Trapped with the Alpha King-Chapter 249: Snow

After the fireworks had faded into the night sky, Gavriel gently guided Althea back down to the hall where the celebration continued. Her eyes were still bright from the show, cheeks flushed from the excitement, and she held his hand tightly as they walked.

The music had softened to a lively hum, but the courtiers and guests were still laughing, dancing, and raising goblets in celebration.

Althea’s stomach grumbled audibly, making her glance at Gavriel with a sheepish grin. “I’m hungry,” she admitted.

Gavriel chuckled and led her to the banquet table, where platters of roasted meats, fruits, and sweet delicacies waited. She eagerly took a plate, filling it with a little of everything, eyes wide at the sight of the colorful desserts.

Gavriel watched her as she nibbled carefully, smiling to himself at how normal she looked—like any other young woman enjoying a feast, though she was the Princess of Aetherion now.

Once she finished eating, Althea’s gaze drifted to the row of goblets lining the table. Spotting Melva nearby, she turned to Gavriel and asked, “Can I go sit with Melva for a while?”

Gavriel nodded, and Althea quickly made her way over. She settled beside Melva at a smaller table, where Melva was already drinking and clearly enjoying herself. When a server passed by, Althea reached out and took a glass as well, joining her.

Melva’s cheeks were already flushed, her laughter coming a little too easily. She lifted her glass with a knowing smile. “To new beginnings,” she said. “And to surviving everything that tried to crush us.”

Althea lifted her own glass, eyes bright. “To surviving,” she echoed happily, then took a generous sip.

Melva froze. “Wait, My Lady, that one is stronger—”

Too late, she drank it all straight.

Althea coughed once, blinked twice, and then her eyes widened in wonder. “Oh,” she said softly. Then she smiled. A slow, crooked, entirely unguarded smile.

Melva stared at her. “Oh no.”

Althea giggled, covering her mouth far too late. “Melva,” she whispered, leaning closer as if sharing a grand secret, “the floor is moving.”

“It is not moving.”

“It is,” Althea insisted seriously. “It is dancing.”

Melva sighed and stood. “That was one glass.”

“One very brave glass,” Althea replied proudly.

By the time Gavriel reached them, summoned by Melva’s urgent look across them, Althea was laughing at a potted plant and waving at it like an old friend.

“She’s had one drink but it was the strongest one,” Melva said with an awkward smile.

Gavriel glanced at the glass on the table, then at Althea swaying gently on her seat. “One,” he repeated.

Althea looked up at him and beamed. “Gavriel,” she said, stretching his name like it was made of silk. “Did you know Melva’s hair is very shiny?”

Melva crossed her arms. “I am standing right here.”

Gavriel rubbed his temple, then sighed in resignation. “All right,” he said calmly. “Celebration is over for you, my love.”

“No,” Althea protested immediately, standing far too fast. She wobbled, then pointed at him. “I am perfectly fine.”

She took one step forward and promptly tipped sideways.

Gavriel caught her easily, arms firm around her waist. “Perfectly fine,” he echoed dryly.

Althea laughed, completely unbothered, then leaned into him. “You smell nice.”

Melva apologetically suggested, “Your Majesty, please take her before she starts declaring war on the furniture.”

Gavriel nodded his thanks and guided Althea away from the tables, but she suddenly planted her feet in the middle of the hall.

“No,” she said stubbornly.

“No?” Gavriel repeated patiently.

She turned around, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Piggyback.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Piggyback,” she repeated, nodding enthusiastically. “Right now.”

Gavriel looked around. Several courtiers had already pretended very hard not to see anything. “Althea.”

“Please,” she added, clasping her hands together. “It’s my dream.”

“You seems to have many dreams.”

“This one is very important,” she insisted solemnly. “I always wanted to be carried like that when I was little. But there was never anyone who would.”

Her voice softened just enough to still him.

Gavriel exhaled, then turned his back to her. “Get on.”

Althea gasped like she had just been given the greatest gift imaginable. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s not the first time anyway,” Gavriel murmured.

She climbed onto his back with surprising enthusiasm, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Faster,” she demanded immediately.

He took a step forward. “This is not a racehorse.”

“Yes it is,” she said confidently. “Run, Gavriel. Like a horse.”

He snorted despite himself and began circling the courtyard at a brisk pace. Althea laughed loudly, hair fluttering as she bounced slightly with each step.

“Faster,” she urged again. “Horses go faster.”

“I am the Alpha King,” he said. “Not a stable animal.”

“You are my horse tonight,” she replied cheerfully.

Snow began to fall without warning. Soft at first, barely noticeable, then thicker, drifting down in slow, gentle spirals.

Althea gasped. “Snow.”

“Hold on,” Gavriel said, slowing to a stop.

She slid off his back and stood there in the center of the courtyard, staring upward as flakes landed on her lashes and hair. She reached out, trying to catch them, laughing when they melted against her palm.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Gavriel watched her quietly. The way she spun once, unsteady but happy. The way she smiled at something as simple as falling snow, like the world had never been cruel to her at all.

He stepped closer, his voice low. “It seems,” he murmured, “that you and I will spend a lifetime discovering things together. Little joys. Small wonders. Things neither of us ever had time for before.”

Althea looked at him, eyes warm and unfocused, then nodded seriously. “I like that.”

She swayed, then yawned. “I’m tired now.”

He smiled. “That was fast.”

“I want to sleep,” she added, pointing at him. “With you.”

Gavriel did not hesitate. He lifted her into his arms, bridal style, her head resting easily against his chest.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “This is even better.”

He carried her through the quiet halls, past flickering torches and sleeping corridors, until they reached their bedchamber. He set her down gently on her feet.

Althea blinked, then frowned at her dress. “This is uncomfortable.”

“I can call a maidservant.”

“No,” she said immediately. She looked up at him, eyes gleaming with mischief again. “You said you were good at undressing.”

He raised a brow, more to steady himself than to tease. “Did I.”

“Yes,” she said with absolute certainty, nodding as if it were a proven fact. “You should prove it now.”