Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

Claude tilted his head slightly. He couldn't quite relate to what Aurelia was feeling—he had never needed anyone's validation to know who he was.

He was a king, the descendant of the Lord of Calamity. His sense of self was carved deep into him, cold and unshakable.

So now, watching Aurelia wrestle with doubt, he found himself at a rare loss for words.

He glanced at Aubree, who looked just as unsure, the two of them suddenly feeling like parents fumbling to comfort a struggling teenage girl.

Aubree sighed gently. "Aurelia… I know you're already great the way you are. Isn't that enough?"

"Is good enough ever enough?" Aurelia muttered, her voice tight. "I've never felt like I was enough for anyone…"

Claude frowned. "Then you're being selfish."

Aubree immediately shot him a glare, but he continued, unfazed.

"You're a doctor. A hero. You should understand that helping others is more important than some desperate need for recognition."

Aubree elbowed him hard in the ribs. He didn't flinch, but the message was clear.

Aurelia clenched her jaw and stood up, clearly frustrated. "Just… give me time. If Alan's condition gets worse, I'll ask for help."

As she made to leave, Aubree gently caught her hand. "Then I'll go with you."

"But, Mom… it's far. I don't want you to get hurt since you really pregnant," Aurelia said, her voice softening with concern.

Aubree only smiled, raising a finger confidently. "Then I'll use teleportation magic!"

Both Aurelia and Claude blinked. "You can use teleportation magic?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?" she replied proudly, beginning to clear her throat to chant a spell—only to be stopped by Claude's hand on her shoulder.

"You know what? I'll do it. No need to waste your mana."

The truth was, he didn't trust her spell wouldn't backfire and injure her or worse.

After Aurelia gave him Alan's address, she glanced at Claude uncertainly. "Can you even teleport somewhere you've never seen?"

Claude offered a slight smirk. "I've already explored every part of Haven—even the alleys people forgot existed. I know the place."

Moments later, they arrived in front of Alan's modest home. They spotted Lily outside, dragging behind her an impressively large fish—so big it nearly dwarfed her tiny frame.

Aurelia called out, and Lily lit up as she ran to meet them. Together, the four stepped into the house.

Alan still looked frail, lying in bed with a shallow breath and trembling hands. The diet hadn't started to work yet, but he greeted them with a tired smile.

As Claude sit on the chair, asking simple but pointed questions, Alan nodded along with familiarity, describing his symptoms in detail.

Claude listened, then stepped back, already knowing the answer: rickets.

A deficiency of vitamin D, leading to bone weakness and deformity. It was rare in modern world and easy to heal, but not in medieval period like this, especially cold regions where sunlight was scarce.

It was easily treatable with exposure to sunlight and a diet rich in vitamin D. Even the Red Slumber medicine, liver from animals, would work as a strong supplement.

But instead of saying a word, Claude simply watched Aurelia—kneeling by the bedside, checking Alan's joints and posture, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"You know what this illness is, don't you?" Aubree whispered to him.

He nodded. "She's doing well. No need to interfere."

Aubree's shoulders relaxed. She could already imagine the joy her daughter would feel once Alan began to heal—not because of Claude's power, but because of her own effort and knowledge.

That victory would belong to Aurelia alone.

***

When Claude returned to the palace, he hadn't expected company—let alone the Queen herself waiting on his bed, reading a book as though it were her rightful place.

He raised a brow, unbothered. "What's a busy queen doing in her royal guard's chambers?"

Emmalise jolted, startled, and quickly shut the book before rising to her feet, tried to control her expression before saying, "I heard you're returning to Elysium soon... What about our arranged marriage?"

Claude chuckled, settling into the chair beside the mattress. "Now you care? Last time we spoke about it, you brushed it off and got yourself drunk on purpose."

She frowned and slowly sat back on the edge of his bed. "It's not like that… It just felt too fast to hold a wedding."

"Hmm… Six months of getting close, and it's still too fast, huh?" he muttered, resting his chin on his hand.

"My kingdom needs me. My heirs are already born, and my concubines are nearing their due dates."

"But you come back here twice a week…" she murmured, clutching the book against her chest.

"If we get married while you're busy like that, can we really make this work?"

Claude paused, then let out a dry laugh. "I didn't know you cared so much about making it work."

