight, not letting him go, not now...and not ever.

"You do not have to lie... I know the law... the emperor must have concubines, you—"

"I killed them."

The words cut through the air like a blade.

Levin froze, his eyes widened slowly.

"...What...?"

Zeramet lifted Levin’s hands and placed them against his cheeks, holding them there firmly.

His gaze darkened, cold and merciless. The gaze of the Serpent Emperor. "Whoever dares to take what belongs to my consort...deserves to die."

The air inside the carriage turned heavy and dangerous. Zeramet leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for Levin.

"So never fear that I will touch another." His thumb brushed lightly over Levin’s wrist. "The day I do...I will cut my own arms off in front of you."

Silence fell again; only the sound of the carriage moving forward remained. Zeramet’s expression softened slightly, his forehead lowering until it almost touched Levin’s hands.

"You are my consort. My moonflower." His voice lost all its tyranny for that one moment. "And I do not share what is mine... with anyone in this world, and neither will I let you do so."

Levin trembled, His shoulders shook once, very slightly, as if he had been holding the weight of the sky alone and could no longer keep it steady. His head lowered, veil shifting softly as his voice came out broken, almost childlike beneath the strength he always carried.

"You... really did not...?" He swallowed hard, forcing the words through his throat. "...You truly did not take anyone...?"

Zeramet remained on his knees, without hesitation, without pride and without the throne.

"I would never." His answer came at once, not loud, not dramatic. Just truth.

"My moonflower... if you ask me the same question for an entire day..." He lifted Levin’s hands again, pressing them lightly against his own chest.

"...you will hear the same answer."

His golden eyes burned with something deeper than oath, deeper than law.

"I am yours." A breath. "Just yours."

Levin went silent, his fingers trembled in Zeramet’s grasp, then slowly loosened, as if the tight knot inside his chest had finally begun to break.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the sound of the road. Only the warmth slowly returning to the air between them. Zeramet lifted his gaze carefully, searching Levin’s face as if asking permission without saying the words.

"...Now..." His voice softened even more. "...may I embrace my consort? It has been too long."

Levin did not look up, he only nodded once. Small, shy and almost helpless. Zeramet rose at once, sitting beside him instead of across, his arm moving around Levin carefully, slowly, as if holding something fragile and sacred.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Levin’s forehead. Warm and lingering.

"I missed you... my moonflower."

Levin’s breath broke, his hands curled against Zeramet’s chest, clutching the fabric of his robe as if afraid he might disappear again. He leaned forward without thinking, hiding his face against Zeramet’s shoulder, his body trembling despite all the strength he tried to keep.

Zeramet held him tighter, one hand resting protectively over his back, the other moving to his head, fingers sliding gently through his hair.

No throne, no war, no empire.

Only them.

Inside the moving carriage, wrapped in the scent that had once faded but now surrounded him again, Levin closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to rest.

Outside, three empires moved toward the vault.

Toward war, toward truth, but inside that carriage—Two hearts, separated by lies and distance, found each other again in the quiet warmth stolen between battles.

And for a moment...The world was not heavy anymore.