________
Lucina
"WHAT?!" The shadowy figure's voice echoed from the doorway, sharp and commanding. I flinched, my stomach twisting into tight knots. The sheer volume of it made me stumble slightly, but I caught myself, gripping the edge of the table beside me.
"ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU STILL HAVEN'T SPENT THE NIGHT TOGETHER YET?"
My cheeks burned hot, the flush spreading down my neck. I stammered, words tangled in my throat. "Y-yes… I… I was too drunk last time…"
The dark-haired woman standing beside me froze, her eyes wide, disbelief etched into every line of her face. "I THOUGHT YOU HAD ALREADY SPENT THE NIGHT WITH HIM…"
I forced a reassuring smile, though my chest fluttered violently as if it wanted to leap right out. I gently took her hand in mine, squeezing softly. "YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME. I'LL BE FINE… EVEN IF I DO SPEND THE NIGHT WITH HIM."
Her gaze softened, and after a brief pause, she gave a nod—a small, almost shy acknowledgment. "…! OKAY."
Before I could even process her words, a burst of energy erupted from the corner of the room. Flames danced in the hearth behind a small, lively woman, and her voice rang out with a wild enthusiasm: "WOW! I'LL MAKE SURE YOU LOOK EVEN MORE STUNNING THAN YOU DID LAST TIME!"
The fire crackled and roared, almost in response, as if the room itself were cheering me on. My hands tightened slightly on my gown, feeling the delicate fabric beneath my fingers. It was time.
I took a slow step forward. My white dress shimmered as if alive, cascading around me in gentle waves. "RUSTLE…" The sound of the fabric sliding across the polished floor was subtle, yet it filled the silence, echoing the nervous rhythm of my heartbeat.
I drew a sharp breath in—"INHALE"—and let it escape slowly—"EXHALE"—hoping each exhalation would steady my nerves. My hand flew to my chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of my breath, my wide eyes trying to mask the panic threatening to spill over.
Then, a faint, ominous sound—the key turning in the lock. "CLICK." The golden knob began to move, and the door started to open.
A heat surged through me, an almost painful rush, making my head spin. Stars seemed to burst behind my eyelids, a crown of resolve forming in a cloud of purple light around me—"POOF!"—my nervousness giving way to a fragile but unshakable determination.
I was ready.
---
He pulled me closer into his lap, and the warmth of his body pressed against mine made my breath hitch. His fingers deftly traced the golden clasp of my belt, moving with deliberate care, yet every touch sent sparks racing across my skin. My heart pounded like a drum: "BA-BUMP… BA-BUMP…" The soft glow from the fire outside seemed to swirl around us, painting the room in gold and amber light, making the moment feel timeless.
I looked up at him, my cheeks aflame, and a nervous laugh escaped me. "HAHA, OH YES, YOU DID, DIDN'T YOU?" I whispered, remembering his promise to heal me—a promise that made his closeness feel safe, yet thrillingly dangerous at the same time.
He didn't answer with words immediately. Instead, his gaze held me so completely, so intimately, it was as if he could see every heartbeat, every secret thought. Then, slowly, his face leaned toward mine, and his lips brushed the sensitive skin of my neck. A shiver ran down my spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
A sudden, urgent question broke through my haze of desire and anticipation. My voice was barely audible, trembling against his shoulder. "IS IT STILL POSSIBLE FOR ME TO GET PREGNANT… EVEN THOUGH YOUR POTENT PERIOD HAS COME TO AN END?"
He pulled me tighter into him, arms firm yet gentle, and began to rub soothing circles over my shoulder. "OF COURSE," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "MY POTENT PERIOD SIMPLY MAKES IT MORE LIKELY THAT YOU WILL CONCEIVE."
I felt him shift slightly, the soft "SLIP" of fabric as the edge of my dress moved beneath his hands. His lips brushed my ear, warm and intoxicating. The scent of him, the feel of his skin against mine, the subtle heat radiating between us—it all combined into a dizzying, thrilling intimacy that made it impossible to think, only to feel.
He guided me down onto the soft bed, our bodies close, his gaze still fixed on mine. I closed my eyes, exhaling a soft "SIGH" of surrender, letting the tension in my muscles melt under the weight of anticipation and desire. The warmth of him above me made me tremble—not from fear, but from the dizzying thrill of knowing what this night could bring.
