Secret Son of The Dragon Lord

Princess Evelynn had always known her life would be dictated by duty, but nothing could have prepared her for the overwhelming reality of what awaited her in the Dragon Kingdom. As the carriage rattled over the rocky terrain, she sat rigidly, her fingers clutching the edges of her gown. The silk pooled around her legs like a shroud, a constant reminder of her fate. The air outside was heavy, thick with mist, and the towering peaks of the kingdom loomed ominously in the distance, jagged and unforgiving like the destiny she had been bound to.

Her heartbeat was steady, yet her skin tingled with a mixture of fear and anticipation that she couldn’t quite shake. She had heard the stories—the whispers that haunted every corner of the kingdom. They called him the Dragon Lord—a creature of myth and legend, cursed with a power so dangerous that even the gods feared it. A man who had long since ceased to be human, consumed by his dragon's blood. The curse that bound him was not only his burden but the very thing that could destroy everything in its path—including the woman he was destined to love.

Tonight, she would become his bride. A forced union to end a centuries-old war. Her kingdom had sacrificed her as a means to secure peace, to bind their fates to a king who could obliterate them all with a single touch.

Her gaze drifted to the window, the mist outside swirling like ghosts in the night. The carriage jolted over a particularly rough patch of ground, sending a ripple of discomfort through her, but she couldn’t look away. The moon cast pale light on the landscape, but it did nothing to calm the dread swirling in her chest. She wondered what awaited her at the end of this journey. Was it an end, or merely the beginning of a darker fate?

Her thoughts spiraled, torn between the promises of peace and the overwhelming fear of what might be. The Dragon Lord—the monster, the king, the man—who was the source of her kingdom’s torment. If she could only bring herself to believe the rumors, the whispers of terror. But she couldn't. She had met men like him before—powerful, dark, and broken. Still, none of them had ever possessed the depth of torment that lay beneath this man’s fabled rage. A rage that could consume a kingdom, a love, or even a life.

The reality of it hit her hard—she wasn’t here to be a queen. No. She was here to be a sacrifice. The price of peace. Bound to a man whose very love could tear apart the world. The prophecy had foretold it, and now Evelynn was the bride to an ancient curse.

Her hands clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms as though she could somehow squeeze away the panic bubbling beneath the surface.

“This is for peace,” she whispered to herself, trying to steady her nerves. “For my kingdom. For the future.”

But her words fell flat in the silence of the carriage. No amount of whispered reassurances could quiet the rising fear in her chest. Nothing could prepare her for the moment when she would meet the Dragon Lord face to face.

The carriage suddenly lurched to a halt, shaking her from her thoughts. Her pulse quickened, heart hammering in her chest as the air inside the carriage turned cold, almost suffocating. The door swung open with a heavy creak, and Evelynn hesitated before stepping out into the frigid night air. She drew in a deep breath, steeling herself for the moment she knew would change everything.

The castle loomed before her, a dark fortress carved into the very mountain as though it had grown from the rock itself. Its spires reached toward the heavens, piercing the starless night sky. The stones were black as coal, cold and unyielding, much like the man who ruled here. Blue flames flickered from the torches lining the path, their unnatural glow casting an eerie light over the stone courtyard, making everything appear otherworldly.

And there, at the entrance of the castle, stood the man who would be her husband. The Dragon Lord himself.

King Darius.

His figure was impossibly tall, almost unnatural in its proportions, and as he stepped forward, his cloak billowed behind him like a dark stormcloud. His face was sharp, the angles of his jaw like something forged from stone, and his crimson eyes gleamed with an intensity that made her stomach tighten.

“Princess Evelynn,” his voice rumbled, low and dark, like the crackling of embers in a dying fire. “You’ve finally arrived.”