Chapter 1007: The Queen of Asgard

Strax returned to Asgard leaving Selene and Frieren practically buried in the archives on pseudo-souls, certain that the Great Witch would still need to discuss the formal details of establishing the Congregation inside the kingdom.

He had already handled the simple part: mutual protection, integration of the barriers, participation in local trade, and respect for Asgard’s laws.

The rest, as always, would be the job of someone who actually had patience for contracts.

He found Monica in the same place where she seemed to spend a worrying amount of her existence lately: behind a desk surrounded by documents.

The difference was that the office was considerably calmer that afternoon.

The immediate food problems were already being brought under control, the first reports on the crops had arrived, and for the first time in days, there was no line of employees waiting outside.

Strax entered without knocking, closed the door behind him, and dropped into the chair in front of her.

"I have news."

Monica raised her eyes from the document she was reading.

"That sentence coming from you never means anything simple."

"This time it does."

She let out a tired laugh.

"I doubt it."

Strax started explaining.

He told her about Selene Feywin, the Ten Great Witches, the Congregation, and the gigantic crater where they lived.

He described the floating towers, the laboratories, the decaying magical cores, and the Witches’ desire to teleport practically their entire infrastructure into Asgard.

He also explained why they had chosen his kingdom: independence from the Heavenly Emperor, political stability, and above all, enough freedom to continue their research without some Monarch appearing to demand artifacts, information, or obedience.

Monica listened without interrupting.

When Strax reached the part about the forty-meter artificial dragon, she opened her mouth to ask something, then simply gave up and gestured for him to continue.

Then came Frieren, the homunculi, the pseudo-souls, and the frightening speed at which the two researchers had started exchanging knowledge.

Finally, Strax explained the preliminary agreement he had offered.

Monica remained silent for several seconds after he finished.

Her fingers tapped slowly against the desk as she organized everything in her head, and Strax immediately recognized that expression.

She was already calculating population, territorial area, resource consumption, taxes, security, economic integration, and probably twenty other problems he did not even know existed.

"Actually..." she began, "this is very good for us."

Strax raised an eyebrow.

"No lecture?"

"Maybe later."

"I knew it."

Monica ignored him.

"Asgard has enough brute force to terrify almost any territory on this continent. You, Scarlet, Tiamat, Ouroboros, Kali, Scathach, the others... honestly, destructive power is not our problem."

She leaned back in her chair.

"The problem is brains."

Strax made an offended expression.

"I have a brain."

"You melted a divine relic because you didn’t want to wear a helmet."

"It worked."

"That is exactly the problem. Your absurd ideas work and reinforce your bad behavior."

Strax smiled.

Monica continued before he could interrupt.

"We have intelligent people. Frieren is excellent. Our alchemists are improving, the engineers are getting better, and the administration is starting to train its own specialists. But Asgard is young. There is no quick substitute for thousands of years of accumulated knowledge."

Strax nodded.

That was exactly what he had thought while observing the Congregation.

"So you agree."

"As long as we have something to offer in return."

"We do."

"Besides protection."

"Stability, territory, trade, access to materials, coexistence with different species, and freedom of research."

Monica raised an eyebrow.

"You really paid attention during the negotiation."

"Sometimes I surprise people."

"Rarely."

She pulled a blank sheet closer.

"If they really can integrate their barriers with ours, that alone would be valuable. Then there are schools of magic, alchemy, artifact creation, training new mages... We could even create joint programs with the Academy once it grows larger."

Strax smiled.

"That’s why I’m leaving this in your hands."

Monica’s pen stopped.

She looked at him.

"In my hands."

"Yes."

"You brought potentially hundreds of Witches, an entire magical city, and one of the oldest academic organizations in the world to our doorstep, and now you’re just handing it to me."

"You’re better at this."

"Strax."

He shrugged, completely relaxed.

"You’re the real Queen of Asgard."

Monica froze.

The irritation disappeared immediately.

A red tint slowly began spreading across her cheeks.

Strax noticed.

"Look at that."

"Shut up."

"You turned red."

"I did not."

"You really did."

Monica put down the pen.

Strax was still smiling when she stood from her chair, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of him.

For a second, he thought she might hit him for the teasing.

Instead, Monica simply moved his arms slightly apart and sat on his lap.

Strax blinked.

"That’s new."

"Stay quiet."

She placed one hand against his face and kissed him.

It was not a quick greeting kiss.

Monica stayed there for several seconds, deliberately enjoying the silence of the office before pulling back only far enough to keep looking into his eyes.

Strax wrapped one arm around her waist.

"So that’s what this was."

"What was what?"

"You were needy."

Monica narrowed her eyes.

"I started having more free time."

"That’s a miracle."

"Thanks to the expansion of the administration."

"Another miracle."

"And even then, you didn’t give me any attention."

Strax noticed the small pout appearing again.

She continued, now clearly complaining about something she had been keeping inside for a while.

"When you finally show up, there’s a war. When the war ends, you disappear into Tartarus. Then you come back, spend the night with two demonesses, find an underground tree, and before I can understand anything, you go visit a city of Witches."