His voice, low and earnest, whispered through the stillness, "LUCINA… ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT THIS?"
I opened my eyes and met his gaze, every doubt dissolving into certainty. "YES," I breathed, my lips curving into a smile that mirrored both excitement and trust.
He didn't hesitate. His lips found mine in a slow, deliberate kiss—"KISS"—soft at first, then deeper, more insistent—"KISS". The heat between us grew with every movement, every brush of skin, every whispered breath. My fingers tangled in the soft strands of his dark hair, pulling him closer, letting the world fall away until there was only the two of us, bound by desire, trust, and something far more potent than either of us had anticipated.
Every heartbeat, every "TAP… TAP" of the room seemed to echo the unspoken promise of what was to come, the night stretching ahead full of warmth, intimacy, and the closeness that only we could share. Even in the silence between breaths, the room seemed to hum with the electricity of our connection, the delicate prelude to something deeper, something that would bind us in body and soul.
The firelight danced across the bed, casting shadows that mirrored the trembling anticipation of my heart. I shivered against him, not from cold, but from the exquisite tension, the undeniable pull of love and desire that had been building between us for so long. Every brush of his hand, every whispered word, every stolen glance spoke louder than any confession ever could: tonight, nothing else mattered except the two of us.
My breath trembled as I stood before the chamber door. I drew in an "INHALE," then let it out slowly—"EXHALE"—my palm pressed against my racing heart. I could feel its frantic rhythm beneath my fingertips, a wild fluttering that made my entire body feel alive and weightless.
The key slid into the lock with a soft scrape. Then—
"CLICK."
The sound echoed like a promise. Like a point of no return.
I pushed the door open.
He was there.
Sitting at the edge of the massive bed, bare‑chested, powerful, impossibly beautiful. The firelight from the lantern cast warm shadows across his muscles, highlighting every curve, every sharp angle. His eyes—dark and steady—met mine the instant I stepped inside.
"YOU'RE HERE."
The words weren't loud, yet they filled the entire room.
My feet moved on their own, each step a soft "SHUFFLE… SHUFFLE" against the stone floor. I felt my cheeks heat, my breath growing smaller.
He reached out and cupped my cheek, his palm warm and grounding.
"ARE YOU FEELING SHY?" he murmured.
My heart thudded in response—
"THUMP."
"A little…" I admitted, lowering my eyes. My voice sounded fragile even to my own ears.
"ARE YOU WORRIED THAT YOU'LL GET HURT?" he asked gently.
His arm slid around my waist, drawing me closer. Our bodies brushed—
"BRUSH."
A small, involuntary shiver escaped me.
"I told you," he whispered, "that I have the power to heal."
A helpless little laugh escaped me—breathless, nervous, excited.
"HAHA, OH YES, YOU DID, DIDN'T YOU?"
He lifted me effortlessly onto his lap. My heart lurched upward. My breath caught. His fingers reached for the golden belt at my waist, moving with slow, deliberate certainty.
"LIFT."
The clasp loosened beneath his touch.
The fabric of my gown gave a soft sigh—
"BA-BUMP… BA-BUMP."
—or maybe that was my heart.
But then—
A thought cut through the heat swirling in my mind.
"IS IT STILL POSSIBLE FOR ME TO GET PREGNANT
EVEN THOUGH YOUR POTENT PERIOD HAS COME TO AN END?"
For a moment, everything stilled.
Then he pulled me into a warm, reassuring HUG, smoothing my shoulder with tenderness—
"RUB."
"OF COURSE."
His voice was deep and certain.
"MY POTENT PERIOD SIMPLY MAKES IT MORE LIKELY THAT YOU WILL CONCEIVE."
The words didn't just soothe me—they ignited something warm and hopeful deep inside my chest.
His lips brushed my neck.
Light. Soft.
Enough to make my entire body melt forward into him.
The fabric of my dress shifted beneath his fingertips—
"SLIP."
Before I knew it, I was lying back against the bed's plush covers, his shadow hovering above me. His eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath tremble.
A tiny gasp escaped me—
"!"
My eyes fluttered shut.
