Vael felt the familiar, disgusting thrill of the Divine Flow surging inside him. Seraphina, the Bandit Queen, was standing five feet away, scimitar in hand, looking like a statue carved from sin and confidence. Astra and Lyra were two ticking time bombs behind him.
Wife Number Three. Vael's mind screamed. I can't. I absolutely cannot handle another one. I need to fail.
"Speak, little pigeon," Seraphina purred, tapping the sharp edge of her scimitar on her knee. "Entertain your Queen."
Vael quickly opened his journal, his hands shaking. He decided to go for the worst poetry humanly possible. Cliches. Bad rhymes. Something so pathetic it would make Seraphina laugh and then ignore him.
He cleared his throat. "Roses are red, violets are blue..."
(Vael's Inner Monologue to God Aethel)
Here we go, Aethel. I'm giving her garbage. If she melts, you're clearly messing with the settings!
Vael was about to continue, "You are a queen, and I love you too," but then a physical, mind-splitting pain slammed into his skull. It wasn't a headache; it was a divine jackhammer.
(God Aethel's Silent Communication)
[YOU WILL NOT WASTE THE DIVINE BLESSING. THE POETRY MUST BE TRUE. THE HAREM IS YOUR DESTINY. RESISTANCE WILL BE PUNISHED.]
Vael gasped, clutching his head. He stumbled forward, nearly falling into Seraphina. His glasses tilted. The pain was unbearable, forcing his mouth open.
"I... I can't," Vael choked out, half-stumbling. "I can't write for you! I won't!"
Lyra immediately drew her blade. "What is he doing? Is that a seizure?"
Astra, always focusing on Vael's safety, moved to intercept. "Don't touch him, Lyra! He's sensitive!"
Seraphina, however, saw the raw fear and pain. She lowered her scimitar slightly, intrigued.
"Oh?" Seraphina tilted her head. "You fear me that much, little man? Why? Just tell me why you refuse. If your refusal is interesting enough, I might not kill you."
Vael, through the blinding pain in his skull, looked at her—the fearless Queen who embodied all the bravery he lacked on Earth. He had to tell the truth, but not the magical truth.
"If I tell you the truth, you will kill me anyway!" Vael gasped, leaning against a tree for support. "The truth is, I don't want to live in a world where I have to be this interesting! I was better off alone! If you just ignore me, I'll go back to my closet and die a natural death from my first wife's over-protection!"
He saw the flicker of confusion on Seraphina's face. Perfect. Confusion works.
The divine pain, however, was still crushing him. It wouldn't stop until he channeled the flow. He had to speak a real truth, something deep and personal. His Earth crush. His one regret.
With a final, desperate surge, Vael let the pain guide the words, channeling the deep longing he felt for the girl he left behind, and aimed the raw emotion at the fearless woman in front of him.
The words were full of the regret of his past, but they were spoken to the Queen who held his future.
"O Queen of Dreams, I call you into light,
To stand revealed against the fear and night.
Should fate deny you, I will curse this land,
And find no peace with weapon in my hand.
If you are real, would you still claim this King,
Who has but dreams and only words to bring?
I offer nothing real, no gold, no might—
Will you still love the Dreamer, day and night?"
The pain vanished. Vael slumped against the tree, exhausted but momentarily safe.
Seraphina, meanwhile, was paralyzed. The poem wasn't about her life of crime; it was about her value. It didn't ask her for gold; it asked if her love was real. It was the most romantic, challenging, and utterly soul-shattering thing she had ever heard.
[Divine Power Effect: Charm Level 3 - The Dreamer's Pledge]
"A King... of Dreams..." Seraphina whispered, her eyes filling with a fierce, burning admiration. She realized Vael wasn't weak; he was a philosophical revolutionary.
"I accept!" Seraphina roared, dropping her scimitar again. "I will follow the King of Dreams! I will protect your weakness! I will love your poverty!"
Astra shrieked, Lyra swore, and the Bandit's men looked like they were ready to quit the job. The clearing was pure, unadulterated chaos.
"He is mine! Bandit, I will kill you!" Astra lunged forward, her greatsword aimed at Seraphina.
"Don't you dare touch my Consort's new partner!" Seraphina screamed back, pulling Vael into a protective huddle with her body.
Vael, caught in the middle, finally understood the scope of his problem.
(Vael's Final Inner Monologue to God Aethel)
Okay, God. I get it. I can't quit. Fine. 100 wives it is. But please, Aethel, I beg you—I can't handle any more dramatic introductions! Don't bring her here! I can't handle my crush seeing this mess! I was happy being a coward! I swear, I'm done!
As if mocking his final, desperate plea, a blinding flash of emerald light—brighter than the sun—erupted right where Seraphina had dropped her sword.
The light cleared, leaving behind a figure.
She was wearing an old, slightly stretched graphic tee that read: "EAT. GAME. SLEEP. REPEAT." She looked completely lost, utterly furious, and was holding a slightly burnt cellphone.
"Are you KIDDING me?" the woman shouted, looking at the armored, screaming warriors. "I was just about to beat my high score, and now I'm here? And why are all these people trying to eat that scrawny guy?"
Vael stared. The anger, the T-shirt, the voice. It was undeniably her.
Anaya. His crush. His unrequited love. The one he never spoke to.
Vael's eyes rolled back in his head. He fainted dead away, right into the chest of the newly charmed Bandit Queen