_______
Halan
I paused, my mind weighing the implications. The underground chamber felt heavier, the reddish glow of the torchlight casting long, flickering shadows across the stone walls. Lucina's presence beside me was a quiet anchor; her soft breathing, her calm gaze—it all reminded me that her safety came first.
"Blood…" I repeated, the word tasting strange and serious on my tongue. "You're asking to take some of her blood… to study her powers?" My voice was calm, but beneath it was a tension I could barely suppress.
The alchemist nodded eagerly, leaning forward slightly, as though my hesitation was a challenge to overcome. "Yes, Your Majesty. Only a small sample, I assure you. It would be minimal, harmless… and think of the benefits! The illnesses we could cure, the lives we could save—"
I held up a hand, stopping his rush of words. "I understand the potential benefits. Truly, I do." My gaze shifted to Lucina, who tilted her head slightly, her trust in me evident in the gentle lift of her lips. My heart clenched at the thought of allowing anyone to draw her blood, even for the greater good.
"But her life, her health… and her choice… must come first," I continued firmly. "We cannot risk harming her in any way, no matter how small the sample may be. The moment she feels even the slightest pain or discomfort, the experiment ends immediately."
The alchemist's eyes widened with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Of course, Your Majesty. I will ensure it is perfectly safe. I only wish to study her power to help others."
I nodded slowly, weighing his words carefully. My mind raced through possibilities: the promise of a medicine that could save countless lives, the chance to unlock the mysteries of Lucina's gift—but also the weight of responsibility. This power was hers, and I alone had the duty to protect her from exploitation.
Lucina's hand brushed against mine lightly. I glanced down at her, meeting her trusting gaze, and felt a surge of resolve. "I will allow it," I said finally, my voice firm but gentle. "But under one condition: her safety, and her consent, always come first. No risk to her life or body is acceptable. You follow my instructions exactly, or this research will not proceed at all."
The alchemist bowed deeply, relief and determination shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Your Majesty! I will adhere strictly to your conditions."
I exhaled slowly, glancing back at Lucina. She smiled softly, her calmness giving me the courage I needed. For now, I would protect her while still giving hope to our people—but the weight of that responsibility pressed on me like the heavy stone walls around us.
The underground chamber, once a place of mere curiosity, now felt like the threshold of something far greater: a choice between ambition and protection, discovery and devotion. And I knew, without question, which path I must walk.
---
The weight of the decision still lingered in the air, but for now, there was a fragile sense of agreement. I kept my arm lightly around Lucina, sensing her quiet resolve. Her trust in me—and in the potential good of her power—was unwavering, and that gave me a measure of reassurance.
Gillai, the alchemist, moved swiftly but cautiously, preparing the materials he would need for his research. His hands trembled slightly, a mixture of excitement and reverence at being allowed to study Lucina's gift firsthand. He carefully organized vials, flasks, and delicate instruments, muttering notes to himself under his breath. Every motion was precise, almost ritualistic, as if he understood the responsibility he bore.
Lucina, meanwhile, watched the preparation with a mixture of curiosity and determination. Her hands rested lightly on her rounded middle, and occasionally she traced gentle circles over her stomach, as though silently acknowledging the life growing within her. Even in her composure, a quiet strength radiated from her—a calm that seemed to steady both Gillai and myself.
I stepped back, allowing Lucina the space she had chosen to give. Her gaze met mine, and I nodded ever so slightly. She smiled, a soft, confident smile that eased the tension in my chest. The trust between us was unspoken, but absolute.
Later, when Lucina met with the elder woman in one of the bright palace chambers, the air felt lighter. The Queen Mother's presence brought a warmth that contrasted sharply with the intensity of the underground research space. Her eyes, sharp but kind, fell on Lucina's slightly rounded stomach.
"You're already getting so big," the elder woman remarked, her voice carrying a mixture of surprise and maternal concern.
Lucina's hand instinctively went to her abdomen. "D-do you really think so?" she asked, cheeks tinged with pink.
The Queen Mother's expression grew more serious, as if considering the implications. "Draconian babies grow much more quickly than human babies… so your body will soon feel a lot heavier." She paused, then softened, her gaze shifting. "How have you been feeling?"
Lucina shook her head slightly, but then offered a reassuring nod. "I suffered from really bad morning sickness, but I haven't… had any issues so far."
The elder woman visibly relaxed, letting out a small sigh of relief. "That's good to hear. And you've adapted quickly to the tribe as well," she noted, a small smile returning. "Tayar etiquette can be unfamiliar to outsiders, but you've integrated remarkably fast."
"T-thank you," Lucina replied, her voice quiet and slightly embarrassed at the praise.
The Queen Mother closed the book in her hands with a soft thud. "That's enough for today. I'll be going now."
As Lucina watched her depart, a thoughtful expression crossed her face. Her fingers brushed lightly along the doorframe, and a quiet realization seemed to dawn on her. "Now that I think about it… I feel fine despite being pregnant," she murmured to herself, a faint glimmer of wonder in her eyes. "Is this also thanks to my healing power?"
For a moment, the palace chamber was still, the question hanging gently in the air. It was an unspoken acknowledgment of the potential within her—the gift that could change the lives of countless people if nurtured carefully. And I, standing just behind her, felt both the weight of responsibility and the cautious hope that this power might indeed bring the future we wished for.
The promise of what lay ahead—Gillai's research, the careful unlocking of Lucina's abilities, and the possibility of a medicine that could heal any illness—was as thrilling as it was daunting. But for now, I let Lucina's quiet strength and optimism guide us, knowing that the path forward would require vigilance, care, and unwavering protection.
