Accidentally Mated To Four Alphas-Chapter 243: _ Siblings, Unite

"Daphne..."

"No. I’m serious." Daphne is pacing now, hands in her hair. "He said you’re not elegant? Babe, you literally move like a princess on a runway when you’re not spiraling. And even when you are spiraling, it’s cute. And he has the audacity—THE AUDACITY—to open his crusty mouth and talk down on you? Nah. I’m sending him to jail! Prison. Straight to exile."

Isolde can’t help it—she giggles. Like a small, broken, slightly hysterical bubble of sound. "Daph, stop."

"Stop? I haven’t even started!" Daphne whirls around, fuming. "He’s been going out with me, knowing damn well you’re his mate? That’s already unforgivable. But then to disrespect you on top of it?"

Isolde bites her lip to hide another laugh. Daphne looks like she’s about to shift just to run someone over.

"I’m going to kick his ass," Daphne announces.

"NO..." Isolde grabs her wrist before she can storm to the door. "Daph, please—no, no violence—"

"He deserves VIOLENCE."

"Okay but—no."

"Yes!"

"No."

"ISOLDE LET GO OF ME."

Isolde is laughing now, full-bodied, teary-eyed laughter that shakes her shoulders. "You can’t fight him!"

"Watch me!"

"He’s the Beta’s son!"

"HE CAN BE THE GODDESS’S CHOSEN SON, I DON’T CARE."

Isolde is practically doubled over at this point. Daphne keeps trying to escape her grip like an angry cat, swatting the air dramatically.

Eventually, Daphne stops struggling and just... deflates, collapsing onto Isolde’s shoulder with a dramatic groan. "Ugh. I hate him. I hate all men."

Isolde wheezes. "That’s fair."

Daphne pulls back, cheeks pink, but a tiny smile forming. "You know I love you, right? No guy—especially not some half-brained, too-tall, thinks-he’s-charming Nash gets to make you feel small."

"I know," Isolde whispers.

And she does. For the first time in a long time, she truly does.

Daphne nudges her gently. "If anyone says you’re not elegant again, I’ll scratch their eyes out."

Isolde laughs again, softer this time. "Okay, maybe not that."

"No promises."

The sisters stare at each other, both smiling through the leftover tears, both exhausted, both relieved. The kind of relief that feels like shedding a boulder that’s been strapped to your spine.

Isolde presses her forehead to Daphne’s. "Thank you."

Daphne squeezes her hand. "Always."

They sit there like that for a moment; two sisters in a quiet room, bruised by truth but holding each other through it.

Then Daphne sighs dramatically. "Still want to let me go punch him?"

"No."

"Coward."

Isolde laughs again, pushing her lightly, and Daphne finally cracks a grin. The tension breaks. The sisters breathe. Then Daphne flops onto the bed, still chuckling, and gestures toward Isolde.

"Okay, fine. You win. But seriously, I can’t believe he actually said that about you. About you!"

Isolde flops down beside her, letting herself relax into the softness of the covers. Her chest still feels tight, but the laughter has peeled away some of the tension, if only slightly. She shakes her head with a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "I know. Honestly, I shouldn’t have let it get to me either. But hearing it from Amias, from you... it’s... it hits differently."

Daphne scoots closer, grabbing Isolde’s hand. "Listen to me, okay? Never ever think you’re less than anyone else. Not because of what Nash thinks. Not because of anything he or his friends say. You are... you’re brilliant, Isolde. Sophisticated, clever, graceful. And honestly?" She tilts her head, smirking through her concern. "I get jealous of you sometimes. You don’t care about appearances. You just... are. Meanwhile, I’m over here, bright colors, hair in a mess, thinking people will like me for how flashy I am."

Isolde blinks, the words sinking in. She feels the lump in her throat grow, but this time it’s not fear or guilt... It’s warmth. Daphne’s honesty and care feel like a reality check she didn’t know she needed. Her shoulders relax, and the weight she’s been carrying begins to evaporate.

"You really mean that?" she whispers.

"Of course I mean it," Daphne squeaks, squeezing her hand. "Stop thinking I’m better than you just because I wear a ridiculous pink dress or laugh too loudly. You... you have so much more depth than anyone gives you credit for. And if anyone’s blind enough not to see it—like Nash, then screw them. Seriously."

