Demonic Dragon: Harem System

"Take care of my mother." Evelyn's voice gently broke the silence as she leaned on the stone railing of the balcony.

Below, the palace gardens danced in the golden light of dusk, but her eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the sun slowly sank behind the mountains.

Strax, standing beside her, watched the young queen's silhouette more than the sky. There was a steadiness in her posture—a woman who wore a crown. But there was also fragility there, in the way her fingers touched the cold stone.

"I know." He replied with a serene smile. "And don't worry... She's safe with me."

Evelyn smiled slightly. "I'd like to go with you... but now I'm a queen."

"And even if I could, I wouldn't take you." His voice was firm but gentle. "The Spirit Realm still needs its guardian. You have a role here. A purpose."

He turned slightly, allowing his gaze to meet hers. "Even though, deep down... I just wanted you by my side."

She laughed softly, but her eyes sparkled. "Oh, really? And to think I thought you didn't want me. Since that kiss, you never... tried anything."

There was a brief moment of silence, as if time itself had stopped to listen to the memory. Months ago. An infirmary. A soft kiss, of gratitude and raw emotion, when Strax saved her from certain death.

"Do you remember that?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"How could I forget?"

Strax let out a soft sigh, the breeze blowing a strand of Evelyn's silver hair. "The truth is... I never had the chance. It seems like everything in my life is in chaos..." he said, with an amused look. "The world never gave me time to look at you the way I really wanted to."

She turned to face him, her eyes fixed on his.

"And now?"

Strax didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a step forward, so close that he could feel the warmth of her skin in the afternoon breeze. He raised his hand, but didn't touch her—as if the moment was too precious to be broken by a simple gesture.

"Now..." he said softly, his deep voice laden with something deeper than words, "I keep you here inside me, Evelyn. Where no god, war, or fate can take you away."

She smiled. One of those smiles that hurt more than they comfort, sweet and sad at the same time — as if to say, "I keep you too, even if the world won't let me have you."

But Strax didn't back away.

"However..." he whispered, the word hanging in the air like a promise about to be broken.

He approached with the calmness of someone who knew he was about to cross an invisible line, one he had respected in silence for so long. His gaze met hers with an intensity that made the world around them disappear — the gardens, the sunset, the distant sound of the winds touching the palace spires... nothing else existed.

His hand rose slowly, as if afraid to break her with his touch. When his fingers brushed the skin of Evelyn's cheek, it was as if a wave of heat and silent magic exploded between them. He caressed her tenderly, his thumb sliding along the soft curve of her face, and her breath faltered for a moment.

"But that doesn't mean..." he murmured, his eyes fixed on hers, "that you can't be mine."

It was a sigh from her. A step from him. Time stood still.

And then, as if all doubts had been burned in the fire of a wait that had lasted too long...

They kissed.

Not as a memory. Not as a gesture of gratitude.

But as two souls who, despite the world, still belonged to each other.

The kiss began softly, hesitantly—as if they feared the touch was just a dream. But soon it became deeper, more real. A kiss laden with everything they had not said, everything they had held back between battles, obligations, and silences.

His hands slid down her back, pulling her gently, as if he were touching a miracle. Evelyn wrapped her arms around his neck, and there, on that old balcony, with the sky tinged with orange and gold, she forgot she was a queen. She forgot she had a throne, a crown, a people.

She was just herself—and he was Strax, the one who gave her back her life... and her heart along with it.

When they finally separated, their foreheads still pressed together, their eyes closed, still breathing the same air, Evelyn whispered, "You took your time."

Strax smiled when he heard her words, his eyes still closed, his breath intertwined with hers.

"I took a little while."

She looked at him, serious for a brief moment — and then just nodded. As if she understood. As if to say, "But now you're here."

The silence between them was full of meaning, and did not need to be broken with words. The sound of the wind, the distant crackling of the castle torches, and the beating of two hearts there, so close together, were enough.

Evelyn slowly raised her hands, resting her fingers on his chest, on the fabric of his dark shirt. She felt the warmth, she felt the life — and something else. A truth that had always lived there.

Strax slid his fingers down the side of her waist, just feeling the presence, the reality of that moment. There was reverence in his touch. Not raw desire — but something more sacred, older than time itself.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, and his eyes met hers again, seeking permission, waiting for the slightest of signs.

Evelyn moved closer.

Not to speak.

But to undo the knots — of fabric, of distance, of barriers.

Her trembling hands reached for the collar of his tunic, and little by little, the separation between skin and fabric disappeared. The buttons, one by one, surrendered to the touch of careful fingers. Strax watched her in silence, motionless, as if each of her gestures were part of an ancient spell he dared not interrupt.

When the tunic fell from his shoulders, Evelyn let her fingertips slide across his skin, marking the path with warmth and intention. He closed his eyes, as if that simple touch was all he needed to lose himself—and find himself.

Gently, he moved his hand to the waist of her dress, his eyes asking what his mouth did not say. Evelyn nodded, and he began to undo it patiently, as if unveiling a secret kept for millennia.

The fabric slipped away, like a breath, revealing not only the skin, but the soul behind the title, the lineage, the crown.

They looked at each other for a moment — stripped of everything but feeling.

And then, without haste, Strax took her in his arms, and she let herself be carried away, with the lightness of one who had chosen her own destiny. They entered the room...