Afterward, the marriage between me and Guinevere was officially formed. Camelot had a queen again, and no one bothered me with marriage invitations anymore. Thus, they bored me. When I was single, there were countless noble ladies, each beautiful in their own flavor, trying to seduce me. Unfortunately, I don't like wasting my time on something so trivial. My time is precious, and Britannia is waiting for me to conquer.
With the resources and the merging of Wales into my rule, the entire Southwest of the British Isles was already mine. Next, it was time to kick Vortigern's ass, crush the Saxons, and after that, move to claim the Irish Isle.
But that was for tomorrow. Tonight belonged to something else.
"Uhm… King Arthur, I never thought you were a woman." Guinevere's voice broke the silence after the ceremony, once we had been led into the private chamber reserved for newlyweds.
She stood before me shyly, her body almost completely bare, her small hands covering her breasts and her smooth lower belly. Her pale skin flushed pink under the candlelight, her green eyes unable to meet mine directly.
I wasn't much better off, stripped down in front of her. The moment she got close enough to see my breasts and curious, brave enough to let her fingers ghost over my lower body.
In an instant, she realized I wasn't male, but female.
The futa dragon cock I once used to pierce Morgan's pussy was only temporary, existing solely to breed her and ensure Mordred was born. It wasn't permanent.
Now, my body was back to being female again, and Guinevere could feel it.
"Do you want to stop? After all, most young ladies like you dream about princes and knights, not princesses," I said as I stepped away, giving her space.
"It's fine, King Arthur. Even if you are a girl, you are still handsome and heroic. I've always admired you for a long time. I'm happy that you find me desirable. What more could I possibly ask for?" she whispered softly, cupping my cheeks with both hands.
Her gentle green eyes locked onto mine. She was a petite girl, with blonde hair and such a cute charm that it made me want to devour her whole.
I've always liked cute girls like her, so I didn't hesitate. "Then, I will eat you, my cute queen."
"Uhm…" She blushed furiously at my words, and I kissed her without holding back.
Slowly, our hands worked at each other's clothing, stripping away the last barriers until we stood naked, flesh against flesh, breasts pressing together as our lips and tongues tangled.
My fingers slid between her thighs, teasing her folds, circling her clit with deliberate slowness until she whimpered and trembled in my arms.
I made sure she was wet, my queen deserved proper foreplay, not just rough hunger.
Her gasps grew louder as I fingered her, coaxing slickness from her tight little pussy, stretching her slowly.
When I could no longer hold back, I shifted against her, spreading her legs wider as I mounted her.
Our pussies pressed together, lips grinding, clits brushing in frantic rhythm.
Her moans grew higher, her small hands clutching at my back, nails raking down my skin as she lost herself to the sensation.
She cried, voice breaking into moans as I rocked against her harder, our bodies slapping wetly together.
The night became a haze of moans, sweat, and lust. We ground against each other, rolled across the bed, kissed until our lips were swollen, and made each other cum again and again.
By the time dawn broke, Guinevere lay sprawled beneath me, her body trembling, her thighs glistening with our mixed juices.
The night was drowned in moans, pleasure, and lust, as our bodies clashed again and again until the morning sun finally rose.
And so, until the first light of dawn crept into Camelot, the night between King and Queen was nothing but moans, cries of pleasure, and lust that refused to fade.
The next thing I did was marshal my troops, gathering a total of 150,000 soldiers. Among them was a mix of vampires and angels, the vampires created by Krul Tepes and the angels born from the pond brought by Gabriel from her world.
She once told me her father had been warned by her that angels would face a serious population problem if he was gone, so she requested him to leave behind a way for them to survive.
That's why he created the angel pond, something that could transform humans into angels. And now, I was the one using it to strengthen my armies.
I stood at the front like an Archangel, twelve wings blazing behind my back, the air itself trembling at the sight.
In my left hand, I gripped a divine spear that radiated light, and in my right hand, I held a holy sword that burned with power.
My white stallion was nothing less than majestic, its hooves sparking against the ground, its mane flowing like a banner of purity.
With me at the lead, my forces swelled to 150,000, ready to conquer this island and make history bend to my will.
