Substitute Marriage: Awakening The Dragon King

Genevieve POV:

"By the decree of the Dragon King, Genevieve Ellis, shall be bound in matrimony to the Fourth Lord, Jonah Montgomery, and the second daughter, Blaire Cruz, shall be wedded to the Sixth Lord, Bronson Montgomery. "

The Royal Messenger stood in the center of the great hall, his voice echoing against the stone walls lined with heavy dragonscale tapestries. The golden Dragonfire shimmering across the surface of the parchment flared brightly, confirming the absolute authority of the crown.

I stood motionless near the edge of the hall. The cold dragon core flooring seeped its chill through the thin soles of my plain shoes, a silent reminder of my place in this house as a dragonless ward. My blood carried no heat, no flame that the Cruz family could exploit.

It took a moment for the hazy fog in my mind to clear.

I was actually reborn.

After ruling the Dragon Court as the Supreme Queen Regent for fifty years, commanding absolute authority and living a full life until my natural death, I had somehow returned to the very day the royal marriage edict was decreed.

The tapestry of fate was truly a fickle, wondrous thing.

"Absolutely not! The Sixth Lord has neither power nor backing. His draconic lineage is practically mud! How can we possibly marry Blaire off to him?" Eleanor Cruz, my nominal mother stood in the center of the great hall, her voice shrill with fierce opposition. "I will never agree to this!"

Through the echoing stone arches, I listened in silence. Bronson Montgomery, the Sixth Lord. His mother was a lowly dancer with no scale-lineage to speak of. No one in the High Council paid him any mind, and the Dragon King loathed him so deeply he had practically forgotten the boy existed. Yet, the King had issued an edict to marry Blaire to him? Of course Eleanor would violently refuse.

My nominal father Lord Alistair Cruz remained silent, but the oppressive aura of his half-dragon bloodline washed over the room, heavy enough to crush the lungs of any ordinary commoner. In my previous life, that aura would have forced me to my knees. Now, having worn the Crown and wielded true draconic authority for half a century, his meager display of dominance barely felt like a passing draft.

"This is the Dragon King's decree. No one can defy it," Alistair finally spoke, rubbing his temples as he watched his wife's frantic pacing. "It is true that the Sixth Lord lacks power and prestige, but his physical constitution is sound. If Blaire marries him, she can stay far away from the bloodbath over the Crown. She will live the rest of her life in peace. On the other hand, look at the Fourth Lord. He may have the King's favor, but he is bedridden year-round, his scales supposedly rotting away from the cold poison. Do you really want to marry Blaire off to a dying invalid?"

I watched them from the shadows, a faint, cynical smile touching my lips. Alistair's logic was sound, yet terribly shortsighted. He saw only the immediate survival of his precious biological daughter, completely disregarding the fact that the "dying invalid" he so easily dismissed had once been the fiercest dragonrider in the realm.

Eleanor's eyes were rimmed with red. "Neither the Fourth Lord nor the Sixth Lord are worthy matches! Why must I choose at all? With the pure bloodline and noble standing of House Cruz, Blaire is more than qualified to marry the Crown Prince himself-"

"Silence!" Alistair slammed his heavy iron goblet down onto the table, his face darkening with a draconian scowl. "It is precisely because House Cruz holds such immense power. The Dragon King fears the wyvern legions I command! That is exactly why he decreed that both our daughters must marry Lords who have absolutely no chance of claiming the throne. The royal edict is already sealed. You have no choice!"

He was right, of course. The Dragon King's paranoia was legendary. As a ruler who had later navigated those exact same treacherous waters, I knew all too well how a monarch dealt with a general whose military might grew too vast. House Cruz was a threat that needed clipping. My adopted parents were nothing more than pieces on a board they couldn't even fully comprehend.