"We're king and queen, Emmalise. Are our roles meant to be defined by love?"

His words struck her like ice. She stiffened, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out. Then she turned abruptly.

"I'll leave."

But before she could, Claude reached out and caught her wrist.

"Do you love me?"

The question came without warning, and her heart skipped a beat. Her cheeks flushed, but she tore her gaze away.

"No. You're right. This relationship is about politics and benefit. I don't love you."

Claude smirked. With a sudden tug, he spun her toward him, pinning her back against the wall. His body pressed against hers, and he firmly gripped her wrists.

"Say it to my face, then," he challenged, his voice low and teasing. "Look at me and say you don't love me."

Emmalise squirmed under his intense stare. She wanted to push him away—wanted to resist—but she couldn't look into his eyes without feeling the rush of heat flood her cheeks.

"I… don't love you," she whispered, turning her head away. "I don't even like you."

Claude chuckled. His fingers gently brushed along her lips, then traced her jaw, drawing a visible shiver from her.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Then why can't you say it while looking at me? You can't… can you?"

She trembled beneath his touch, her body tense, breath shallow. His closeness was maddening—his presence overwhelming.

"I… I…" she stammered, trying to resist the heat rising in her chest.

Claude's voice dropped to a provocative whisper. "If you said you loved me, I might touch you more."

Without warning, he ground his leg between her thighs, pressing it firmly against her pussy. Emmalise gasped, startled by the sudden friction, her body jolting with a soft moan.

"Claude, what are you… Hnngh—" Her voice trembled as heat surged through her.

Her mind spun with memories of his seed inside her, thick and satisfying. Just the thought made her crave it all over again.

"You like it, don't you?" Claude murmured against her neck. "Then why don't you say it—so I can fuck you today."

He kissed her neck, gentle at first, then deeper—leaving trails of warm, wet kisses along her skin and down to the edge of her cleavage, marking her as his.

She was wearing pants today, probably fresh from a horse ride, which made it easier for him.

He unbuttoned her top with practiced fingers, brushing aside useless accessories until her bra came into view.

Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, trembling with anticipation.

His leg kept grinding against her pussy, steadily drawing slickness through her clothes. Her moans grew louder, needier, more raw with every stroke.

But suddenly, Claude stopped.

She let out a groan of disappointment, eyes fluttering open.

"You forgot to say something," he said with a sly grin.

Emmalise swallowed hard. Her cheeks burned crimson as she whispered, "I… I love you. And I don't want you to leave me."

Her voice cracked, eyes shimmering with emotion. It wasn't just lust—she really meant it. And the embarrassment made her tremble.

Claude chuckled softly, eyes gleaming. She was adorable, and he was utterly taken with her.

"Good girl," he purred. "Now you'll get what you wanted, Your Majesty."

He unzipped her pants and slid them down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. Her panties were cute—unexpectedly innocent for a queen. That only made him harder.

He brushed his fingers over the damp fabric, teasing her, then slipped her panties aside and stroked along her slick folds. Her whole body quivered.

"Cl-Claude… please…" she whimpered. "Touch me more down there… it itches…"

He raised a brow, amused by how openly she begged. "Never in my life did I imagine a queen pleading to be fucked like this."

But he was proud—proud she desired him so badly. And he would give her what she asked for.

He slipped a finger inside her, warm and slick. Her walls welcomed him easily, and her moan echoed in the room.

Slowly, he began to stretch her, working her gently with a scissoring motion, watching her melt beneath his touch, her mind unraveling with pleasure.

Until she was ready for his big guns.

"Nnngghhh~ Good, it's so good!" she put her hands on his neck, kissing him gently.

Claude eased a second finger inside her, curling them just right as he rubbed slow, deliberate circles against her soaked walls. Emmalise's back arched, her breath hitching with each pulse of pleasure.

"C-Claude—AHHH!!! AHHHH!!!" she cried, clinging to his shoulders as her thighs trembled.

He leaned close, whispering against her lips, "You're so wet… you're about to come just from my fingers, aren't you?"

She could only moan in response, her body writhing as his thumb brushed her clit. That was it.

"YESHHH!!! OOHHH!!! HNGGG!!! CUMMINGGG!"

She gasped, shuddering hard as her orgasm ripped through her, her pussy clenching around his fingers, wetness spilling onto his hand.

Now they were ready for the next round!