Of course, it wasn't going to be simple. Vortigern, King Lot, and Queen Medb had already formed a coalition against me, gathering a combined force of 300,000. A clash was inevitable.
I didn't hesitate, I divided my troops into two armies. Morgan and Merlin took command of the invasion toward the Irish Isle, tearing into Medb's domain, while I rode straight toward Londinium with my main force.
My goal was clear: crush Vortigern once and for all, and end his reign in blood and fire.
Vortigern, desperate to crush our morale, had transformed into a massive white dragon, his wings blotting out the sun as he unleashed a torrent of hellfire onto my troops before attempting to rip through our formation.
But before his destruction could spread any further, I moved.
With a single swing, my Holy Sword collided against his massive form, the impact shaking the battlefield itself.
I stood before him, unwavering, my figure casting a radiant silhouette. From my back spread twelve blazing white wings, declaring to all that I was no mere king of men, but something greater.
Vortigern staggered, grunting in pain, his monstrous eyes narrowing into slits of fury. "Boy, don't you know what you're doing? You almost destroyed all of us. The Saxons' victory is already written in blood and history—you can't fight the world. You may defeat me, you may kill all of us, but it's pointless. To them, we're just puppets, dancing for their performance."
"I know," I said softly, my voice steady. "But tell me, Vortigern, was there ever a destiny written of me as an Archangel? In King Arthur's tale, was there ever a prophecy of him bearing the blood of angels?"
Vortigern froze for the briefest of moments, then growled, his answer honest. "...No."
"This is just one world, Vortigern. There are many worlds beyond this one. Beside me stands Archangel Gabriel, and I was granted her power. She commanded me to slay the false god, the pretender who dares to steal His name and think she could get away with it." I clenched my fist, fire and righteousness burning together.
My condemnation of Alaya thundered not only across the battlefield, but deep into the marrow of all who heard it. In this narrative, she was the usurper, the villain. I was the chosen one, the son of destiny, blessed by Heaven itself to correct this broken world.
Vortigern's stance faltered at my words. I could tell he wasn't truly evil, he cared deeply for this island and for Camelot. We simply stood on opposite sides of fate.
He believed that reviving Camelot was meaningless when its fate had already been sealed in death, with the Saxons marked as victors in history's script. That was why he sought to use the Saxons, to forcibly conquer this island and cut it off from the world, to escape the influence of Alaya and Gaia—rather than playing the savior's role like Uther once did.
His breath came out ragged, shifting from confusion into raw savagery as he bared his fangs and roared. "Then prove it to me, King Arthur! If you can't defeat me, then all of your words mean nothing!"
And with that challenge, he charged.
The sky lit ablaze as he roared, spewing forth a torrent of searing blue flames that consumed the skies. I spread my wings wide, gripping both spear and sword, and met his onslaught head-on.
Steel clashed with claw. Holy spear pierced through scaled hide. His fangs snapped against my armor, tearing it apart piece by piece, while my sword carved through his flesh. Our brutal duel shook the very sky itself, echoing like thunder across the land.
I drove my weapons into him relentlessly, until at last, with one final strike, I slammed him down from the skies. Vortigern's massive body plummeted like a meteor, crashing into Londinium with an impact that shattered walls and tore the city apart.
Hovering above the battlefield, I raised my sword high, my voice thundering with command.
"Men of Camelot. CHARGE!"
My wings beat furiously as I descended at blinding speed toward the ruined city. Below me, the thunder of hooves and the clash of steel erupted as my knights surged forward. Armor gleamed, banners fluttered, and the men of Camelot stormed through the breach in the walls, pouring into the city that still burned from the dragon's wrath.
The final battle had begun.
...
Question: In canon, Krul has a femboy brother named Ashera Tepes (you can search Google for images). Here's the fun part: Would you prefer him to be written as a girl (sister) or kept as a femboy? I want to include incest, but I'm leaving both options open.
Once you vote for "girl," I will permanently close the femboy option as a love interest.
That means there would be no Astolfo or Gasper Tepes as options for smut and romance.
For the femboy route, I'll keep the MC dominant — meaning she will use her futa cock at... Yeah, you know what I mean.
So, which do you choose?
1. Femboy
2. Girl