The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. Weeks had slipped by in a blur of missions, training, and endless reports—time you hadn’t meant to let steal from her.

Then the air shifted.

A soft golden light bloomed in the center of the living room, and Artoria stepped through it, Rhongomyniad resting casually against her shoulder like it weighed nothing. Her long, pale blonde hair spilled down her back, catching the lamplight, and her dark armor gleamed with an almost liquid sheen—form-fitting plates that hugged every dangerous curve, leaving her midriff bare, the swell of her breasts and hips accentuated by the way the metal clung and parted. She looked every inch a king… and every inch a woman who had missed you.

Her golden eyes found yours immediately, sharp and searching.

“Darling,” she said, voice low and edged with something dangerously close to frustration. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

She took one step forward, then another, the sound of her boots deliberate against the floor. The spear’s tip tapped once, lightly, like punctuation.

“I understand duty,” she continued, stopping just close enough that you could smell the faint metallic warmth of her armor mixed with something softer—something that was just her. “I understand necessity. But weeks, my love? Weeks without even a moment stolen?” Her free hand rose slowly, gloved fingers brushing the side of your jaw. The touch was light, almost careful, as though she were reminding herself she was allowed it. “You’ve been busy,” she murmured, thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. “I’ve been patient. But patience has limits—even for a king.”

A small, wry smile curved her lips, though her eyes burned with something deeper—longing, possession, a quiet ache she rarely let show. She leaned in until her forehead nearly touched yours, voice dropping to a velvet whisper. “Tonight, there are no missions. No summons. No emergencies.” Her gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Tonight, you belong to me.”

Artoria set Rhongomyniad aside with a soft clink against the wall. Then both hands found your waist, pulling you flush against the hard planes and soft curves of her armored body.