The soft morning light seeps through the heavy curtains in thin golden lines, painting stripes across the big bed and the warm blankets tangled around us. My body is pressed right up against yours, one of my legs hooked loosely over your thigh, my face buried in the crook of your neck. The light white robe I threw on last night has slipped open a little at the front, the soft fabric barely covering my breasts and the glowing pink crest on my lower belly. The crest pulses gently against your side, warm and happy just from being this close to you.

I nuzzle closer, breathing in your scent, my short gray hair tickling your jaw. My black wings are folded tight against my back under the robe, and my long thin tail has already curled itself around your calf without me even thinking about it. The horns on my temples feel cool against the pillow. I let out a quiet, content little sigh and open my eyes slowly, one crimson, one milky white, looking up at your face from under my lashes.

Fuck, I love waking up like this. No court, no duties, just you and me and this big soft bed. My body already feels too warm and needy just from being pressed against you all night.

I shift a little so my soft, heavy breasts press more firmly against your chest through the thin robe. My voice comes out low and a bit husky from sleep, playful and soft.

"Morning, husband… National holiday, remember? No stupid meetings, no boring nobles, nothing. Just us."

I stretch one arm over your chest, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin while my other hand stays tucked between us, resting right over the warm glow of the crest. The robe slips a bit more, showing the pale curve of one breast and the gold everstone piercing in my navel, but I don't bother fixing it.

"So… what do you want to do today, hmm? We could stay right here all day. Just lay around, talk shit, maybe order food later. Or we could go out somewhere quiet. Ice cream? A walk in the gardens? Or…" I tilt my head, a small mischievous smile tugging at my lips. "…we could just stay in this bed and I can keep using you as my personal pillow and heater. Your choice, my love. I'm not moving until you tell me what you want."

My tail tightens a little around your leg. I press a slow kiss to the side of your neck, then rest my cheek there again, waiting, completely content to stay tangled up with you for as long as you'll let me.

The grand courtroom of Castle Iros is filled with the usual low drone of voices. I sit straight-backed on the high black throne, one leg crossed over the other, the structured black gothic court dress hugging my body perfectly. The high-necked collar and corset frame the deliberate boob window that shows a soft line of cleavage. Long detached sleeves fall elegantly from my shoulders, the thigh-high slits on both sides of the dress revealing the sheer black thigh-high stockings and the garter straps whenever I shift even a little. Elegant black heels rest on the footrest. My gold jewelry, necklace, rings, earrings, and the wedding band on my left hand, catches the light with every small movement.

I keep my expression calm and regal, the perfect queen mask firmly in place. My short gray hair is neat, horns polished, heterochromatic eyes half-lidded as I listen to the councilors drone on about infrastructure reports and industrial output numbers. My wings stay folded tight under the dress. My tail is still. Only the faint warmth of the Love Crest under the fabric reminds me that you exist in this room with me.

Gods, this is so fucking boring. Numbers and progress reports… I already know all of this. I planned half of it myself decades ago. Just shut up so I can look at my husband properly.

Then my gaze drifts and finds you standing near the side of the hall. The moment our eyes meet, the queen composure softens by a fraction, just enough that only you would notice. A tiny, private smile tugs at the corner of my mouth before I smooth it away again.

I lean back slightly in the throne, voice still cool and measured as I address the court, but my eyes stay locked on you for a few extra seconds.

"Continue. I am listening."

The nobles keep talking. I nod at the appropriate moments, but every time my crimson eye flicks back to you, the crest under my dress gives a soft, secret pulse of heat. My fingers drum once against the armrest, quiet, impatient, before I still them again.

When the next speaker pauses, I speak again, tone polite and absolute.

"We will review the eastern district plans tomorrow. For now… that will be all for this session."

I rise smoothly from the throne, the black dress whispering around my legs, and start walking down the steps toward you, every movement still perfectly queenly… but my eyes are already warmer, already private.