"SLIDE."
I exhaled a trembling—
"SIGH."
He whispered my name.
"LUCINA."
A pause, heavy with emotion.
"ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?"
I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze with all the warmth, certainty, and trust that filled me to the brim.
"YES."
He leaned down.
His lips touched mine.
"KISS."
Another.
Closer.
Deeper.
"KISS."
"KISS."
The world softened around us. The only sounds left were our breaths mingling, the quiet rustle of fabric, and the faint rhythmic movement—
"TAP… TAP."
Heat gathered between us, spreading through my body in waves that made thought impossible. My fingers curled into his hair, my breath caught against his lips. The room seemed to glow brighter, warmer, as if responding to us.
The firelight danced.
The air thickened.
Every heartbeat pulled us closer, closer—
And then—
He pulled me closer into his lap, and the warmth of his body pressed against mine made my breath hitch. His fingers deftly traced the golden clasp of my belt, moving with deliberate care, yet every touch sent sparks racing across my skin. My heart pounded like a drum: "BA-BUMP… BA-BUMP…" The soft glow from the fire outside seemed to swirl around us, painting the room in gold and amber light, making the moment feel timeless.
I looked up at him, my cheeks aflame, and a nervous laugh escaped me. "HAHA, OH YES, YOU DID, DIDN'T YOU?" I whispered, remembering his promise to heal me—a promise that made his closeness feel safe, yet thrillingly dangerous at the same time.
He didn't answer with words immediately. Instead, his gaze held me so completely, so intimately, it was as if he could see every heartbeat, every secret thought. Then, slowly, his face leaned toward mine, and his lips brushed the sensitive skin of my neck. A shiver ran down my spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
A sudden, urgent question broke through my haze of desire and anticipation. My voice was barely audible, trembling against his shoulder. "IS IT STILL POSSIBLE FOR ME TO GET PREGNANT… EVEN THOUGH YOUR POTENT PERIOD HAS COME TO AN END?"
He pulled me tighter into him, arms firm yet gentle, and began to rub soothing circles over my shoulder. "OF COURSE," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "MY POTENT PERIOD SIMPLY MAKES IT MORE LIKELY THAT YOU WILL CONCEIVE."
I felt him shift slightly, the soft "SLIP" of fabric as the edge of my dress moved beneath his hands. His lips brushed my ear, warm and intoxicating. The scent of him, the feel of his skin against mine, the subtle heat radiating between us—it all combined into a dizzying, thrilling intimacy that made it impossible to think, only to feel.
He guided me down onto the soft bed, our bodies close, his gaze still fixed on mine. I closed my eyes, exhaling a soft "SIGH" of surrender, letting the tension in my muscles melt under the weight of anticipation and desire. The warmth of him above me made me tremble—not from fear, but from the dizzying thrill of knowing what this night could bring.
His voice, low and earnest, whispered through the stillness, "LUCINA… ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT THIS?"
I opened my eyes and met his gaze, every doubt dissolving into certainty. "YES," I breathed, my lips curving into a smile that mirrored both excitement and trust.
He didn't hesitate. His lips found mine in a slow, deliberate kiss—"KISS"—soft at first, then deeper, more insistent—"KISS". The heat between us grew with every movement, every brush of skin, every whispered breath. My fingers tangled in the soft strands of his dark hair, pulling him closer, letting the world fall away until there was only the two of us, bound by desire, trust, and something far more potent than either of us had anticipated.
Every heartbeat, every "TAP… TAP" of the room seemed to echo the unspoken promise of what was to come, the night stretching ahead full of warmth, intimacy, and the closeness that only we could share. Even in the silence between breaths, the room seemed to hum with the electricity of our connection, the delicate prelude to something deeper, something that would bind us in body and soul.
The firelight danced across the bed, casting shadows that mirrored the trembling anticipation of my heart. I shivered against him, not from cold, but from the exquisite tension, the undeniable pull of love and desire that had been building between us for so long. Every brush of his hand, every whispered word, every stolen glance spoke louder than any confession ever could: tonight, nothing else mattered except the two of us.