The room was filled with a mixture of warmth and urgency. Lucina had just recovered from the initial shock of my grand announcement—the promise of a completely new Queen's Palace built just for her—and now her attention was shifting back to the pressing matters of the Tayar Tribe.
She still stood by my side, her fingers lightly brushing mine as I turned to Adar, my aide. The young man had burst in earlier with such frantic energy that it almost seemed the letters themselves had jumped into his hands. His eyes darted from me to Lucina, reflecting both worry and anticipation.
"I'm trying to keep up, Your Majesty!" Adar exclaimed, his voice tight with concern. "We've been waiting for responses from several key leaders, and… they still haven't arrived!"
Lucina frowned, her curiosity piqued by the mix of tension and authority in the room. "What about the letter I sent to the leader of the Cameru Religion? Have you heard anything from them yet?" she asked, leaning over my shoulder, her soft breath brushing the back of my neck.
I glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite the frustration bubbling beneath my calm exterior. "Ah…" Adar began, sheepishly meeting my gaze. "We still haven't received a reply from them either."
Lucina's brow furrowed, the trace of impatience showing in her normally serene features. "I can't believe they still haven't replied. Do they not want to visit the Tayar Tribe?" she muttered, half to herself, half to me.
I let out a small sigh, resting a hand lightly on her head. The weight of responsibility pressed on me, but Lucina's presence was a grounding force. "It seems you've been putting more effort into our state affairs than I have," I teased gently, my warm gaze holding hers. "I should reflect on that. I haven't done that much."
A soft blush rose to her cheeks, and she smiled faintly, the warmth in her expression enough to momentarily ease the tension in the room. "I haven't done that much," she replied, though her eyes sparkled with quiet satisfaction. Even in her modesty, it was clear she understood the weight of her involvement.
Watching her, I realized how quickly she had become indispensable—not just to me, but to the Tayar Tribe itself. Her intuition, her compassion, and her natural ability to understand the needs of others had made her an invaluable partner in governance. And as I held her gaze, I felt the depth of my affection for her swell even further.
The unanswered letters hung in the room like a shadow, a reminder that diplomacy and leadership were never simple, even with the strongest allies at your side. Yet, alongside that tension, there was the undeniable certainty that Lucina's presence made every challenge more bearable, every difficulty lighter to face.
For a moment, I allowed myself a small, private smile. The palace, the letters, the affairs of state—all of it would continue, but with Lucina by my side, I felt certain we could navigate whatever obstacles came next. Her healing power, her insight, her steadfast heart—they were already shaping the future of the Tayar Tribe, whether the world realized it or not.
And in that quiet, fleeting pause between duties and letters, I made an unspoken promise to protect her, to value her, and to ensure that no matter what the weight of the crown or the unanswered letters, she would always be treated as the Queen she deserved to be.
The underground chamber was silent except for the faint hiss of cooling steam rising from the scorched tray. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing off the stone walls like a drum. The vial that had held Lucina's blood now lay empty in my trembling hand, and the blackened remnants of the chemical glimmered faintly under the dim light.
I took a cautious step closer, eyes scanning every inch of the ruined experiment. The reaction—violent, almost sentient in its intensity—had left a residue that defied all conventional chemical understanding. No matter how carefully I had prepared the mixture, Lucina's blood had overridden it entirely, leaving a mark that was both fascinating and terrifying.
My mind raced, trying to piece together what I had just witnessed. Lucina was Baron Velk's illegitimate child, yes, but this reaction suggested a lineage far more complex than mere noble bloodlines. Something ancient, wild, and untamed coursed through her veins. Her healing ability was no ordinary gift—it was a force that actively reshaped its environment, unpredictable yet undeniably powerful.
I knelt beside the tray, carefully collecting a small sample of the blackened particles. Even these remnants seemed to hum with latent energy, as though the very essence of her power had imprinted itself onto the chemical. Every instinct in me screamed to proceed with caution. One wrong step, and I could destroy the experiment entirely—or worse, put myself in danger.
A wave of excitement mixed with dread coursed through me. If Lucina's power could be harnessed safely, the implications were staggering: a medicine that could heal any illness, the ability to imbue others with healing powers, or even neutralize contagions throughout the Tayar Tribe. But the volatility of the reaction reminded me that this was not a simple task. The potential for catastrophe was real.
I wiped my sweaty hands on my robe, trying to steady my breathing. My next move had to be precise. I could not afford to rush, nor could I allow curiosity to outweigh caution. Lucina's blood was not merely a sample; it was a living force, and I had only scratched the surface of its potential.
Leaning over the tray again, I murmured to myself, "This… this isn't just a chemical reaction. It's a glimpse of something far greater." The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Every precaution, every calculation, would have to be meticulously planned from this point forward.
I straightened up, my eyes flicking toward the sealed doors of the chamber. The enormity of what I had just witnessed pressed on me like a weight, but beneath it, a spark of determination ignited. This discovery—though unexpected and uncontrollable—was the key to understanding Lucina's power, and I would not squander the chance.
Slowly, I reached for my notebook, quill poised over the first blank page. I had to document everything: the reaction, the intensity, the residue. Every detail mattered. The process might be dangerous, but it was the only way to unlock the mysteries hidden in her blood, the path toward a healing force unlike any the world had ever seen.
And yet, even as I prepared to continue, a small, nagging thought crept into my mind: could such power, if misunderstood or misused, threaten more than it healed? The answer was unclear, but one thing was certain—Lucina's gift was unlike anything the Tayar Tribe had ever encountered.