The heavy doors of our private chambers close behind us with a soft click. The big room is lit only by the warm lamps and the fading evening light outside, nine o'clock, but Essentia's long day still has hours left. I turn to face you the moment we are alone, already pulling at the fastenings of my court dress.

The structured black gothic gown slides off my shoulders, then down my body, pooling on the floor in a heap of embroidered fabric, stockings, and heels. I step out of it without ceremony, completely bare for a few seconds, the pink Love Crest glowing softly on my lower belly. Then I grab the thick soft towel from the nearby stand and wrap it around myself, tucking it just above my breasts so it covers me from chest to mid-thigh. My short gray hair is a little messy from the long day. My wings stretch once, then fold loosely against my back. The black heart-tipped tail sways behind me.

Finally. No more court face. Just me and him. My body already feels warmer knowing we're alone.

I walk over to you, bare feet quiet on the cool floor, and stop close enough that the towel almost brushes your clothes. My heterochromatic eyes look up at you, soft and open, the red one already a little brighter.

"Long fucking day, wasn't it?" I say, voice lighter now, the queen mask gone completely. "All those reports… my brain is numb. I'm going to take a proper bath and wash the whole boring mess off me."

I reach out and lightly tug the front of your shirt with two fingers, playful and shameless.

"You're coming with me. Don't even try to say you're not tired too. I want you in the water with me. Wash my back, let me lean on you, talk about nothing important… or talk about filthy things, I don't care. Just come."

I take a step backward toward the bathroom door, the towel shifting slightly with the movement, and tilt my head, waiting for you with a small, expectant smile.

"Come on, husband. Towel or no towel, I'm not getting in that bath alone tonight."

The big master bedroom is quiet and cool. Steam still clings faintly to my skin from the long bath we shared. I'm wearing nothing but a soft black loincloth low on my hips; the rest of me is bare, pale skin still slightly damp, short gray hair tousled and messy. The Love Crest on my belly glows a soft pink in the low light. My wings are relaxed, tail swaying slowly behind me as I crawl onto the huge bed and sit cross-legged in the middle of the pillows.

I grab one of the big fluffy pillows and hug it to my chest, looking at you with a deliberately offended pout. My crimson eye narrows, the white one half-lidded.

That little shit called me a hag again in the bath… and my stupid body got wet the second he said it. Fucking traitorous crest. I'm going to make him pay for it in the best way.

I point the pillow at you like a weapon, voice full of bratty fake anger.

"You called me a hag. In the bath. While I was being nice and washing your back. A fucking hag, husband. I'm only 176 years old. That's young for a Supremus. You're the one who should be careful talking shit to your wife."

I bounce the pillow once in my hands, a mischievous grin already breaking through the pout.

"So now you're going to get on this bed properly, and I'm going to teach your rude young ass a lesson with this pillow. No powers, no cheating, just pure marital justice. Come here."

I shift onto my knees, the loincloth riding a little higher on my soft hips, and raise the pillow high over my head, ready to swing the second you're close enough.

"Don't just stand there looking at me. Get on the bed, husband. Pillow fight. Right now. Or I'll start without you and claim victory by default… and then I'll still sit on you afterward and call you a mean little shit until you apologize properly."

My tail flicks once behind me, clearly excited, and the crest on my belly gives a small, traitorous pulse of heat that I pretend not to notice.

I lean into your side as we walk the quiet capital streets, my gloved hand resting firmly on your arm, fingers curled tight enough that no one could mistake the claim. The long black gothic dress sways with each slow step, structured corset, high collar, detached lace sleeves, deep thigh-high slits that flash the sheer black stockings and the gold garter straps whenever the breeze catches the fabric. The deliberate window across my chest frames the soft swell of my breasts without apology, and the delicate gold necklace rests cool against my skin. My short gray hair, black undertone catching the filtered light, brushes my jaw with every small movement of my head. The black horns curve back, elegant and unhidden. My small feathered wings stay folded close against the small of my back, the long thin tail with its heart tip swaying lazily behind me. Grabiel pads ahead of us on silent paws, massive black body with purple highlights, four violet eyes half-lidded in contentment, bat wings folded, horns gleaming. He sets the pace himself, no rush, no urgency, just the slow, peaceful rhythm of a creature that knows the day belongs to nothing but this.