Eleanor walked over to a high-backed chair and sank into it, her face twisted with bitter resentment. "And how is Blaire at fault for any of this? You spilled your blood on the battlefields, slaughtered countless enemies for this empire, all so you couldn't even have a say in your own daughter's marriage? If I had known it would come to this, why did you ever risk your life in the first place?"

Alistair's brow furrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. "How can you spout such reckless words? If the wrong ears were to catch wind of that treason, House Cruz would be burned to ash by dragonfire!"

I shifted my weight against the stone pillar, idly examining my uncalloused hands. They were so young again. While they bickered over their daughter's fate, my own destiny-as the other half of this forced royal arrangement-was merely an afterthought to them. If Blaire took the Fourth Lord, the Sixth would fall to me. Not that I cared. Whichever Montgomery brother I ended up with, I had the ruthless experience of fifty years of rulership to ensure I would not only survive, but thrive.

Eleanor was clearly still unwilling, but utterly helpless against the crushing weight of the throne. "If we absolutely must choose one... then Blaire should marry the Fourth Lord. Even if his dragon core is shattered and he has no ties to the succession, he still holds the Dragon King's deepest affections-"

"Mother." A young woman in an elegant rose-silk gown suddenly swept into the hall, her voice sharp as she hurriedly interrupted Eleanor's lament. "I want to marry the Sixth Lord."

My gaze snapped toward the doorway.

Eleanor's voice caught in her throat. She whipped her head around, staring at her biological daughter, my nominal sister in sheer disbelief. "Blaire, you... what did you just say?"

I stared at Blaire, my mind racing. The Sixth Lord? In my previous life, she had eagerly taken the Fourth Lord to bask in the King's remaining favor. For her to suddenly choose the disgraced, impoverished Sixth Lord now...

My eyes narrowed. Was I not the only one who had returned to the past?

Genevieve POV:

"I am willing to marry the Sixth Lord." Blaire curtsied gracefully before our father, Alistair, the formidable commander of the wyvern legions. She rose, her face flushed with a strange, feverish zeal.

"Father, I had a vision last night. I dreamt that the Sixth Lord ascended to the high throne as the new Dragon King, ruling over the realm. I was by his side, crowned as his Queen, bathed in boundless glory. And when I woke, the royal decree of marriage had actually arrived at our gates... Father, Mother, this must be a prophecy granted by the Dragon Gods. You must let me take the Sixth Lord's hand."

"Silence, Blaire!" Alistair snapped, his face darkening like a thunderhead. "How dare you spout such treasonous absurdities? Do you wish to bring ruin upon our house?"

Eleanor stared at her biological daughter in horror, as if Blaire had been possessed by a night-demon.

Bronson Montgomery, the Sixth Lord? His dragon blood was notoriously impure, his aura so weak that even the lowest eunuchs in the royal court sneered at his existence. The idea of him claiming the Dragon King's crown was sheer lunacy.

"That is simply impossible," Eleanor muttered, instinctively shaking her head. "How can you stake your future on a mere dream? If you choose the wrong consort, your life will be entirely destroyed..."

"It is true, Mother!" Blaire whined, clinging to Eleanor's arm and swaying it with practiced petulance. "Just indulge me this once! Bronson is healthy and hale-with his dragon-line, nothing is impossible. His lack of royal favor is merely a façade. He harbors formidable power in the shadows. If Father lends him the might of the wyvern legions, he will undoubtedly claim the supreme throne!"

After uttering those bold claims, she looked at Alistair with desperate, pleading eyes.

Standing quietly in the shadows of the parlor, I watched Blaire's performance with cold detachment.

I had heard her feverish whispers to her handmaidens recently-delirious ramblings about a 'past life,' about how I had once ridden the coattails of power to wear the Dragon Crown, and how she was now destined to steal my rightful glory.

She genuinely believed she had been reborn with the divine foresight to alter our destinies.

She thought she was so clever, intercepting my betrothal to Bronson. She believed he was a hidden jewel, and that by marrying him, she would secure a lifetime of sovereign power. Conversely, she intended to push Jonah Montgomery onto me.

