Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

The bells of Cortinvar tolled softly through the frost-bitten wind, echoing across the snow-covered mountains and down into the valley of glassy white.

The entire kingdom shimmered like crystal under the pale morning sun, the snowflakes falling like blessings from the heavens.

Claude stood at the altar, dressed in ceremonial Cortinvarian wedding attire. Cortinvar wedding attire was layered and regal, woven from white furs and shimmering fabric that caught the light like falling frost.

His cloak was embroidered with silver thread in the shape of snow lilies—sacred flowers in Cortinvar that only bloomed under moonlight once a year.

Around his shoulders, a mantle of pale wolf fur hung heavy, symbolizing strength and guardianship.

His breath misted in the cold air, but he barely felt it. His gaze was locked on the great double doors at the far end of the ice chapel.

Then, the doors opened.

Emmalise stepped into view, and a collective gasp swept through the gathered crowd.

She wore a traditional Cortinvar bridal robe, flowing and translucent like snow-laced fog. Its hue was the softest shade of glacier blue, trimmed with white fur around the collar and cuffs.

Delicate patterns of constellations shimmered across the fabric, enchanted to move slowly, like living snow across her gown.

Her veil was made of lace spun from frost spider silk—a rare creature found only in this very kingdom.

In her gloved hands, she held a bouquet of preserved heliotropes—purple, the color of devotion and longing.

She walked down the aisle barefoot.

In Cortinvar tradition, the bride walked with bare feet across enchanted snow that never melted, believed to carry the blessing of the ancestors.

Claude's eyes widened in amazement as he finally able to see his bride in her wedding as per tradition, the groom prohibited to see the bride before the event start.

"She is beautiful..." he murmured, heart beating a bit in excitement since today was his first wedding ever.

He might have a lot of concubines but he never officially married one. Except for Lilac, but the wedding was being fully mixed with her coronation.

She stopped before him, looking up beneath the veil, her lips curving into the smallest smile.

"You look like a snow goddess," Claude said, his voice low and reverent.

"And you look like a northern beast trying to impress one," Emmalise replied with a quiet laugh.

The priestess of frost stepped forward, her voice echoing in the silence. "Today, the the Ice Queen of Cortinvar and a son from honorable family bind their fates under the gaze of the eternal snow. In warmth, they will share breath. In cold, they will share fire."

Together, Claude and Emmalise reached for the ceremonial ribbon—woven of silver and ice thread—and wrapped it around their joined hands.

"From now until the snow stops falling."

"From now," they echoed, "until the snow stops falling."

The priestess smiled. "Then let the union be sealed—with fire."

A great flame rose from the hearth behind them, melting a circle of snow at their feet and exposing the sacred stone beneath—the symbol of life in the cold.

Claude pulled her veil back slowly, and they kissed under the dance of falling snow, the crowd erupting in cheers.

From that moment, the Ice Queen of Cortinvar had a new king beside her—even when it was fake as their relationship was bound by lie.

***

Night had fallen faster than expected.

After the grand ceremony, Emmalise and Claude had spent hours parading through the kingdom, waving to cheering citizens bundled in furs.

The festivities stretched on—from the procession, toasts, to the endless banquet hosted in the glittering crystal hall of Cortinvar.

For Emmalise, it had been utterly exhausting. But for Claude, whose body had already undergone a third-star evolution and was nearing a fourth, his stamina bordered on monstrous. He barely looked winded.

Now, at last, she was in the royal bath—an enormous chamber carved from white marble, with arched ceilings and frost-rimmed stained glass windows that let moonlight pour in like liquid silver.

The water, scented with rose petals, was warm and gentle while the floral steam made her feel as if she were floating in a dream.

She leaned back, her limbs loose, eyes heavy-lidded as her maids attended to her. Diana, her lively lady-in-waiting, was scrubbing her arms with enthusiasm.

"Your Majesty, we'll make sure you look radiant tonight!" she chirped with a grin.

"That's right!" chimed in Ohara, massaging her back with a silk sponge. "Your skin must be soft as silk and smell like a whole field of flowers!"

"H-Huh?" Emmalise blinked, her expression puzzled. "Why do I need to be radiant? I'm going to sleep after this…"

And then it hit her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Tonight was their wedding night—their first as husband and wife.