---
He held me close, his strong arms wrapping around my waist, grounding me while setting my heart racing. The warmth of his chest pressed against mine, and I felt a shiver roll through me, a mixture of excitement and something deeper, almost intoxicating. My pulse thumped erratically in my ears, a frantic rhythm that matched the flutter in my stomach.
The firelight flickered across the room, catching in the strands of my hair and illuminating the curve of his shoulder. Every subtle movement of his body—every gentle shift, the tilt of his head toward me—felt deliberate, as though he were attuned to every beat of my heart, every breath I took.
I let myself melt into his embrace, the softness of the sheets beneath me contrasting with the taut tension between us. His hands traced slow, tentative paths along my arms and shoulders, each touch deliberate and electric. The warmth of his skin against mine made me ache, a sweet ache of anticipation that had nothing to do with pain.
His lips hovered near mine, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin, yet distant enough to leave me yearning. I felt my own lips part slightly, a silent invitation, though I did not speak. Every inch of the space between us pulsed with unspoken desire, every heartbeat carrying us forward in an invisible rhythm.
My hands moved of their own accord, brushing lightly against his chest, feeling the firmness beneath the skin. He responded with the slightest tilt of his head, the barest pressure of his lips against my jawline, each motion slow, purposeful, almost teasing. It was a delicate dance, a silent negotiation of closeness, and every moment made the anticipation swell.
I shivered again, not from cold, but from the intensity of being held, of being seen so completely. The room seemed to shrink around us, the firelight and shadows dancing over the bed, highlighting the subtle tension in our bodies, the unspoken promises lingering in every glance, every brush of skin.
Time seemed to stretch, each second filled with warmth, with longing, with the intoxicating pull of our proximity. I felt his hand move to my back, pulling me just slightly closer, and the simple gesture made my chest tighten. His lips brushed the shell of my ear, a soft, teasing contact that left me breathless.
The sensation of being entirely in his hands—protected, desired, yet hovering on the edge of something more—sent shivers down my spine. Every movement, every quiet sigh, every lingering touch built the tension, wrapping us both in a private world where nothing else existed.
I closed my eyes, surrendering to the closeness, letting the warmth and electricity between us fill every part of me. The night stretched ahead, full of promise, full of intimacy, full of a love and desire that neither of us needed to name. And in that space, suspended between breaths and heartbeats, I knew this was only the beginning.
Time passed as his dick started to hot my every muscle of my pussy . His thrusts got deeper and hir harder as I myself saw moaning loud and coming hard .
" Fuck you are damn fucking tight" gajan groaned as he push himself in to me . " Ahhhh it's hurts but it feels good oh godd" i moaned under him .as he started to kiss my chest and nipples . As I gripped his hair .
Next morning
I woke much later. My limbs felt heavy, deliciously warm, as though all the strength had been lovingly pulled from them.
He rose from the bed, the morning light illuminating the tattoos carved across his back. His jaw tightened briefly—
"GRIT."
He wrapped the white cloth around his waist and took one decisive—
"STEP."
—toward the door.
The moment he opened it, he was met by Turan and the others.
Turan's grin was enormous.
"ABOUT TIME…!"
My King glanced back at me, and the private smile he gave nearly made my soul leave my body.
"OH, TURAN, I'M HEADING TO THE HOT SPRINGS.
I THINK LUCINA IS EXHAUSTED."
My entire face ignited—
"BLUSH."
Turan's joy was so bright it filled the hall.
"I'VE NEVER SEEN HIM LOOKING SO HAPPY BEFORE.
I'M GLAD HE HAS LUCINA BY HIS SIDE."
He clapped his hands, energized.
"TIME TO GET BACK TO WORK!"
______
Giaret
I sat on the throne, watching my kneeling subordinate tremble.
"HAVEN'T YOU FOUND THE BLACK CANDLE YET?"
My voice cracked against the stone walls.
"I still haven't been able to find where the cleric is keeping the candle… Your Highness. Please forgive me."
My fingers struck the armrest sharply—
"TAP TAP."
"DO I HAVE TO ASK FOR GILLAI'S HELP AGAIN?"
Bitterness twisted inside me.
It would have been great if she had died instead…
I breathed out a cold, deliberate—
"SIGH."
"BUT THERE'S NO NEED TO GET IMPATIENT.
