CHAPTER 59: THE QUEEN’S PLACE(18+)

Arthur lay sprawled on the tangled sheets, his body a map of bruises and bite marks, sweat cooling on his skin. The room still throbbed with the aftershocks of what had just happened—Urzara’s wild laughter, the scent of orc and sex, the ache in his muscles that reminded him he was, for now, only human.

The door opened with a sharp crack. Isolde stood in the threshold, her presence a blade of cold steel. Her eyes swept the room, taking in Arthur’s naked, marked body, the rumpled bed, the fading heat in the air. Her jaw clenched, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

Urzara, still catching her breath, met Isolde’s gaze with a smirk. "Come to see if your king still has strength, Queen?"

Isolde’s voice was ice. "Out. All of you. Now."

Urzara’s smirk faded. For a moment, it looked as if she might challenge the order, but something in Isolde’s eyes—regal, unyielding, dangerous—made her think better of it. She rose, gathering her clothes, and with a final, lingering look at Arthur, strode from the room.

Kaela and Mira, the two maidens, exchanged nervous glances. Isolde’s gaze snapped to them. "You too. Give us a moment."

They scurried out, closing the door behind them. The room was suddenly silent, the air thick with tension.

Isolde stood at the foot of the bed, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She looked at Arthur as if she might devour him or destroy him—or both.

Arthur tried to sit up, but his body protested. "Isolde—"

She crossed the room in three strides, her movements sharp and purposeful. She grabbed his face in both hands, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Do you even remember who you are?" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Who I am to you?"

Arthur’s breath caught. He saw the tears in her eyes, the fear behind the anger. He reached up, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. "You’re my queen. My heart. I never forgot."

She kissed him then, hard and desperate, her lips bruising his, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth. Her hands roamed his body, tracing every bruise, every bite, every mark left by another.

She broke the kiss, her breath ragged, her eyes flashing. "You let them touch you. You let them mark you. Even the maidens, Arthur. I was meant to be the first. I am your queen. Not Urzara, not those girls. Me."

Arthur’s heart twisted. He tried to reach for her, but she caught his hand, holding it tight. "You let them have you before me. After everything—after nearly dying, after losing your power—you let them in first. Do you know how that feels?"

He shook his head. "I’m sorry, Isolde. I—"

She cut him off with another kiss, fiercer than before, her teeth nipping his lower lip. "Sorry isn’t enough. I don’t want to own you, Arthur. I chose this life. I know what it means to be queen in a harem. But I need to know I matter. That I’m not just another body in your bed."

Arthur’s hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer. "You are never just another. You are my anchor, Isolde. My first. My strength. I need all of you, but you... you’re the one who keeps me whole."

She let out a shaky breath, her anger softening into longing. "Then show me. Remind me of my place. Remind me that I matter."

She tore off her dress, letting it fall to the floor in a whisper of silk. She was glorious—pale skin flushed with emotion and arousal, golden hair tumbling wild around her shoulders, eyes shining with unshed tears. She climbed onto the bed, straddling him, her thighs strong and trembling.

She took him in hand, guiding him to her entrance, and sank down onto him with a gasp that was half sob, half moan. She was hot, wet, and tight around him, her body clenching as if to keep him inside forever.

Arthur groaned, his hands finding her hips, holding her steady as she began to move. She rode him hard, her nails digging into his chest, her hips slamming down with a force that bordered on violence. Each thrust was a claim, a demand, a plea for reassurance.

"Say it," she gasped, her voice breaking. "Say I’m your queen. Say you see me."

"You’re my queen," Arthur choked out, his hands sliding up her body, cupping her breasts, thumbing her nipples until she shuddered. "Always. Only you could be. I see you, Isolde. I need you."

She leaned down, biting his shoulder, marking him as hers. Her hair fell around them like a golden curtain, her breath hot against his ear. "No one else will ever love you like I do. No one else will ever know you like I do. Just... don’t let me be forgotten."

He believed her. In that moment, there was no one else—no harem, no prophecy, no System. Just Isolde, his queen, riding him with a fury that bordered on madness.

She moved faster, her hips grinding, her body slick with sweat. Arthur met her thrust for thrust, his own need building, his body responding to hers despite the pain, despite the exhaustion. He felt alive, more alive than he had since the System went silent.

Isolde’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling his head back so she could kiss his throat, his jaw, his lips. She whispered his name over and over, a litany of love and possession.

He felt her tighten around him, her body trembling, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. She came with a cry, her nails raking his chest, her body convulsing around him. Arthur followed, his own release crashing through him, leaving him shaking and spent.

But Isolde wasn’t finished. She pulled off him, her thighs slick with their mingled arousal, and pushed him onto his back. She slid down his body, her mouth finding his cock, licking and sucking him clean, her tongue tracing every vein, every sensitive spot. She took him deep, her throat relaxing, her hands stroking his thighs, her eyes locked on his.

Arthur groaned, his hips bucking, his hands tangling in her hair. She sucked him until he was hard again, then climbed back onto him, impaling herself with a shuddering gasp.

This time, she rode him slower, her movements deliberate, her eyes never leaving his. She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest, her lips brushing his ear.

"Do you feel me?" she whispered. "Do you feel how much I need you? How much I want to be seen?"

He nodded, his hands roaming her body, memorizing every curve, every scar, every freckle. He thrust up into her, matching her rhythm, their bodies moving together in perfect sync.

Isolde’s hands slid down his chest, her nails leaving red trails in their wake. She reached between them, her fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles. Her breath hitched, her body tensing, and she came again, her inner walls clenching around him, milking him for everything he had.

Arthur followed, his release spilling into her, his body arching off the bed. They collapsed together, sweat-slick and trembling, their hearts pounding in unison.

Isolde lay draped over him, her hair a golden halo, her breath warm against his skin. She pressed a kiss to his chest, her voice soft and broken. "Thank you. For seeing me. For loving me, even if just for tonight."

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "You’ll always be my queen, Isolde. No matter how many share my bed, you’ll never be just another. You’re the heart of this family."

She smiled, tears finally falling, and for the first time in days, Arthur felt something like hope. The pain in his body faded, replaced by a warm, lingering ache. He felt stronger, steadier, as if her love was stitching him back together from the inside out.

Isolde shifted, rolling them so Arthur was on top. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deep inside her once more. "Again," she whispered, her voice fierce. "And when you’re ready, let the others in. I want them to see that I am not afraid to share you. But I will always be your queen."

Arthur obliged, thrusting into her with renewed vigor, his hands gripping her hips, his mouth finding her breasts, her throat, her lips. He fucked her hard, their bodies slamming together, the bed creaking beneath them.

Isolde met him thrust for thrust, her cries echoing off the stone walls, her nails raking his back, her teeth finding his shoulder. She came again, her body shaking, her voice breaking on his name.

Arthur followed, his release spilling into her, his body collapsing on top of hers. They lay together, tangled and spent, the world outside forgotten.

For tonight, there was no war, no prophecy, no System—only a king and his queen, reclaiming each other in the dark, and knowing that tomorrow, the family they’d built would be waiting.

Arthur drifted into sleep, Isolde’s arms around him, her heartbeat steady against his ear. He felt healed, refreshed, and for the first time since the System’s silence, truly alive.