Face flushing crimson, she immediately slid deeper into the water, submerging her body deeper. The maids paused, startled.

"Your Majesty! Are you alright? Are you… so tired and tainted you wish to melt into the bath?"

Diana exclaimed, rushing forward and grabbing Emmalise's shoulder.

Emmalise raised one hand as if to stop her, revealing only the top half of her face above the water. Bubbles popped from her lips as she attempted to speak, but nothing coherent came out—only a soft blurble.

"What was that, Your Majesty?" Diana leaned closer.

Then her eyes widened, lips curving into a wicked smirk. "Ah… don't tell me. Are you embarrassed about your first night?"

Emmalise's face turned an even deeper shade of red before she submerged herself completely again, hiding from both the words and the world.

Ohara, more proper and traditional, immediately scolded Diana. "Lady Diana! How could you say something so improper out loud? This is her wedding night, not a tavern rumor!"

As the two maids bickered, they failed to notice the sudden change in their queen.

Emmalise's vision began to blur.

Her body, once relaxed, now felt heavy and hot—not from embarrassment, but from something else. A slow, creeping warmth spread across her limbs, a dizzying heat that had nothing to do with the bathwater.

"I… something's… wrong…" she whispered weakly, though her voice didn't reach anyone's ears.

And then, everything went dark.

***

Emmalise fluttered her eyes open, met not by the familiar view of her bedchamber, but by a room that looked nearly identical—save for a few differences.

A fireplace crackled softly at the foot of the bed, casting a golden glow across the room. A small table and chair set sat nearby, and on one of those chairs, a man reclined with a glass of wine in hand.

His dark hair gleamed in the firelight, broad shoulders relaxed as he stared into the flames.

"Claude…?" she murmured, her voice hoarse from sleep.

Claude's pointed ears twitched at the sound. He turned toward her, catching her gaze with a hint of surprise and relief.

"Ah, you're awake." He stood, still holding the wineglass in one hand.

Dressed only in a black night robe that hung loosely off his shoulders, his chest was bare—broad, muscular, and unapologetically on display.

Emmalise's cheeks flushed as her eyes wandered instinctively before she looked away. "Ugh… umm…"

Claude approached, placing the glass gently on the bedside table before sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"Everyone panicked," he said. "You fainted so suddenly, they thought our wedding was cursed."

Emmalise blinked, then laughed. "Seriously? I guess I'll have to make a public announcement just to calm them down."

She shook her head, exasperated but amused. "I was just exhausted and overheated. That's all."

"Well, the elders are still busy arguing about omens." Claude shrugged. "You know how they are."

She sighed and leaned back against the headboard. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"You should rest more. I'll join you later," he added with a soft smile, beginning to rise.

But Emmalise reached out and gently caught his wrist. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she forced herself to speak.

"You know…" she said quietly, eyes flicking up to meet his, "tonight is supposed to be our first night together as husband and wife, so… won't you stay a little longer?"

Claude blinked, then smiled. He returned to sit beside her once more.

"Of course, Your Majesty," he teased, leaning closer.

"Are you sure you're feeling well enough? You did faint earlier. If anything happens to you now, your council might demand a divorce on the grounds of negligence."

"Hmph! Who cares what those wrinkled old men think," she grumbled. "It wouldn't be fair if… if nothing special happened tonight."

Claude's grin widened. "Alright then. Since you insist, I'll be gentle."

He lifted his hand to her cheek, cupping it softly before leaning in to press his lips to hers. The kiss was slow at first—deep, warm, tender—but quickly grew hungrier.

His tongue slid against hers, and she moaned into his mouth, her hands rising to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer.

Their breath mingled, lips wet and swollen as they finally parted, eyes locked in a dazed gaze.

"I… I've been waiting for this for a long time," she admitted, her voice trembling. "So… it's okay. Don't hold back. Do whatever you want."

Claude swept a hand through his hair, slicking it back with a devilish smirk. Then, slowly, he leaned in and gently pushed her down beneath him.

"Gentle or not, I'll still enjoy you, Emmalise," he murmured, lowering his face to hers once more.

"But since you insist… let's make tonight unforgettable."