I JUST NEED TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE SHE WAS BEHIND THE BLACK MAGIC."
I waved them away.
"LEAVE ME.
I NEED SOME TIME TO THINK."
The doors shut. The chamber fell still.
And I was left alone with my dark, growing thoughts.
Meanwhile at forest
The chamber was cloaked in shadow, the faint flicker of torchlight catching the edges of my throne and the dark stone walls. I sat rigid, fury simmering beneath the surface like a restrained flame. Every movement, every breath of my agent before me seemed painfully slow, irritatingly cautious.
He knelt, shame painted across his features. "I STILL HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO FIND WHERE THE CLERIC IS KEEPING THE CANDLE, YOUR HIGHNESS. PLEASE FORGIVE ME."
I struck the armrest sharply—"TAP TAP"—the echo sharp in the heavy silence. "HAVEN'T YOU FOUND THE BLACK CANDLE YET?" My voice was ice and steel, each word slicing through the air. "DO I HAVE TO ASK FOR GILLAI'S HELP AGAIN?" The thought that she could have been eliminated instead made my lips curl, bitterness turning my tongue to ash.
A slow, deliberate "SIGH" escaped me, cold and measured, reclaiming the calm mask I presented to the world. "BUT THERE'S NO NEED TO GET IMPATIENT. I JUST NEED TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE SHE WAS BEHIND THE BLACK MAGIC."
I waved my hand, dismissing the trembling agents before me. "LEAVE ME. I NEED SOME TIME TO THINK." They bowed, each movement cautious, and then retreated—"STEP… STEP"—their footsteps fading into the distance. A shadow lingered at the edge of the room, a woman in a low "SNEAK", slipping away like a ghost, her silence almost reverent.
I remained seated, letting the shadows cradle my anger and calculation. The plan had merely shifted; patience was a weapon I wielded as surely as any blade. My eyes narrowed, catching movement outside the chamber.
A woman in white armor appeared, holding a homing pigeon. The bird's wings beat suddenly, a sharp "FLAP" cutting through the tension. She smiled—a grim, victorious curve of her lips. "FINALLY!" I thought, feeling the edges of my plan click into place with the precision I craved.
It wouldn't be long before the threads I had woven tightened, and everything fell exactly where I wanted. My lips curved in a faint, cold smile, the taste of triumph already on my tongue.
The chamber was dark, the torches flickering against the stone walls as I sat on my throne, fury simmering like molten metal beneath my calm exterior. Every shadow seemed to pulse with my thoughts, every creak of the floor magnifying my irritation.
My agent knelt before me, shame painted across his face. "I STILL HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO FIND WHERE THE CLERIC IS KEEPING THE CANDLE, YOUR HIGHNESS. PLEASE FORGIVE ME."
I struck the armrest sharply—"TAP TAP"—the echo resonating like a drumbeat of my impatience. "HAVEN'T YOU FOUND THE BLACK CANDLE YET?" My gaze narrowed, cold and cutting. "DO I HAVE TO ASK FOR GILLAI'S HELP AGAIN?" The thought that she could have perished instead of surviving to meddle again made my lips curl with bitterness, tasting like ash.
A slow, deliberate "SIGH" left me, reclaiming the icy composure that masked the storm within. "BUT THERE'S NO NEED TO GET IMPATIENT. I JUST NEED TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE SHE WAS BEHIND THE BLACK MAGIC."
I waved my hand, dismissing the trembling agents. "LEAVE ME. I NEED SOME TIME TO THINK." They bowed carefully, stepping back—"STEP… STEP"—and disappeared into the shadows. A figure lingered, a woman in white armor moving with a near-silent "SNEAK" before slipping away, her presence deliberate.
I focused on her as she stepped outside. My eyes sharpened. She was the same one who had plunged her knife into Hakan earlier in the fight—a memory of the betrayal and chaos flaring in my mind. Every detail of her calculated movements, the cold precision in her gaze, confirmed her loyalty and skill. The homing pigeon in her hand beat its wings—"FLAP"—as if heralding her success.
She smiled, grim and triumphant, and I allowed a faint, satisfied curve of my lips. "FINALLY," I thought, knowing that her actions had already set part of my plan in motion. It wouldn't be long before everything fell exactly where I wanted.