The courtyard had finally begun to clear from the morning's chaos. With the first six groups successfully guided to their quarters, the air hummed with magic and the buzz of new life settling into their freshly expanded kingdom. Rhiannan, though exhausted and glowing with residual magic, stood tall. Her baby bump shimmered beneath her gown, radiant with divine energy as she took a deep breath and raised her hands to summon the final portal.
The shimmering gateway flared open, and through it poured a wild, chaotic, and powerful flood of recruits.
First came Arwen's infamous pirate crew, loud and irreverent as always. Covered in salt, tattoos, and smirks, they tossed jokes and flirtatious winks as they filed into the courtyard. Behind them came the rogue Seelie defectors who had once served the corrupt royal court and now pledged themselves to Rhiannan's rebellion. Each carried tales of betrayal and revenge, and fire in their eyes.
Next marched Kaleb's wolf pack, proud and protective, followed by dozens of rogue wolves from the outer edges of the realm. They howled in greeting as they passed Rhiannan, many bowing or brushing their snouts along her hand reverently.
Then came the drifters....the magicals with no coven, wanderers who'd seen the call on FaeNet and responded in droves. Behind them strode Liam's vampire court, elegant and eerie as ever. They moved like a tide of shadows, and with them came trouble.
Selene stepped forward, Liam's second in command, ex lover, and a walking problem. She froze the moment she saw Rhiannan's glowing bump. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes burned with jealousy. But she said nothing.
Rhiannan met her gaze evenly. Oh yes, she was going to be a fucking problem.
Behind Selene came the others..
Darius, the inked up scholar with a steel stare and a left hook that had floored more than a few Fae warriors.
Iskra, wild and wicked, her dance with death a thing of beauty and chaos.
Thorne, barely leashed, muscles coiled and eyes bloodshot with hunger. He needed his mate soon, or he wouldn't last.
Milo, the youngest and sassiest, bobbing her head to enchanted earbuds and eyeing every tall soldier like they were dessert.
They were the last remnants of the vampire court, and they were ready to fight.
Rhiannan turned to Sasha, her voice steady. "Make room for everyone. We're not turning a single one away."
Sasha nodded, already barking orders into her comms. Arwen and Kaleb took off, grabbing mages and builders to create an entirely new wing on the barracks for the new recruits. Not far from the original, but large enough to hold another hundred thousand. It would be ready within hours.
The barracks filled with tension as groups eyed each other, wolves growling at vampires, pirates jostling Seelie nobles, witches already claiming corners and casting wards. Fights broke out. Chests puffed. Spells hissed. But the barracks staff kept it tight.
Jora the head chef shouted over a megaphone made of enchanted fire, "If you're not bleeding or cooking, get your ass in line!"
Tilina the head maid hovered over the chaos like a silent stormcloud, ready to hex anyone who tracked dirt indoors.
Grunda the laundry witch tossed a bucket of anti sex sweat enchantments at a squabbling group and told them, "Sort it or sleep naked, I don't give a troll's tit."
Voxxie zipped around shouting, "You better sparkle by dinner or I'm dusting your face myself!"
And Elder Tazrin simply stood still, staff humming, eyes glowing. The chaos mellowed quickly.
By nightfall, everyone was settled, or at least confined to their quarters. Another new day was coming. But for now, Rhiannan stood in the center of her courtyard, flanked by her mates, glowing and exhausted, the hum of victory vibrating through her bones.
The goddess was ready for war. And her kingdom was finally home.
The castle was quiet, eerily so. After the influx of thousands of troops, the courtyard had finally cleared, the barracks were stuffed to the brim, and Rhiannan's chambers had grown still. Too still.
Her swollen belly glowed softly in the candlelight, warm and round as she sunk deeper into her bath alone. She had dismissed the men after hours of hovering, pacing, and overprotective coddling. She couldn't take another half hearted backrub and nervous glance like she might shatter at any moment. She wasn't broken. She was horny.
And absolutely, epically, alone.
Hormones swirling, emotions bubbling over, she let herself sob into the jasmine scented steam. She wanted to scream. She wanted to be touched. She wanted to feel alive.
The soft creak of the chamber door barely registered.
"You banished us," Liam's voice murmured from the shadows, velvet and dangerous.
Rhiannan sniffled and turned her head. "You followed orders so well, you could've been a general."
He stepped inside, slowly removing his jacket, his shirt, his boots, one by one. "Selene was creeping through the halls. Glaring at the guards, trying to follow me like a damn ghost. I needed a reason to disappear. You seemed like the best one."
She huffed through her tears. "I'm fat. I'm hormonal. I feel like I've been run over by a fae damned dragon."
He knelt beside the tub, brushing her curls from her damp face. "You're glowing, goddess. Every part of you is divine. Even your tears. Especially your belly."
He kissed her shoulder. Then her collarbone. Then lower.
His hands slid over her body like silk, slow and reverent. Her breasts were heavier now, aching with need. He cupped them gently, massaging in slow circles before letting his thumbs graze her taut nipples.
"You need this," he whispered. "Let me worship you."
She nodded desperately, gasping as his fingers dipped between her thighs, parting her folds, teasing that swollen, desperate clit. His touch was careful, but sinful, curling inside her just right, sending shocks through her womb and heat up her spine.
She cried out, her hips bucking as he coaxed her to the edge.
"Liam," she whimpered. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
He growled low and lifted her from the bath, still dripping. He set her on the vanity counter, spread her thighs, and kissed the inside of her knees like a prayer. Then he licked her slowly, tenderly, tasting her like the sweetest elixir in the realms.
She came apart, shaking, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping the mirror behind her as he worked her like a melody.
Then he stood, letting her slide off the counter. Bent her gently over the edge of the bed. And filled her.
She moaned his name like a blessing.
"Mine," he whispered, biting into her shoulder as his thrusts picked up rhythm.
Outside the door, Selene clenched her fists, her jaw tight, rage simmering. Faenet? Oh Faenet noticed.
💬 "Why is Selene always lurking like a rejected villainess?? GO HOME."
💬 "Someone needs to put a bell on her. The lurking is out of control."
💬 "Rhiannan's pregnant and STILL getting dicked down like a queen. As she should."
💬 "Selene girl, take the L and leave with a shred of dignity."
By the time Liam finished with her, Rhiannan was a trembling mess, sprawled across the sheets, flushed and utterly adored. He kissed her bump, then each finger, whispering promises only she could hear.
The rest of her mates slipped in quietly, wrapping around her in warmth, guilt melting into devotion. She was loved. She was fire. She was ready for war.
And Selene? Selene was going to need a damn therapist.