To Blaire, the Fourth Lord was nothing but a dying exile, a man whose marrow was being eaten away by the cold poison of dragonsbane, destined to be utterly crushed by Queen Corrin Frazier. She wanted me to suffer the wrath of the Queen's cruel matrons, to be the one forced to walk barefoot over red-hot iron grates on my wedding day like her last life.

Let her believe her delusions. She was utterly blind.

Blaire saw only the illusion of power. She didn't know that Bronson's so-called 'hidden strength' was hollow, a fragile house of cards waiting to burn without my intellect to guide him.

Nor did she realize that the coughing, blood-spitting Jonah was no discarded cripple. Beneath that sickly veneer lay a Golden True Dragon whose soul had already reached the pinnacle of awakening. He was biding his time in the shadows, nursing a bitter blood feud for his murdered mother.

And I, bearing the lost ancestral flames of dragon-healing, was more than willing to be the one to hand him the sharpest blade.

Alistair scrutinized his daughter's expectant face, his brow furrowing deeply. "Blaire, are you truly certain you wish to wed the Sixth Lord?"

She nodded emphatically, her eyes burning with greedy ambition. "I am certain. I will marry none other."

"Very well. Then you shall both wait peacefully in your chambers until the wedding day," Alistair said. I didn't miss the subtle sigh of relief that escaped his lips.

He was secretly glad he wouldn't have to sacrifice his precious trueborn daughter to a dying prince. He turned to his wife with a stern warning. "The dowries for both daughters must be strictly equal. Do not dare to slight Genevieve. Do not forget, she is marrying the Fourth Lord, whom the Dragon King outwardly cherishes most."

Though clearly disgruntled, Eleanor forced a nod of compliance.

I maintained my silence, my face a mask of placid obedience. To Eleanor, I was nothing more than a stray cur she had picked up outside a temple when she thought she was barren.

I was the 'dragon-less' foundling with no warmth of the ancestral soul, kept around only until she miraculously conceived her precious Blaire a year later.

Once I outlived my purpose as a good-luck charm, she had banished me to a forgotten courtyard, out of sight and out of mind.

She had no idea that the blood of the ancestral Dragon Gods flowed pure through my veins. Let them coddle their vanity and their foolish dreams of supremacy.

Fate had arranged for our weddings to fall upon the very same day, and I couldn't wait to see the ashes Blaire's stolen 'prophecy' would eventually turn into.

Genevieve POV:

To the world, I was nothing but a "dragonless" outcast, an adopted orphan completely devoid of draconic warmth. I was confined to the decrepit shadow of the estate, despised by the legitimate matriarch. Yet, none of them knew that the supreme, ancient Dragon God bloodline pulsed beneath my skin, granting me senses far beyond their mundane comprehension.

Through the chilling wind, their voices drifted from the stone pathway leading to the inner courtyard, clear as day.

"Blaire, just because of a dream, you want to marry that lowborn Sixth Lord?" Eleanor Cruz's voice was laced with deep concern as she held her daughter's hand. "I truly feel this is a mistake. As long as you are willing, I can swap your carriage with Genevieve's on the day of the wedding..."

"Mother." Blaire Cruz stopped in her tracks, her tone uncharacteristically resolute. "It wasn't just a dream. It was a prophecy of fate. Just like how I woke up today and immediately knew the Dragon King would send the royal decree of marriage. These are absolute, undeniable truths."

Eleanor sounded torn. "But I simply cannot fathom what extraordinary abilities the Sixth Lord possesses..."

"His lowly birth is his greatest camouflage," Blaire replied, a profound, almost arrogant amusement in her voice. "The Fourth Lord, Jonah Montgomery, on the other hand, has always been a thorn in Queen Corrin Frazier's side. If I were to marry him, my life would be a living hell in the Dragon Court."