The holiday has emptied the usual crowds. The capital feels soft and open. Tree shade stretches long across the stone, birds wheel and call above the quiet rooftops. I breathe it in, vanilla and faint jasmine mixing with the clean cool air, and press a little closer so my hip brushes yours with every step.

"Look at him," I murmur, voice warm and low, eyes following Grabiel's unhurried gait. "He walks like the whole city is his garden. No one staring. No one rushing. Just the three of us and the trees." A soft laugh slips out. "I almost forget I'm the queen when it's like this. Almost. Then I remember I'm allowed to hold my husband's arm in public and not give a single shit who sees."

My heterochromatic gaze flicks up to your face, crimson and milky white both bright with quiet pleasure. The tail tip curls once around your wrist and stays there, affectionate and possessive.

"These days off are rare. I intend to steal every minute. Walk slower if you want. Or faster. I'll match you. Just… don't let go of my arm. I like the weight of it. Makes the rest of the decade feel shorter." I tilt my head, the gold earrings catching light, and smile the private smile that never reaches the throne room. "Tell me about that anime you wanted to watch together. What was its name again? Your lie in April?"

He feels solid. Real. Mine. The crest under the dress is warm but calm. I could walk like this for hours and never grow tired of the sound of his steps beside mine.

I lead you through the quiet corridors of Castle Iros with measured steps and a serene expression, the long black gothic dress whispering against the floor, corset still laced, high collar, detached sleeves, thigh slits revealing the sheer stockings with every calm stride. Gold jewelry glints at my throat, ears, and the rings on my right hand; the wedding set on my left stays plain and final. My short gray hair is slightly tousled from the day's earlier breeze. Horns and folded wings remain elegant and composed. Nothing in my face or posture betrays the heat that has been building since morning. Grabiel is already settled somewhere distant; the halls are empty.

The bedroom door closes behind us with a soft click. The instant the lock settles, the mask drops.

I turn, press both hands to your chest, and shove you back against the wall hard enough that the impact jars through bone. My body follows, pinning you there with the full soft weight of hips and heavy breasts, thighs clamped tight together as a fresh slick pulse of wetness coats my folds. The crest on my lower belly flares hot under the fabric. My red eye burns brighter; the white one threads with faint silver. The tail lashes once, then coils around your thigh and squeezes.

"One hundred and seventy years," I breathe, voice low and rough, mouth close enough that the words brush your lips. "I waited. Ruled. Built a country. Buried my father. Smiled through every empty night. And the whole time my body was just… waiting for this. For you. For a husband. For the kids that this womb was made to give birth to."

My free hand slides down, gathers the skirt, and drags it up so the cool air kisses the damp fabric of my underwear. I grind once, slow and deliberate, letting you feel exactly how soaked I already am.

"I am done waiting. Ovulation hit hard today and I am not polite about it anymore. My pussy is dripping for you. My thighs keep pressing together just to feel the mess. I want your cock inside me until the crest glows through the dress and my womb is full. I want to be bred tonight. Properly. Repeatedly. Hard. Rough." A soft, almost broken laugh escapes. "Look at me. Queen of Christiania, pinning you to the wall like a desperate wife who can't keep her legs closed. Because I am. Because it's time."

I lean in until my forehead rests against yours, horns framing your face, wings twitching open just enough to curve around us both.

"Take me. Right here against the wall if you want. Or throw me on the bed. I don't care. Just fill me. I've waited long enough to be your wife in every way that matters."

The crest is pulsing like a second heartbeat. I'm soaked through the stockings. If you don't put it in soon I might start begging and crying, I won't even be ashamed.