Dragon King's Harem Chapter 517. Not My Court
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 517. Not My Court
The breakfast ended.
And with it, the beginning of the end.
One by one, the nobles began to leave. Not dramatically, not with parades or tears or some kind of overwrought ceremonial departure. Just the quiet shuffle of boots across ancient elven marble, silk cloaks fluttering in the winter wind, and the fading scent of perfume, pride, and political ambition. They didn't all leave at once, of course. It trickled, like snow melting slowly off an overburdened branch.
Some gave a polite bow. Some avoided my eyes completely. One idiot tried to flirt with Maria on the way out, he got my tail flicking behind me like a pissed-off cat and practically ran the hall like a coward.
But mostly?
It was civil.
Which was almost more exhausting than war.
Three days. That’s how long it took for the palace to shift back into something less… swollen. Less puffed up by formality. Three days before we could breathe again without the air reeking of politics, arrogance, and perfumes too floral to be anything but a lie.
When Callum and Thiphania finally left… I swear to the flames below, Al let out a snore so loud I thought a wyvern crash landed.
He slept like a hamster.
No, really. Twelve hours. Curled up like a cinnamon bun, mouth slightly open, breathing so deep it was like he was trying to refill a decade’s worth of missing REM cycles.
I didn’t even wake him.
He earned it.
As for me?
I sent my orders.
Didn’t need to explain it to Maria. She already knew. My empire responded immediately, dragon soldier guards, elite and temporary. Not many. Just a quiet deployment. A protective presence. A reminder. They weren’t here to invade, intimidate, or interfere.
They were here because I said they were.
And because I refused to let this palace, Kaelen’s future, Maria’s present, go unguarded while the snow elves nobles continued playing their little court games.
Of course, no one said anything about it directly.
But I saw the glances. Heard the whispers.
And felt the pressure.
Because for all the calm that settled over the halls, the court itself? It was still very much alive.
And some of those nobles… they were the kind of people who never attacked you outright. They didn’t challenge. Didn’t insult. Didn’t shout.
No. They guilt-tripped.
They manipulated.
They nudged.
They spoke in sweet tones with sour meanings, gazed at Kaelen with exaggerated concern, praised Maria with just enough venom laced into the honey to leave a bruise you couldn’t even prove existed.
“I heard the young prince cried during court again. Perhaps he’s not ready to bear such pressure. Maybe someone else should carry that burden… temporarily, of course. For the good of the kingdom…”
Bastards.
I wanted to gut them.
Turn their stupid ice hearts into dragon furnaces and roast marshmallows over their frozen egos.
But this wasn’t my court.
This wasn’t my kingdom.
So I didn’t strike.
I didn’t speak.
But I did stare.
Just once.
One look. No words. No flame. No roar.
Just… a gaze.
Cold. Quiet. Lethal.
Something that said, go ahead. Say it again. Push a little harder. And I will melt your entire bloodline into a slushie and sell it in my market labeled ‘Snow Elf Supreme – Now With 20% More Regret.’
It worked.
No, it worked so well.
They looked away. Every time.
And Maria? She saw it.
Didn’t say a word at first. But later that night, when Kaelen was asleep and we sat near the fire, she leaned into me, her head on my shoulder, and whispered, “You scare them.”
I grinned. “Good.”
“And you like it.”
I tilted my head. “Even better.”
She laughed.
But then she grew serious. Her fingers laced through mine, her thumb brushing my palm slowly.
“I added a few new rules,” she said quietly. “Nothing drastic. Just… boundaries. So Kaelen doesn’t have to attend every court session. And if anyone tries to summon him, it’ll go through me.”
I kissed her forehead.
And for a moment, everything felt right.
I spent as much time with them as I could after that.
Every hour.
Every breath.
One week. That was all I had left here before duty would drag me back.
So I made it count.
I taught Kaelen how to fight.
Not battlefield slaughter. Not dragon-level annihilation. Just the basics. Footwork. Balance. How to breathe when your heart is racing and your hands want to shake. His body was still small, his limbs too light, his grip not yet steady, but his focus?
Sharp.
We trained on a snow-covered practice ground just outside the inner garden walls, where the frost was packed firm and the air bit at your lungs if you breathed too fast. I stood behind him at first, adjusting his stance with my hands on his shoulders, nudging his feet into place.
“Don’t lock your knees,” I said. “Snow punishes stiffness.”
He nodded seriously, jaw set, holding the wooden practice blade like it was a sacred relic.
I demonstrated slowly. One step forward. Weight low. Blade angled, not raised. Always ready to move, never rooted.
“Fighting isn’t about strength,” I told him. “It’s about staying upright when everything tries to knock you down.”
He mimicked me. A little clumsy. A little late. But determined.
When I finally sparred with him, barehanded, slow, exaggerated, he laughed every time I knocked his blade aside. Not embarrassed. Not scared.
Just happy.
His laughter echoed through the snow laden trees like something pure and bright.
Maria watched from the edge of the training ground, arms crossed, pretending to scold us both.
“You’ll bruise him,” she called out.
“He’ll learn,” I replied, parrying Kaelen’s swing and gently tapping his shoulder with two fingers. “Snow elves are tougher than they look.”
She raised a brow. “Not when you’re teaching him like a dragon.”
I glanced at Kaelen, who was already resetting his stance, eyes bright with excitement.
“…Fair,” I admitted.
Kaelen beamed anyway.
And when he finally landed a clean hit, just a light tap against my ribs, he froze, eyes wide.
“Did I—?”
“Yes,” I said, straightening. “You did.”
His smile was worth more than any victory I’d ever claimed.