Strax thought about the sequence.

"When you say it like that, it really does sound like a lot."

"It sounds like a lot because it is."

"You could have said something."

Monica fell silent.

Strax smiled.

"You were waiting for me to notice on my own."

"Maybe."

"That was your first mistake."

She lightly hit his chest.

"Idiot."

Strax tightened his arm around her waist and stood with Monica still against his body, making her instinctively grab his shoulders.

"Good."

Monica raised an eyebrow.

"Good what?"

"I’m going to fix that right now."

She understood the meaning immediately.

The red returned to her face.

"Strax, I still have work."

He looked at the desk.

Then at her.

"You just said you have more free time."

Monica had no answer for several seconds.

Strax smiled with satisfaction.

"Use it better."

"You’re unbearable."

"And apparently you missed me."

Strax did not wait for any more protests.

Still carrying Monica, he opened the office door with a light touch of energy, completely ignoring the surprised looks from the few employees still in the corridor.

The walk to the royal chambers was quick, with Monica burying her face against his neck to avoid the curious stares, though she made no real effort to get down.

The bedroom door closed behind them with a decisive click.

The afternoon sunlight entered through the tall windows, illuminating the spacious room and the large bed at its center.

Strax finally let her down, allowing her to slide gently until she stood in front of him.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

The faint irritation, the administrative tension, the exhaustion accumulated over weeks—all of it seemed to melt into the warm, quiet air of the room.

Monica moved first.

She pulled his tunic downward, helping it slide over his shoulders and arms until it fell to the floor.

Her fingers found the buckles of his belt, working with a familiarity that spoke of old intimacy, even if it had rarely been exercised lately.

Strax, in turn, began undoing the delicate ties and buttons of Monica’s dress.

The rich, dark fabric slowly gave way, revealing pale skin beneath.

When the dress slid down her hips and pooled on the floor, he pulled her against him again, this time with no barrier between them.

The kiss was different.

Slower.

Deeper.

More deliberate.

Strax’s hands traveled over her back, feeling every curve, every muscle tightened by stress that was now beginning to dissolve.

Monica sighed against his lips, her fingers tangling in his short hair and pulling him even closer.

He guided her toward the bed, and she yielded to the movement, lying back against the dark sheets.

Strax followed, supporting himself over her, his hips settling naturally into the space between her legs.

He looked at her—the flushed face, parted lips, dark eyes fixed on him with a mixture of desire and affection that made something tighten inside his chest.

"Finally," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

He answered with a slow smile before lowering himself, replacing her lips with the touch of his mouth against her neck and the curve of her shoulder.

Monica arched her back, a low moan escaping when his teeth brushed lightly over one nipple before his tongue caressed it.

Her hands moved across his muscular torso, lightly scratching his skin as he continued downward, exploring every inch with a patience that contrasted sharply with the urgency with which they had entered the room.

When his mouth found the wet heat between her legs, Monica let out a strangled sound.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, not to pull, but to hold on.

Strax knew her far too well.

He knew every place that made her tremble, every rhythm that stole her breath.

He used that knowledge without rushing, kissing and licking until her legs began to shake and her moans turned into a series of incoherent pleas.

He left her on the edge of orgasm before pulling back, climbing up again to look into her glazed eyes.

She dragged him into a desperate kiss, tasting herself on his lips.

"Now," she ordered, her voice trembling but firm. "Strax, now."

He did not make her wait.

With one fluid movement, he entered her, filling her completely.

A deep, satisfied breath escaped both of them at the same time.

For a moment, they stayed still, simply feeling the connection, the heat, the intense relief of finally being together like this again.

Then Strax began to move.

Slowly at first, a deep, steady rhythm that made the bed creak softly.

Monica wrapped her legs around his waist, following his movement, lifting her hips to meet him with every thrust.

The sound of heavy breathing and skin meeting skin filled the room.

The rhythm gradually increased.

The patience from before transformed into something more urgent.

Strax’s hands gripped her hips, pulling her against him harder.

Monica’s moans became louder, less restrained.

She bit his shoulder to muffle a cry when a series of particularly deep thrusts struck exactly where she needed them.

Strax felt the tension building inside her, felt the muscles around him tightening.

He changed the angle slightly, searching for the point he knew would push her over the edge.

And it worked.

With a long, trembling moan, Monica arched violently, her body shaking beneath him as the orgasm swept through her.

The sight of her losing control, the sound of his name leaving her lips in a broken breath, was enough to destroy Strax’s own restraint.

With a low growl, he buried himself even deeper, his hips losing their coordinated rhythm in the final spasms as pleasure consumed him.

He collapsed over her, then rolled to the side, pulling her with him so she rested across his chest.

For long minutes, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing slowly settling.

The afternoon sunlight had grown more golden now, casting long shadows across the floor.

Monica lazily traced circles over his sweaty chest.

"I think that counts as ’using my free time better,’" she murmured, her voice hoarse with satisfaction.

Strax laughed, a deep, happy sound vibrating through his chest.

"I think it’s only fair. After all, a hardworking queen deserves a proper reward."