Silent Crown: The Masked Prince's Bride-Chapter 303: To Negotiate

Lorraine gently patted Leroy’s shoulder, a silent plea for restraint. Judging by the glint in his amber eyes, she knew exactly what he was thinking. He wanted to keep going, to irritate that sanctimonious demigod until the great lizard combusted from sheer indignation.

Leroy was decidedly not pleased. Predictably, instead of backing off, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, a quiet act of defiance disguised as affection.

"We have to find a way out," he muttered, his voice still low, still simmering with the aftertaste of that kiss.

Lorraine exhaled, glancing around the cavern. The only light came from the dim glow of dragonfire reflecting off the stone, the way they’d fallen in was already swallowed by shadow. Night was creeping in fast, and the thought of being trapped underground while the dark pressed in from all sides made her chest tighten.

She wanted to go home. To their small, unimpressive cottage, the one that always smelled like woodsmoke and half-burnt stew, where the roof creaked when it rained and Leroy’s laughter filled the cracks in the walls.

Leroy picked up a fallen branch still smoldering from Vaeronyx’s flame. The emberlight danced across his face as he moved to the edge of the cavern. "There’s a tunnel here," he called, crouching to inspect it.

When he turned back, his expression softened. He crossed the short distance, slipped his coat from his shoulders, and draped it around her. "Wait here for me, Mouseling," he murmured, his lips brushing her hair. A gentle kiss followed, fleeting, but enough to leave warmth lingering on her skin.

Lorraine watched Leroy disappear into the tunnel, his silhouette shrinking until the flicker of the torchlight swallowed him whole. The faint echo of his footsteps faded soon after, leaving behind a silence that felt much heavier than before.

Lorraine sat back against the wall, pulling the coat tighter. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

And then... there it was again... that stare. That massive, unblinking, judging stare that could melt iron faster than his fire.

Lorraine exhaled through her nose, slow and patient. "You could stop staring, Your Supreme Majesty," she muttered.

Vaeronyx didn’t even blink. His massive head rested on his claws, eyes glowing like twin suns in the dark. "I am merely observing," he said, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating through the stone walls.

"Observing?" Lorraine raised an eyebrow. "You look like you’re trying to decide if I’d make a good snack."

The dragon’s nostrils flared, a sound suspiciously close to a scoff. "Do not flatter yourself, daughter of men. I have no appetite for insolent mortals."

Lorraine crossed her arms. "Then stop watching me like I’m going to break something sacred."

"You already did," Vaeronyx said dryly. "My peace."

She stared at him for a long moment, then laughed under her breath. "You really are lonely, aren’t you?"

The dragon’s gaze snapped to her. "Mind your words."

Lorraine tilted her head, not at all cowed. "Oh, I am. You just don’t like them because they’re true."

A puff of smoke escaped him, not angry this time, more like the exhale of someone too proud to admit he’d been seen through. His claws flexed, scraping faintly against the stone.

For a moment, neither spoke. The fire between them crackled softly, the only sound in the vast cavern.

Lorraine rested her hands on her knees, glancing at the faint glow of the tunnel Leroy had taken. Her voice softened. "You know... when he’s gone, the silence feels strange. Too big. Too empty. Maybe that’s what it’s like for you, too."

The dragon didn’t answer, but his tail shifted in a slow, deliberate movement that sent a faint gust toward her.

She smiled faintly. "Thought so."

It had been centuries since his wife had left him, since death had parted them. For an immortal, powerful, and eternal, to lose the one person who had seen him beyond the crown, the claws, the godhood... that wound would never heal.

Then, louder, she added with a half-smile, "Don’t worry. I’m not going to kiss him again in front of you. You can relax your divine outrage."

Vaeronyx grumbled, muttering something about insolent mortals and their shameless tongues. But Lorraine caught it this time, a trace of warmth beneath the growl, faint, buried, but real.

As she watched him, something stirred deep inside her chest, a pull so strong it felt as though someone was tugging at the very roots of her soul. She closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath.

She knew what that feeling was.

