The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Cerys' face was a vivid shade of red as she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the ground, avoiding any glance at Mikhailis. She clutched the edge of her sword's scabbard tightly, as though it could anchor her in place and help her forget the events from just minutes ago. Mikhailis, on the other hand, was strolling beside her with an amused grin, clearly enjoying her flustered state.

"You know, if your face gets any redder, the villagers might think you're a Crockapite about to lay an egg," he teased, his voice light and playful.

Cerys whipped her head toward him, her eyes narrowing, but her blush only deepened.

"Can you not?!" she snapped, though her voice wavered slightly, betraying her embarrassment.

Mikhailis chuckled, reaching out to gently take her hand. She stiffened at the contact, her eyes widening in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she allowed the gesture, finding an unexpected comfort in his warm grasp.

"Hey," he said softly, his tone losing some of its teasing edge.

"You did great back there. Let's focus on getting back and enjoying the reward. Deal?"

Cerys glanced at their intertwined hands and then at him. His sincere smile disarmed her, and she gave a small, reluctant nod.

"Deal," she murmured.

Together, they walked into the village, pulling behind them the massive Thorncrawler queen's corpse tied to a makeshift sled crafted by Mikhailis from fallen branches. As the pair approached, the villagers began to gather, their eyes wide with awe. Whispers rippled through the crowd, and then, as if on cue, a wave of cheers erupted.

"They've done it!"

"The heroes killed the monster queen!"

"Look at the size of that thing!"

Mikhailis waved casually at the crowd, his grin widening.

"Looks like we're famous now," he muttered to Cerys, who was still visibly uncomfortable with the attention.

The village chief, a stout man with a long gray beard and kind eyes, stepped forward, clapping his hands together.

"Brave warriors! You have saved our village and restored peace to our lands. We are forever grateful!"

He gestured to one of the villagers, who hurried over with a small leather pouch. The chief handed it to Mikhailis.

"This is a token of our gratitude. Twenty silver coins and one gold coin—it is modest, but it is all we can offer."

Mikhailis accepted the pouch with a graceful nod.
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"Your gratitude means more than the coin, Chief. We're just happy to help," he said, though the weight of the pouch told him the reward was anything but modest for a small village like this.

The villagers, not satisfied with only the monetary reward, began insisting they take additional provisions from the market. Cerys' protests fell on deaf ears as stall owners piled their arms with dried meats, bread, herbal remedies, and even a jar of honey.

"This is too much," Cerys muttered under her breath, glancing at the growing pile of goods.

Mikhailis' grin turned thoughtful.

"It doesn't make sense," he murmured.

<Correction, Mikhailis. This prosperity is likely a result of Silvarion Thalor's advancements in agriculture, bolstered by the knowledge you and Elowen provided. Fertilizer innovations and optimized crop management have increased yields exponentially. This village's surplus may also explain why Serewyn's prince has taken notice of Silvarion Thalor's recent success.>

I see... So this is the reason, huh...

Mikhailis nodded subtly, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. It was gratifying to see the fruits of their shared efforts improving lives.

As they finished loading their provisions onto their horse's saddlebags, the villagers directed them to the coziest inn in the village—a charming stone and wood building with a thatched roof. A warm, inviting glow spilled from its windows, and the scent of roasted meat wafted into the crisp evening air.

The innkeeper, an older woman with a welcoming demeanor, greeted them with a knowing smile.

"Ah, you must be the heroes everyone's been talking about! Welcome, welcome! Let me prepare a room for you two lovebirds."

Cerys' face turned scarlet, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to form a coherent response. Mikhailis laughed lightheartedly, patting her shoulder.

"We'll take it. Thank you, ma'am."

The innkeeper winked and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Cerys sputtering in protest.

"Lovebirds?! We're not… I mean, I didn't… She thinks… But you're the Queen's..."

"Relax," Mikhailis said, his voice tinged with amusement.

"Let her think what she wants. Besides, it got us a nice room."

Their room was indeed comfortable—a large, soft bed covered in warm blankets dominated the space. A small table and chairs sat by the window, and a pair of candles bathed the room in a gentle glow.

