I Got Married to a Yandere Queen

Riven's smile widened as he spoke in a teasing tone. "In that case, shouldn't you take responsibility for getting my 'little brother' all worked up?" His voice was gentle as his fingers traced the line of Ashtoria's jaw in a

provocative caress.

Ashtoria frowned slightly, her expression genuinely puzzled. "What kind of responsibility?"

Riven leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against the sensitive skin of her ear. "Since you tore my clothes," he whispered while his fingers trailed along the edge of her dress, "and touched me so boldly... don't I have the right to return the favor?"

Before Ashtoria could respond, Riven's hand moved—his palm pressing fully against the voluptuous curve of her left breast, molding to her shape.

The sensation was like an electric current coursing through his entire body.

Even through the fabric of her dress, Ashtoria's warmth was unmistakable. The perfect combination of firmness and softness seemed to swallow his fingers whole, forcing him to suppress a moan. The texture was smooth like the finest silk, yet with a satisfying weight and fullness that captivated him. When his thumb accidentally brushed against her hardened nipple, he felt Ashtoria shiver - her breath catching as her hands gripped his shoulder tightly.

"Ah—"

That brief gasp snapped Riven back to reality. He'd only meant to playfully retaliate for her earlier actions, but this first touch had already scrambled his reasoning. A strange hunger gnawed at his rational thoughts, a desire to explore further—to feel her bare skin without barriers, to hear more of those breathy sounds.

And Ashtoria...

She was reacting far more intensely than he'd expected.

The heat between them, which had begun to fade, now flared up again.

Riven knew she should stop. But instead of pulling away, her hand kneaded gently, relishing how the peak beneath the fabric grew taut under her touch.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sharp rapping at the door shattered the heated bubble enveloping them.

Ashtoria immediately tensed. In an instant, the soft expression on her face turned cold and furious. Whoever dared to disturb them at a moment like this... she felt like burning them alive.

Riven let out a long sigh, his face still flushed from the emotions he was forcing down. With halting movements, he pulled his hand away from Ashtoria's warmth—his fingers seeming reluctant to let go of the softness they had just been holding.

He shot up from the bed. His body was still warm and light, but a creeping sense of panic began to build in his chest. He looked down—faint marks from kisses still lingered on his skin, and his shirt was gone, torn apart by Ashtoria. Thankfully, he was still wearing his pants.

If whoever knocked on that door walked in and saw them like this…

Riven's face tensed instantly. Moving quickly but cautiously, he stepped back and grabbed a blanket from the edge of the bed, wrapping it around himself in a hurry. Ashtoria was still standing by the bed, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the surge of anger that had flared moments earlier.

Another knock came—softer this time, hesitant.

"I'll get it," Riven muttered.

He walked toward the door, checking that the blanket was covering him properly, then cracked the door open—just halfway.

Standing on the other side was a young man, about twenty-five years old. Handsome, with a sharp jawline and neat military uniform. His eyes immediately landed on Riven—or more precisely, on the blanket clumsily wrapped around him.

A flicker of confusion passed across his face. One eyebrow lifted slightly. Still, he remained composed, keeping a formal tone.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked lightly, his voice polite but obviously making small talk.

Riven nodded, a bit awkwardly. "Yes. Thank you... for taking care of me."

The man gave a small nod in return, though his gaze stayed on Riven for a second too long, as if trying to piece things together.

"Is Her Majesty inside?" he asked more directly.

Riven glanced behind him. Ashtoria was already standing tall, her footsteps calm and deliberate as she approached. Her expression was composed, but her eyes were sharp, warning.

Riven opened the door fully, stepping aside.

Ashtoria appeared behind him—tall, elegant, her long hair slightly tousled, yet still radiating an undeniable aura of command. Her dress was in disarray, barely covering her, and anyone with a discerning eye would immediately realize she had just been... intimately engaged.

The man's demeanor shifted. As soon as he saw her, he bowed deeply. "Your Majesty."

