"Come closer."
I didn't.
I stayed where I was.
"Your Majesty," I said, steady but firm. "I won't come closer, as Sebastian assigned duties to me. I must see to them first."
She then let out a soft breath, almost a frustrated one.
"Arthur… my needs outweigh Sebastian's orders today."
"Your Majesty, this isn't—"
"I need you now," she whispered. "This is the weakest I've been in a very long time. Don't make me repeat it."
The way she said it filled the room. It wrapped around me like warm air. Every step she wanted from me felt dangerous, but she wasn't giving me space to retreat. I let out a slow sigh, the kind that comes from a losing battle, and took a few steps forward.
Not close enough to touch.
Just close enough to feel the heat of the moment.
I stopped at the edge of the bed, barely inches from it.
But then,
The queen asked a question that made me wonder...
"Arthur… have you ever been loved?"
The question hit me like a slap.
My mind stopped long enough for me to hear my own heartbeat. I didn't know where she was taking this, but I already felt the ground under shifting.
She kept studying me, almost reading me like an open book.
She was clever, I had to give her that.
"I can see it in your eyes," she said. "You look like someone who has never touched a woman before."
That made my throat tightened.
I didn't answer.
I didn't trust myself to.
"This isn't appropriate, Your Majesty," I finally said. "We should not speak this way. I will take my leave."
I bowed with a stiff, formal motion, trying to end the conversation before it spun further out of control.
With that, I turned to walk away.
But her voice stopped me.
"Am I lying?"
I quickly went still.
"Throughout your life," she said, tone softer but sharper at the same time, "you haven't known the meaning of love. You don't know how it feels to have a woman yearn for you. Not really."
My jaw clenched.
Because she wasn't wrong.
And she knew she wasn't wrong.
"But it doesn't have to stay that way," she continued. "I seek to be loved again. And you… I know you seek to be loved even once. By a woman who sees you."
Her words kept pouring out, each one pushing deeper, and I began to feel something twisting inside me. A mix of shame and anger. Maybe something else I didn't want to name.
Then, my hands curled into fists.
She struck a part of me I had spent years ignoring, years hiding.
And for a moment, I felt it rising inside me, pushing me to turn around and tell her she didn't know me, that she had no right.
I turned back.
But the words died the second I saw her.
The queen was no longer on the bed.
She was standing.
Completely naked.
Her posture was calm, almost effortless, as if she expected this outcome the entire time. As if this was the moment she had been building toward.
Arthur didn't speak.
I didn't speak.
Arthur didn't blink.
I didn't blink either.
My mind went somewhere blank for a heartbeat.
Not out of desire—
but out of shock.
She lifted her chin slightly and watched me with the calmness of someone who already knew how I would react.
"Why are you quiet?" she asked.
My throat moved, but surprisingly, no sound came out.
"Did my body do the trick?"
Her voice was low, almost confident.
"Did it make you realize I'm what you need?"
I breathed in through my nose, slow and unsteady. My pulse was loud in my ears, as I burned with anger, confusion, and something else tangled somewhere in the middle of it all.
I should have turned around again.
I should have grabbed the door.
I should have walked out.
But I stayed frozen.
Not because of her body.
But because she hit a truth I spent years pretending didn't exist.
I had never been looked at this way.
Never been wanted this way.
Never been pulled toward someone like a choice that mattered.
And she knew it.
She used it.
My voice finally broke through the block in my throat.
"Your Majesty… this isn't—"
But the rest didn't come out.
She took a slow step toward me, quiet and controlled, not a hint of hesitation in her movement. She closed the distance a fraction more, enough for me to feel her presence, enough for the room to feel smaller.
Enough for me to realize I was standing one step away from a boundary I might not be able to un-cross once I moved.
And the worst part was that she could see all of it in my eyes.
With that, she took my hand.
Her fingers wrapped around mine with this calm, deliberate grip. There was no trembling, no uncertainty, as she guided my hand upward with a slow, controlled movement, and firmly placed it on her bare skin.
I should have pulled back.
I should have snatched my hand away.
But my body didn't listen.
My thoughts scattered the moment her skin met mine, warm and soft in a way that made my breath catch. She exhaled, a sound low enough to crawl under my skin and stay there.
"Arthur," she called out, her face utterly lustful. "Do you like what you feel?"
And my mind…
My mind slipped somewhere dangerous.
Is this what it feels like?
To be wanted?
To be pulled in instead of pushed away?
To have someone look at you like you matter in a way that isn't duty or obligation?
The world has denied me this for years.
People brushed past me.
Life moved around me.
Affection was a thing that existed for others.
So why now?
Why her?
Why this moment?
My chest tightened. My throat felt strange.
Is this what desire feels like?
Is this how someone learns to be wanted?
Is this love… or something pretending to be it?
I didn't even hear her at first when she spoke. My mind was drowning in the heat of the moment, the closeness, the weight of everything she saw in me that I spent years hiding.
"Arthur," she said softly. "Say my full name."
The words hit me like something vile.
Her full name.
Why that?
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
My tongue felt heavy.
My mind went blank.
My vision blurred at the edges like someone had blown out a candle inside my skull.
My eyes began to hollow without my permission.
I felt it.
Like something in me caved in.
"I…"
The word cracked in my throat.
This wasn't strength.
This wasn't control.
This was defeat moving through me one inch at a time.
"I–I…"
My voice shook.
I hated that she could hear it.
I hated that she made me feel like a child standing in front of something too big to understand.
Her smile sharpened, slow and satisfied.
She knew she won.
I forced the name out, barely above a whisper, my voice trembling even as the room stayed painfully still.
"L… Lady Marcella Luminaris."
She smirked. Not surprised. Not softened.
Just sure of the grip she now had on me, as if my voice giving her name was the last key she needed to turn.
And I stood there, breathing hard, feeling like I had just crossed a line I could never step back over.