The sun hung low over Magda's snowy mountains, painting the sky in soft oranges and pinks as the combined armies rode back toward the city. Blood and dirt covered armor, weapons chipped and stained, but faces glowed with hard-won pride. Queen Shala rode at the front beside the general, their horses stepping slow now that danger had passed. Behind them, Hira and Magda warriors mixed together—laughing, slapping backs, sharing quick stories of the fight. The dragon chambers rolled heavy, smoke still curling from their tubes, pulled by tired but happy teams.
As they reached the city gates, cheers exploded. People lined the stony streets—women waving furs, children on shoulders holding small axes like toys, old men banging hammers on shields. "Heroes! Saviors!" they shouted voices echoing off thick walls. Flowers—rare winter blooms from hidden greenhouses—were thrown under hooves. Some tossed bread and dried meat to the soldiers. Magda folk rushed out to hug their warriors, tears mixing with smiles. Even Hira men got cheers and claps, strangers treating them like brothers now.
The general raised his good arm, grinning wide under his leopard-tooth crown. "We held! Together we pushed them back!"
More roars. Queen Shala smiled too, waving graceful, her armor dusty but posture straight. People stared at her—a woman leading charge like that? Whispers spread quick: "Hira's queen… brave as any man… beautiful too."
They rode to the castle courtyard where tables were rushed out—long wooden benches loaded with hot stew, roasted meat, bread thick with butter, and strong mountain ale. Music started simple—drums from big hides, horns carved from animal bones. Warriors sat mixed, Hira and Magda sharing cups telling bigger tales of the battle. "Saw her blast that tree to ash!" one Hira man said pointing at Shala. "And him—cut that bear's head clean off!" a Magda warrior boasted about the general.
Celebrations went on into evening. Fires lit in pits, warming cold air. Dances started rough and joyful—men stomping circles, women joining with laughs. Children ran between legs playing war games but happy ones. The huge cemetery in the city center got quiet visits too—flowers laid for the fallen, soft words thanking them for holding long enough.
As night deepened, the general pulled Shala aside near a fire. His tall wife was busy hosting, pouring ale for guests. "Your Majesty," he said voice low and warm. "Stay for the night. Your army as well. Rest proper after the fight. It's a long ride back to Hira in the dark… it's also dangerous when tired like this."
Shala hesitated, glancing at her men laughing with Magda folk. Duty pulled—Harlan waiting news, kingdom to run. But legs ached, eyes heavy from battle rush fading. "I shouldn't… but you're right. One night. To honor the win together."
He nodded, relief in his eyes. "Good. Guest rooms ready. Best we have."
Dinner was grand in the castle hall—long tables groaning under food. Roasted snow leopard (rare treat), root veggies baked soft, cheeses sharp from mountain goats. Ale flowed free. Toasts rose loud: "To peace!" "To Queen Shala!" "To the general!" She sat near him, talking easy about battle plans, trade ideas, laughs coming natural. His wife sat close too, kind as always, but Shala felt eyes on her—the general's lingering a bit long.
After, as fires died low, guests split to rooms. Hira men bunked in barracks with Magda warriors, stories continuing late. Shala's guest room was warm—thick furs on bed, fire crackling small, window overlooking snowy peaks.
She changed slow, servants helping remove armor, slipping into soft night robe. Alone finally, she sat on bed edge, heart still racing from day. Couldn't shake it—the general's hands saving her from that bear. Strong quick, axe swinging perfect. His arms around in that moment almost, protective warm. Heat rose in her cheeks thinking. His face rugged but kind, eyes dark pulling her in. That magical glance during chase… what was this feeling? Soft, sweet, making stomach flutter like first love. Lovey-dovey thoughts she shouldn't have—Harlan at home sick but loving. Yet here, far away, her mind wandered to the tall warrior in the next halls over.
Across the castle, the general lay in his big bed beside his wife. She curled close, hand on his chest, breathing even in sleep. Tall beautiful loyal—she'd fought beside him years, shared everything. But tonight mind wouldn't quiet. Images of Queen Shala flashed: leading charge fierce sword high voice commanding men like born for it. Courage shining bright. Beauty too—hair wild in wind, face bold flushed from fight, body strong under armor. Diplomacy earlier visits, smart words building peace. It drove him crazy heat building low. He must have her. That night there then. The obsession was weird but strong and pulling hard.
But he couldn't just walk to her room. With the Hiran army here—guards eyes sharp , whispers would spread fast ruining alliances. He needed a plan clever quiet. How? No telepathy no magic pull.
Frustrated he slipped out of the bed careful not wake his wife. Padded to private bathroom down the dim hall— he took cool water to splash face to shake this feeling off.
Meanwhile Shala couldn't sleep either. Thirsty dry from ale and dust. Servant earlier said "Bathroom is down the hall Your Majesty but no lights. It's dangerously prohibited at night—enemies can see glow. We guide using the voice." She'd mastered castle layout day tours and needed no light anyway.
She stepped out quiet robe loose feet bare on cold stone. Hall was total darkness —Magda's way, the general hated night lights he preferred to hide positions as an old habit. The servant walked ahead soft: "Left here… straight five steps… door right."
Shala followed careful hands out for walls.
The general finished splashing cold water his face dripping. He turned to leave shaking his head—to get back in bed and forget her.
Bump.A Soft body against his chest in the dark. It was followed by a small gasp.
He froze. He knew her scent that instant—light flowers from Hira fields mixed with battle smoke. Queen.
She pressed close and accidentally lost balance for a moment. Felt him—hard bricked against her hip. She assumed that it was perhaps from time with wife earlier but…there were no smell of hormones and sweat like it is supposed to be . Clean fresh. And as they stood close breath mingling he got harder just there growing against her.
The servant's voice was distant: "That's bathroom Your Majesty." Footsteps faded away.
Darkness wrapped them thick no one could see. The general without a word wrapped his large arms around her slow and gentle. She did same her arms up his back feeling the warmth of his muscles . The pull was strong and mutual hearts pounding loud in the silent night.
They moved together into the bathroom closing the door with a soft click behind.