August 7, 2025

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 477. This is Not My Kingdom

The strong nobles were dead. Cedric wiped them out. All that’s left now were weaker houses—quiet, opportunistic, hungry. A power vacuum was forming around Maria whether she liked it or not.

And someone—probably several someones—was going to try and fill it. By marrying her. By replacing her. By claiming she wasn’t strong enough to rule alone.

Which was bullshit.

But logic rarely mattered in these situations. Bloodlines and optics did.

Callum, of course, took that moment to clear his throat.

“I’m sure Her Majesty has many suitors eager to pledge their swords,” he said, sipping his wine without looking at anyone in particular. “After all, there are… benefits to aligning with a stable, snowy throne.”

He didn’t need to say more. Everyone heard the unspoken word.

Including me.

Al shifted slightly, and I could feel his jaw tighten like stone under pressure.

Maria smiled.

Not a kind one.

“I appreciate the interest,” she said. “But this throne is not up for auction. I’m sure you understand.”

There was a sharp inhale from the diplomat across the table. Like he'd just realized maybe poking the recently-victorious queen wasn't the brightest idea.

Jyne finally spoke up, setting her glass down with a delicate clink.

“It’s funny,” she said, all sugar and silk. “How quickly people forget she just survived a coup and still made it to breakfast looking like a painting. You’d think that kind of achievement might buy a little more time before the matchmaking began.”

Maria chuckled softly.

“Thank you, Lady Jyne.”

“I mean,” Jyne added, “if it were me, I’d start executing people for bad timing. But I suppose snow elves are more patient.”

Kaelen looked up. “Are we executing someone?”

“No, sweetheart,” Maria said without missing a beat. “Just thoughts.”

I almost laughed.

Almost.

But the question still hung there.

The truth was… Maria was alone. Strong, yes. Respected. But politically isolated. Cedric left her surrounded by ghosts and landmines. No powerful houses left to support her without demanding something in return. And the other tribes? Some would help… if it meant getting a piece of her kingdom. Others would invade the moment they saw weakness.

And now?

Now they were sniffing at her like wolves around a wounded stag.

I glanced sideways. Al’s fingers were still clenched around his cup. Too tight. I could see the faint tremble in his wrist. The memories of his exiled homeland and Maria’s situation probably overlapped a little too well.

He'd seen this before.

Hell, I’d seen it before too.

Enemies disguised as guests.

And yet… I stayed quiet.

Because right now, this wasn’t my battle to fight.

Not yet.

But if someone tried to take her throne—

I might just stop pretending to sip soup.

The tension hadn’t thinned. If anything, it had aged like bad wine. There was that stale political flavor to the air, heavy with implication and the sharp aftertaste of ambition. I could feel it crawling under my skin, prickling behind my ears.

But I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.

I stabbed another piece of roasted meat and let the juice trail back to my plate like blood from a minor victory.

And then, of course, he opened his mouth.

Callum.

“You haven’t said a thing, Dragon King.”

His voice was light. Pleased with itself. The kind of tone men use when they think they’ve boxed you into a corner and expect you to perform.

I didn’t even look at him at first. I finished chewing. Slowly. Swallowed. Took a small sip of broth.

“Not yet,” I said, voice casual, tapping the edge of my spoon on the bowl. “But maybe I will. If I have to.”

A few heads turned. A few forks paused mid-air. Even Maria tilted her head slightly.

Callum arched a brow. “Not yet?” he repeated, as if I’d personally insulted the rhythm of the universe. “That’s a bit shocking, considering you’re the one who meddled in the affair in the first place. And now you wash your hands of it?”

I finally turned my head and met his eyes.

He was smiling. That dry, court-trained witch king smile. The kind that should’ve come with a warning label and a punchline.

I kept my voice steady. Calm.

“I already said this once,” I murmured. “I paid a favor to the late King of the Snow Elves. A debt owed. That’s all.”

Then I turned to Maria.

The room followed me with their ears even if their eyes stayed polite.

“The rest,” I said slowly, carefully, “depends on her. This tribe isn’t mine. This is not my kingdom.”

And with that, I picked up my fork again and cut into another bite.

Let it land. Let it sting. Let them stew.

Because yes, that statement was absolutely necessary.

I needed the room to hear it. Not just Callum. Not just Maria. All of them.

The diplomats. The nobles. The watchers. The ones who were already whispering behind tapestries and into wine goblets about whether I had come to “conquer” the Snow Elves with fire and dragon wings and sharp teeth.

No. That was never the point.

I didn’t come here to take. I came because she asked.

Because Maria—Queen Maria—stood in front of me not long ago desperation in her voice, in my dream. And she didn’t grovel. Didn’t beg.

She asked.

And that was enough.

I wasn’t here for thrones. I wasn’t here to add one more glittering crown to the infernal stack of politics burning at my feet.

I was here for balance.

And yes, alright. Maybe for her.

“Gracious,” one of the Riverine delegates murmured, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin that probably cost more than a soldier’s armor. “How refreshingly restrained. Most kings aren’t so… deferential.”

“Most kings aren’t me,” I muttered under my breath.

Sela snorted into her cup. Kaelen was too busy drawing what looked like a soup monster jousting with a carrot knight to notice.

Callum’s smile didn’t fade. But the eyes behind it sharpened.

“So,” he said, tone still smooth. “You’d give all the credit to Her Majesty then? For toppling Cedric? For restoring the palace?”

“I’d give credit to the ones who were here when it mattered,” I replied, lifting my eyes again. “The ones who bled for this place. Who didn’t flee to their mountain estates when the snow got dirty.”

Callum didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. His daughter stiffened slightly beside him, fingers curling around her fork.