As they began unpacking, Mikhailis leaned against the wall, watching as Cerys removed her armor piece by piece. He tilted his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"You know, it's kind of strange seeing you without all that armor. You almost look... normal," he quipped.

Cerys shot him a withering glare but couldn't entirely hide the shy smile creeping onto her face.

"Stop teasing me, Your Highness,"

Before he could reply, a knock came at the door. The innkeeper entered, carrying a tray laden with roasted Crockapite, herb-infused bread, and a pitcher of Thalorian Brew.

"On the house," she said warmly, setting the food down.

"A thank-you for all you've done."

Mikhailis grinned.

"You're spoiling us, ma'am. Thank you."

As the door closed behind her, he turned to Cerys.

"See? Coming here was the right call."

Cerys nodded, a soft smile gracing her lips.

"You're right. This place is... nice."

They sat at the table, the meal between them, and the scent of roasted Crockapite and freshly baked herb-infused bread filled the room. The glow of the candlelight reflected in Cerys' eyes as she finally relaxed, letting her guard down for the first time in what felt like forever. The weight of the day's battle seemed to lift as their conversation turned light, punctuated by shared laughter. Mikhailis leaned back in his chair, gesturing animatedly as he recounted the Thorncrawler queen's screech when its leg had been severed.

"And then it looked at you like, 'How dare you!'" he said, his voice adopting a mockingly indignant tone.

Cerys let out a genuine laugh, a sound that filled the room with warmth.

"I'll admit, it did have a flair for the dramatic," she said between chuckles.

"Oh, dramatic doesn't even cover it," Mikhailis replied, smirking. "I half expected it to break into a soliloquy about the tragedy of losing its throne."

Cerys rolled her eyes, though her smile remained.

"Only you would compare a monster to a theater actor, Your Highness."

"Well, you have to admit, it makes for a great story," Mikhailis said, raising his glass of Thalorian Brew in a mock toast.

Cerys clinked her glass against his, shaking her head.

"Yes, yes. Whatever best for you, Your Highness," she said, but there was no heat in her words—only the faintest trace of affection.

Mikhailis shrugged, grinning.

"Impossible? Maybe. But at least I'm entertaining."

Their laughter intertwined, blending with the crackle of the candles and the soft hum of the village outside. For a moment, the world felt small, intimate, and filled with nothing but their shared warmth. As Cerys leaned back, a rare, unguarded smile gracing her lips, Mikhailis couldn't help but think that this fleeting peace, however brief, was worth every moment of chaos that had led them here.

When it was time to sleep, Cerys hesitated, her gaze lingering on the large bed. She looked at Mikhailis, her expression uncertain.

"It's fine," he said reassuringly, lying down on one side.

"Plenty of space. I'll stay on my side, promise."

She nodded slowly, slipping under the covers on the opposite side. The warmth of the day's events lingered, filling the silence with an unspoken comfort.

But of course, that's not what she actually thought.

In fact, she's hoping for the opposite.

In the middle of the night, Cerys stirred, her dreams shifting into a hazy blur as she became aware of the comforting warmth nearby. Slowly, her body gravitated toward Mikhailis, the faint rhythm of his breathing drawing her closer. Her hand reached out tentatively, brushing against his arm before settling lightly on his shoulder. Her fingers curled slightly, as though seeking reassurance from his presence.

Her eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, and her gaze landed directly on his face, just inches from her own. For a moment, she froze, her breath catching as she registered his amused, slightly mischievous expression. Her face turned a vivid shade of pink, but instead of retreating, she hesitated, her hand lingering as though reluctant to let go.

"Comfortable?" he whispered, his voice teasing but gentle.

Cerys' initial embarrassment gave way to soft laughter. The sound was infectious, and soon they were both laughing quietly, the tension melting away.

As their laughter faded, their gazes met, unspoken emotions swirling between them. Slowly, they leaned closer, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. It was warm, unhurried, and filled with all the affection and trust that had been building between them.

The kiss deepened, their surroundings fading away as they lost themselves in the moment. When they finally pulled back, breathless but content, Cerys' cheeks were flushed, but her eyes held a new confidence.

"I want more," she whispered, her voice barely audible but steady.

Mikhailis smiled, his heart swelling as he leaned in once more, their connection growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I know,"