Three weeks.
That's how long it took for me to stop glowing like a corrupted wedding cake and start glowing like… well, a king about to be forcibly married to five MILFs in front of an entire kingdom.
Three weeks since the shrine war.
Since the throne room smelled of sex, glitchlight, and victory.
Since I rewrote a system protocol mid-orgasm and Celestia decided that meant it was time for dress shopping.
Now?
I stood beside her in the grand court hall, my feet half-asleep in ceremonial boots, sweat running down my spine under heavy royal robes, and my system flickering with "Marriage Protocol: Pending Execution" alerts every few seconds.
The hall was packed. Nobles, knights, high mages, foreign envoys – everyone who mattered in Velmira's dominion. Gilded banners hung from obsidian pillars. Divine wards pulsed faintly overhead, as if even the gods were holding their breath to see if I'd break reality again.
Celestia stood half a step ahead of me.