Isolde swallows, a small laugh escaping despite the emotion building in her chest. "I... I think I needed to hear that more than I realized."

Daphne nudges her with an elbow, grinning. "Good. Because you’re amazing. And I don’t want my sister feeling small, okay? You’re worth a million times more than what anyone says about you."

Isolde’s eyes prick with tears, not just from relief but from the sheer love and acceptance radiating from Daphne. She’d been worried this might create a rift among them, hence, her silence. However, their mother might be a lot, but she didn’t teach them only to follow the rules and remain well-behaved—she taught them to love one another, and with that, she ate.

Isolde pulls her sister into a tight hug, and for the first time, she lets herself cry freely. Daphne wraps her arms around Isolde, holding her just as tightly, her own tears mingling with her sister’s.

They stay like that for a long while, clinging to each other, breathing together, letting the shared vulnerability knit them closer. The earlier tension, the rehearsals, the guilt—all of it seems to dissipate, replaced by this fragile but solid sense of safety.

Finally, Isolde pulls back slightly, wiping at her cheeks. "I... I think I can face things now. With you."

Daphne sniffs, smiling through her own tears. "Good. Because we’re in this together, always. You don’t have to carry anything alone, not anymore. You’ll go to Nash and give him a piece of your mind. Do not be intimidated by anyone, okay?"

Isolde nods, feeling a swell of confidence she hasn’t felt in months. "I... I promise I won’t."

They continue to apologize profusely to each other until Darien walks in on them and then, Isolde knows she has to break the news to him... something which he takes better than she had expected.

Perhaps, it is because she’s also known what it means to be fated, but Isolde finds herself understanding Darien’s rapid change in personality and his willingness to stand by his mate despite being the most indifferent when it came to women in the past... Or the fact that she’s not only fated to him, but three others who are his brothers, not to say.

And when he threw the ball at Daphne, asking her if she’s also willing to accept Heidi for his sake, Isolde expected Daphne’s outburst. However, she didn’t imagine it’d be this intense.

She called the poor girl ’cursed’... damn.

Darien’s voice is steady, but the weight behind his words makes Isolde’s chest tighten. "Heidi is kind. She is smart. She’s strong in ways you don’t understand yet. The goddess gave her grace and resilience even after everything she’s been through. She has more strength in her pinky finger than half the pack has in their whole bodies."

Isolde nods quietly beside him. She can’t help it. It’s true. She hadn’t been sure about Heidi at first, but seeing her now, seeing the way she carries herself despite everything, she finally understands why the goddess chose her.

Daphne paces in front of them, hands tangled in her hair. "I just... I don’t know how I’m supposed to accept that she’s mated to all of you. Darien, you, Grayson, Morgan, Amias... how is that normal? How is that fair? How is that anything but chaotic?"

Darien shrugs calmly. "That’s for us to figure out. Not you."

Then his tone softens, and Isolde leans in slightly, listening. "What I need from you, I mean, the ultimate bare minimum, is to give her a chance. Because every time you attack her, or insult her, or mock her... you’re hurting me. And Morgan. And Gray. And Amias."

The words land hard. She watches Daphne’s mouth part, the color draining slightly as the reality of what he’s saying hits her. Then, almost instantly, her sister’s eyes well up.

"I would never hurt you," Daphne whispers, slowly shaking her head.

"But you are," Darien argues. "Every time you throw cruel words at her, every time you glare at her like you might tear her apart, when you whisper behind her back. That all hits me too."

And like someone pressed a button labeled MELTDOWN, Daphne collapses into sobs. Ugly, loud, messy sobs that make Isolde wince, but also pull her heart tightly.

Before she can react, Darien sweeps her into his arms. She clings to him, drowning in emotion, and Isolde realizes she’s frozen beside them, unsure where to put herself. She feels Darien’s hand brush against her shoulder as he steadies them both

"I didn’t... hic... I didn’t know... hic... You felt like that!" Daphne hiccups between sobs, her head tucked against him.

Darien smooths a hand over her hair, trying not to smile at her dramatic breakdown. "Yeah. Well. Now you know."

"I’m sorry," she wails.

"I know," he says simply.