Ashtoria returned his gaze without a smile. "Armand," she said flatly.

The man—Armand Valderacht—lifted his head slowly, but didn't dare meet her eyes. The air between them grew taut, as if one wrong word could cost a man his life.

"What are you here for?" Ashtoria asked coolly.

Armand glanced briefly at Riven, then answered crisply, "News from Begrave, Your Majesty."

"We've received reports that a faction of nobles has begun to mobilize. They've gathered a significant force in a short amount of time. Meanwhile, Arkham's invasion has spread. Their army is now split into three major divisions. Based on their movements, Dorthlam is likely to be their next target."

Ashtoria remained silent, listening. Her face didn't change. No surprise. No unease. She stood firm, like a marble statue untouched by storms.

Armand continued, his voice quieter but still clear. "All your preparations are complete, Your Majesty. You may begin your campaign whenever you're ready."

Ashtoria gave a slight nod. The gesture was unhurried, yet resolute. "I'll meet with Lord Valderacht shortly. We'll go over the details in his chambers."

The moment she spoke those words, Armand bowed once more. "As you command, Your Majesty."

Without another word, he stepped back and turned to leave. His footsteps echoed down the stone corridor before fading into silence.

Stillness returned to the room.

Ashtoria remained at the doorway, her gaze fixed ahead, though her mind seemed far away. Tension began to build again in her posture. Whatever had just passed between her and Riven moments ago now felt distant—like a warmth fading too quickly in the cold wind of reality.

Riven watched her back in silence. He knew she was preparing for something monumental, something heavy. He also knew she never complained, never asked for help. But he understood one more thing—starting now, he couldn't just stand by and watch.

And yet... he also understood that with the strength he had right now, there wasn't much he could do.

Ashtoria finally turned around, her black dress swaying lightly as she stepped away from the door. Her eyes lowered slightly, and she spoke with a calm voice, "I have to go."

Riven didn't respond immediately. He stood still, waiting for her to say more. His heart was still tethered to the warmth they'd shared not long ago. But Ashtoria's face had returned to its usual unreadable calm.

"There's a lot of work I have to do," she added softly. "So we might not see each other for a few days."

Riven let out a quiet sigh. His expression showed worry, but also acceptance. He understood that the world she lived in was far removed from his former life.

"Is it dangerous?" he asked gently. "Will you be okay?"

Ashtoria nodded without hesitation. "I'll be fine," she replied—short, but with firm conviction.

A pause settled between them, casting a silence that stretched into something heavy. The kind of silence that made people hesitate. That made them want to reach out.

Then her voice came again—softer now, like a whisper carried on wind.

"Promise me... you'll wait for me."

Riven looked into those blood-red eyes, now shimmering with hope. A hope that could have crushed a weaker man. But he was no longer just a man. Not after today.

He smiled, his eyes full of tenderness. "I'll never run from you, Asha. I told you, didn't I?"

He stepped closer, gently reaching out to touch her fingers. "If I run... you're allowed to catch me. And lock me away."

For a moment, there was only the sound of their hearts, beating softly in unison.

Something melted in Ashtoria's eyes. The irritation that had lingered earlier faded, replaced by a warmth that was unfamiliar to her—but not unwelcome. She liked it. That feeling of being wanted. Of being loved. Of having something... that no one else could take away.

She lowered her gaze slightly, clasping his hand in return. Her fingers were cold as ever, but her grip was strong.

"If that's the case," she whispered, "then you're mine."

Riven nodded, still smiling.

Ashtoria stared at him for a long while. In her mind, she was already imagining a hundred ways to ensure that was true. A hundred ways to destroy anyone who dared come between them.

But for now... she only wanted to hold on to this moment. His smile. His voice. His gaze.

She slowly let go of his hand and stepped away. "I'll return soon."

Riven nodded. "I'll be waiting."

Ashtoria gave him one last look before turning and walking away. Her steps were light, but every move was filled with purpose. And as the door shut softly behind her, the cold world outside welcomed her again.