It was her. The Swan Oracle.

Lorraine had never known where the Oracle’s spirit was trapped, only that the only way she could glimpse the mortal world again was through Lorraine’s body. And she had promised Lorraine not to take control, to stay quiet, to let her live freely. The Oracle had kept her word. Ever since they came to the mountains, Lorraine hadn’t even felt her presence, no whisper, no echo, nothing.

Now she understood why.

The Oracle had stayed away because she had sensed him. Her husband. The love she had lost. The one who still mourned her after centuries. The one still waiting to be reunited with her in some heaven that never came. She had stayed silent because she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her promise once he was near. One look at him, and she would break.

And now, seeing the Great Dragon King right in front of her, his sorrow so visible even in his divine composure, a thought crept into Lorraine’s mind.

What if I let her take control?

What if she allowed them to reunite, just for a moment? They deserved that much, didn’t they? After all these centuries? She knew what the pain of separation was. She was away from Leroy for mere years and she couldn’t bear it. How would they feel after not seeing each other for centuries? Shouldn’t she help them, since she could?

It was something she could do. She had the power to grant that mercy.

But...

Her heart lurched as she remembered.

Leroy.

Her husband had made her promise never to let the Oracle take over her body. And she had agreed, knowing it wasn’t a simple promise, it was a safeguard. If the Oracle and her husband met again, would they be able to let go? Two demigods, bound by love older than time, reunited after centuries... could a mere mortal like her ever take back control?

No. She couldn’t risk it. She wouldn’t.

Lorraine’s chest ached with guilt, but she forced herself to stay still. She wanted to be kind. But she also wanted to live.

And she couldn’t bear to lose Leroy.

Lorraine had never been the kind-hearted sort who’d sacrifice herself for the world’s sake, but when it came to Leroy, her selfishness ran deep. Every heartbeat, every choice, every sin... he was the reason.

And right now, he stood on the edge of war. An army had already been sent against him. She could feel the storm gathering, heavy and inevitable. If she didn’t act, he would be swallowed whole.

Leroy wouldn’t be left alone for long; he couldn’t afford to be. He needed to take back what was his: his kingdom, his throne, his birthright stolen by deceit and drought. And for that to happen...

She needed to understand why Vaeronyx had awakened.

If the Oracle had left prophecies for the ages, surely she had left something for her husband as well. A message, a warning, a command. Something meant for when he rose again.

Lorraine wanted to know what that was, but she hesitated.

What if Vaeronyx realized that the Oracle’s soul lived within her? What if he demanded to see her—his wife—and refused to take no for an answer? What if he forced her to release the Oracle’s spirit?

No. She couldn’t risk it.

So she masked her thoughts behind calm curiosity and asked instead, "You were sleeping till now? Do you know what’s happened in all the centuries you’ve been gone?"

Vaeronyx’s silence was heavy, a thundercloud waiting to break. The light in his eyes dimmed, gold sinking into shadow.

"What happened is of no significance," he said finally, his voice like stone cracking under time. "Had you not disturbed me, I would have gladly continued my slumber for a few more centuries."

Lorraine’s hands fisted at her sides. "This is what the Great Dragon King has become?" she said coldly. "The guardian of an ancient realm, the god who once protected the balance of nations, content to sleep while his world burns?"

For the first time, his gaze flared, no longer dull, but furious. His nostrils flared, smoke curling from his breath. "Careful, mortal," he rumbled.

But Lorraine didn’t flinch. She’d faced kings, armies, and curses. A dragon’s wrath was no different.

She stepped forward, her voice steady. "You were born to protect this land. You and your kind were the balance. The river has been stolen, the kingdoms torn apart, and you—of all beings—choose to do nothing?"

His golden scales shimmered faintly in the firelight, each exhale seething with restrained fury. "I am in no mood to help mortals," he said. "Why should I aid those who slaughtered my kin and hunted my bloodline as if we were monsters? We offered peace once, and they repaid it with blades."

Lorraine pressed her lips together. His words were fair, but not final.