I heard Eleanor sigh, a sound of reluctant surrender. "Since your mind is made up, I will support you. But once married, you must watch your words. If the Sixth Lord is truly hiding his power, you must pretend ignorance and never draw attention to it, understand?"

"Rest assured, Mother."

Only after finalizing their little conspiracy did they bother to send a servant to my quarters. In this grand estate, no one gave a damn about me. Why would anyone care about the fate of an insignificant, unloved ward?

Shortly after, a maidservant named Chloe Hicks stood before me.

"So, she actually wants to marry the Sixth Lord of her own accord?" I asked, looking at the girl with feigned surprise. "Lord Bronson's standing is notoriously abysmal. Is my sister truly willing to lower herself?"

Whether Chloe was genuinely naive or just eager to gloat, she smiled brightly. "The Second Lady said she had a vision-a dream that the Sixth Lord is the true destined ruler chosen by the dragon spirits. So..."

"Chloe!" A sharp, furious voice cut through the air outside my door. "What absolute nonsense are you spewing in front of my eldest sister? Do you want me to slap you into silence?"

Chloe's face went pale. She spun around as Blaire swept into the room, immediately bowing her head. "I beg your pardon, my lady. My tongue slipped. I was just too thrilled for you."

"Get out."

"Yes, my lady."

Blaire walked over and gracefully took a seat by my divan, looking at me with a perfectly crafted expression of helpless exasperation.

"Don't listen to that wretched girl's babbling, Sister. The Dragon King's edict simply stated that you are to be wed to the Fourth Lord, and I to the Sixth Lord. It has absolutely nothing to do with any dreams."

I remained silent, but a violent storm of realization surged within my chest.

Has Blaire returned from the past, just as I have?

In our previous life, the moment Blaire heard the marriage decree, she threw a massive, hysterical tantrum, violently refusing to marry Bronson Montgomery.

She even forced Alistair Cruz to go before the Dragon King and beg him to retract the edict.

She wanted neither the Fourth Lord nor the Sixth. It wasn't until Lord Alistair exploded in rage, warning her that defying a draconic decree meant total annihilation for our house, that she reluctantly accepted the situation-only to secretly swap our bridal carriages on the day of the ceremony.

Ultimately, it was I who married the Sixth Lord, Bronson.

Yet today, upon hearing the exact same decree, Blaire was practically giddy. She showed zero resistance. It was glaringly obvious: she had lived through the previous timeline. She knew Bronson would eventually ascend to the supreme throne, so she decided to intercept my fate and marry him herself.

A cold, mocking sneer curled the corners of my mind.

Among all the dragon-blooded royals, Bronson's situation was by far the most pathetic. He wasn't even granted his own manor until after the marriage decree.

In the palace, his draconic aura was so weak and his status so despised that even the lowest scale-scrubbers and castle servants sneered at him. No daughter of the noble houses, not even a minor baron's child, would willingly wed him.

But a royal decree left the Cruz family with no room for defiance.

Fortunately, I was a woman of relentless ambition and meticulous calculation. No matter how deep the abyss, I never wallowed in self-pity; carving out my own path to power was my deepest instinct.

So, I had made the best of it.

I used every ounce of my hidden draconic healing arts and ruthless political acumen to pave Bronson's bloodstained path to the crown. In return, he swore upon his very dragon soul that we would be the sole ruling pair for a lifetime.

But when Bronson finally dragged his mediocre, heavily compromised self onto the supreme seat of the Dragon King... he conveniently forgot every vow.

The moment I became pregnant, he claimed I needed rest. He began bedding the palace maids, then used every political excuse imaginable to fill his harem, utterly trampling our sacred pact. He even allowed those garish, power-hungry concubines to parade their inferior scales in front of me, flaunting their temporary favor.

I never had the patience to play his petty, degrading harem games.

Since the king had forsaken his honor, I was done with him. A Dragon Queen obviously couldn't legally divorce her husband under the ancient laws.

But I could certainly arrange for the Dragon King to meet a sudden, agonizing demise.